Page 51 of Anton

“I know the detectives working on that case. I’ll go and speak with them now. They’ll want to talk to you,” he added. “In the meantime, Constable Banderas will fetch some food for you,” he said, nodding toward the younger officer, who followed him toward the door.

“And a phone, please?” I called after them as they left.

Marcie exhaled with relief as the door closed, her gaze shifting to me, her shoulders still tense from the conversation. I could see the edge of anxiety in her eyes, but she gave me a small, forced smile.

I slid my chair closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and murmuring in her ear, “They seem decent enough, but the sooner we get that phone, the better.” She nodded, pressing against me without a word.

Within minutes, the younger officer returned with water, ham, and cheese sandwiches.

“The phone?” I asked.

“Ah, sí, un momento,” he replied, stepping out again.

While we waited, we munched on the food.

The older officer came back, followed by a dark-haired man in black cargo pants and a brown leather bomber jacket, a police badge hanging around his neck. “Señor, señorita, this is the detective I mentioned,” he said gesturing to the new guy.

The detective quietly exchanged a few words with the constable in Spanish, and the older officer left. The detective approached, extending his hand. I shook it, then Marcie did the same.

“My name is Detective Rodríguez of the Brigada de Policía Judicial—what you would call the Criminal Investigation Brigade. The constable has told me what happened. I’m sorryfor all you’ve endured. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first incident of this kind. There have been others, though you and one other person are the only survivors. I would like to speak with you further about this,” he said, his English flawless.

“Of course, but first, could we have a phone? We have family and friends who will be worried about us,” Marcie said.

“Sí, you may use my phone, but first I need to get you to a safe location. These men are part of a well-organised group, targeting foreign travellers and other vulnerable people. They’ve already killed my other witness. I believe they found out where he was from a corrupt officer in this very station. So, we cannot stay here. I need to get you to our headquarters and out of danger immediately. My colleague is waiting for us in my car outside,” he explained, his voice urgent as he ushered us to the door.

Alarm bells rang in my head, but with no choice but to do what the detective said, I grabbed Marcie’s hand and followed him. We rushed through the station and into the waiting vehicle. The moment we slid inside, the car sped off.

“Can I have that phone now, please?” I asked, my voice sharper as unease clawed at me. “You said we could make a call.”

The detective turned to the driver, ignoring me completely, and said something to him in low, rapid Spanish. That’s when I noticed the tattoo on the driver’s hand—the same hand I’d sworn to sever when it had been wrapped around Marcie’s throat at the start of this bloody nightmare.

The driver caught my gaze in the rearview mirror, his smirk taunting me.

Shit. I’d ignored my instincts and walked us straight into a trap. Fury surged through me at my stupidity, but there was no time for regret. We’d had little choice back at the station but to follow their lead. My hand moved instinctively to my concealed gun, relief flooding me that no one had searched us. They hadno idea we were armed. That ignorance was about to become our biggest advantage.

Marcie glanced at me, fear etched across her face as she listened to the rapid exchange between the men in front. Their Spanish was too fast for me to catch more than a few words, but the way Marcie’s eyes widened told me she understood everything—and it wasn’t good.

“It’s a trap,” she whispered, her voice trembling with panic.

I gave a slight nod, keeping my gaze fixed on the men. “I know.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Let me know what they are saying,” I whispered, tearing my eyes from the front to meet hers, my mind racing as I searched for a plan.

Marcie shifted in her seat, straining to catch the rapid Spanish being exchanged in the front. Her face paled as the words registered.

“They’re taking us somewhere remote.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the panic laced through it hit me like a blow.

I glanced at her, keeping my tone steady. “What else?”

Her eyes flicked to the men, her lips barely moving as she replied. “They want to make you watch. Hurt you… hurt me. Then kill us both. No one else knows—they want to enjoy it themselves.”

My grip tightened on the concealed gun. Fury boiled beneath my skin, threatening to break through. But anger wouldn’t save us now—calm would. I nodded once, keeping my expression blank. “Okay. Don’t react. Don’t let them know you understand. We’ll handle this.”

Her nod was slight, but her trembling hands betrayed her fear.

The car slowed, coming to a stop on a deserted stretch of dirt road, and the detective quickly climbed out.

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