My lessons with the three remaining children—like most other normal activities on the estate—were suspended in the wake of the fire.
As I was making my way to the main house that morning, a security guard met me halfway. He told me, politely but firmly, that I should return to my quarters. Someone would bring breakfast. An hour later, someone did, an older woman who worked in the kitchen. Needless to say, I was desperate to see Marisol.
I was also terrified now that suspicion would fall on me, and that I would immediately break under questioning, and give myself away.
Around noontime a security guard finally came and escorted me to the main house. I was taken to a private study where Raul Garcia was waiting for me. Garcia was seated behind a desk. Two large, rough-looking men were seated on a divan on the far side of the room. Their sport coats and Italian shoes didn't disguise the fact that they were violent characters....