Page 157 of When Lies Unfold

I’m a complicated mess of emotions right now. All I know is I’ve done everything I can to set the stage for Alma’s safe return.

I have no idea what will happen to me after I step back into the prison I once gave everything to escape from. The best-laid plans, as they say, always hold the potential to go awry.

The unexpected tranquility Santy’s office provides helps to soothe my frayed nerves and I take a moment to just…breathe. Though I’m faced with a sense of rightness, on its heels comes a bone-bruising grief. Because I may be doing what’s necessary, but I’d be extremely naïve if I didn’t plan for the worst.

I need to make one last call, and this one will be one of the hardest.

When she picks up with a groggy, but worried, “You okay?” I battle against the emotion that threatens to clog my throat.

Sabrina’s always been a good soul. And I’ve been lying to her for five years.

“I’m calling because I’ll be away for a bit, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

Her voice takes on a sudden alertness. “What’s wrong? Should I call Nando?”

“No.” I try to instill some calmness in my tone. “I just don’t want you to worry if you don’t hear from me.” I nervously wet my lips before adding quietly, “I’ll miss you while I’m gone, though.”

“You’re scaring me, Lo.” She pauses. “Did that narco bastard do something to you? Because if he did, I swear I’ll?—”

“He didn’t do anything to me, I promise.”

A hesitant pause precedes her next words. “Where are you going?”

“It’s best that I don’t say.” I hurriedly tack on, “But don’t worry. I just need a little time away.”

“How can I not worry?” Her frustrated grunt greets my ears. “You call me at four a.m. and tell me you’re leaving, but won’t tell me where to. Lo…” She trails off with an exhaled breath.

“I’m sorry. But if you need anything”—I swallow hard—“ask Santy.”

A lengthy silence greets my words. She poses the question with slow hesitance. “Ask the narco you’ve been living and sleeping with for help?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize it sounds like you’re saying goodbye permanently, right?”

Because I most likely am. “Just…promise me you’ll go to him if you need anything.”

“I will.” Her voice sounds strained with a barely concealed sob. “And I miss you already.”

“Same.” I pinch my eyes closed against the tears threatening to spill. When I murmur, “Hasta luego,” she echoes the sentiment.

Ending that call has me struggling to maintain hold over my emotions. A few ragged breaths later, I force myself to finish the next necessary task.

It’s why I go in search of a pad of paper.

Santy’s desk is ridiculously meticulous, which is something I wouldn’t have initially expected. Now, though, it doesn’t surprise me.

I sift through the top right drawer, seeking a larger notepad toward the back, when my fingers brush against something unusually soft.

Curiosity has me carefully sliding the object from the rear of the drawer, only to feel my lungs seize at the sight of it.

A distinctively shimmery blue feather fills my palm.

“It can’t be…” The whispered words fall from my lips as shock takes hold.

But as I hold the delicate object, everything falls into place.

Abuelita was right. Fate really is in control.

---