Chapter 2 - THE CUP
“Do not answer that message.”
Detective Fuentes stood across from me in a small interview room while another officer photographed the documents.
“She knows where I went.”
“She may be guessing.”
“She mentioned my mother sending me.”
“Then let her keep wondering what you found.”
I put my phone facedown.
Fuentes pulled a chair closer.
“Tell me about the days before your mother was admitted.”
“Karina brought her lunch. Made tea. Sorted her pills.”
“Every day?”
“Most days. I work late.”
Saying it aloud made me feel sick.
My wife had volunteered to help. I had thanked her. Once, when my mother complained that the tea tasted different, I told her Karina was trying her best.
I remembered the way my mother had lowered her eyes.
Not angry.
Finished asking.
“The doctors are treating a suspected toxic exposure,” Fuentes said. “That is serious. It doesn’t yet tell us who caused it.”
“What do you need?”
“Anything she consumed. Packaging. Medication containers. Messages. And your permission to collect items from the home you share.”
“You have it.”
“Your wife may notice.”
“She already noticed.”
We drove to the hospital first.
My mother was awake. A nurse stood beside her bed, checking a fresh bag of fluid.
Karina’s overnight bag sat on the chair.
Beside it was a travel cup.
White ceramic. Yellow flowers.
My mother’s favorite.
I stopped in the doorway.
“Who brought that?”
The nurse glanced over. “Her daughter-in-law. We’ve asked the family not to bring outside food or drinks.”
“Did she drink any?”
“No.”
The force of my relief nearly folded me.
Fuentes asked the nurse to leave the cup untouched.
My mother watched us.
“You believe me now.”
It wasn’t a question.
I sat beside her.
“I should have listened sooner.”
“Yes,” she said.
There was no cruelty in it. That made it worse.
“Did Dad know Jorge?”
Her breathing changed.
“Jorge worked for Hector. He was young. Angry. Always trying to prove he deserved the family name.”
“Was he there when Dad died?”
She turned toward the window.
“I don’t know.”
“Mom.”
“I know what your father told me before he left that morning.”
“What?”
Her eyes filled.
“He said if anything happened, I should never give the Mendozas the original records.”
Behind me, Fuentes’s phone vibrated.
She stepped into the hallway.
May you like
When she returned, her expression had hardened.
“The hospital has your wife on camera,” she said. “Trying to enter your mother’s room after staff told her visiting hours were over.”
