The female voice sounded nervous.
Trembling.
—I’d like to know if… if he’s still there.
Clara tensed up.
-Who is speaking?
There was silence on the other side.
Then, almost in a whisper:
—I am the sister of the man who left her.
Clara did not respond immediately.
The woman continued speaking rapidly, as if she had been holding back for days.
Her name was Veronica.
I had seen the post by chance.
He recognized Luna instantly.
And he said something that changed everything.
“They didn’t leave her because they were moving,” she confessed. “They left her because Luna kept standing in front of the baby’s room door.”
Clara frowned.
—What baby?
—My nephew. He’s ten months old. Since he was born, Luna has slept outside her room. At first, everyone said it was cute. But a few weeks ago, she started growling every time my sister-in-law tried to go in alone at night. Only at her. Never at her dad. Never at the baby. Only at her.
Clara felt a chill.
—Are you saying that the dog was reacting against the baby’s mother?
—Yes… and my brother started saying she was dangerous. That she was jealous. That she could attack the child. My niece begged them not to take her out of the house, but they didn’t listen to her.
Clara remained silent.
Veronica’s voice broke.
“I didn’t want to get involved, but yesterday my niece called me crying. She told me the baby hasn’t stopped crying since Luna left. And that last night she heard her mother yelling at him really badly… really badly.”
Clara got goosebumps.
—Where does that family live?
Veronica took two seconds.
Then he gave her the address.
Clara hung up and stood still, holding the phone in her hand.
It wasn’t a test.
It was an intuition.
One of those intuitions that keeps you up at night.
That same afternoon, after leaving his shift, he drove to the San Jerónimo neighborhood.
I wasn’t planning to do anything irrational.
Just look.
Confirm that everything was okay.
Silence that internal alarm.
The house was two stories, with an impeccable facade and a small garden.
From the outside it looked normal.
Too normal.
Clara stayed inside the car for a few minutes.
Then he saw something.
A girl of about eight years old appeared in a side window on the second floor.
He looked towards the street.
Her face was swollen from crying.
When he saw Clara looking at the house, he raised something against the glass.
It was a leaf.
A folded sheet of paper with large, crooked letters written in red marker.
HELP MY LITTLE BROTHER.
Clara felt her heart give a sharp blow.
The girl disappeared immediately.
The next second, someone closed the curtain from the inside.
Clara was already getting out of the car.
He walked to the gate and rang the bell loudly.
Nobody answered.
He played again.
Nothing.
She walked around the house along the sidewalk and then heard something that froze her to the spot.
A cry.
Sharp.
Desperate.
A baby.
And above that crying, the voice of a woman.
—Shut up already!
There was a coup.
He didn’t know what against.
But he heard it.
And that was enough.
