Mary's Bones

THIRTY-THREE

I'd been standing outside this authentic Mexican restaurant for several minutes now. There was nothing much to explore on the outside. It was just pretty to look at. And I wondered what would address me inside.

It took less than an hour to find the place when I did a little research Thanksgiving night when John and I got home. It turned out Restaurante de Rosa was a famous Mexican spot in the center of West Greenbush. It was about a thirty-five-minute drive from where we were in Shifton. That wasn't so bad.

John was off work today, and I had taken the day off. So technically, it was a win for us both. I figured out what we were going to eat for dinner tonight, we could spend the day together, and I could figure out why Mary guided me here.

"Aquí! Aquí!" A woman fanned her arms in the air as soon as I pushed through the brown-edged glass doors. "Alice, necesitas ser más rápido!" Her heavy accent poured into her words.

Light brown paint coated the walls, with a thick lining of colorful paint and decorative items. All the details gave the restaurant a large splash of culture. There were also a few paintings on the wall.

The woman who yelled balanced a tray of quesadillas, enchiladas, and what looked like a bowl full of sopa de fideo in her hands. It wasn't a dish I often had, but I recognized it because my father ordered sopa de fideo the last time we ate at a restaurant like this. It was always his go-to.

"Wow, this place is busy," I muttered, eyeing the strangers clustering the average-size restaurant's tables. For a place so small, it fit a lot of people. The entire area was only so much bigger than John's and my living room.

"So far, so good," I whispered to myself and took a step forward until I was approaching the counter.

"Hello, are you ready to order?" The fairly young-looking kid behind the counter smiled at me. He spoke fast, as if he were losing his breath.

"Oh, yeah. Haha." I proceeded to give him my order while eyeing the restaurant.

Nothing struck me as out of the ordinary. Not a clue that could have been about the missing children. Not a clue about who or what I was looking for. I was wondering if I should have been paying attention to the restaurant's décor. Whatever it was, I couldn't figure it out.

Maybe this was a mistake.

"Juan! Where the hell have you been? ¿Cómo estás? ¿Cómo está tu familia?" The moment I sat down on the nearest bench to wait for my order, another woman took my place at the counter. Her lips pulled into a wide smile as she greeted the boy.

I didn't have half the energy she did. Based on the equally ecstatic energy the cashier was giving back, I'd say she came around here often. Though, I had no idea what they were saying except for basic words I recognized from Spanish class in high school. Their conversation went on, switching between English and Spanish dialect.

"Vanessa!" He smiled. "Mucho tiempo sin verte. Y la familia está bien. Are you here for Mya? She's around here somewhere—oh! There she is! Estábamos hablando de ti, Mya."

"Ah, ahi va mi hermosa! Come here, beautiful." The woman, Vanessa, reached out for another woman, who was dressed in an employee uniform. She, too, smiled when her eyes landed on Vanessa.

"Cute." I chuckled under my breath.

I wasn't sure what it was about them, but I couldn't find it in me to look away. Their names were oddly familiar, like a trigger in my brain. I studied them for a few more seconds until it all clicked. Mya and Vanessa. Those were the wives Veronica mentioned in the bathroom. If I wasn't mistaken, they were Genesis Santiago's mothers, the seven-year-old little girl who went missing on December 3rd of 2016.