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She feels her golden wings have been clipped?Too fucking bad.
The more I think about it, the more pissed off I am. I’m not an angel, but I’ve made her surroundings as comfortable as possible, and I’ve been willing to bend on things like phone calls to her damn maid in the US, and walks on the property without a guard. I should have thrown her in one of the empty towers and let her sleep on the cold floor without any outside communication until the wedding. Then she couldn’t have pulled this crap. Although, even then, she probably would have found a way. I don’t put anything past her.
You want to go back to the US, Daniela? Back to cleaning toilets? Go for it.I’m done playing games.
I activate the intercom at Cecelia’s station. “I’m off the phone. You have exactly five minutes to review any pressing business with me.”
44
Daniela
It’s almost 8:15, well after sunset.
The truck’s been parked for more than two hours. Shortly after the engine was turned off, someone got out of the cab, slammed the door shut, and engaged the lock.
After about thirty minutes of silence, I used the credit card light from my wallet to search for the safety latch that will unlock the retractable cover. I think I found it, but I’m trying not to get too excited. I could be mistaken, and even if I’m right, it might not work.
If it fails, I’ll attempt to cut my way through the cover. Although I might not be successful. Either way, I’ll have to wait for the middle of the night to try something so risky.
Waiting until dark is hard. But necessary. If John, or anyone else, sees me climb out of the truck, there will be less of a chance they’ll recognize me if it’s dark out.
Fifteen more minutes should do the trick.
While I wait, I review the plan again.Buy a phone, call Isabel, sell the locket, get to the docks, and find a freighter that will take you—anywhere. Call Isabel, again, with the final plan.
It seems so simple, but the potential for disaster looms until I’m on that ship heading out of Portugal.
I glance at my watch, like I’ve been doing every five minutes since the truck pulled out of Antonio’s driveway.
Eight twenty-nine.
I’m nauseous, as I crawl along the truck bed to the safety lock. Before I engage the lever, I pull out the credit card light one more time to read the directions posted near the lock. No reason to make a mistake now.
I follow the illustrations precisely until I hear a small pop.
Thank you, God. Thank you.
I creep along toward the tailgate, dragging my knapsack alongside me. As I stick my hand out of the truck to unlatch the gate, I freeze.What if it’s alarmed? Don’t risk it.
I yank at the cover from inside, pulling as hard as I can, but it doesn’t open more than six inches. Not enough for me to squeeze through. After a few more minutes, I get on my knees, still scrunched down, and use my body to create momentum as I push the damn thing open.There’s no way I’m going to get trapped here.It’s not going to end like this.But in my heart, it feels like a real possibility.
After several tries, it opens enough for me to slither through. The sense of relief is palpable as I climb over the tailgate. I move quickly but carefully. The last thing I need is an alarm to blare.
As soon as my feet touch the ground, I take off without stopping to get my bearings. I just run. And I run. And I run—until I’m wheezing and can’t run anymore.
I slip into a small alley, doubled over. After a minute, I walk around in tight circles, hands on my hips, trying to catch my breath.
While gasping for air, I run through the list of things that need to be accomplished before I reach the docks.
You’ve already done the hard part.
After a few sips of water, I walk for about twenty minutes through the oldest part of the city until I come to a neighborhood market where I might be able to purchase a cheap phone.
The market is almost empty, although this is a touristy part of town, and I’m not too worried about being recognized.
I find the prepaid phones immediately. But because I need international calling, they’re not cheap.
When I get to the register, it occurs to me that I don’t have enough euros to buy the phone, and I can’t use my bank card. Although, why not? It’s an American bank, and by the time Antonio can track the purchase, I’ll be long gone.
