As soon as Ricardo and I stepped fully onto the cement floor, with the overhead light whirring faintly, the door behind us slammed shut.
It wasn’t an accident. There was intention behind that sound. And then, the unmistakable clang of metal against metal: the lock engaging.
« Mateo? » I called, my voice already trembling. « What are you doing? »
There was no answer. Only footsteps receding down the stairs. Two pairs. One hesitant. The other firm.
Her footsteps.
My daughter-in-law, Lidia.
I ran to the door and started pounding on it with both hands.
« This isn’t funny, » I yelled. « Open it. Now. »
From upstairs, Lidia’s voice came down softly, controlled, the same tone she used at family gatherings and dinners when she wanted to sound reasonable.
« Relax, Elena. » They’ll be fine. Just stay there for a while.
