"And you got married. Again."
"Fuck 'again.' That was Sandra. That wasn't a marriage." She spat the word.
"The law wouldn't see it that way. Del knew that — knew your secret could be used as leverage against you and Aaron in the future. You played into his hands."
Ines was silent.
"After you left," I said, "Del went to Zeta. Del convinced him you'd left town because you were having an affair with Jeremiah."
"It was total fiction."
"Of course. But your husband didn't know that, and the fiction suited Del perfectly. Zeta knew all about Jeremiah's reputation with young women. Del didn't have to do much convincing. Zeta shot Jeremiah. Then Del helped Zeta leave the country. Del inherited Jeremiah's company and got rid of all his competition at once — Aaron, Jeremiah, Zeta."
"We had no idea," Ines said. "Del was horrible, but we never thought he was capable of anything like murder. Aaron — it destroyed him when he learned about his father."
"And Del wasn't even done. Afterward, he hit up Aaron for RideWorks. After all, wasn't that Aaron's side of the bargain? Only Aaron had never counted on his dad being gunned down as part of their deal. So Aaron refused. Del took matters into his own hands again. He stole the company from Aaron in a legal maneuver. That pissed Aaron off. He filed a suit, but the minute he did, Del threatened to expose your identity."
"Yes."
"The police would want to talk to you, of course — a woman who'd fled town with the victim's son and a new identity right after her legal husband had committed a murder. At the very least the investigation would ruin your chances at a new life, nullify your second marriage, make Michael a—" At the look in her eyes, I stopped. I folded my napkin, tossed it over my Sonora casserole. "At worst, it would attract the attention of Zeta and his pals. Del had something to worry about too if the story got to the police, but he must've been fairly sure no one could prove anything on him, especially with Sanchez gone. You, on the other hand, had everything to lose. Aaron had no choice but to drop his claim to RideWorks. How old was Michael at the time? Two months? Three?"
"Two months. We had our first terrible argument, Aaron and I. His father's death was entirely my fault."
"Then Del paid a visit to your brother Hector, who also knew the truth about your disappearance. Del used the same leverage with Hector that he'd used on Aaron — 'Do some business with me or I'll see that your sister gets crucified.'"
"I don't know what Del told Hector."
"Del was just following up on Zeta's good idea — to move heroin through the carnival circuit. Hector arranged the purchases from a friend of his, Chich Gutierrez. Del distributed the heroin, keeping the amounts small so as not to attract too much attention, but large enough to make RideWorks a nice fat supplementary income."
She raised her hands slowly off the table. "I — don't — know. I don't know anything about that."
I looked at the kids. They'd each gotten another plastic egg from the machine and were prying them open.
"You take it for granted," Ines said hoarsely.
I refocused on her. Her face was hard as copper.
"What?"
"That you can have a child like Jem someday," she said. "Raise him without seeing him shot in the crossfire, without having him go on lookout for the locos at age five. You can be in a place where they don't keep the needles and the baby bottles in the same cabinet, have a spouse who isn't in jail for murder or dealing. You take that for granted."
"I take it for granted you'd kill to protect Michael from your past."
"Oh, you're right. You're absolutely right. That's the difference between me and Sandra Mara. I would kill to protect my son."
"How's your batting average so far?"
Ines shook her head, as if she were disappointed in me. "I won't lie to you. I didn't feel guilty that Jeremiah Brandon got killed, or that Zeta had to flee the country. In fact, I was disappointed Zeta didn't get shot in that barroom, too. I can't say I care much if Hector and Del were moving heroin through RideWorks, either, if it bought me and my son some extra years of anonymity. None of that matters. But you think I killed my husband? Or had him killed?"
"That was my original question."
"You're wrong. Aaron was putting Michael and me in terrible danger — that's true. When Aaron wanted to move back here to San Antonio, I told him it was too much of a risk. Too many people here who might recognize me. Aaron insisted. He had all these ideas about challenging Del — getting back that damn company. He seemed to forget what Del would do if he tried. I was desperate, but I'd never—"
"You wrote those threats to the University."
"I—" She faltered. "All right. Yes. I wrote them. Aaron had brought the first letter home, the one addressed to Dr. Haimer. It wasn't hard. Before I knew it I'd sent six of them."
"You thought if things got unpleasant enough, Aaron would agree to move away again, out of San Antonio."
"There had been two other offers, Tres — one in Iowa, one in Connecticut. Not wonderful jobs, but we should have gone there. We would've been safe there. But Aaron was so damned determined to come home."
"And the bomb?"
"Hector's idea, before we even knew Zeta was back in town. Hector was sure the University police would discover the bomb before it ever went off, that they'd blame it on campus radicals. Hector just wanted to convince Aaron the threats weren't idle. He didn't intend for anyone to get hurt."
"Why were you away the weekend Aaron was shot?"
"We'd found out Zeta was back in San Antonio. Hector and I were both insane with fear. Hector told me to get out of town for a while."
"—so you couldn't be implicated. Hector was timing a murder."
"No," Ines insisted. The word was a little shrill. "He swore to me. He didn't shoot Aaron."