Deep Deception 2 Read online

  As I gazed into the mirror I didn’t recognize myself. It wasn’t just the hair, it was in my eyes. They were blank and no longer filled with light. Tears flowed out of my eyes, and I was certain that life as I knew it was over. I’d killed two innocent people and stolen their inheritance. I bought myself a front-seat ticket on a one-way, custom-painted rollercoaster ride straight to hell.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  VERÓNICA RAMSEY

  “I’m not going to be able to take you to the hospital until my Moses gets home from work. I don’t want to keep taking the baby to the hospital and exposing him to all those germs.” I had just put LM back to bed. If I didn’t need to go to the hospital, I would’ve gotten into the bed myself.

  “Why can’t we get a babysitter?”

  I looked at my father like he had lost his damn mind. What did he mean, we? I wasn’t sure about letting him go to the hospital. Victória had only been awake a few days and I didn’t want to upset her. He was reading the paper but put it down as he watched me.

  “Babysitter? That’s not about to happen. Moses and I haven’t even broached the subject of babysitters yet. I’m terrified about leaving my baby with strangers. You never know what they could be doing while you aren’t there to protect them.”

  “When will he be back? I really want to see Victória.”

  For some reason his statement angered me. I felt like he was getting comfortable with a very uncomfortable situation. Most days I could catch myself before I went off on him, but those days were getting harder and harder. I swung back and forth between loving and hating him. If he was so eager to see us, why did it take the death of our mother to bring him home? I spoke before I could get a hold of my thoughts. “What’s the rush now? You missed most of our lives. You missed all of Ramón’s.” I shocked both of us with the brutal truth. I promised myself I would keep my negative feelings to myself but all the anger I felt rolled out of my mouth unchecked. Before I knew what was happening, I had assumed the ghetto chick, neck-rolling posture of someone about to kick ass in the streets. He didn’t know nothing about that shit and something deep inside of me wanted to be the one to show him.

  “He will be home when he finishes taking care of his business because, unlike you, he provides for his family. He doesn’t just send money. He’s here for his son.” I didn’t have to finish the rest of my statement because he knew what I was going to say. I slumped down on a chair, ashamed of myself. It had to be hormonal because I would never intentionally be mean.

  He said, “Your words hurt, but nothing you can say can hurt me more than my own inaction. I know I have my shortcomings, but there are a lot of things you don’t understand. I’ve always provided for this family.”

  I shook my head because he still didn’t get it. Being a father wasn’t about the money. We needed him but that time had come and gone. I wasn’t feeling well and I was taking it out on my father. “Padre, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to start an argument with you. A lot of things have gone on over the past few months and my body is playing tricks with me. I want to make sure Victória is okay, and then we can deal with all this other stuff later.” I felt defeated.

  “Verónica, I spoke to Moses the other day and he made a very valid point. He said I should be the one to explain myself to both you and Victória. He, uh—”

  “When did you get to speak with Moses? He didn’t say anything about it to me.”

  Padre turned red and looked very uncomfortable, but I was not about to let him off the hook.

  “Well, I, uh, I ... uh—”

  “What are you not telling me?” I was imagining all kinds of things, so I needed him to tell me what really went down so I could stop coming to my own conclusions. Moses was different yesterday, and I needed to know if my father had something to do with it.

  “It’s nothing really. I didn’t realize your husband didn’t mention it to you.” He walked into the kitchen and I followed him.

  I was really getting mad. The way he said it, his tone implied there was something wrong with my marriage.

  “It must have slipped Moses’ mind. He normally tells me everything.”

  My father stared at me like he didn’t believe a damn thing I said. Of course it could have been my hormones making me act all crazy and shit.

  “Have you said anything to Victória about me?”

  I paused, distracted. I wanted to know why Moses didn’t tell me about speaking to my father. I also wanted to know what else he was hiding from me.

  He said, “Verónica.”

  My father brought me back to the present. I’d forgotten what we were speaking about.

  “Huh?”

  “Have you told Victória anything about me?”

  “I haven’t told her that you are here. She’s still getting herself together, so I don’t want to bombard her with too much information at one time.” I started to get nervous. Truth was that I hadn’t told Victória anything, not even about our brother Ramón. I was waiting for her to ask me what happened.

  “She hasn’t asked any questions?”

  I fidgeted. “Well ... she’s curious about what happened to her.”

  “She doesn’t remember anything?” He pulled a glass from the cabinet and poured some water in it.

  “Uh, she believes you have something to do with her being in the hospital.”

  A vein in his neck stuck out; he stopped moving, glass halfway to his mouth.

  “Me? Are you serious? And you’re okay with allowing her to believe this when you know I had nothing to do with it?” He was ass-kicking mad. He slammed his glass down on the counter and started pacing back and forth.

  “Padre, I don’t know what I’m doing right now. She looks so frail, I don’t know how much she can take. Hell, what do you think we should do?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I think we should tell her right now! There’s been too much deception as it is, and I’m ending this shit today. No more deception.” He looked as if he wanted to strike me.

