“Mother Caridad,” she said again, quieter this time, “leave it closed.”
That was when I knew the coffin was not the end of the secret. It was the lock around it.
I lifted the lid.
There was no body inside.
For one breath, the afternoon sounds disappeared. No birds in the cottonwood trees. No wind scratching the dry grass. No gravel under Doctor Paloma’s shoe. Just a hollow white box lined with satin, and in the center of that satin lay three things arranged with careful hands.
A vial.
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