It was small, occupied with five small caskets, models for preteens, children and the pearl-white box for babies. The walls had sky-blue murals of cherubs frolicking amid clouds pierced by sunbeams.
Emma stood there among the childrens coffins, holding Tylers stuffed bear, unable to think or breathe until finally she pressed her hand firmly on the Angels Wings model.
That was the one.
The funerals were at the Sun View Park Cemetery west of town.
Two hearses and a long line of vehicles moved over the rolling range land that stretched to the mountains under an eternal blue sky. The procession, led by two deputy patrol cars from the county, came to a stop at two open graves next to mounds of dark, fresh earth. Abner Fenlon, the owner of the funeral home, and his assistants, helped the pallbearers, men who knew Joe-carpenters, electricians-and Emmas uncle, position the caskets.
About fifty mourners were gathered, as Reverend John Fitzgerald, whod officiated at Emma and Joes wedding, produced a worn bible.
In keeping with what Joe would have wanted, Reverend Fitzgerald spoke briefly of death and Gods love before moving on to the readings.
Emmas ears began ringing during the service. She did not hear Reverend Fitzgeralds recitation of passages from Isaiah as she stared at the two caskets.
Her breathing quickened.
Earlier, at the funeral home, she was left alone to say goodbye to Joe before his casket was closed. His handsome face bore some scarring from the crash. A heavy coating of makeup muted his cuts and bruises. Her tears fell on him as she bent down to give him a final kiss. Emma knew and accepted that he was dead.
She nodded for the lid to be secured.
Now at the cemetery, as Reverend Fitzgerald finished reading, Abner Fenlon gestured to Emma and she kissed Joes casket and placed a white rose upon it. As it was lowered into the ground, Emma, standing in shock, glanced at Tylers tiny casket. Abner Fenlon invited her to say goodbye to Tyler before his casket was lowered. Emma did not respond.
Mrs. Lane, Fenlon whispered again, you may come forward.
Emma did not move.
Abner Fenlon had five decades of experience in the funeral business and reasoned that Emma, paralyzed with grief, was likely not going to do anything without help. He wanted her to have the opportunity to say goodbye to her dead baby, so he offered it a second time, shooting glances at Emmas aunt and uncle, who whispered in her ear.
Say goodbye to Tyler, Emma.
Emma did not respond.
Fenlon stepped up to Emma.
Mrs. Lane, do you wish to say goodbye to your son?
Emma was numb.
I understand, Mrs. Lane. Fenlon nodded to his staff.
At the funeral home, Emma had been invited to place Tylers stuffed bear inside his casket, alongside his little charred shoes. She had refused to part with the toy bear.
Theres nothing in there. I saw someone rescue my baby.
Now, as she watched the casket disappear into the earth, she pressed the stuffed toy to her face.
I know youre not dead. Mommys going to find you.
16
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Got it! Rio Sol Employment Agency, in the financial district.
Luiz had looked it up online for Gannon as soon as he had returned to the WPA bureau from the law firm. Luiz called and pleaded in Portuguese for a meeting on Gannons behalf before hanging up.
They will help us.
They will help us.
Minutes later they were in a taxi weaving through traffic in Rio de Janeiros financial district. Gannon didnt have much time to pursue this angle before the others would return from the funerals. He had to find out what role the documents from the law firm played in Maria Santos meeting with Gabriela. He needed to get to someone who knew Maria Santo.
Someone she trusted.
A few blocks after theyd passed by the Petrobras building with its sugar-cube architecture, the taxi stopped at the complex where the Rio Sol Employment Agency was located.
They were directed to the north wing, phase two, and the office of Francisco Viana, a small, officious man with a neatly trimmed beard. Franciscos English is not so good, they were told. But Gannon was encouraged when he saw Maria Santos file on Vianas desk.
After introductions, Viana offered his guests seats.
The tragedy of the Cafe Amaldo was such a terrible act, my sympathies, Mr. Gannon.
Thank you, and our condolences, as well.
On the call, Luiz said that you wanted to pay tribute to Maria Santo.
Vianas English was stronger than Gannon had expected.
Yes. Gannon withdrew his notebook. Were profiling all the victims.
I see, Viana said. You cannot use my name, or the companys name in any news report. We have client confidentiality agreements.
How about I take notes for background? And if the agency decides to make a formal statement of condolence, I will use that for my report?
Very well, on background as you say, not for publication.
Did you know Maria well?
She had been my client for three years. She was a very determined young woman.
How so?
