I pulled into the parking lot and settled in a spot close to the front doors of the hotel. I sat there a moment, knowing I couldn’t go inside and do this in front of the kids. I typed out a text to Taylor, paused before sending it.
I’m in the hotel parking lot. Please come down alone.
I took a deep breath and then let it out as slowly as possible. I knew sending this text would initiate one of the most brutal moments of our lives. The tipping of a domino that would change everything in devastating ways. I needed to be ready. It was time for me to show Taylor the same kind of strength she’d demonstrated to me over the years.
I sent the text. Taylor bolted out the front doors of the hotel two minutes later. She scanned the parking lot until she spotted our Tahoe. I could see the fear pouring out of her eyes. Of course, she knew something was wrong. There would’ve been no other explanation as to why I hadn’t called or texted her back until now. It crushed me to have to confirm that fear in her.
I got out of the Tahoe and walked around to the front of the vehicle. She ran over to me and then slowed a few feet away, as if she were trying to read my face before I ever said anything. But I could see she already knew.
“No! Don’t you say it!”
I stepped toward her. “I’m so sorry, Taylor.”
“No, Alex! No!”
I grabbed her arms with both hands, pulled her all the way into me, even though she was trying to yank away. She kept screaming, “No! No!” and fought me for several seconds. But I didn’t let go. Finally, she buried her face into my chest. The full weight of her suddenly collapsed in my arms, as if she had nothing left, and all I could do was keep her from dropping to the pavement.
EIGHT
It took us a couple of days of coordinating with Raul and the police, the US consulate in Matamoros because it was an international death, and a local funeral home, where we had Joe’s body cremated—or what was left of it—before we finally packed everything up in the Tahoe and drove back to Austin.
I had originally wanted Taylor to take her mother and the kids home without me on that first day and let me handle everything, but she thought it would be even more traumatic for our girls to immediately yank them out of the trip. I had to admit she was right. The remaining time with the other orphanage kids helped to ease some of the initial shock and grief our girls had felt when we told them the tragic news about Papa’s death in a car accident. We decided to not go into the horrific details of what really happened at this point. There were a lot of gut-wrenching tears with my girls that first day and plenty of discussions of heaven. Taylor somehow put aside her own shattered heart to make sure the girls processed their hurt first. On the other hand, Carol simply shut down on us when she received the news about her husband. There was no emotional outburst from her the second time around. My mother-in-law just went white-faced and stoic. It was an awful thing to witness, as if watching the blood drain completely out of her body within a matter of seconds. Carol had remained rather emotionless the past two days. Even my girls couldn’t seem to get her to smile.
By the time we left Brownsville, Raul still had no real answers for me as to what had happened to Joe and why we’d never had the chance to pay a ransom. None of it made any sense to him or to his colleagues unless it truly was a tragic accident—a kidnapping effort gone horribly wrong. But Raul promised me he would continue to investigate and keep me updated with their progress. Then he gave me a homemade card his kids had made for my family to try to comfort us in our loss. It was a nice gesture.
We made the five-hour drive home in near silence—other than the sound of Beauty and the Beast playing on repeat on the drop-down TV for the girls. I kept looking over to Taylor, wanting to say something comforting, but I had no words. I was as numb as she was. None of this felt real. Two days ago, Joe had been sitting in the same passenger seat next to me. Now he was gone. I kept expecting to somehow snap out of this nightmare and find us all together again—like the trip had never happened. My mind was a mosh pit of shock, guilt, and sadness, and I could hardly put any thoughts together. It didn’t help that I hadn’t slept much at all the past two nights.
How would we all get through this?
Where did we even go from here as a family?
I finally pulled my Tahoe into our three-car garage around nine that evening and parked next to Taylor’s Lexus SUV. We had insisted that Carol stay with us for at least the first week back in Austin. While Taylor and my mother-in-law carried our sleepy girls inside the house, I unloaded all the luggage, including the ceramic white container with Joe’s ashes that I’d purchased at the funeral home. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I went into my home office and put it on my desk.