Page 38 of An Immaculate Deception

“I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see.”

This part is true. I was not meant to see the dead girl. I was supposed to believe I was stabbing a wax doll, a ritual effigy. If the blindfold hadn’t come off, Doctor Lobo wouldn’t have left me in that room to wake up alone, imprisoned. Now I know about the girl who was murdered in their sacrificial ritual, and I am a liability to them.

I curse myself. God. I killed that girl. But she did not react at all when I stabbed her…She must have been heavily sedated. Doctor Lobo is a physician; it would be easy for him to arrange such a thing.

“What did you see?”

I shake my head. “Don’t ask me, Leandro, I dare not speak of it.”

Leandro doesn’t press. But I feel him staring at me. I know he’s wondering how I came to be in my underpinnings. Or is it merely my guilt that makes me think so? Guilt not only for what I did to the girl, but what I did with Doctor Lobo.

“I escaped by breaking a window and climbing through it. I cut myself in the process.”

I wonder if Leandro will point out that this doesn’t explain why I have blood on my hair and my back as well.

Leandro says, “Before Doctor Lobo, my family physician was Doctor Amado—”

“Leandro, what I need is the police.”

“The police?” Leandro sounds disturbed.

I bite my lips. I want to go to the police inspector and tell him these men may be hunting me. But what version of events will I tell them? And what if they find out I killed a girl?

I rub my temples. The murder weapon, the ceremonial dagger…I left it there. After the window broke, I dropped the dagger and left it there.

“Never mind,” I correct myself. “Don’t send for the police inspector yet. Just…just take me home.”

Heavens, if I show up at home like this, how will I explain my current state? Bleeding and semi-naked, disheveled. My stomach tightens. I look around me, and I notice familiar terrain. The carriage pulls into the driveway of the Fazenda Santa Tereza. I sit up, confused.

“Why are we back at your house?” I ask.

Leandro stares at me blankly. His face is a mask of confusion and it tells me he’s still not back to his usual self. He’s that shell-shocked version of himself that infuriates me.

“Leandro, pull yourself together!” I cry, and he looks frightened.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammers.

Perhaps it is for the best that we’re back here. If I clean myself up, I can arrive at Mother’s house looking composed, dressed up, and clean. All I have to explain are a few bruises on my arms. Yes…that is what I will do.

“Maria das Dores will clean my wounds,” I tell him, “then you’ll have the driver take me home.”

22

“You must be careful, Sinhá Madalena,” Maria das Dores says, pressing the gauze to my arm. She moves meticulously slow, as if to purposely irritate me. “You must listen to Senhor Neves and Doctor Lobo.”

“Must I?”

I draw a sharp inhale. She wants me to listen to Leandro and Doctor Lobo.

It is because of the incident with the cake yesterday. She was looking at me the same way when I tossed the cake into the flames. As if I am out of control. But it’s not only that. Maria das Dores has always looked at me askance, from the very beginning. From the moment I met her three days ago. Why does she hate me?

It doesn’t matter. I have cleaned the wounds, washed myself, and put on a dress. It is enough. I rise.

“The bandages aren’t fully done—”

“This will do, thank you. Is the carriage ready?”

“What carriage?”