She didn't like that and whipped me again screaming do as you're told you fuckin worm.I moved as fast as I could to the alter. She put handcuffs on ea...ch extremity. Then a blindfold. Then it got very quiet for a while.I couldn't hear a sound. Nothing. It was as if she wasn't there.In a rather low voice after what felt like ten minutes or so I called out to her. Are you there? No response.I raised my voice just above a whisper. Hello?Nothing again. I tested the cuffs by pulling just a bit. There. Follow me." There is very little inside other than an open staircase leading down. She must have just been waiting near the door for you.At the bottom of the steps, you walk into a large, open room, with several professional-looking spotlights hanging from the ceiling as well as a movable camera. The spotlights are shining on the centerpiece of the room, which looks to you like a pro wrestling or boxing ring. This is certainly a surprise, and you wonder if you will keep going to another room. Mother worked as a hotel maid for minimum wage plus whatever tips she earned. No way could she pay for a trip like this, even if María Fernanda was an only child and I doubted she was. There didn’t seem to be a dad in the picture.I looked again at the mother’s letter. Hotel Nueva York. That explained it. Not the fanciest place in town, despite its name, but an OK mid-range hotel. Good tourist trade, from what the manager, himself a recent Cornell School of Hotel Administration graduate, had. .um...' She was so involved in her own thoughts that she didn't pay any attention when a big delivery van pulled over beside her."Excuse me, miss?"Amy jumped, startled out of her revery. "Yes?" She replied nervously, taking a step away from the van.A friendly-looking young man leaned out the window. He was wearing a white shirt with thin blue stripes and a blue hat, both were marked, "Polar Ice." "I'm a little confused," he said. "I'm trying to find Shepherd's Gas Station on Highway 35, but I.