Lucia
Dad:Good luck on your new job, dear. Message me when you’ve left.
As I stareat the message on my new phone, my stomach churns and bile rises into my throat, burning like acid. I have a hard time not throwing up. I think I only manage to keep the half banana I ate earlier because fear overpowers my disgust.
How I would love for that message to really be from Dad, but it’s not.
It’s from Red.
Hehas Dad’s phone. With my father’s help the phone has been programmed so nothing can be tracked. That was one of the things they told me so I wouldn’t try anything stupid.
They have my father doing all sorts of things to cover up what’s going on.
This all stops when they say it does, and there’s no way around it and no one to run to for help.
I grew up knowing my father was a technological genius but never really accepted what it meant until he cleansed my records. I saw it as a second chance. Now he’s being used to do evil, and so am I.
The plan is this: I’ve been given three months to get whatever information I can about Alejandro’s life. I don’t know what to make of that time frame, but it seemed important to El Diablo, and therefore important to me because that’s basically how long they’ve given Dad to live.
When El Diablo said he wanted me to report on everything, he meant absolutely everything.
He wants to know everything about Alejandro’s home, what he says and does, any plans he might share with me about his whereabouts, any planned trips he might take, and everything about his niece—Mia.
Apparently, Alejandro only shares his plans and daily whereabouts with a guy called Cristiano Lima, his second-in-command. It was him I spoke to about the job.
No one else knows what Alejandro is doing, except for the house staff.
And that’s where I fit in.
I’m to report on everything on a weekly basis, or if something significant crops up I think is important.
I have no idea what the information I’m supposed to gather will be used for.
Even though El Diablo gave me basic details, he wasn’t very forthcoming about how he knew Alejandro or what exactly this whole setup is about.
I assumed it could be something business related because I overheard a discussion about an oil company. I’m just assuming, though.
What I do know is, this plan doesn’t feel right and all the vague parts worry me. Along with the fact that the quality of information I get will be assessed by El Diablo or Red—so I could do all this, and it could still count for nothing. Dad could still be dead in three months.
While I’m off playing Nancy Drew, El Diablo will be making full use of my father’s skills.
Tech skills I didn’t even know about, which I imagine garnered Dad his classified job with the Department of Defense. I’m sure they’re the kind of skill that aren’t supposed to be used and abused by people like these men.
It all makes me wonder how Dad even got mixed up with these people in the first place. Maybe his skills were what drew El Diablo to him. I have no idea.
Whatever it is, and whatever happened, just adds to the fucked-up shit hole the last four years have been.
I cover my face and allow the tears to fall. One last cry, then no more. After this, I have to be strong. I’ll have to summon everything inside me to be brave.
Right now, as I cry, I’m accepting I’m scared out of my mind, and I can’t feel unbroken.
I can’t feel like the person I used to be, and that just makes me think of the day I broke.
It was when I found my brother dead in his car. That was the moment my soul cracked and left me fragile forever.
Tommy killed himself by inhaling the gas from his car. That’s how he did it. He didn’t even leave a note, but when my parents told me how he blamed himself for his girlfriend and my nephew’s deaths, I understood why.
As I saw his body lying dead in that car, all I could think of was the argument we’d had days before because he couldn’t make it to my birthday.