She asked if Mauro had any idea of her whereabouts. He assured her he did not. But before hanging up, the woman said if he were to hear from Talia, he was required by law to inform the police and turn her over so she could complete her sentence, which would likely be extended due to her escape, along with possible additional charges since the recovered girls claimed the initial plan had been Talia’s and she was the one who restrained the night guardian in order to flee. He couldn’t help feeling proud of Talia’s leadership and ingenuity but said yes, of course. If Talia appeared he’d call the authorities right away.

The woman on the phone must have known he was lying—what kind of parent would turn in a child?—because the next thing she said was, “If you don’t, I must advise you that you, too, can be prosecuted in a court of law.”

That night, the story of the breakout hit the news, a segment of less than a minute since there were more pressing concerns in the capital, like the hooded men who held up traffic for hours in protest of the guerrilla disarmament for the peace accord. The reporter spoke over aerial images of Talia’s school and the land around it. Mauro pictured her running, running, as she’d never been able to do on Bogotá’s congested streets. He said a prayer for her safety and watched the telephone all night waiting for her call.

The one who called instead was Elena. In the month or so since Talia had been sent away, she’d phoned many times, and he met her with different lies to keep his promise to Talia of protecting her mother’s ignorance of her crime. Elena told him she’d called Talia’s phone directly but it was turned off. Mauro couldn’t say her cell was right there in a kitchen drawer, since she was forbidden from taking it to the prison school.

“You know reception is not very good around here,” Mauro said, and started charging the phone so at least Elena would hear it ring and ring when she called, and leave messages. But then she would try Mauro again, asking why Talia was avoiding her calls, and he’d lie that she was out with friends, trying to spend as much time with them as possible before she left for the United States.

“Don’t worry. I’ll remind her she needs to call you back.”

He couldn’t help enjoying that Elena’s frustration in not being able to reach Talia led them to speak more in the past few weeks than they had in years. He heard her voice and wanted to pretend she was only blocks away, calling to make plans to meet at one of the park benches they used to sit on as teenagers, so enthralled in each other’s faces and touch that they didn’t notice the first vapors of rain.

“How are you, Elena?” he asked one day after covering for Talia. “How are Karina and Nando?”