Page 16 of The Girl from Devil’s Lake (Joanna Brady Mysteries #21)

Sometimes people gave us rides, but mostly we walked. There were lots more men than women. Some of the men had wives with them but a lot of them didn’t, and so...

Elena paused for a moment and looked beseechingly at Arturo before leaning over and whispering something into his ear.

He nodded before replying, “ Sí, saben lo que haces. ” “Yes, they know what you do.”

Resignedly, Elena turned back to Jaime and looked him directly in the eye as she answered.

My stepfather turned me into a prostitute.

There were lots of single men in the caravan and very few women.

Some of them had plenty of money, and I needed money.

Since I’m good at what I do, I made lots of money.

I was worried that someone would try to steal it, so I made friends with an old woman—a grandmother.

I called her my Bancos de la Abuela , my Grandmother Banker.

I shared some of the money I earned with her, and she kept mine safe.

At first I thought I would go to Juarez, but along the way, I heard people saying that going to a smaller town might make it easier to sneak across the border. When part of the caravan broke off to come to Naco, I came with them—since Grandmother Banker’s family was coming here too.

By then it was almost time for my baby to be born.

I decided trying to cross the border right then would be too risky.

So I used my money to buy a tiny house, not much more than a shack, but that’s where Xavier and I have lived since the day he was born.

Grandmother Banker’s family managed to make it across the border, but the coyote taking them said she was too old and wouldn’t be able to walk fast enough.

He refused to take her. Once her family left, she ended up staying with me and helped with the baby.

She died of Covid in 2022. I still miss her.

Elena paused her narrative long enough to wipe a tear from her eye, and Joanna could tell that she had come to love the old woman who had befriended and helped her on the difficult journey north.

Detective Howell, who had been silent throughout most of the interview, spoke up, only now Jaime was the one doing the translating.

“When is the last time you saw your son?”

That would be Friday a week ago. Fridays are usually busy for me, and I don’t let Xavier stay in the house when I have.

..guests, so I would give him some food and send him outside to play.

That night when my company left, Xavier was nowhere to be found.

I looked for him for hours but couldn’t find him.

“Did you report him missing?” Deb asked.

Elena shook her head.

People like me don’t go to the police with our troubles.

Policemen are not our friends. I was afraid they would accuse me of doing to Xavier what my stepfather did to me—selling him to traffickers.

They’re here, you know, even in Naco. And that’s what I suspected when I couldn’t find him—that the traffickers had gotten him.

“This was on a weekday,” Deb said. “Why wasn’t Xavier in school?”

He’s only four. He’s too young.

“On days when you have company,” Deb asked, “do you have any idea what Xavier does when he’s out of the house?”

Sometimes he hangs out with kids from the migrant camp. It’s right at the end of our street. They’re older than he is, but they don’t go to school, either.

“Do you recall him ever mentioning any of them by name?”

Elena shook her head.

“As you’ve no doubt been told,” Deb continued after a moment, “we’ve recently located the body of a young boy who may or may not be your son. I have some photos here. Would you let me know if you recognize anything?”

With that Deb opened the file folder that had been lying in front of her and pulled out two photos, presumably from the ones she had taken during the autopsy.

Elena picked up the first one and examined it closely before dropping it onto the tabletop and bursting into an agonizing howl of anguish. A whole minute passed before Elena was once again capable of speech.

“Is that your son’s shirt?” Deb asked.

Elena nodded. “The top button is missing. I noticed it was gone that morning, but I didn’t have time to sew it back on.”

“What about these?”

As Deb shoved the second photo across the tabletop, Joanna recognized it as a still of the two high-topped sneakers sitting side by side.

Elena looked at those and shook her head. “Those shoes are not my son’s!” she declared.

Joanna had thought that the shoes would be the final tipping point in the identification process, but they weren’t—not at all. Clearly Elena Delgado spoke far more English than she had previously let on.

“Do you have a recent photo of your son?” Deb asked.

Elena reached into her pocket and produced a cell phone. After scrolling through it for a moment, she located what she was looking for and passed the phone to the detective.

“I took that last month on his birthday,” Elena said.

Deb studied the screen for a moment before asking, “Would you mind sending it to me?”

At that point, Elena looked somewhat mystified. Thankfully, Arturo stepped in.

“I happen to have Sheriff Brady’s cell phone number right here,” he said, pulling out his own phone. “Why don’t I text it to her?”

Moments later Joanna’s phone dinged with an arriving message announcement.

When she opened it, she saw the image of a little boy smiling impishly up at her from behind what appeared to be a half-eaten snow cone.

He was wearing the same blue plaid shirt, only in the photo the top button was still intact.

It made Joanna’s heart ache to think that the light behind that impish grin had been forever extinguished.

The interview ended shortly thereafter with Deb producing a kit and collecting the necessary cheek swab.

After that, Jaime escorted Arturo Pena and Elena Delgado from the room.

Of course it would take time for the DNA results to come in, but the people who had observed the interview already knew what the final result would be.

Xavier Francisco Delgado, a Mexican national, age four, was definitely their previously unidentified homicide victim.