Chapter 21: The Road Out of Tlaquepaque

Lorena called Ignacio with one hand and drove with the other.

"I'm being followed," she said. "A gray sedan. It's Octavio."

"Where are you?"

"On the road down from Tlaquepaque. I'm going to the workshop."

"Go where there are people. Don't stop for anything. I'm coming."

"Ignacio, it's only a car."

"Lorena." His voice dropped, and she heard a door slam behind it. "Don't stop."

She put the phone on the seat.

The sedan stayed two car lengths behind her through the whole long hill.

It did not honk or flash its lights.

It followed her patiently, at her speed, and that frightened her more than anything.

She turned onto the street in Colonia Americana where the workshop stood.

Its wide doors were open, and sawdust drifted out into the sun.

Pilar's carpenters were eating lunch on the curb, ten or twelve of them.

Lorena saw them, and her whole body let go.

Then the sedan came up on her left.

It moved alongside her, close enough to touch.

She saw Octavio at the wheel.

He was smiling at her, gently, with his hand on his chest.

He turned the wheel.

The steel shrieked, and her little car jerked sideways across the road.

She stamped the brake.

The front of the car met the old stone wall beside the workshop gate.

The world went white and loud.

The air bag struck her in the face.

For a moment she could not hear.

Her hands flew to her stomach.

Please, she thought. Please.

Something kicked, small and strong, under her palm.

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