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"You bet," the sergeant confirms. "See, sometimes cases get all tangled up and stalled, but other times, like in this one, we get a stroke of luck that practically solves everything."
Gretel, still indignant, presses, "You still haven't answered my question. Resembling a woman described to your husband doesn't make me that woman."
"Of course not. But since the lead was there, I had my team check the last places her phone pinged. Want me to continue?"
Gretel's heart stops damn that bar.
"No."
"And what's going to happen to us now?" Abigail asks, suddenly so exhausted she couldn't care less about ending up in a cell; she just wants to lie down and sleep for a few hours.
"You'll accompany me to the station, answer all my questions, and when I'm satisfied, sign the agreement, then head home."
Abigail and Gretel exchange glances, releasing the breath they've been holding.
"Why did you help us?" Abigail needs to know.
"I don't know," the sergeant shrugs. "I guess I trust you. Anyway, by the time I uncovered your identity, my lieutenant had already authorized the agreement. And after confirming that you," she says, addressing Gretel, "didn't have a single traffic ticket, I decided it would be unfair to tarnish your record just because both of you felt bold last night and made a very bad decision."
The sergeant turns and heads back to her car as they watch, feeling an equal mix of gratitude and admiration for her.
Chapter 21
Abigail and Gretel emerge from the station well past six in the evening, having endured the endless questions from Sergeant Cruz Ortega and signed the risky agreement. Exhausted and hungry as lions, for the first time in hours, they feel calm, the burden they carried on their backs, named Mikel, lifted.
The two gaze at the sky, closing their eyes as the sun's rays warm their faces.
"I could devour an entire cow," Gretel admits aloud.
"I'll treat you to a feast if you leave me a slice," Abigail replies.
Gretel looks at her and smiles serenely for the first time a broad, pure, sincere smile that makes Abigail sigh.
"What happened? Are you okay?"
A man's voice interrupts her reverie. Gretel's expression morphs from absolute bliss to anger in a split second.
"I'm perfectly fine," she replies, shrugging off her husband Pol's attempt to grab her hand. "What are you doing here, Pol?" she asks, making Abigail swallow uncomfortably.
"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here,' Gretel? You leave home, disappear all night, ignore my calls and messages. I was worried, you know? And who's she?"
Abigail, a businesswoman accustomed to handling any impromptu and tense situation, would have extended a hand to this stranger at any other time, introducing herself with her best smile and defusing the tension, as she's done many times when one of her brothers was ruining a meeting. However, she remains still and paralyzed for the first time in a long while. She doesn't see Pol as a stranger to impress; she sees an enemy, a rival, the only person with the power to pull her away from Gretel, and she's starting to feel intense emotions for this woman. Abigail Luque is more scared than when they discovered the surprise in the trunk, and it's stressing her out.
Gretel's pulse quickens, not in the pleasant, desire-filled way she feels with Abigail, but with anger. Pol's mere presence offends her how can he be so hypocritical to leave her for someone else and show up acting like the best husband in the world? Just yesterday, she was determined not to talk to him for a while, to give herself time to clear her mind and figure out how to proceed from here. But there's Pol, standing in front of her, and she won't have a better chance than this to talk to him. They need to clarify many things, like it or not, they've been together for too many years.
"Give me a second," she asks Pol, though he feels more like it's been an order, as Gretel ignores him and turns toward the stranger.
Abigail senses a ringing in her ears when Gretel looks at her. She'd like to squeeze the bridge of her nose to relieve tension, as she often does, but she can't because it hurts terribly.
"I think it's better if we postpone that meal for another day," she says, lowering her head. "I know I said I didn't want to talk to him, but he's here."
Gretel stops talking and sighs. She feels uneasy in the situation and guilty with herself. She knows she's forsaking what she wants to do what she must, though she's not sure it's the right thing.
"Sure, no problem," Abigail responds, trying not to show any emotion about it.
That's how they part ways. Despite wanting to approach and hug her, Gretel refrains because Abigail's body language is tense and distant, the opposite of what it's been with her since they met. Gretel walks backward towards Pol, still keeping an eye on Abigail. As they distance themselves, she feels a tearing sensation in her chest, as if something is being ripped away, wondering if that something might be her heart.
Abigail maintains eye contact for a few seconds. She doesn't blink, and if it weren't necessary, she wouldn't breathe either. She wants to talk to her, doesn't want their farewell to be like this after everything they've been through. However, the words seem stuck in her throat, choking her instead of flowing out. Gretel reaches her husband, and before turning her back on Abigail, she raises a hand in farewell. Abigail doesn't respond to the gesture, but just as Gretel turns to leave, she regains her voice.
