“My pleasure.”

The policeman stood and cleared his throat. Alicia turned, and they exchanged glances. Vargas nodded. She approached Matías and gave him a smile that Vargas thought must have hurt him like a stab.

“Well,” said Matías tensely. “I hope we won’t have to wait another few years to meet again.”

“I hope not.” Alicia hugged him and whispered something in his ear. Matías nodded, although he left his arms hanging, not putting them around Alicia’s waist. After a bit she walked off toward the front door without saying another word.

Matías waited to hear her leave the workshop. Only then did he turn around. Vargas held out his hand, and the taxidermist shook it.

“Take good care of her, Vargas, because she’s not going to take care of herself.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Matías smiled weakly and nodded. He was a man who seemed young, Vargas thought, until you looked into his eyes and saw a soul aged by sadness and remorse.

As Vargas walked across the exhibition hall, past the animals posing in the dark, Serafina came out to meet him. “Don’t bring her here again,” she warned. Her eyes burned with anger, and her lips trembled.

Outside, Alicia was leaning on the edge of the fountain in the square, rubbing her right hip and grimacing with pain. Vargas walked over and sat beside her.

“Why don’t you go home and rest?” he said. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

One look at Alicia was all he needed to offer her a cigarette, and they sat smoking in silence.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she asked at last.

Vargas stood and held out his arm. “Come on, lean on me.”

In that way, limping and stopping every ten or fifteen meters to ease the pain, they managed to reach her front door. When she tried to pull the keys out of her bag, they fell on the ground. Vargas picked them up, opened the door, and helped her in. Alicia leaned on the wall, moaning. The policeman checked the staircase and, without saying a word, picked her up in his arms and headed up the stairs.

By the time they reached the top floor, Alicia’s face was covered in tears of pain and anger. Vargas carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. He removed her shoes and put a blanket over her. The bottle with the pills was on the bedside table.

“One or two?” he asked.

“Two.”

“Are you sure?”

He gave her two pills and poured a glass of water from the jug on the chest of drawers. Alicia swallowed the pills, breathing with difficulty. Vargas held her hand and waited for her to calm down.

She looked at him, her eyes reddened and her face streaked with tears. “Don’t leave me alone, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Alicia tried to smile. He turned off the light.

“Get some rest.”

He kept her hand in his, listening to her in the dusky room as she held back her tears and shook with pain. Half an hour later he felt her grip loosen as she slipped into a state midway between delirium and sleep, murmuring words that made no sense to him. At last she slowly fell asleep, or lost consciousness. The faint light of evening filtered through the window, outlining her face on the pillow. For a moment Vargas thought she looked dead, and he checked her pulse. Were those tears caused by the wound on her side, or did the pain come from somewhere deeper?