  “I’m not the one who started this shit.” I followed him into the living room.

  He put me on the defensive as he stood over me. Who the hell did he think he was? He can’t come in my house and tell me what the fuck to do. That shit is over and done with.

  “It doesn’t matter who started it, Verónica. It has to end. I can’t have Victória thinking I harmed her or her brother.” His voice was more subdued and authentic.

  “She doesn’t know about Ramón, either.” Since I was being honest, I confessed to the rest of it too.

  “That’s it! I’m going to the hospital now.” He rushed toward the door.

  “Padre, wait, at least let me go with you. She doesn’t know you.”

  He looked like he was about to refuse but he lowered his hand.

  “Fine, hurry up. This shit has gone on long enough.” Tears rolled down his cheeks as I reached for the phone to call Moses.

  I had mixed emotions about his tears. While I understood he wasn’t responsible for the actions of his brother, he created the circumstances that allowed the situation to happen. And I was not about to let him go to the hospital and possibly destroy all the progress my sister had made toward recovery. That was not about to happen if I had anything to do with it.

  Padre stumbled, falling back onto the couch, clutching his heart. His face turned blue; he looked like a Smurf. I immediately regretted lashing out at him.

  “Padre!” I screamed, running toward him. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?” I knelt in front of him, uncertain of what I needed to do. The last thing I needed was another parent dying right before my eyes.

  “I need to see Victória,” he said, gasping for breath. Padre changed right before my eyes, suddenly looking old and sickly.

  He’s faking. There’s nothing wrong with him, I thought.

  “Padre, are you ill?” Even though I didn’t believe his little act, my heart started beating a little faster. What if he wasn’t faking? I didn’t think I could stand t
o lose both my parents, even though he’d been absent most of my life.

  “I need my pills. They are in the side pocket of my suitcase,” he moaned and rolled over on his side. His tongue hung from the side of his mouth. He appeared to struggle for air.

  Faking or not, I rushed to his room and grabbed his suitcase and brought it back to the living room. I beat myself up for being so mean and hateful. As much as I wanted to hate him, I still loved him. My hands shook as I dug into his case. I kept looking over at him to see how he was doing. “Should I call for an ambulance?” I was getting nervous.

  He shook his head and I continued to search.

  “Do you have them?” he asked as my fingers closed around a small prescription bottle.

  “Yes, here they are. How many do you need?” The directions were on the front of the bottle but the words would not come into focus.

  “One.”

  The fucking bottle wouldn’t open. It had one of those child-safety caps on it, which were designed in my opinion to piss folks the fuck off. A few seconds later I opened the bottle and shook out a single tablet into his hand. He held it, his eyes beseeching me for assistance. I raised his arm, guiding his hand to his mouth. He placed the pill under his tongue. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. I was scared.

  “Are you okay?” My face was inches away from his nose.

  He didn’t answer, just nodded his head. I sat down next to him and watched him like a hawk. His color slowly started to return. I wondered what was wrong with him that he could have an attack so quickly and recover seemingly in minutes. However, those minutes seemed like hours. Slowly, he opened his eyes. His breathing had slowed down as well.

  “That was a big one,” Padre replied as he struggled to sit up straight.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  He eyes didn’t meet mine.

  He said, “About five years, but there’s nothing to worry about. It’s all under control.”

  He didn’t appear to be in control to me. What if I wasn’t there and he couldn’t reach his pills? What would have happened then? Would he have died?

  “How come—” I didn’t have to finish my statement. My parents were the masters of deception.

  “It’s not so bad ... as long as ... I keep my medicine close ... no stress.”

  He was in the wrong house for that shit. Part of me wanted him to go to a hotel, but the daughter in me wanted to keep him close so I could look out after him.

  He looked at me, sadness filled his eyes. “So much wasted time.” A tear slid out of his right eye.

  I reached up and wiped it away. It was a tender moment, filled with forgiveness and remorse. We both turned when we heard a key in the door.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  TILO ADAMS

  I jumped up out of the bed, drenched in sweat. I was convinced someone was in the room. I grabbed my gun from underneath my pillow, ready to shoot whoever had managed to get into my hotel room.

  “Who’s there?” I whispered, afraid of the answer. My heart slammed against my chest, its vibration pounding in my head. My arms shook as I tried to hold my gun steady. I slid my legs over the side of the bed and crouched into position. If someone was going to attack me, I preferred them to do it while I was standing.

  My eyes struggled to see in the dark, but the sweat in my eyes made it difficult to see clearly. I pivoted around in a circle but nothing jumped out at me. This was the third time tonight I’d awoken from the same dream.

  “It was the dream again, you idiot.” I slowly lowered my arm and exhaled. Even if I was dreaming, it was very vivid. I would be lying if I said it didn’t have me all shook up.

  I went into the bathroom and ran some water in the sink. Part of me wanted to jump into the shower to wash off some of the sweat. The other part of me just wanted to get back in the bed and pretend it never happened. Again.

