She was typing something, her thumb moving rapidly across the glass screen.

“Who are you messaging?” I asked.

“My sister,” she said quickly.

She did not look at me when she said it.

Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, and she tilted the phone slightly away from my line of sight.

I knew that look.

It was the look of a client who was beginning to realize they were on the losing side.

“You should turn your phone off too, Lucía,” I said. “The police will trace your location soon enough.”

“I need to keep it on,” she said. “In case my family needs to reach me.”

She stood up and walked toward the bathroom.

“I will be right back,” she said.

She took her phone with her, closing the door behind her.

I heard the lock click into place.

I stood up and walked over to the bathroom door, listening closely.

The sound of running water started, but it was low.

Underneath the sound of the tap, I could hear her whispering.

Her voice was urgent, hushed, and terrified.

She was talking to someone.