One Grave Less

came around. The two of them tiptoed down the stairs and out the back door.
    It wasn’t hard to find the place where Maria hid the gun. She hoped it was still there. Michaels could have been watching when she hid it. Or anyone could have been watching. She was wishing she’d just kept it with her.
    She moved the broken piece of block and stuck her hand in the space. It was there, wrapped in cloth, heavy. She retrieved it and took it from the cloth. She wondered where people who carried a concealed weapon put it. Of course they probably had a holster. She put the gun in her tote bag and hung the bag on her shoulder. They walked around the building looking for the car.
    Hanna waved to them. Maria felt guilt for thinking she might have to shoot them. What had she become? Gabina wasn’t with them. She had stayed at the hotel. Maria was glad about that but was also worried whether Gabina would alert Michaels.
    Patrik was driving. Maria told them Rosetta was a little sick to her stomach and she didn’t want to aggravate it by riding in the back, especially since they were just about to take a boat ride. So Hanna rode in the backseat and Maria rode in front with Rosetta in her lap. She rolled down the window and Rosetta leaned her head near the breeze to add to the illusion.
    The truth was, Maria was afraid to sit in the back—afraid of child locks that wouldn’t release, afraid of being taken prisoner.
    Hanna sat on the edge of the backseat and rested her arms on the back of the front seat so she could talk to them. She and Patrik seemed to be having fun. Maria wished she could remember what fun felt like.
    They started out toward the docks, weaving between motorcycles, other cars, and pedestrians along the way. Who knew there was a nightlife in Benjamin Constant? What looked like a well-worn city in the daytime was a glittering jewel of lights at night filled with people having fun.
    It wouldn’t take long to arrive at the docks, even at the slow pace they had to travel. Hanna and Patrik talked non-stop. They were fascinated with powwows. Maria told them to come visit in the United States and they could go to a few. They liked the idea of dressing up in Indian costumes, of Hanna braiding her blond hair.
    “Can one ride horses there?” said Patrik.
    “Oh yes,” said Maria. “Do you ride?”
    Patrik grinned. “Yes.”
    “He loves it,” said Hanna. “Me, not so much. You are on a huge wild animal and are supposed to be able to control it. It always feels a little dangerous to me. Do you ride?”
    This time Maria grinned and she remembered fun. “Yes. I have an Arabian stallion named Mandrake.”
    “Stallion? You ride a stallion? Is that not dangerous?” said Patrik, though he sounded envious.
    “Can be. He’s a well-schooled horse that I trust. My mother bred and trained him for me. She breeds Arabians. I’ve ridden all my life.”
    “Really?” said Hanna. “We will have to come see you. Patrik would love that, wouldn’t you, Patrik?” Hanna dug around in her purse and came out with a card. “Here is my e-mail address. Write when you get back. We would like to know you and Rosetta are safe.”
    Maria took the card, wondering what they would think about her when they discovered she was such an accomplished liar and Rosetta really wasn’t her daughter and her name wasn’t Maria.
    Patrik parked the car in the first space he found at the waterfront and they walked the rest of the way to the docks.
    The Amazon was alive at night. Tour boats glided up and down the river, twinkling like multicolored sparklers. Maria was glad to be out of the car. Every moment they were in it she worried that Hanna might pull a gun, though neither Patrik nor Hanna had done anything to suggest she would. The two of them gave Maria and Rosetta a hug at the dock where a smallish single-deck tour boat was taking on passengers for a long night ride down the Amazon toward Tabatinga.
    Maria picked up Rosetta and carried her on her hip, not trusting simply holding her hand. Rosetta put her arms around Maria’s neck and they boarded the boat, paying at the gangplank. Maria asked if she could get off at the airport. The steward nodded and Maria found a seat near the exit. She was less interested in sightseeing than she was in a quick getaway should the need arise, as it seemed to with regularity.
    It took about thirty minutes for the boat to finally get started, each moment agonizing as Maria waited for a boarding party of thugs