“It will numb my immense disappointment about this trip.”
“I thought you were having fun.” I arched an eyebrow.
“I was wrong.”
“Someone needs to stay here,” I said. “If Andrew calls, I’ll have to go to the church, so that leaves only you. Your drink has to wait.”
William pooched his lips. “Fine, but can we sneak out for a second and take a selfie in front of the church? I thought we could post a reel about this trip later.”
Our surroundings appeared safe and clean, and the houses had no iron bars on windows or doors. I guessed it wouldn’t hurt.
For the late afternoon, the town seemed very quiet, with a few people outside and practically no cars on the road. I wandered to the middle of the road and snapped a picture of San Sierra’s main square. The orange Iglesia San Antonio, with pieces of plaster crumbling off in some places, dazzled against the green mountain with a rounded top. A row of bright-colored colonial buildings with intricate carvings stretched on each side of the cathedral. Minus a few mopeds parked along the street, it resembled one of Augustine’s pencil drawings we’d seen at the museum.
“This is the place Pérez sketched.” I stared at the photo. William lifted his sunglasses and squinted at my phone. I zoomed in. “I recognize all the buildings and the church.”
“I thought the one in the museum looked like the cathedral in Cartagena.”
“I’m telling you it’s the exact place. I can prove it.”
I swiped my screen until I found the photo of the pencil drawing. It was remarkable. The details were so vivid it could easily pass for a black-and-white photo. Next, I opened the Layout app, selected the sketch with the church, and then picked the last photo I took. I arranged one atop the other for comparison.
“See. It’s the same.” I glanced up at the church.
Did Andrew know about it? Was that why he’d picked this place to find a clue? Andrew said he and Dr. Garcia had talked about a collection of letters and diaries in the church’s museum, but he hadn’t mentioned this drawing. Should I tell him that Augustine had sketched this place anyway? It could mean nothing, of course. Maybe Augustine always sketched places he had been to or that were dear to his heart.
“What if his sketches had a special message?”
William shrugged. “It’s just a drawing.”
He must have been really worn out after a five-hour drive in the sun to be so disinterested. It was his idea to go on this treasure hunt in the first place, and here I was searching for hidden meanings in old artwork.
My phone rang with an unfamiliar phone number.
“Yeeeellow,” I answered and ambled to the sidewalk.
“Can you come to the church right now?” Andrew said.
“Okey-dokey.” I hung up. “I’m summoned.”
“Okay.” William smiled, but his shoulders slumped. “I’ll be guarding our stuff in the car.” I didn’t miss the hint of sadness in his voice.
“Are you okay, handsome?” I asked gently.
“Yes. Just tired. Go. Dr. Hot Bod is waiting for you.”
I landed a kiss on his cheek and made my way to find Andrew, my chest aching with worry that something was off with William.
The church’s massive door didn’t open when I pulled on it. I yanked on the handle again. Nothing. How in the world was I supposed to meet Andrew inside if the doors were locked? I pulled my phone out of my purse and was about to dial the previous number when Andrew stepped out from behind the corner of the building and beckoned me.
I hurried to him. “The doors are?—”
Andrew grabbed my hand and pulled me through the wooden gates into a cool, shadowy, narrow alley. He shut the door behind us. “Church is closed today,” he said in a low tone.
“Why are we whispering?” I spoke in a hushed voice too.
“We’re not supposed to be here.”
I was afraid he would say that. “I’m getting a feeling you’re often in places where you shouldn’t be. Should we come back tomorrow?”
