“No.” We trotted along the building, his hand holding mine, my long legs barely keeping up with his strides.
“Jesus, what’s the rush?”
“I don’t want anyone to notice us.” He stopped at steps covered in moss and vines with tiny green leaves, leading to a door the size of a compact refrigerator I used to have in my college dorm. “We go through this door.”
I assessed Andrew’s tall frame. He wasn’t a gigantic man, but his shoulders were twice as wide as the opening, and his height was enormous.
“Are you going to fit through?” I pulled my hand out of his grip. “I’m five eleven. You’re what? Six five?”
“Six six.” He gestured to the entrance. “Ladies first.”
“Is it even open?” I descended the four steps, and as I got closer to the door, the fresh fragments of broken wood near the handle were my answer. “Ignore that,” I said over my shoulder. What had I gotten myself into? If we were arrested, my story would be that Andrew was a deranged man who had kidnapped me.
I swooped my skirt up before squatting, pushing the door open, and crawling inside. Andrew followed me as soon as I squeezed through the door frame and we crammed into a small room with weak daylight streaming through a lancet stained-glass window far above. Shrouded in darkness, the space was jammed with rolled banners, stacks of candles, boxes, books, and now two figures that shouldn’t have been there.
“Are we searching for anything in particular here?” I peered at the stacked boxes. “Should we check these?”
“No. It’s with Jorge Pérez.”
“What isit? And how do you know?”
“It’s my job to know.”
“You said the same thing about the bracelet, and yet you haven’t taken it off, and you couldn’t open the chest, and?—”
He scowled at me, and I didn’t need much light to properly see his unappreciative expression. “On the way here, I kept thinking about the last notes Dr. Garcia gave me. Jorge was so loyal to his brother, he wouldn’t allow anybody to see his journal. He said he took all Augustine’s secrets to his grave.” Andrew pulled a door ajar and peeked through the gap. After a few seconds, he opened it wider, and we slipped outside the room.
The musty yet floral old church scent enveloped us as we passed through a narrow, windowless hall and stepped out into the nave. I wasn’t very religious, but I always loved the smell of burnt candles and the woody scent of frankincense.
The church was quiet with not a soul in sight. Well, maybe it was full of souls, but they were invisible and mute. Andrew moved quickly to the right, and I shadowed him. He turned after the first column, briefly stopping and looking back, then slid behind it.Jeez, so much suspense.I rolled my eyes and kept after him, my heels making a low clunking noise that echoed from stone wall to stone wall and rose to a vault.
“Christ.” Andrew turned and looked at my feet.
“What?” I stepped back.
“Could you make any more noise?”
“What would you suggest?” I said, frowning. “I go barefoot?”
He raised his eyebrows and a smile played on his lips.
“Seriously? Nobody is here.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You said it’s closed today.”
“It doesn’t mean people aren’t here.”
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes again and pulled my shoes off.
Under the judgmental gaze of stone statues, we continued down the corridor, my feet quiet on the cold marble floor. Andrew stopped in a hall with crypts on both sides. He ran his fingers over words that were carved into the stone, brushing away cobwebs from some places. Then, out of his back pocket, he pulled his notebook. He leafed through it, his eyes lingering on one page longer than the others. He glanced up at the wall, then back at his notes, and finally said, “This is it.”
I moved next to him and peered at the crypt wall. It had engravings with swirls and flowers, something written in Spanish, and the dates 1733–1785. The concrete surface had minimal cracks and a brighter color than the surrounding areas. “It doesn’t look ancient in comparison to the neighboring stones. It seems like someone tried to stain it so it would appear to be weathered.”
“I noticed that too.” Andrew pocketed his notebook. “I’m afraid someone seems to have beaten us here.”
“What do we do now?”
