But there was something strange. Strange. How? The girl had marks, ma’am, bruises on her arms that no one wanted to explain and since she arrived she hardly speaks. She eats little, sleeps less, has nightmares every night, Dolores felt a chill. And after the meeting with your father, have you seen it? Carmela looked down. Since returning from prison, Salome has not uttered a single word. Doctors say there’s nothing physical. It’s as if something has closed inside her, as if she’s said everything she needed to say and is now silent forever.
Dolores looked out the window, where a blonde girl was playing alone in the yard. What did Carmela say to her father? Does anyone know? No one. But whatever it is, it’s destroying that little girl inside. 5 years earlier, the night that changed everything, the Fuentes house was silent. Sarah had put Salome to bed early as she did every night. The 3-year-old girl slept hugging her teddy bear, oblivious to the hell that was about to break loose.
In the living room, Ramiro Fuentes drank his fourth glass of whiskey. He had lost his job that week. The carpentry shop, where he worked for 20 years, closed without warning. At his age, he didn’t know how to start over. Sara was talking on the phone in the kitchen. His voice was a furious whisper. I told you not to look for me anymore. What you did is unforgivable. If you don’t fix it, I’m going to talk. I care very little about what you threaten me. she hung up violently and saw Ramiro watching her from the door.
Who were you talking to? With no one. Go to sleep. You’ve had enough. Ramiro wanted to ask more, but the alcohol was already clouding his thoughts. He slumped down on the living room couch and closed his eyes. Within minutes I was fast asleep. What happened next, Ramiro would not remember, but someone else would. Salome woke up to the sound of a door. He got out of bed and walked down the hallway. From the shadows he saw something that his 3-year-old eyes could not comprehend, but that his memory would keep forever.
A figure entered the house. A man the girl knew well. A man who always wore blue shirts and brought her candy when she visited. Sara screamed and then silenced. Little Salome hid in the hallway closet trembling as the man in the blue shirt walked to where her father was sleeping. Dolores spent the entire night reviewing the file of the Fuentes case. Hundreds of pages, photographs that he preferred not to remember, testimonies, expert reports, everything pointed to Ramiro, his footprints, his clothes, his lack of a solid alibi, but there were cracks, small, almost invisible, but they were there.
The first witness, a neighbor named Pedro Sánchez, initially stated that he saw a man leave the house sources at 11 p.m. Three days later, in a second statement, he specified that it was Ramiro. Why the change? Who pressured him? The physical evidence was processed in record time. Forensic analyses usually took weeks. In this case, the results came in within 72 hours, just in time for the arrest. The prosecutor in charge of the case was Aurelio Sánchez.
The surname coincided with that of the witness neighbor. Coincidence or family connection. Dolores searched for information about Aurelio Sánchez. What she found disturbed her deeply. Aurelio was no longer a prosecutor. He had been promoted to judge 3 years ago, just after securing Ramiro’s conviction. His career took off thanks to this case solved with exemplary efficiency, according to the newspapers of the time. But there was more. Aurelio Sánchez had business connections with Gonzalo Fuentes, Ramiro’s younger brother. Together they had bought several properties in the last 5 years.
properties that previously belonged to the Fuentes family. Dolores dialed a number on her phone. Carlos, I need you to investigate Gonzalo Fuentes’ business dealings. Everything, every property, every transaction, every partner. And I need to know if Sara Fuentes knew something she shouldn’t know. Gonzalo Fuentes arrived at the Santa María home in a black luxury car that contrasted with the modesty of the place. He wore an impeccable suit and a blue tie, always blue. Carmela saw him enter and felt a chill.
There was something about this man that reminded him of snakes. Elegant on the outside, poisonous on the inside. I come to see my niece,” Gonzalo said without greeting. “I have the right. I am your legal guardian. You gave up that tutorship 6 months ago when you left it here,” Carmela replied firmly. It is now under state protection. Circumstances have changed. With everything that is happening with my brother, the girl needs a family. She needs someone to take care of her. To take care of her as she took care of her before bringing her here with bruises on her arms.
Gonzalo’s eyes darkened. Be careful what you insinuate, ma’am. I have contacts. Important contacts. I can get this place closed in a week if I put my mind to it. He’s threatening me. I am informing you. I want to see Salome now. At that moment, Carmela noticed movement behind the door of her office. Salome had heard everything. The girl was pale, trembling with her eyes fixed on her uncle. There was pure terror in that look. Gonzalo also saw the girl.
For a second, his respectable man’s mask fell. What Carmela saw in his eyes convinced her of something. That man was dangerous and Salome knew it better than anyone. Go away, Carmela said. Go now or I’ll call the police. Gonzalo smiled. A cold smile that did not reach his eyes. This does not end here, ma’am. I will be back. And when she does, no one is going to protect that girl from her family. The prison visiting room felt colder than ever.
