Chapter 59
Never underestimatethe energy supply of a small child. That’s my lesson for today.
This girl has quite literally run me ragged. We’ve played countless games of tag and had a cartwheel contest. Even when she had a mishap with an acrobatic attempt and scraped her knee on some gravel, it didn’t slow her down much.
She let me doctor her knee—I learned my lesson to always carry my bag with my first-aid supplies whenever I’m with Alma—and then quickly resumed playing.
“See you later, Lola!” Alma waves before flying up the steps to the house ahead of her tutor.
With a tired but happy sigh, I slide my socks and boots back on as she disappears inside the house. Resting my hands on my hips, I close my eyes and let the gentle breeze rustle past me.
I’ve felt unsettled all morning and wish today would’ve been a workday for me, because at least then I’d be able to lose myself in the task of cleaning.
I turn to face the clearly defined border where the trimmed, lush landscape of Santy’s property intersects the jungle. The darkened canopy of trees and thick greenery feel as though they beckon me.
My mind is a mess of convoluted thoughts, compelling me to try and get them straight the only way I know how. It’s why I call out to Miguel, “I’m going for a quick walk,” before venturing farther into the dense wildness.
I adjust my bag’s strap across my chest as my booted feet lightly crunch atop the fallen leaves along the jungle floor. I let myself get distracted by the jungle as I meander past the enormously tall trees, the fresh, clean scent of the air filling my nostrils.
Santiago Hernández isn’t the man I’d thought he was. Both he and Alma have firmly embroidered themselves on my heart.
While I think he may feel something for me, I’m not sure it’s love. A silly, na?ve part of me wants to believe it is, but I can’t rely on that. I need solid proof.
If he doesn’t, then I don’t dare to tell him the truth.
If he does, I have to find it in me to finally confess…and be prepared for the fallout. For his distrust to surpass anything he initially felt.
Either way, it’s not an easy, simplified outcome. If he loves me, will it be a genuine love? One where he wouldn’t use me and what I know to get ahead?
My feet carry me deeper into the jungle, and while it serves to calm me with its unique brand of tranquility, my heart and head can’t find common ground.
I continue along the familiar path to my casita, eager to lay eyes on it in hopes that it grounds me somehow. Once I approach the steep incline behind my casita, I place my booted feet in the notches of the terrain and hoist myself up.
I’m nearly to the top when I hear the voice. I freeze in place as ominous dread saturates every fiber of my body.
“She’s not here, sir,” the male voice rumbles with frustration. Heavy footfalls sound near the rear of my casita.
Carefully, I reposition my hands and carefully raise myself the barest fraction to peek over the top. Holding the phone to his ear, a man scans the section of jungle opposite of me and I hold my breath, begging he won’t detect my presence.
“From the looks of it, she hasn’t been here in a while.”
I don’t know the man standing outside my home or who’s on the other end of that call, but they’re trying to find me. Judging by the bulletproof vest and the gun slung across his chest, he isn’t here for a nice, civil chat.
The man turns and heads back inside, and as he kicks the door closed behind him, the tiny hairs along the back of my neck and arms stand on end.
Danger. That’s what my mind screams, even as I scan the jungle’s interior and come up empty.
While I don’t spot anything, I can’t shake that ominous sensation. Something’s not right…
I spin around, facing the shadowed depths as I’m ensnared by an unexplained impulse to return to Santy’s house. Propelled into action, my feet move rapidly over the jungle floor. I don’t acknowledge the occasional branches that scrape my arms and cheeks as I sprint past.
Fear invades every cell of my body, my eyes trained straight ahead, willing my legs to move even faster. My lungs are on fire, and my chest heaves once I breach the border of Santy’s property.
As I approach the lower edge of the grounds where the stairs lead up to the manicured lawns, a nefarious silence blankets the space. I hurriedly ascend the staircase, heading toward the compound’s entrance. The instant I enter, I stop short in shock.
Carnage. That’s all that comes to mind, because Santy’s men lie scattered in pools of blood. A mix of blood and brains spatters various walls as horror assaults me with such force, attempting to deprive me of all oxygen.
“Snap out of it. Focus,” I whisper. With wheezing breaths, I survey the scene around me. “It’s Santy’s men…” My gaze sharpens. “None of the staff are here, so?—”
A sudden lightheadedness strikes me as my stomach lurches. “Alma!”
I race down the hall, panic propelling me to move even faster. My booted feet threaten to slip out from under me when I hit a pool of blood spilling out from another one of Santy’s men.
I rush inside Alma’s bedroom only to stop dead in my tracks.
For a breath-stalling moment, I stand riveted by the sight of Alma’s tutor lying sprawled on the floor. With her eyes and mouth wide open in horror, they tell a story all their own.
I sense that there aren’t any signs of life in this room, but desperation compels me to search anyway.
“Alma!” She might be hiding somewhere. She’s such an intelligent girl, she’d know how and where to hide and make herself undetectable.
I paw through her assortment of stuffed animals in the oversized toy bin before throwing open her walk-in closet. “Alma! Where are you, sweetheart?”
A strangled sob is wrenched from deep within me when I shove aside the hanging clothes and fail to find any trace of her. Fear and panic bleed into every molecule of my body, my stomach twisting into painful knots.
An eerie sense of urgency moves me to her desk where she typically does her tutoring work. Papers are strewn messily, and something catches my attention. A piece of wrinkled paper sits beside a pencil decorated with butterflies. At first, it appears to be scribbled pencil marks, until I look closer.
There’s a set of letters, messily strung together beside a second set. The first set is unmistakable as it spells out ANDRO.
It’s the second line of letters, evidently written in a rush with the final A barely legible, that has my esophagus burning with the vomit threatening to climb its way up. H I D A
There’s only one person with those letters in his name who would do something this horrific. A monster who would abduct an innocent child in a power play.
Hidalgo Carrera.
Tears track down my cheeks while a ribbon of pride unfurls inside me, because Alma did her best to leave a clue behind.
That brave girl found a way to do this even though she must’ve been terrified.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I edge backward, searching for any other sign from my sweet girl. Slowly, I retreat two more steps when something metallic crunches beneath my boots on the tile floor.
I peer down, shifting my feet. What I see lying on the floor has my heart twisting as a suffocating wave of dread washes over me.
I drop heavily to my knees, my hands trembling as I reach for the bracelet I gave her when we first met. My fingers fumble in my attempt to collect the butterfly chain, and it’s evident it was yanked off her, judging by the broken clasp.
Alma would’ve never ripped this off. She cherished it as much as I do the butterfly figurine she gave me.
A sense of helplessness ravages through me, my vision growing blurry from tears as I cradle the butterfly chain in my palms. But it’s interrupted by a barrage of heavy footsteps and male voices shouting.
“Alma! Lola!” Santy’s voice thunders down the hallway.
A paralyzing sensation freezes my limbs and revokes my ability to move. I should have been here. I should have protected her from him. Clutching the delicate chain to my chest, I rock back and forth as a sense of helplessness ravages me.
Santy yells again, his booming voice ripe with panic. “Alma! Lola!”
He’ll hate me, and with good reason. I never should’ve left.
He appears in the doorway, gun drawn, features taut, eyes urgent as he scans the room for his daughter.
A hollow pit of my stomach gapes open while a mix of rage and grief threatens to suffocate me. On the edge of a sob come the only words I can muster.
“She’s gone.”