Page 167 of When Lies Unfold

—Kalen Dion

77

LOLA

Thick, oppressive silence lingers during the brief private flight and continues after we land. The entire ride to Hidalgo’s is bathed in tension. Everyone appears lost in their unsettled thoughts.

With the little butterfly chain clenched in my right fist, I stare out the window at the passing scenery.

“Remember, Mrs. Carrera—” Agent Juarez starts.

“Lola,” I correct him once again.

His mouth tightens, but he continues as if I haven’t spoken. “My team will move in once Agent Garcia gives the signal.” He doesn’t bother to veil his disgust for me. “Then you’ll be taken into custody.”

I don’t offer him a verbal response. It’s not worth the time or effort, especially since no one will take me into custody. Not to mention, if Hidalgo gets his way, I won’t be going anywhere except a morgue.

Still turned in the front passenger seat, Juarez gently pages through Hidalgo’s book like it’s the precious Dead Sea Scrolls. He’s been meticulously poring over the contents, verifying that his copies are identical to the original contents of the book.

“It's all there,” I volunteer calmly.

Juarez’s brows crease, and he repeats his question for the tenth time. “Where did you say the missing pages were, Mrs. Carr?—”

“Lola.” Expelling a weary sigh, I recite my answer yet again. “And the book was like that from the start.”

Santy reaches for my free hand, threading his fingers through mine. My attention drops to where his black-inked fingers contrast with the blue butterflies decorating my hand. His thumb grazes over part of one wing disguising a section of my rigid scars.

Only someone who’s experienced great darkness and sustained deep wounds that never truly healed can find beauty in what others consider ugliness.

Only a person with a dark, bloodstained soul can recognize another. They can easily identify the sacrifices made and understand the reasons behind them.

Running from my past only pushed me closer to it in the end. I left far too much unfinished business behind to be free to move on without entanglements.

But what I’ve learned most is, even amidst all the darkness and horrific circumstances I endured, something extraordinary countered it.

For me, my something extraordinary is Alma and Santy.

Gordo pulls to a stop at a crossroad where another black SUV with blacked-out windows sits. Juarez turns in his passenger seat and hands me Hidalgo’s book.

“Once Agent Garcia gives the signal, we’ll move in. Our crew’s waiting nearby.” With a pointed look, the agent adds, “Don’t do anything stupid, Mrs. Carr?—”

“Lola,” I interject yet again. “It’s Lola.”

His glare threatens my tenuous hold on any semblance of calmness. “Like I said, don’t do anything stupid.” His threat stains the air. “We wouldn’t want to add more charges to your sentencing.”

Juarez throws open the door and slams it closed. As he stalks over to the other vehicle, Gordo makes a U-turn and heads toward Hidalgo’s house.

Before I can fully brace myself, we arrive at the massive gates I swore I’d never return to. Santy grips my hand tighter, but remains quiet. That flickering muscle in his jaw speaks for itself.

Armed guards swarm the vehicle while the lead guard barks out orders. “Windows down for identity confirmation! Hands must be visible and empty!”

Gordo rolls down the windows and we lift our hands as they scan the vehicle for any explosive devices and use metal detectors to ensure we don’t have any weapons. Once they confirm there’s no threat, we’re cleared to pass through the gate.

As Gordo heads up the drive to my former prison, I strive to steady my breathing. Once he pulls to a stop in front of the entrance, Hidalgo’s massive front door draws open.

A member of his staff emerges, dressed in the typical uniform he’s always insisted they wear. More armed guards approach our vehicle, their stance alert as Gordo exits first, leaving Santy and me alone for a brief moment.

He reaches out to cradle my cheek in his large palm. The gesture warms me amidst the ice filling my veins, knowing what lies ahead.

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