« Miguel isn’t what he seems. »
A dry crack echoed through the house.
The front door.
Clara felt her blood run cold.
Steps.
Slow. Calculated.
Miguel had returned.
Without thinking, Clara helped the old man lie down and ran to the kitchen. She grabbed the envelope and hid it under her blouse. Her heart was beating so hard it seemed to betray her.
Miguel appeared in the hallway.
Alone this time.
« I forgot my cell phone, » he said, but his eyes scanned every corner.
He didn’t look like someone searching for a phone.
He looked like someone checking if something had been moved.
Clara crossed her arms, trying to appear calm.
« It’s in the living room. »
Miguel walked over there, but before going in, he stopped.
