Beatrice.
"My mother. Antonia. She hated the city." Javier startled me.
He was hard to find with all the bright morning light blinding me partially, finally finding Javier as he was standing at the threshold between the kitchen and what I could assume to be the living room.
Javier was repeating the story he shared with me mere hours before in the bedroom, the hairs on the back of my neck raised in suspicion of this man who I had yearned to trust. But suddenly was reminded he was a man who wanted to gain something.