She pretended not to notice and drove home. The black car followed her at a distance. Dolores changed her route, taking side streets.
The car was following her. Her heart was pounding, but she remained calm. In her years as a lawyer, she had faced worse threats.
Finally, it stopped in a well-lit area in front of a police station. The black car drove past, but something fell from its window as it accelerated.
Dolores waited a few minutes before leaving, picked up the object from the floor, a religious medal of the kind that mothers give to their children for protection.
It had his initials engraved on it.
Mr. Martín Reyes. He was following her. Not Gonzalo’s men. Martín. Dolores looked around for the black car, but it had disappeared.
However, now she had one certainty. Martín was alive, he was close, and he was trying to communicate. The question was, why wasn’t he showing himself openly?
