One Grave Too Many

many orphans, but she was different. When she looked at me, she smiled the biggest smile you’ve ever seen and had the prettiest velvet black eyes. I picked her up and carried her into the mission. The sisters tried to find parents or relatives, but no one came forward. I spent all my free time with her, and as time passed and they were still unable to find her parents, I decided to adopt her.”
    Tears welled up in Diane’s eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. “I should have just taken her out, smuggled her to the United States or somewhere safe. I had the connections, I should have done that. But I was going to do everything legally. That’s what we did—follow the rule of law. We were so self-righteous. If I’d been a good mother, I’d have gotten her out.” Diane collapsed in tears, spilling the photographs onto the couch and floor.
    Frank picked them up and put them on the coffee table then sat closer, pulling Diane to him.
    “Diane, I’m so sorry. These past few days must have been a nightmare. If I’d known . . .” He was silent for several minutes. “Please . . . can you tell me about her?” he said at last.
    After a moment, Diane straightened up and reached for her coffee. It was lukewarm and tasted sweet mixed with her salty tears. The photographs lay on the table and she picked them up, shuffling through them, pulling some out to show Frank.
    “She was the sweetest little girl and very smart. The nuns named her Anna, but when she was four she told me she wanted to be named Ariel, you know, after the Little Mermaid. She said she wanted a brand-new name—Ariel Fallon.
    “I kept her with me when I wasn’t going to dangerous places. I took her for a short trip down the Amazon River.” Diane cast a glance at her stereo. “Ariel loved music. I bought her this CD player.” She smiled, remembering the steady supply of batteries. “Batteries don’t do well in the jungle and it was hard keeping her in batteries. I burned a CD of her favorites. She liked ‘The Mighty Quinn,’ ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight,’ the one by the Tokens—she was very specific in her musical tastes. But her favorite was ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King.’ She’d turn up the volume so loud you could hear it all over the compound and into the jungle.
    “I watched her grow, watched her little personality blossom. We’d made these plans. I told her all about the United States, about snow and Disney World, the Grand Canyon, the Smoky Mountains. I ordered these mother-daughter dresses. It took so long for them to arrive, I thought she’d be too big when they came. But hers fit perfectly. We’re wearing them in the photograph.” She showed him the silver-framed photograph of the two of them, hugging, smiling in identical dresses.
    “At the time, I was corresponding with Milo and agreed to accept his offer to come to the museum. I thought it would be the most wonderful place to raise her. During that time, I didn’t visit the U.S. When I came back, it was going to be with her.”
    “What happened?” asked Frank.
    “What happened.” Diane sighed and rubbed her eyes and pressed her forehead with her fingertips. “We’d been there three years, and my team and I had made a lot of headway collecting damning evidence against Santos. We thought President Valdividia would arrest him. We overestimated the president’s power. He was afraid. We were coming back from the capital, and about three miles from the mission we heard gunfire. There’s no going fast on those roads. As we grew closer we heard ‘The Hall of the Mountain King’ wafting through the jungle.”
    Diane stopped, unable to speak for several moments. “When we finally got to the compound, Santos had . . . he had . . . had killed everyone in the compound, including . . . There was blood everywhere. He had already taken most of the bodies. That’s the way he liked to do things—bury his atrocities in hidden mass graves. We found Ariel’s CD player in the middle of the compound, set on repeat so that it played ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’ over and over. He’d left her . . .” Diane’s mouth quivered and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “He’d left her bloody little shoes with the CD player. She must have been so scared, and I wasn’t there for her.”
    Diane curled up in a ball, clenched her fists, trying to breathe through the sobs. Frank pulled her against him again and stroked her back. It was several more minutes before she