Читать книгу Crocodile Tears онлайн

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The woman she’s waiting for will come out of her house after greeting the doorman, nimbly descend the stairs 36separating the shiny door from the street, dressed in expensive sportswear, her hair pinned up with a designer hair clip; she’ll check the time on her Swiss watch, adjust her headphones and cross the street, jog through the park at a gentle pace that Ursula will follow from a distance and with some difficulty, until she reaches the waterfront, where the jog will become a run that will separate the two women until the next day. Or Ursula will simply sit and wait as she thinks about how the woman promised to pay her the ransom for her kidnapped husband, Santiago, about how this traitor lied to her, about how she deceived her. She trusted the woman’s promises, she imagined a house, a car, a swimming pool, and now all she has is her anger.

And who knows what Ursula feels today as she waits on this park bench from which she has been keeping watch for a month? Who knows what she feels in this repeated simulation of police surveillance, of espionage or detective work? What does she feel? What does she think? Because sometimes her brain doesn’t entirely belong to her and suddenly she realizes something is drilling away at it: her own rage, the unstoppable internal monster that roars at her, constantly reminding her of her betrayal by that other Ursula López, that other woman, her namesake.