Hunter, mi padre se está volviendo paranoico. Él cree que sé demasiado sobre los contenedores de envío en los muelles. Si algo sucede alguna vez, revisa la mesa. En ese momento, pensé que estaba bromeando. Estábamos bebiendo vino, riendo. Le besé la frente y le dije que veía demasiadas películas de espías. Me maldije por no escuchar. Enfundé la linterna y me arrastré debajo de la pesada mesa de comedor de roble.
It was an antique, something Victor had given us as a wedding gift, probably to remind us that even our furniture belonged to him. I ran my hands along the underside of the wood. rough grain, spiderw webs, chewing gum I’d stuck there two years ago. Then my fingers brushed against something smooth plastic.
It was taped securely to the junction where the table leg met the frame. Duct tape. I peeled it back carefully. It was a digital voice recorder, small, black, unobtrusive. The red light was off, meaning the battery had died or it had run out of space. I pulled myself out from under the table, clutching the device like it was a holy relic.
