Chapter 15

Denis Byrd came around the side of the tent at the same time Stevyn, one of the guards, exited it. Stevyn wordlessly handed Efren his trousers.

Efren stood and looked down as he pulled them on. A dried bloody handprint on his belly taunted him. He squared his shoulders and turned to Denis. “Is Marcelo alive?” Efren’s voice cracked. “Where is he?” Because obviously there was a reason no one had answered his question. If all was well, they would have jumped to reassure him.

Denis drew in a deep breath as if to work up the grit to say it. He cleared his throat. “He’s missing, sir.”

“Missing?” Efren pushed down the alarm rising in his chest. He wouldn’t be of any use to anybody if he panicked. “What do we know? Any reason to suspect he isn’t alive?” Other than the significance of that handprint?

“Actually, sir,” Denis replied. “I think there’s good reason to believe he is alive.”