  I allowed the water to get hot and grabbed a washcloth from the stack on the counter and rubbed it over my face. I refused to look into the mirror because I didn’t want to see what my face looked like. There was nothing cute about being scared half to death.

  The dreams were getting on my fucking nerves. They started the day I shot my former lover, Victória. Her eyes plagued me, and she reached out to me in my dreams. Each time I walked toward her she always disappeared before I could reach her. I turned off the light and made my way back to the bed. The sheets on the side of the bed I’d been sleeping on were soaking wet. It looked as if I’d peed on myself. If I had, it wouldn’t have been the first time. I turned down the sheets on the other side of the king-sized bed and climbed in. I pulled the covers up under my chin and tried to pretend the dreams never happened.

  “Shit,” I said aloud to the empty room. I hadn’t slept for more than four hours in over two months. I checked under my pillow to make sure I’d put my gun back within easy reach. I sighed when I felt the cold, hard steel against my fingertips. My dream was always the same. It started out so beautifully and ended so terribly wrong. I wanted to forget the details of my nightmare, but my thoughts had a mind of their own and took me right back to where I’d left off. I was scared to close my eyes, fearing the images would flash once again through my mind. The shit was getting old. I knew I would feel some remorse for my actions, but I had no idea it was going to be like this.

  “This is some bullshit!” I exclaimed. I was exhausted and had not anticipated all the guilt I’d feel while I was planning the caper. Obviously, I didn’t know myself as well as I thought I did. When all else was said and done, I found out I too had a heart, and I broke it the day I pulled the trigger.

  “You pussy,” I said, beating my pillows to get comfortable. I was mad at myself for being so weak. This wasn’t my first kill, so I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t shake it and it be done. Having sex with Victória may have contributed to my discomfort, but enough was enough.

  However, I could not get her face out of my mind. It was in her eyes. I didn’t think she believed I would pull the trigger. Truth be told, I didn’t believe it either. I thought I was going to punk out at the last minute but I didn’t. I shot her in cold blood like I had her brother. In my dream, her eyes blazed with love and forgiveness. They begged me to save her, but I didn’t.

  She would never understand. Her brother had to die because he knew everything. He worked for Moses, and he knew the operations of the family business. He also harbored hatred in his heart, and it wouldn’t take much for him to transfer that energy to me. He was a liability I couldn’t afford to have hanging around. I shot Victória because I knew that she’d hunt for me for the rest of my life for killing her brother.

  I allowed Verónica to live for two reasons: one, I didn’t want her son to grow up without his mother; and two, I wanted to piss Moses off. He was already mad that the child she bore belonged to another man. He would be equally pissed when he realized he was actually married to her. “I wish I could’ve seen Moses’ face when he realized his wife wasn’t dead.” I laughed out loud.

  Laughter always came before the tears.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CARLOS MENDOZA

  I jumped up off the sofa a tad bit too fast. My head was a little woozy, but I refused to succumb to the dizziness. I stumbled a little bit but, otherwise, I remained on my feet. “Can we go now?” I was nervous to see my daughter and to clear my name.

  “Padre, don’t you think you should rest some more?”

  “I’m fine, let’s go.” I shot Verónica a warning look. I didn’t need her telling Moses about my little episode. Even though I made a deal with him to find Tilo, he still hadn’t earned my trust. I was going to be watching him as much as, if not more than, he was watching me.

  Moses walked through the front door. “What’s going on?” Moses put down his briefcase and gave Verónica a kiss on the cheek.

  I shot Verónica another warning look, but she either completely missed my warning or I sucked at it and she ignored it.

>   “Padre isn’t feeling well. He wants to go to the hospital, but I think he should lie down and take a nap,” Verónica insisted as she slung her purse over her shoulder.

  “I said I’m fine. Can we go now?” I didn’t want to get into a fight with Moses, but I would if I had to. I was going to the hospital either with Verónica or without her.

  Moses said, “How long has my little man been asleep?”

  If Moses felt the tension in the air, he obviously chose to ignore it.

  “About an hour. We shouldn’t be gone long. I’m taking my car just in case Padre wants to stay a little longer.”

  Perfect. I would have suggested the same thing because I didn’t want to have the discussion about my health with her right now.

  I was tense as we approached my youngest daughter’s hospital room. Never in a million years would I have believed that our lives would come down to this.

  “Brace yourself, she’s frail,” Verónica said before she pushed open the door to room 521.

  I paused for a few seconds while trying to gain the courage to enter her room. I knew Verónica tried to prepare me, but nothing could prepare me for the sight of my little girl lying in a hospital bed. Nothing. Everything else in the room disappeared as I looked at her. “Sweet Jesus.” I rushed forward and touched Victória’s arm.

  Verónica came up on the other side of me and placed her hand on my shoulder. I made no attempt to stop the tears that washed my face. I felt like God was punishing me for every mistake I’d ever made, and He was doing it all at once. I closed my eyes for a brief moment and when I opened them, Victória was staring back at me.