“I’m sorry,” I say desperately. “I couldn’t go anywhere else.”
“Someone is hurt,” she guesses.
“My husband. Please, Aracelia, I need your help. He’s dying.”
She glances towards the car that’s parked behind me. “He’s in the car?”
I nod. “Will you help me?” I ask. “I have no one else to go to.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to turn me away. But then I see her jaw set with determination.
“Venga,” she says. “I’ll help you.”
I’m so overwhelmed with gratitude that I almost hug her. But she pushes past me and hurries toward the car.
It’s dark now. A cloud over the moon blots out all the light from the sky, and her house is far from any other building.
Still, there’s no telling who might be out in the night. Watching. Waiting to finish what they started.
We go to the car and I throw