Ramiro waited handcuffed at the table, but his posture had changed. He was no longer the defeated man of two days ago. There was fire in his eyes. Dolores sat down in front of him and studied him in silence. My name is Dolores Medina. I was a criminal lawyer for 40 years. I saw your case on the news and I need you to tell me everything. Why does he care? No one believed me in 5 years. Why would you be different? Because 30 years ago I let an innocent man be convicted.
I couldn’t save him. That haunts me every night. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice. Ramiro looked at her for a long time, evaluating whether he could trust this stranger. Finally he spoke. That night I drank a lot. I had lost my job. He was devastated. I fell asleep on the couch and I don’t remember anything else until I woke up with blood on my hands and Sara on the floor. I called 911, tried to help her, and when the police arrived I was arrested. Did you hear anything? Did you see anyone?
Nothing, but now I know something I didn’t know before. Dolores leaned forward. What did he say to you, Salome? Ramiro closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were full of tears. My daughter was there that night. He saw everything from the hallway. He was 3 years old and saw everything. He told me that someone came into the house after I fell asleep. Someone she knew, someone she trusted. Who? Ramiro pronounced a name that Dolores already suspected. My brother Gonzalo, my own blood.
Dolores arrived home after midnight. Ramiro’s revelations were spinning in his head. A traitorous brother, a child witness. 5 years of silence. Why did Salome never speak? that kept her quiet for so long. He opened the door and turned on the light. What she saw paralyzed her. His house had been searched. Open drawers, papers on the floor, books thrown off the shelves. Whoever entered was not looking to steal, they were looking for something specific. The file of the Fuentes case walked carefully through the disorder to his desk.
The file was still there, apparently intact, but there was something about it that was not there before, a photograph. It was an old photo of Sara Fuentes, smiling, young, full of life. Someone had drawn a red X over his face with permanent marker. Below it is a handwritten note. Some truths must be buried. Stop researching or you’ll end up like her. Dolores’ hands trembled, but not from fear, from rage. Whoever sent this message did not know Dolores Medina.
He did not know that he had survived a heart attack, a failed marriage, 40 years of facing criminals in court. I didn’t know that threatening her was the worst possible strategy. He picked up his phone and called Carlos. Someone entered my house. Do you know that I am investigating? That means there’s something they don’t want me to find out. Double your efforts. I want to know everything about Gonzalo Fuentes, about Judge Aurelio Sánchez and about any connection between them. And I want to know what Sara discovered before she died.
Outside, a black car was parked at the end of the street. Inside, someone was watching Dolores’ house with the patience of a predator. The hunt had begun. Ticarlos worked through the night and delivered his findings to Dolores in a discreet café far from the city center. What he brought was explosive. Gonzalo Fuentes went from being an office worker to a real estate entrepreneur in less than 2 years, he explained as he spread documents on the table. Right after his brother was convicted, he began buying property.
Many properties. With what money? That’s the point. He inherited his parents’ lands. Lands that supposedly belonged to Ramiro as well. But according to this will, Charles pointed to a document. The parents left everything to Gonzalo. Dolores examined the will. Something didn’t add up. Ramiro’s parents died 6 months before the crime. And this will appeared after the conviction. Exactly. And the lawyer who validated it was Aurelio Sánchez. Before becoming a prosecutor, he worked as a private lawyer. This was one of his last cases before entering the Public Prosecutor’s Office.
Dolores felt that the pieces were beginning to fall into place. Then Aurelio validated a suspicious will that benefited Gonzalo. He then became a prosecutor and led the case against Ramiro. And now both are partners in real estate businesses. There is more, Carlos said, lowering his voice. Sara Fuentes worked as an accountant before she got married. Five years ago, weeks before he died, he requested copies of several legal documents from the Fuentes family, including the original will of his in-laws. The original will, different from the one that Aurelio validated.
In the original, the lands were divided between the two brothers. Dolores understood everything. Sara found out that the will was false, she was going to report it and someone silenced her before she could do it. That night Carmela called Dolores with a trembling voice. It has to come, it’s about Salome. There’s something you need to see. Dolores arrived home an hour later. Carmela was waiting for her in her office with a serious expression. “The girl has nightmares every night,” Carmela said. “But there’s something I didn’t tell him before, something I was afraid to mention.” What is it?
Shout a name. Every night the same name. But it’s not his father’s or his mother’s, it’s another name. Which one? Martín. Martin shouts, “Help me again and again. Dolores frowned. That name did not appear in any of Inosinot’s documents. Case. Who is Martín? I didn’t know until I reviewed the Fuentes family’s employment records. Martín Reyes was the gardener. He worked for them for 3 years and disappeared a week after Sara died.
No one looked for him, no one asked about him. He disappeared without a trace. His mother lives in a small town 4 hours from here. She filed a missing person report, but the police never investigated. The case was filed. Dolores felt a chill, a potential witness disappearing right after the crime. A name that a traumatized girl screams in her nightmares. This was bigger than I imagined. I need the address of Martín’s mother,” said Dolores. “I already have it.” Carmela handed him a piece of paper.
