The Heretic's Daughter (Isaac Alvarez Mysteries Book 2) by M Lynes

Author:M Lynes [Lynes, M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789948194071
Publisher: Orange Grove Books
Published: 2022-05-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Twenty

Straining on tiptoes, Juana reached as high as she could. She jumped up and down until she was out of breath, bending at the knees to get extra spring. If she could just catch the stone ledge below the window. It was about the width of her hand, but if she could haul herself up on it she could look outside. To see where they were, to breathe fresh air, to feel sunlight on her face. She might even smell food, perhaps some freshly baked bread, not the stale crusts they’d had every morning. She was weak with hunger. On what seemed like the hundredth attempt, she finally braced her fingertips on the ledge, but they slipped and she fell onto her bottom with a loud squeal.

‘I told you not to,’ Martín said.

She stood up, folded her arms, and scowled at him. ‘Mama said if you can’t say anything helpful, then don’t say anything at all.’

‘Mama said, Mama said, Mama said.’

‘Stop it Martín!’

‘Shhh,’ he said, emphasising the point by placing an index finger over his lips. Although the kidnappers were mostly regular in their daily visits – twice, at daybreak and sunset – Ramos had appeared at the hottest part of the day yesterday. He’d sauntered in, looked around the cell, sneered at them, spat on the floor and left.

‘What about if we use the bucket?’

She regarded him thoughtfully. ‘What would we do with what’s inside it?’ She grimaced.

‘They already came this morning to empty it so there’s not that much in there. If we turn it upside down carefully, the shit -’

‘Martín!’

‘OK, the solids will stay in one place and when we’re finished we can scoop most of it up with the lip of the bucket. Then you can…’

She glared at him.

‘Or I can fill it up again.’

With a shudder she went over to get the bucket. She retched as she picked it up. Turning away she beckoned him to come and help. They placed it beneath the window.

‘Let me do it,’ Martín said. He picked the bucket up by the bail and put his other hand underneath and spun it over onto the floor. It worked.

She returned his smile. ‘Give me a hand to steady myself,’ she said, stepping onto the bucket. Pulling herself up she braced her elbows on the ledge, legs dangling. She screwed her eyes shut at the brightness of the sun, having become accustomed to the darkness of the cell. She enjoyed the heat playing on her face for a few moments and then slowly half-opened her eyes. All she could see was a blur of colour. Immediately in front of her waves of green – was it grass? Then behind that a large block of red – the side of a building. She sniffed at the air – it was salty. Was that the sea?

‘What can you see?’ he asked.

‘The sun is too strong, not a lot. Maybe some grass.’ Her arms and shoulders suddenly began to tire. She dropped from the ledge, managing to place only one foot on the bucket, which toppled over.

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