Chapter 7 - ERNESTO'S CONFESSION
Ernesto looked smaller without Carmen beside him.
He sat in the hotel chair holding his cane with both hands.
Camila recognized him.
“Abuelo.”
His face broke.
“Mi niña.”
I stepped between them.
“You don't touch her until you tell me why you're here.”
He nodded.
No argument.
That scared me more than one would have.
“I helped Rafael fake his death,” he said.
“I know.”
“I also helped him come back.”
“Why?”
“Because he threatened me.”
“With what?”
Ernesto looked at Camila.
I called Elena, who took her downstairs for hot chocolate.
Only then did he continue.
“Years ago, I used my customs position to move undeclared goods.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
I believed him.
“Luxury goods. Electronics. Cash. I told myself nobody was hurt.”
“But?”
“Somebody always gets hurt.”
He had kept records.
Rafael found them.
Then Sofía's father, Ignacio Navarro, found out too.
The two men had been blackmailing each other for years.
Daniel and Valeria got pulled in because Carmen wanted money to keep Rafael quiet.
I stared at him.
“So my salary became the family emergency fund.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“While all of you called me absent.”
He lowered his head.
“Yes.”
I wanted to throw something.
Instead I asked, “Why Spain?”
Ernesto's hands tightened around the cane.
“Carmen has a sister outside Madrid.”
“I know.”
“She thought if she took Camila there, Rafael would stop using the child as leverage.”
“By kidnapping her?”
“She told herself it was temporary.”
“That's insane.”
“Yes.”
Another honest answer.
I paced the room.
“Where is Rafael?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is Ignacio?”
“I don't know.”
“You're incredibly unhelpful for a criminal.”
Ernesto almost smiled.
Then he coughed.
Hard.
I reached for water automatically.
He took it.
I hated that compassion still worked.
Before leaving, he handed me a storage receipt.
“Rafael keeps something here.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Why give it to me?”
“Because Carmen will burn it if she finds it.”
The storage unit was in an industrial neighborhood across the city.
Elena told me not to go.
I went anyway.
Another mistake.
Inside were boxes of old electronics, clothes, counterfeit watches, and documents.
Then I found a child's drawing.
Three stick figures.
One labeled MOM.
One labeled ME.
One labeled TIO RAFA.
Camila's drawing.
My hands began shaking.
Rafael had been near my daughter.
I found more.
Photographs of Camila leaving preschool.
At the park.
With Carmen.
With Daniel.
Someone had been watching her for months.
Then the storage door slammed shut behind me.
The lights went out.
May you like
A man's voice said, “You really never learned to listen, little sister.”
