The man with the arm in a sling nodded at Maite. Jackie didn’t introduce the fifth person in the room, the man in a suede jacket and a turtleneck sitting in the back, smoking a cigarette, his legs stretched out.
Maite smiled at them, the smile tense, trying to keep the corners of her lips from wavering. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Maite talked to Emilio earlier. Tell them what he said.”
When she hesitated, Rubén gave Maite a reassuring pat on the arm. “He didn’t say much,” she began. “He hasn’t seen Leonora. She told him she wanted to meet with a journalist who lives in Cuernavaca. Lara. But Emilio couldn’t give her a ride. That’s all he knows.”
“You know any journalists called Lara?” Jackie asked, turning to Luz.
The young woman shook her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Anything else?” Jackie asked.
“Maite caught Emilio poking around Leonora’s apartment.”
Maite turned to look at Rubén, aghast. “I didn’t say that!”
“You said he was looking for a camera.”
“But he wasn’t really poking. He was worried. He was worried that Leonora was getting into a mess,” Maite said. “And you’ve got to admit he’s right, what with that man from the Dirección Federal de Seguridad talking to me and all.”
“Wait, what man?” Jackie said, whipping her head up and looking at Rubén. “There’s a guy from the DFS involved?”
“That’s why we stopped by. We thought you ought to know.”
“Shit,” Jackie said, rubbing a hand against her forehead and shaking her head. “Does this guy have a name?”
“Anaya,” Maite said. “He wanted to know where Leonora was, but I have no idea. I told him so. But somehow he knew I’d talked to Rubén, and he mentioned you too.”
“They must be watching her,” Sócrates said. “It was a mighty fine idea to bring her here, Rubén.”
“Oh, shut up,” Rubén muttered. “It’s no big secret where you can find me. Where you can find all of us.”
“I’m saying maybe you shouldn’t leave a fucking trail of breadcrumbs for them to follow, asshole.”
“We get it,” Jackie said, shushing Sócrates and pressing her hands together, resting the tips of her fingers right beneath her chin as she sat down again on the chair she had been occupying when they walked in. “Emilio was looking for a camera, but he didn’t find it. Are you sure? Did you look through Leonora’s apartment?”
“There was nothing there,” Maite said. “Leonora phoned me and wanted me to take her cat and a box to her, but the box is garbage.”
“You went through it? You’re sure?”
“Yes. You’re welcome to go through it too.”
“Maybe Lara has the pictures,” Rubén said. “Leonora could even be with that journalist, in Cuernavaca. She could be hiding there.”
“If there’s a journalist,” Jackie muttered.
Rubén tensed immediately. He had been leaning against a bookcase, but now he stood up straight, his eyes fixed on Jackie. “What are you saying?”
“She’s saying none of us have seen those pictures,” Sócrates replied, setting his pocillo down atop a pile of books.
“Then where the hell is Leonora? Why is the DFS interested in this? There’re pictures, I know it. You can’t think…she’s not the mole, Jackie!”
But Jackie didn’t seem convinced, and the rest of the people in the room gave Rubén equally dubious glances.
“Fuck, Jackie, not that again,” Rubén said with a sigh. “You don’t even know for sure there’s a mole.”
“I know,” Jackie said.
