Sangre De Toro (Old Draft - Now Published!)

Chapter 33 - Come Back Alive

'Maribel, cariña, you need to get away from the scene, so forensics can do their job,' Rita said with a lump in her throat. The elderly cow was lying next to his body, crying and panting. Her right front knee was bleeding. The barn door was wide open. Rita already knew Pepelito wasn't there.

At first, Alfonso tried to coax her away from the body. But she couldn't stand up.

'Some sick piece of shit shot her in the leg. Who the fuck would do this to a cow?' Alfonso bent down next to Maribel as she attempted to stand, her legs buckling, horror in her eyes. The scene tore at Rita's heart.

'We'll get you to the animal hospital, Maribel. Just hang in there.' Alfonso dialled the number, and so began the long wait. The cow had been doted on and cared for. Until Castella decided his wounded pride took priority over Silvio's life, and called on his gangland connections.

And now they had Pepelito.

Rita got out her police radio and called for help. She felt strangely detached, as if she was watching herself from above. Far out of range, none of her colleagues from the city responded. Most of them were searching Henry Dixon's villa. Rita was almost grateful Dominguez didn't answer. It felt like her fault Silvio was lying dead.

The village cop who eventually answered sounded far too relaxed. 'We'll send someone in about half an hour.'

'No. We need assistance now! There's one down at the hillside farm in Colmenar. Probable gunshots.' Rita's panic rose. After someone was killed the first hours were always the most critical. With the weather so hot, evidence was already being lost.

Shaking, she called Dominguez, knowing it was irrational but bracing herself for him to blame her. He sounded breathless. 'Rita! You all right? Sanchez said he'd signed you off sick for a week! I've been at Henry Dixon's villa for the last hour. They've dug up three skeletons so far, it's grim, it's like Ted Bundy out here. Guy's gone on the fucking run –'

'Silvio's dead, Jesus, he's been shot,' she said, her voice coming out in a ragged gasp. Everything turned quiet. Dominguez sounded like he had dropped the phone. He made a miserable, choking noise, then swore and muttered something inaudible.

'I'm –' she started to say but he had already hung up. Poor Jesus, she thought. She watched how gentle Alfonso was with Maribel. Suddenly she couldn't stop sobbing. She couldn't blame Dominguez if he held her responsible. He had that right.

'It's my fault,' she said quietly, as she looked helplessly at his poor body, feeling out of control and dizzy. It felt wrong not being on duty, unable to move him or offer any dignity as she usually would. The village cops were approaching from the bottom of the hill in their beaten up cars, plus a forensics van; some sign of modernity at least.

'Don't blame yourself,' Alfonso said gently, but how could she not?

She'd asked Silvio for help. Castella had just had him killed.

'Silvio wanted to do the right thing, like any normal person would. He didn't hesitate.' Alfonso's voice was reassuring but firm with conviction. Rita was unconvinced.

'Maybe.'

'This is on nobody but Castella, the thugs working for him, and the people who are too cowardly or greedy to bring him to justice.' As Alfonso spoke, Rita's mind was somewhere else. There was nothing more she could do for Silvio but stopping his killers inflicting further harm.