Page 32 of Miguel

My heart shattered for her. “There’s no one here, Desi.”

She took in a shuddering breath. “He could come back. We have to leave. We can’t stay here.”

I could feel her panic. It was becoming my own. I had no idea who had done this, but her fear was visceral and gripping.

My hand reached for my phone again. The police needed to come and deal with this. To get fingerprints, take our statements. The police who were known for taking bribes on the daily. Who were known for being even more corrupt than the cartels themselves. Who could take advantage of two lone women afraid for their lives. Who would take prints only to bury our statements under dusty files. But then another face flashed in my mind. Someone who I thought could help us more than even the police.

It wasn’t because I wanted to see him or because I felt safe, if a little out of my element, near him. My fingers dialed his number.

And when he answered, my voice shook. “Help me.”

“Nena, what’s wrong?”

Tears started to culminate behind my eyelids, but Desiree was already sobbing, I needed to not give in to my urge. But I couldn’t help it. A few slipped past and my lower lip trembled. “Someone broke into our apartment…”

He let out a muffled curse. There was the unmistakable sound of cars passing by, of rushing wind. Then the slamming of a car door. “Okay, nena. First things first, are you still in the house? Is there anyone there with you?”

“We’re here… in front of the closet. Desiree–my roommate–is with me. I checked the house and didn’t see anyone.”

“Good, that’s good. Listen to me carefully, nena. I want you to lock your front door first. Can you do that?”

His voice sounded so calm, so level, that my own nerves started to dissipate. “Hold on.” I set my phone down and put him on speaker. I signed to Desiree, letting her know I was going to go lock the door.

She whimpered, reaching for me like she didn’t want me to go but pulling back at the last second. Her fingers trembled too much. “Be careful.”

I picked up my phone and took it with me to the front door. Thankfully it was only a few feet away. I stuck my head out in the hall, but there was no sign of life outside. With a quick breath, I slammed the door shut, setting both the lock and chain into place.

“I locked it,” I told Miguel.

“Now, I want you to go get a weapon from your kitchen. A knife or something.”

I didn’t feel safe walking through the house anymore. Sure, I’d already checked, but it hadn’t really been an extensive run-through. But it felt like the phantom of whoever had come to decimate our home was still there. Their presence lingered, making tingles crawl down my spine. Still, I did what I was told, my breaths heavy as I tip-toed towards the kitchen. I grabbed a knife and on impulse, a large skillet.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Okay, nena, now I want you to hide. I’m coming to you, so don’t open the door for anyone unless it’s me.”

“Okay.”

“Have you called the cops?”

“No. Should I?” Was that even a question? I probably should have. They should have been the first people I called. But the horror stories of all they’d done dangled over my head like a venomous spider.

“No, nena. I’m on my way. I have to hang up now, but hold tight. I’m comin’ for you.”

“You need my address. I–”

“I already have your address, nena.”

I blinked at those words. “How–”

“I did a background check on the teachers at school. Now hold tight. I’m coming.”

“Please hurry.”

The line went dead and I hurried back to the closet, squeezing inside with Desiree and closing the door. Her hands reached for the handle of the skillet, holding it in front of her like some terrified version of Rapunzel. Beside her, I held the knife.

We were all but swallowed up by the coats, and the shoes on the floor dug into our bodies. Neither of us said anything. We stared at the door, as if waiting for something to come bursting out of it at any moment.

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