Chapter 29
Slowly, I drifted back to consciousness. As I did, I became aware of the intense pounding in my head from the blow, which had also left an unpleasant metallic taste in my mouth. My vision blurred, and I fought to stay awake and not slide back into the darkness as before.
I tried to lift myself up but failed. The second attempt met the same resistance. It was as if my body was slow to realize I was awake.
Pains from those two pitiful tries to get up moved all over my body in agonizing slowness. Snippets of the moments before the blow trickled back slowly. Lucy. I swore to deal with her accordingly when I got back, if I ever got back.
Since I couldn't gather the strength to get up and inspect the room I was in, I did so while lying down.
I noticed I was on a soft rug that spread across the length of the room. I realized instantly that this wasn't the room Lucy had led me to and placed some bug-like things in my bra.
Almost all the rugs in Mr. Montoya's house were black or grey and not bright red like this one. Even the smell of the room was strange, like burnt incense. From where I lay, the lighting, furniture, decorations, and smell were nothing like Mr. Montoya's mansion.
"This is not his house," I muttered softly to myself. If I wasn't on the Montoya estate, where the hell was I?
I pushed myself up with a vengeful determination, irrespective of the pain that stabbed at my being. My head pounded greatly, and my body shook as if to cave in. I managed to sit up. A light dizziness assaulted me, and I thought I was going to black out again.
There was a pain in my neck, as if I had been crudely stabbed with a needle. I stayed calm to allow my body to adjust. Then I craned my neck from one side to the other.
"You're finally awake," an unfamiliar male voice spoke calmly from somewhere in the room. The door hadn't opened, so I was sure he had been present with me in the room all the while I gained consciousness.
At the sound of his voice, I got up and turned so quickly that pain shot through me, and I was assaulted with dizziness and a threatening blackout that lasted for a while. I lost my footing and landed on my butt.
"Careful now. Slow movements are advised. I'll phone the doctor; he's been waiting for you to wake," he reported in a neutral voice. True to his words, he made a call for the doctor.
"The name is Fernando Alcázar. No need to introduce yourself because I know who you are, Alice Ramírez. Your father was a good friend of mine. It's nice to finally make your acquaintance," he said.
A knock interrupted the sudden quietness that had ensued following his introduction. "Do come in," Mr. Fernando said.
The door opened to usher in the heavy footsteps of a man. I kept my head bowed and my eyes closed. I felt him working by my side as he checked me out. I realized he was going to give me some medicine, and I needed to be alert for that.
I snapped my eyes open at the precise moment he was about to inject me. I swiftly fled from him. I didn't trust anything that came too easily in this place.
"Relax," the newcomer in a black suit cooed with a glassy voice. He was bald and advanced in age. He made a move towards me, but Mr. Fernando spoke.
"Leave her be. Drop off the medicines and explain how to use them, then be on your way."
The doctor immediately complied. He wasted no time and eagerly left the room. I eventually managed to turn my gaze to Mr. Fernando.
He looked familiar, like I'd seen him somewhere, but I hadn't personally met him. I should recognize him, though, but I didn't fully remember. He had a defined jawline, high cheekbones, and a slightly prominent straight nose.
His right eye bore a nasty scar, even though his skin was smooth and well-maintained. My eyes cruised through his form. He was controlled, calm, and too composed for the situation. Something about him wasn't right… even though he had not done anything yet.
"So, you knew my father?" I asked as I looked briefly at his face. His eyes narrowed at the sound of my voice, and a look passed over his features briefly before he answered.
"Yes," he said, as if the answer carried more than the word itself.
I scanned the room with my eyes. The room was beautiful: expensive furniture, nice chandeliers, and coolly painted walls adorned with some framed photos. My eyes lingered longer on a particular photo, though. Then the realization dawned.
The man in the room was a relative of politician Benjamin Alcázar—maybe a brother or a cousin. The resemblance between them was striking.
"I didn't know my father had friends in high places," I commented. He watched me closely before he replied.
"Your father was a very hardworking gentleman, and I was very fond of him," he stated.
I looked again at the picture of Benjamin Alcázar on the wall and recalled seeing it earlier when I'd followed Mr. Montoya through the secret tunnel behind Carlitos's bookshelf.
"So fond of him," he began speaking again, and my head snapped to him, "so much so that his death was deeply felt. He didn't just die alone; his beautiful wife died with him. You're harder to find than you should be."
"So you searched me out simply because my father was a good man?" I asked cautiously.
"It's no secret he was a good man… but that's not why I searched for you," he said.
"How'd I get here?" a question I'd been meaning to ask since I gained consciousness. A deep-bellied laughter bubbled from inside him.
"Of course, Alex Montoya handed you over to my men, but not after killing three of them," he stated the last bit with unhidden anger.
He hadn't exactly answered my question, but his reply would have to suffice. I looked away from him and out the window. I noticed we were situated in the middle of a forest, as I judged by the presence of tall trees.
"How's your head?" he asked.
I didn't reply; I just kept my gaze outside the window.
"I'll advise you to take the medicines the doctor brought you. They'll help you regain your strength." As he talked, he stood up.
He was tall and well-built, but I found myself comparing him to Mr. Montoya, and he fell short. He reached the fridge in the room, pulled out a bottle of water, and then came to me and handed it over.
"Thank you," I murmured, trying to trust the fact that I wasn't being drugged.
"Tell me about the day your father died," he said immediately after he returned to his seat, and I had taken the medicine and injection. I remained quiet and walked down memory lane.
I remembered I had just arrived home from school that day, and my parents were all dressed up for an outing. My mom was all beams and smiles, and my dad looked so proud of her.
I had asked what the matter was, and my mother had volunteered a reply. They were both headed to the hospital to confirm if she was truly with child. They had both been trying for a second child. I remembered the giddy looks on their faces.
I shook my head as if to chase away the memory.
"I don't remember anything," I lied and willed myself not to cry. He smiled as he observed me. It was almost as if he could see through me and tell that I was lying.
"Time's not on my side. Alex Montoya will want you back any minute now, or else he'll carry out his threat," he said through clenched teeth.
I thought he was going to tell me what Mr. Montoya had threatened him with, but I was mistaken.
"I don't understand the reason for my being brought here," I stated quietly.
Just then, the door opened without a knock, and a woman walked in. She had very well-tended olive skin and was beautifully adorned with a flowing pink gown and a matching jewelry set. She catwalked further into the room.
"This is her?" she asked, her gaze sweeping over me as if I were something to be assessed.
"Yes, dear," he answered.
She didn't look shocked to see me. She looked a bit familiar too, but like Mr. Fernando, my brain slowly searched for where I'd seen her.
"Alice, this is my beautiful wife, Brenda. Mi amor, this is Alice Ramírez."
Something about the way they looked at me made my skin prickle.
"To answer your question about why you were brought here, I want you to be my in
formant when you get back to the Montoya estate. It's a small favor I'm sure you can render," he said.