Chapter 3 - The Plan
We arrived home at 6:15 PM. The house was quiet, the air inside still warm and thick from the day's heat. Alejandro’s truck wasn't in the driveway yet, which gave me exactly fifteen minutes to set the stage for what I needed to do.
My hands were steady now, a strange, clinical calm taking over my body as the adrenaline settled into my veins. I helped Sofia out of her car seat and carried her into the house. She went straight to her bedroom without being told, her little body moving with that same compliance that used to make me proud but now made my stomach turn with nausea.
"Sofia," I said, standing in her doorway. She was sitting on her bed, her bunny in her lap. "Mommy has to go back to the store for a little bit tonight. Clara called and said I forgot to lock the back safe. Alejandro is going to come home and take care of you, okay?"
She looked up at me, her brown eyes widening with a sudden, sharp spike of terror. She scrambled to the edge of the mattress, her fingers catching the fabric of my jeans. "No, Mommy. Don't go. Stay here. Please stay here."
The sound of her begging nearly broke me. I wanted to drop to my knees, wrap her in my arms, and run out the back door into the street, never looking back. But I knew that if I ran now without proof, without knowing exactly what was happening behind that locked door, Alejandro would find us. He knew where my sister lived in Houston; he knew where my store was. He was a man with resources and a reputation for being a stable, respectable husband. If I left without evidence, I would be the crazy, unstable widow who ruined her own family.
"I have to go, baby," I whispered, kneeling down so my face was level with hers. I took her hands, avoiding the bruised area on her upper arm. "But listen to me very carefully. Mommy is going to be back very soon. Very, very soon. I promise you. Nothing is going to happen to you that Mommy won't fix. Do you trust me?"
She looked at me for a long time, her small lip trembling. She nodded once, slowly. "Yes, Mommy."
"Okay," I said, kissing her forehead. "Stay in your room until Alejandro comes home."
I went to the kitchen, took my car keys from the counter, and walked out the front door just as Alejandro’s silver pickup truck pulled into the gravel drive.
He rolled down his window as I walked past, a look of mild surprise on his face. "Elena? Where are you going? I thought you were home for the night."
"Clara called," I said, keeping my voice bright, matching the tone I had used with him for two years. I even managed a small, annoyed eye-roll. "She claims I forgot to drop the cash drop into the floor safe. She’s threatening to write me up if I don't go back and verify it. I’ll be back in forty-five minutes."
Alejandro looked at me, his eyes dark and steady beneath his baseball cap. He paused for a beat, his mind processing the information. Then, he smiled—that same soft, helpful smile that had once made me feel so protected. "Ah, that's annoying. Don't worry about things here, love. I'll take care of Sofia. I'll get her dinner started and get her in the bath so she’s ready for bed when you get back."
"Thank you, Alejandro," I said, my throat feeling dry and tight, like I was swallowing sand. "You're a lifesaver."
"Drive safe," he said, rolling up his window and pulling into his parking spot.
I got into my sedan, started the engine, and drove down the street. I turned the corner, passed three houses, and then pulled over to the curb beneath the shade of a large, overgrown pecan tree that blocked the view from our driveway.
I turned off the engine. The silence of the car cabin was absolute, save for the ticking noise of the cooling radiator.
I waited five minutes, watching the dashboard clock. At 6:28 PM, I opened the car door quietly, avoiding the loud click of the latch, and stepped out onto the hot pavement.
I didn't walk down the sidewalk where Alejandro might see me through the living room window. Instead, I cut through the alleyway that ran behind the houses on our block. The alley was dirty, overgrown with wild sunflowers and discarded wooden pallets, but it offered a direct path to our backyard without being seen from the street.
I reached our back chain-link fence. The gate was old and rusted, and I knew from experience that it squeaked loudly if it was opened more than a few inches. I lifted the latch with two fingers, moving it millimeter by millimeter until there was just enough room for me to squeeze my body through the opening.
The grass in the backyard was high—Alejandro hadn't mown it yet this week. I walked through the weeds, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears I was afraid he would hear it through the walls of the house.
The bathroom window was located on the side of the house, facing a narrow gravel dog-run that separated our property from the neighbor's corrugated metal fence. The window was small, frosted glass, and it sat about five feet off the ground. Because the house was old and lacked central air, we always left the bathroom window cracked open about two inches during the summer to let the steam escape.
I crept along the side of the house, my back pressed against the peeling wooden siding. The heat radiating off the wood was intense, soaking through the back of my work blouse.
As I approached the window, I heard the sound.
The sharp, hollow roar of running water. The bath was being filled.
I positioned myself directly beneath the window frame, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. I stood on my tiptoes, my fingers catching the wooden ledge of the window sill for balance. Through the two-inch gap in the frosted glass, the sound of the water was incredibly loud, splashing against the old porcelain tub.
Then, I heard Alejandro's voice.
"Come on in, Sofia," he said. His voice was louder now, carried through the open gap. It had lost that gentle, soft-spoken quality he used when I was in the room. It sounded heavy. Direct. Like a man giving an order to a dog. "Get your shoes off. Hurry up. We don't have all night."
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I raised my eyes to the gap in the glass, my vision focused on the narrow sliver of the bathroom interior that was visible through the opening. My hands were gripping the wood so tightly my nails were biting into the soft, rotting pine of the sill.
The trap was set. Now, I had to watch it spring.