She came from a very tough favela. Like the papers say, her father was a factory worker, her mother was a maid for wealthy people around Gavea and Leblon. Marias parents wanted a better life for her and sent her to school outside the slum.
What kind of a student was she?
Excellent. Viana tapped her file. She became very committed to human rights, social justice. She was a community activist and a conscientious worker. She was taking courses to be an administrator.
How would you rate her honesty, her integrity?
She was beyond reproach. She was one of our best workers.
Were there any problems with her work at Worldwide Rio Advogados?
None. Wherever she went, she was praised. At Worldwide Rio Advogados Maria was filling in for a worker on maternity leave. It was one of her longer assignments. Viana stroked his beard as if coaxing a memory. There is one odd thing about the firm and Maria.
Whats that?
She was always interested in postings at that specific firm.
Why?
Again, I must emphasize that this is not for publication?
Certainly.
There were rumors that Worldwide Rio Advogados represented the interests of big narco networks, Viana said. Some said they set up shell companies for the CIA, or numbered companies operating child labor sweat shops in contravention of UN treaties. All of it rumor, nothing ever surfaced. If it had, we would never send our people there.
Yes, but would Maria be the kind of person who would want to expose such activities if shed found evidence, say documented evidence?
Perhaps. She was passionate about human rights, but really- Viana shook his head as if to downplay the subject -I dont know. Those are only rumors and my speculation is not for publication, please.
Where did Maria live?
In the favela with her parents, Pedro and Fatima Santo.
She never moved out?
No, she wanted to make life better in her neighborhood.
Which favela?
Ceu sobre Rio. Loosely translated, it means, heaven over Rio, Viana said.
Do you have a specific address? Id like to go there and talk to her family and friends.
Thats not advisable, Viana said.
As a journalist, I must go. Luiz here can be my guide.
No, I could not, Luiz said. It would not be safe for either of us. Ceu sobre Rio is one of the most dangerous favelas in all of Rio de Janeiro,
The drug gangs live there and control it, Viana said. As you may know, they control many favelas. In exchange for loyalty, they protect the residents and provide them with the things governments dont, Viana said. If you enter as a stranger without permission, you could be robbed or beaten, taken hostage for ransom, or worse.
I understand it can be dangerous.
Especially for people like you, Mr. Gannon, Viana said. A year ago, a Brazilian TV crew doing interviews in the favelas was taken hostage after the narco chiefs accused them of being police sympathizers. They were tortured for days, their agony recorded with their own TV cameras.
I recall reading about that case. They were killed?
Executed, Viana said. No one was arrested. Then just last month, a reporter and photographer from Spain went into Ceu sobre Rio. No one heard from them for five days-that is when their bodies were found in a Dumpster behind a Zona Sul police station. The drug bosses had suspected them to be undercover international police posing as foreign journalists. They were tortured, their torment recorded on a disk left on their bodies. It shows their killers, their faces hidden under bandannas, warning other foreign police rats to stay away. It was on the TV news.
I understand, Gannon said, taking a few moments to ponder Vianas advice. Then he asked a few minor questions before closing his notebook and thanking him.
The taxi trip back to Centro was a long, silent one until the cab neared the bureau and Luiz turned to Gannon.
You did some good digging, Jack, finding out Maria Santo was Gabrielas source and everything else we learned today.
We got lucky there.
I guess weve reached a dead end at the favelas.
Im not sure where we go on this story next, Gannon said.
The others are due back the day after tomorrow. It doesnt leave you much time.
The taxi had stopped in front of their building.
Its been a long day, Luiz, thanks for your help. Send a news status update to New York, say that follow-up stories to the bombing are in development, then go home. Ill see you tomorrow.
Okay, thank you.
After Luiz entered the buildings lobby Gannon said to his driver, Do you speak English?
A little.
Take me to a restaurant that is as close as possible to the entrance for Ceu sobre Rio.
Ceu sobre Rio? The driver raised his eyebrows, shifted his transmission and eased into traffic. Okay.
After negotiating heavy late-day traffic, the driver came to a collection of boutiques and shops bordered by rising hills. The taxi stopped at a small restaurant called the Real American Diner, where Gannon got a table outside on the patio and ordered a burger made with beef from Argentina. In making awkward small talk with his waiter, Gannon confirmed that ascending beside him was the favela, Ceu sobre Rio, an explosion of clustered shacks, jutting at all angles, piled on top of each other as they clung in defiance to the steep hill. While the sun sank behind the hill, Gannon asked his waiter if any of the staff lived there, or if he knew anyone who lived there.