Page 61 of When Lies Unfold

A patch of fresh pink skin decorates the top of his shin, and it’s a wonderful sign. There aren’t any indications of infection, either.

My eyes lift to meet his. “Everything looks great, Esteban. I’m pleased with how it’s healed.”

He winks at me. “All better, thanks to you, young lady.” His expression softens. “Don’t want to think what might’ve happened if we hadn’t crossed paths that day.”

Esteban may be in his early seventies, but he still works like a man in his twenties, using his machete to cut back the jungle overgrowth from interfering with village roads.

He injured himself while working and was limping home, his leg wrapped in a makeshift tourniquet, when we crossed paths. I’d been on my way to the store when I spotted him.

He didn’t have to let me help him. I was a stranger to him then. But he gave me a chance. For that, I will always be grateful.

Like me, he’s very much a loner, lives alone, and doesn’t let people get too close. I suppose kindred spirits tend to find one another wherever they go.

It’s my turn to wink at him. “Call it fate.” I straighten and slide my hands in my pockets. “Let me know if anything changes.”

He lowers his pant leg. “Of course.” When he hesitates, I bristle, knowing what he’s about to say next. “Rumor has it you’re not at home much these days.”

“It’s…complicated.” That’s all I can say without giving anything away and opening myself up to intrusive questions.

He chuckles. “I’d gathered that much.” Sobering, his features take on a thoughtful expression. “If I were to believe those rumors, that you were living with Santiago Hernández, I’d be concerned.”

A pause lingers as he surveys me with curiosity. “In fact, I’d be downright confused since you’ve shown to have a good head on your shoulders.”

I hate that I can’t just be open with him, but disclosing anything could put him at risk. It’s why I change the subject with a glance at the clock mounted on his wall. “I need to go.”

He doesn’t bother to hide his worry, but he nods. “Be careful on your way back.”

“I will.”

He rises from his chair and walks me to the back door I entered through. When I hover, hesitating at the threshold, he gives my shoulder a gentle pat. “I’ll be fine, young lady. I promise to let you know if anything changes.”

I nod with a small smile before descending the few steps of his small porch. When my feet sink into the grass, his voice carries over to me softly.

“Be careful.”

It doesn’t take long before I arrive at the far property line for my casita.

I put away my flashlight, because I don’t need it. I could traverse this area of the jungle with my eyes closed. My spine relaxes once I approach the large Ojoche tree, which serves as an unofficial demarcation of where the jungle begins a few meters away from the casita.

Carefully, I place my hands along the trunk on the southern side. When my fingertips encounter the slight indentation disguised by thick fern-like vines, I breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

Nothing’s been disrupted. It’s safe.

As soundlessly as I arrived, I descend back into the jungle, blending with the shadows.

I’m not looking forward to climbing back up that wall, but it’s the only way back in now. If I show up at the front, I’ll have to answer too many questions. Any knowledge Santiago could gain would be used as leverage against me.

Not only that, but I refuse to give away my newfound intel on how to escape and reenter.

I learned many devastatingly painful lessons from my past. But the one that stands out above all others is one I’ve achieved tonight.

Always have an emergency exit strategy.

28

LOLA

I really need to do more pushups and pull-ups.

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