Something falling.
And the voice of Mr. Antônio shouting:
Don’t let him find it!
Clara raised her head.
She didn’t know who « he » was.
Miguel?
Or something else?
And, for the first time, she asked herself:
Was he simply helping a lonely old man?
Or had he unknowingly stumbled upon a secret that even his own family feared?
Clara froze for just a second.
Then she ran.
The room was dimly lit. The curtain swayed in the wind that came in through the half-open window. A chair lay on the floor. The drawer of the dresser…
Pulled all the way to the end.
And Mr. Antônio, sitting on the bed, panting.
« He’s back? » Clara asked, looking around.
« No… it wasn’t him… not yet… » the old man murmured, gripping her arm with surprising force. « The key… did you get it? »
Clara nodded, showing him the small golden key.
His eyes filled with urgency.
« The number… is for the safe… in the basement… behind the old bookcase. I couldn’t trust anyone… not even him…
» « Him who? Miguel? »
Mr. Antônio closed his eyes for a moment.
« Miguel isn’t what he seems. »
A dry crack echoed through the house.
The front door.
Clara felt her blood run cold.
