Turned to Stone Read Online Free PDF Page A

stumbling, toward the door.
     
    The night was cool, and Sandra covered herself in the red overcoat she had reclaimed from a peg on the bar. As they walked together, Jaime listened to the rhythmic clacking of her heels and tried to guess her age. She might have been four or five years older than him, but her beauty and spirit made her age irrelevant. When they’d reached Casa Genaro, he opened the guesthouse door slowly to avoid any creaking sounds. “Don’t make any noise. The landlady might not like me bringing a drunk woman back to my room at this time of night.”
    Sandra could not contain herself and let out a burst of laughter just as Jaime put one hand over her mouth. He scooped her up, one hand behind her knees, and carried her up the stairs. She smelled good, like berries. At the door to his room, he stopped and put her down. “It appears that you like me,” she said, giggling at the bulge below his belt.
    “Don’t get too excited,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and taking out a big key that was chained to a domino. “But my pants are starting to feel tight.”
    Sandra ran her tongue over her lips. “Maybe you should take them off.”
    “Shh, be good for a minute. Once we’re on the other side of this door, you can be as bad as you like.”
    Under the alcohol’s influence, Jaime wasn’t even surprised by his good luck. He hadn’t expected to go to bed with anything but his pillow and his own drunken self, so the unforeseen encounter was boosting both his self-esteem and his virility. However, the thrill was short-lived. He hadn’t yet managed to get the key in the lock when an alarm bell rang in his mind. Something was not right.
    He looked at Sandra. Her expression had turned cold, and the “sweet girl” mask was gone, leaving a face as hard as granite. Jaime still didn’t understand what was happening until he felt a metal object pressing into his side over his leather jacket. Slowly, he dropped the key into his pocket then held up his hands.
    “Very good, Einstein,” she said in a deep voice Jaime hadn’t heard before. “Now walk in front of me and down the stairs. Slowly and quietly.”

3

    Sandra’s Italian accent had moved to the foreground, as if she’d suddenly reclaimed her ethnic roots. Jaime walked down the stairs, encouraged by the gun barrel pressing into him from behind. Adrenaline began to overcome the dulling effect of the alcohol on his brain and he became more aware of what was happening. His arms and legs trembled and his heart was beating at twice its normal speed, but his fear didn’t paralyze him. His biggest regret was having taken such obvious bait. Sandra was a textbook femme fatale.
    Who do you think you are, fool? Brad Pitt?
    He made an effort to breathe deeply, trying not to let panic set in. Near the bottom of the stairs he turned around with his arms still raised.
    Sandra didn’t even blink. “Keep walking.”
    “What is this, anyway? A holdup?”
    “Just turn around and walk.”
    Seeing that she wasn’t in a talking mood, Jaime obeyed. When they reached a closed door at the opposite end of the guesthouse lobby, Sandra shoved him inside. After waiting a few seconds to make sure all was quiet, she followed him in and closed the door behind her. “Very good. Now tell me who you’re working for.”
    Jaime blinked as he tried to take in the absurd question. “Working? I’m here on vacation.”
    Though he was past the initial shock, he was still dazed and confused. He feared that the alcohol’s effects would make him appear braver than he really was and he’d end up with a bullet in him for talking too much.
    Looking around, he saw that they were in the guesthouse kitchen. Strings of garlic hung from the ceiling, and the remains of a rabbit rested on the countertop. The only light came from a streetlamp, filtered in through the translucent glass of the door to the outside.
    “If you’re on vacation you must work somewhere.”
    “All right,