She wasn't afraid of the police.
She was afraid the police would arrive too late.
One officer looked at her.
“Why didn't you tell us?”
Lidia's voice broke.
“I tried.”
She pointed toward the photographs on the wall.
“I went to the police station months ago. I gave them names. I gave them photographs. I told them what I knew.”
She paused.
“They told me there wasn't enough evidence.”
The officer looked back at the wall.
Now he understood why she had kept all those photographs.
She had been keeping records.
Every name.
Every date.
Every person she had managed to locate.
Every person she was still searching for.
But then the officers noticed something strange.
There was one photograph in the center of the wall.
It was larger than all the others.
And underneath it was written:
“THEY WILL COME BACK.”
The officer turned toward Lidia.
“Who is this?”
She didn't answer.
“Lidia, who is this?”
She finally looked at the photograph.
Her face became pale.
“My daughter's husband.”
The room fell silent.
“But he's dead,” one officer said.
Lidia shook her head.
“No.”
She whispered:
“That's what everyone thinks.”
Suddenly, a loud metallic sound came from outside.
Everyone froze.
The lights went out.
The building fell into darkness.
The child began crying.
“Don't move,” the officer whispered.
Then came another sound.
Footsteps.
Someone was walking outside.
Slowly.
Closer.
Closer.
Until the footsteps stopped directly in front of the metal door.
Nobody breathed.
Then three knocks echoed through the building.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Lidia grabbed her grandson and pulled him behind her.
One officer slowly reached for his radio.
Before he could speak, a voice came through the door.
A man's voice.
Calm.
Almost friendly.
“Lidia…”
She closed her eyes.
The man continued.
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