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The sergeant bites her lips and covers the earpiece, not only because she feels like slamming the device but also because Corporal Gustavo Molina has approached to inform her of something seemingly important.
"They've just located the BMW. It's been torched near an abandoned farmhouse," he whispers, escalating her anger. "Firefighters are on the scene, and I've already informed the forensic team, but from what I've been told, it's a lost cause; it's completely burnt."
"Thanks, Gus," she murmurs.
Abigail and Gretel feel like fainting under the sergeant's prolonged silences. For all of Abigail's composure and cold-bloodedness, that woman manages to destabilize her. Plus, she knows the sergeant is right; they'll be found. It's only a matter of time before they locate them, and then they'll have nothing left to do whatever they decide, they must do it quickly.
"Let's stop the nonsense once and for all," the sergeant speaks again. "Continuing this conversation is pointless if I have no proof that you really have Mikel Blanco detained."
"Do you think I'd be calling you and trying to negotiate if it weren't true?" Abigail retorts angrily.
"You have no idea how many calls we get from people claiming to have Mikel or possessing valuable information. Give me proof, or this call ends in five seconds."
"What proof do you need?"
Sergeant Ortega sighs and thinks quickly. She doesn't have time to devise a plan with her lieutenant or seek permission to strike a deal. If they hang up, she'll lose them, along with crucial time before finding them through other means.
"I want to see him in person."
"And the hell with that," Abigail responds, offended. "Do you take me for a fool?"
"Listen first, decide later. I'll go alone wherever you tell me, unarmed and like any other citizen. I won't take any action against you or expose you. If I confirm you really have Blanco and he's in good health, I'll try to negotiate a deal in your favor. You have my word."
"You understand we can't trust your word."
"They must do it; that's their best move right now. I know the bank will confirm their identity within hours," the sergeant lies, "and then you'll have nothing to negotiate. We'll come after you and your companion, and I assure you there won't be a place to hide. We'll find you, rescue Blanco, and you'll go straight to the cell until a judge orders provisional detention, which won't take long."
The sergeant falls silent, letting her last words sink in for the two women. Abigail and Gretel exchange glances Gretel's eyes welled with nerves and fear of jail, while Abigail struggles to maintain composure. She won't allow a foolish act to ruin both their lives.
"This is what we'll do," Abigail says in a neutral tone, as if the sergeant's words hadn't affected her, despite trembling inside and feeling nauseous. "I'll give you two hours; that's the time you have to get us an agreement. I want immunity for both, and it's non-negotiable. I respect you, Sergeant Ortega, but talk to whoever you need to and do whatever it takes to get what I'm asking for, or I'll keep my word and set Mikel free. I have a feeling that's not in your interest."
The sergeant senses the clear determination of her interlocutor and doesn't know whether to shout at her or applaud her.
"And what if I find you before two hours?" the sergeant challenges her.
"We'll take that risk," Abigail responds without blinking.
"Alright," the sergeant concedes, "write down my personal phone number."
Gretel takes out her phone, jotting down the sergeant's number with trembling fingers and an uncomfortable cold sweat running down her spine.
"Send me proof of Mikel's life, and as soon as I receive it, I'll try to get what you're asking for, though I can't promise anything; two hours is very little time."
"An hour and a half," Abigail interrupts, "we won't be able to send you proof of life earlier, so you'll have to hurry, Sergeant. I'd start preparing the ground if I were you."
"I won't lift a finger without proof of life. In fact, until I receive it, I'll use all my resources to expedite your identification. You better hurry."
The sergeant doesn't speak without reason. She despises being told what to do or being blackmailed, well aware that identifying the woman in such a short time is impossible. Nevertheless, she's determined to give it her all.
After ending the call, Abigail jumps out of the car, retching what little she had in her stomach that morning. She takes out the phone card and burns it with a lighter from her purse. Grinding the phone underfoot, she tosses it in the trash, leaving Gretel, who has also exited the car, watching in astonishment.
"Feeling better?" Gretel asks, swallowing nervously.
Abigail clears her throat, coughing a couple of times before turning to spit out the lingering taste of vomit.
"It's nothing," she says after a deep, deliberate sigh. "Come on, we need to send her the proof as soon as possible."
"It's a risky move," Gretel comments on the way back. "If she finds us before..."
