When I’m finally free I walk outside. It’s still raining and I stand under the eaves and look towards the cave. The mud will be thick on the mountainside, which means I’d get filthy. I use that as an excuse for why I won’t go, though I know that even if it weren’t raining I wouldn’t have the courage, despite my curiosity of whether or not new boot prints have been made in the mud.

I walk back inside. Ella’s Sunday duties require her to clean the nave after everyone leaves, wiping down pews. But when I go there, everything has already been cleaned.

“Have you seen Ella?” I ask a ten-year-old girl named Valentina. She shakes her head. I walk back to our bedroom, but there’s no sign of Ella there. I sit on her bed. The bounce of the mattress causes a silver object to peek from beneath Ella’s pillow. It’s a tiny flashlight. I flip it on. The light shines brightly. I turn it off and put it back where I found it so that the Sisters won’t see it.

I walk the halls, peeking in rooms as I go along. Because of the rain, most of the girls have stayed in, milling about in their small groups, laughing and talking and playing games.

On the second floor, where the hallway splits and leads to the church’s two separate wings, I go left, down a dark, dusty corridor. Empty rooms and ancient statues cut into the rock wall and arched ceiling, and I stick my head in the doorways, looking for Ella. No sign of her. The hallway narrows and the dusty odor segues to a damp, earthy smell. At the corridor’s end stands a padlocked oak door I jimmied open a week and a half ago looking for the Chest. Beyond the door is a stone stairway that circles around the narrow tower leading up to the north belfry, which holds one of Santa Teresa’s two bells. The Chest wasn’t there either.

I surf the internet for a while but find nothing new about John Smith. Then I go to the sleeping quarters, lie in bed, and feign sleep. Thankfully La Gorda, Gabby, and Delfina don’t come into the room, and I don’t see Ella either. I crawl from bed and walk down the hall.

I enter the nave and find Ella in the back pew. I sit beside her. She smiles up at me, looking tired. This morning I had put her hair into a ponytail, but now it’s come loose. I pull the band free, and Ella turns her head so I can redo it.

“Where have you been all day?” I ask. “I was looking for you.”

“I was exploring,” she says proudly. I instantly feel terrible all over again for ignoring her on our walks to school.