“No. Wait.” The line buzzed in her ear. Whoever she'd been talking to was already gone.
She stared at the phone for a long minute, feeling her hope crumble. She flipped more pages, finding no one. She took the address book and threw it. It hit a dusty picture frame, which toppled to the floor and smashed.
“Goddamn it!” She shook her fists, a silly gesture, but one that brought her no comfort. She wanted to smash more than a just frame, but Mama would notice. Tears sliding down her nose, Camila leaned down and picked up the cracked frame. The picture was one she'd seen a hundred times, Mama on the beach with her friend Holly in tiny bikinis, their tan bodies glistening in the Florida sun. It lay half out of the frame. She tried to slip it back in, but something was wedged behind it. Another photo. Her fingers dug out the crinkled image.
A man with dark curly hair and a thick mustache smiled at her from the faded photo, a suave Antonio Banderas type. His eyes held a spark of mischief that drew her in. As she lifted the image she realized the photo was creased so the second half of the picture was folded back. Camila slipped her fingers around and opened the photograph up all the way. The crinkled image formed into one of a happy couple, pressed into each other, smiling.
The woman was Aunt Beatriz. She recognized her from pictures she'd seen. Was this…? Was this the man Mama had stolen? Camila stared at the image, feeling faint. Slowly she turned the photo over.
Scrawled in Mama's handwriting was the name Marquez and ten digits.
A phone number. Her father's.