HE DROVE WITHOUT SAYING a word until they reached Santomera. Once there, Gregory Evans showed them the way. They passed through the village and followed a local road. After a few kilometers, they turned off onto another road, which finally led them to a property surrounded by wide, sharp beams.
Beyond the iron gate, which was now closed, they could admire the cave's majestic façade and the magnificent gardens surrounding it. Both Nicolas and his companion were amazed to see this architectural masterpiece.
— It's incredible! — Antonia got out of the car, driven by curiosity.
The men followed her, so that they all went to the main entrance, with the aim of peering through the black-painted bars.
Gregory Evans tried to find any evidence of Umbert and Antonia's return to their starting point. It was possible they had been forced to leave without warning him, hoping he would interpret their disappearance as a strategic retreat. Perhaps they were inside the house, believing he was the one in the hands of the killers. However, he didn't see Monroe's car nearby.
— Well... Are you going to explain why we're here? — Colmenares asked, after observing the detective's singular behavior for a few seconds.
— Wait a moment.
Without paying much attention, Evans walked to the left pillar of the entrance to press the doorbell on the intercom embedded in the stone. There was no answer. He tried again, but it was no use. There was no one there.
— I must assume you know the owner of the property — the lawyer insisted, hoping to understand the reason for his presence there.
— They're not... — he muttered. — ...fuck, they're not here! — he exclaimed. Suddenly enraged, he slammed his fist against the intercom panel.
— We have to leave — Antonia suggested, noticing that the drivers of the vehicles traveling along the road were slowing down to watch them with some suspicion. — We're on private property, arguing and blatantly observing the inside of the house. And that's not the most prudent thing to do for outsiders like us.
— I've been in this house for the past three days... — Gregory Evans snapped abruptly, — and that grants me certain privileges. What's more, I wish to retrieve my belongings.
He grabbed the fence bars and made a move to climb the stone wall, hoping to climb over the fence. The lawyer caught him by the arm before he could do something crazy.
— Tell the police if they pass by here and catch him on the other side of the wall, Colmenares added, fed up with all the idle chatter.
— Please, Greg... — Antonia pleaded. — We can come back at a more convenient time, don't you think? Right now, you need to change your clothes and get cleaned up. I suggest we check into a hotel, rest for a few hours, and then take a good shower. But first, let's stop at a store to buy you a decent shirt and a pair of pants in your size... — Smiling ironically, she added. — I don't think they'll let you in the way you are!
Greg admitted he wasn't ready to continue looking for Geovanna and Umbert.
Antonia was right. They should find a place to rest. He, at least, needed it. He was a nervous wreck, and his thoughts were increasingly erratic...
They decided to return to Murcia and stay at a hotel in the center, but before getting into the vehicle, Gregory made a quiet confession:
— Do you want to know where I spent the night and why I was dressed in such a, let's say, ridiculous way?
Nicolas was surprised by this change in attitude, but he soon remembered that he had promised to tell him everything when they were in Santomera.
— Of course I'm curious — the lawyer acknowledged, leaning against the car door.
— As Iacobus of Carthage would say: I descended into hell. And here I have proof of it... — he tapped his head with his index finger. — I engraved the place where the diary is hidden in my mind... Besides, I assure you I know how to find it.
Antonia, analyzing the situation, looked at Colmenares with a certain barely suppressed enthusiasm. It was clear that Gregory had something important to show them, perhaps undeniable proof that there really was a true story behind a stonemason's delirious writing.