I picked up the phone from the small table, but just then the screen lit up.
**Alejandro calling.**
I froze.
The phone vibrated in my hand like a trapped animal.
I didn’t answer.
The call was cut off.
A second later a message came in.
**“The meeting was canceled. I’m going back. I’ll be back in two hours.”**
Two hours.
I looked at the open mattress.
The packages.
The photos.
The letter.
Everything was scattered on the floor as if the truth had exploded inside my house.
I panicked.
I dialed 911 with clumsy fingers.
When an operator finally answered, my words got all jumbled up.
I gave him my name.
The address.
I said I had found evidence related to a missing woman.
I said the name Alejandro.
I said Monterrey.
I said blood.
The woman on the other end of the line asked me not to touch anything else.
That she leave the room.
That a patrol car was on its way.
“Don’t stay alone with him if he arrives early,” she repeated. “Do you understand? Don’t go near your husband.”
Yeah.
I understood.
Too late.
I put my phone away and wanted to run into the street, but I stopped dead in my tracks.
My purse was on the dresser.
And inside the bag, the car keys.
I took them.
That’s when I heard something that emptied my soul.
The sound of an engine entering the street.
I approached the window, barely parting the curtain.
Alejandro’s truck turned and stopped in front of the house.
Not two hours later.
Now.
Now.
I didn’t even have time to breathe.
The car door swung open.
Alejandro came down wearing the same clothes he had left in.
The suitcase was gone.
He looked up at our window.
And although I hid immediately, I knew something was wrong.
He knew.
I don’t know how.
But I knew it.
I heard his hurried footsteps at the entrance.
The key turned in the lock.
My body reacted before my mind.
I ran to the bedroom and put the letter inside my blouse.
I took Mariana’s ID and put it in my pants pocket.
I didn’t think.
I just did it.
