Chapter 3 - The Flight in the Night
Renata’s performance was flawless, but to Diego, it was a tragedy.
She sat at the massive grand piano, a tiny figure under the bright spotlight. Her small fingers flew across the keys, playing a complex Chopin nocturne. The crowd sat in rapt silence. But Diego didn't hear the music. He saw the stiff posture of her back, the way her shoulders tensed every time she had to reach for a high note, and the way her eyes kept darting to the front row where Don Armando sat, watching her like a hawk.
When the final note faded, the theater erupted into thunderous applause.
Don Armando stood up, leading the standing ovation, basking in the reflected glory of his perfect granddaughter. Karla was beaming, wiping away a fake tear for the benefit of the cameras nearby.
"She was magnificent!" Karla gushed. "We must go backstage to congratulate her."
"You go ahead, Karla," Diego said, his voice calm. "I need to use the restroom. I'll meet you in the green room."
"Don't be long, Diego. Your father wants to take a family photo with the director," Karla said, walking away with Armando.
As soon as they turned the corner, Diego bypassed the restrooms and headed straight for the backstage entrance. He knew the layout of the Teatro Degollado. He had donated to its restoration project years ago.
He slipped through the stage door, ignoring the security guard who recognized him as Don Armando's son. He found the green room crowded with well-wishers, but Renata was standing in the corner, holding a small bouquet of white roses, looking like a prisoner waiting for her execution.
Diego caught her eye. He gave her a subtle nod.
He walked over to Ms. Jimena, who was also in the room. The young teacher looked pale, her eyes darting nervously toward Karla, who was talking to a reporter.
"Diego," Jimena whispered as he approached.
"I'm taking her now," Diego said, his voice barely audible. "During the distraction of the photo session. Where is Sofia Mendoza?"
"She has a safe house in Tlaquepaque," Jimena whispered, slipping a small piece of paper into his hand. "The address is there. She has federal agents waiting. If you can get Renata there, they can protect her."
"Thank you, Jimena," Diego said, his voice thick with emotion. "You saved my daughter."
"Save her, Diego. Run."
Diego walked over to Renata. "Hey, sweetie," he said loudly, so anyone listening would hear. "Let's go get your jacket from the dressing room. It's getting cold."
"Okay, Dad," Renata said.
They walked out of the green room, hand in hand. As soon as they were out of sight of the crowd, Diego grabbed her in his arms and began to run.
They bypassed the main lobby, heading down the service stairs that led to the basement parking lot. Diego had parked his personal SUV near the back exit, away from Armando's security detail.
He buckled Renata into the backseat, throwing his suit jacket over her to keep her warm.
"Dad, are we going home?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"No, Renata," Diego said, slamming the car into gear and tearing out of the parking garage into the rainy Guadalajara night. "We are never going back to that house. We are going to be free."
But as he merged onto the highway, his phone began to ring.
The caller ID showed: Karla.
He ignored it.
A second later, a text message arrived from his father's private number:
Diego. You have exactly ten minutes to return with my granddaughter. If you do not, I will have the state police issue an Amber Alert for kidnapping against you. I will destroy your career, your reputation, and I will take Renata from you permanently. Do not test my patience.
May you like
Diego looked in the rearview mirror at his daughter, who had curled up in the backseat, clutching her doll.
He pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal. "We are not going back," he muttered to himself.
