“But be careful, ma’am. Whoever made that man disappear can make you disappear too.” Dolores put the paper in her pocket. “At my age, Carmela, I’m no longer afraid of disappearing. I am afraid of disappearing without having done justice. 5 years earlier, two weeks before the tragedy, Gonzalo Fuentes’ office was on the tenth floor of a glass building in the financial center. Sara entered unannounced with a manila folder in her hands and fire in her eyes.
What does this mean? he asked, throwing the documents on Gonzalo’s desk. He looked at them undeterred. Sara, what a surprise? Shouldn’t you be taking care of my niece? Don’t change the subject. I found your parents’ original will, the real one. Ramiro had the right to half of that land. You forged them. Gonzalo got up slowly, closing the door of his office. Beware of accusations, sister-in-law. These are very serious words. They are not accusations, they are facts. I hired an expert. The signature of the will you submitted is false.
The strokes don’t match. I’m going to denounce you, Gonzalo. I’m going to make Ramiro recover what you stole from him.” Gonzalo walked towards her with calculated calm. And do you think anyone will believe you? My partner Aurelio is a prosecutor. My contacts reach the governor. Your word against mine is worth nothing. I have proof. Evidence can disappear, so can people. Sara felt the weight of the threat, but she didn’t back down. You have a week to return what you stole. If you don’t, I’m going to the police.
I go to the newspapers. I go wherever I need to.” Gonzalo smiled. That cold smile that Sara had learned to fear. A week of understanding. Outside the office someone had listened to the whole conversation. Martín Reyes, the gardener, had come to deliver some documents and had been paralyzed behind the door. What he had just heard could cost him his life and he was not wrong. The town where Martín’s mother lived was called San Jerónimo. It was a place forgotten by time, with dirt streets and adobe houses that seemed to stand by miracle.
Dolores arrived after a 4-hour drive. She found Consuelo Reyes’ house, at the end of an unpaved street, next to a mango tree that shaded half of the yard. Consuelo was a 75-year-old woman with a face scarred by decades of hard work and recent years of pain. She opened the door suspiciously. What do you want? I’m a lawyer. I’m investigating a case involving the Fuentes family. I think her son Martin can help me. Consuelo’s eyes filled with tears.
My son disappeared 5 years ago. The police never looked for him. They told me that he had probably gone to another country for work, but I know that something happened to him. Martin would never have abandoned me. He had contact with him before his disappearance. Consuelo hesitated for a moment. Then she went into her house and came back with a crumpled letter. This came three days before he disappeared. Read it yourself. Dolores took the letter with trembling hands. Mom, if something happens to me, I want you to know that I saw something terrible in the house where I work, something that involves very powerful people.
I can’t say more by letter, but I keep evidence in a safe place. If someone asks you, “You don’t know anything. I love you.” Your son Martin, where did he keep the evidence? I don’t know, but if Martin says he has it, he does. My son never lied. Dolores looked at the modest house, the empty yard, the mango tree. Martin Reyes had seen something that night. He had proof and someone had made him disappear, so the question was, was he still alive?
In an exclusive restaurant in the center of the city, Gonzalo Fuentes and Judge Aurelio Sánchez were dining in a private private room. The tension was palpable. That lawyer is asking too many questions,” Aurelio said as he cut his steak. He visited the prison, spoke with the director, was in the home where they have the girl and now I know that he went to San Jerónimo. Gonzalo stopped eating. San Jerónimo, why would he go there? The mother of the gardener, the one who disappeared, lives there. Martín is dead.
We make sure of that. Are you sure? We never found the body. What if he spoke before we reached him? What if he left something that could incriminate us? Gonzalo felt a cold sweat run down his back. What do you suggest? Your brother’s execution is in 48 hours. Once that happens, the case is closed forever. No one is going to reopen an investigation for a man already executed. We need those 48 hours to pass without problems. And lawyer Aurelio took a sip of wine.
He is 68 years old and has heart problems. Accidents happen. Older people fall. He forgets to take his medicines. He has emergencies in the middle of the night. Are you suggesting? I’m not suggesting anything. I’m saying you have 48 hours to resolve this issue. How you solve it is your business. But if that woman presents something to a court before the execution, we will both fall. Gonzalo nodded slowly. He had come too far to stop now. One more death would change nothing, it would only secure his future.
Dolores arrived home exhausted. The trip to San Jerónimo had exhausted her, but what she discovered was worth every kilometer. Martín Reyes was the key. I had proof, I just needed to find it. He checked his mail before entering. Between invoices and advertising there was a package without a return address, a padded, heavy envelope. He opened it carefully. Inside was a drawing. A drawing made with crayons, clearly by the hand of a very young child. It showed a house, a figure lying on the ground, and a man standing next to it.
The man had a blue shirt. On the bottom someone had written one. Date, 5 years ago, three days after Sarah’s death. Dolores turned the drawing over. Behind it was a message written in adult handwriting. If someone sees this, it’s too late, but if there’s still time, keep looking. The truth is closer than you think. Mr. Mr. Martín Reyes. Dolores felt her heart pounding. Martín was alive. I had kept this drawing for 5 years waiting for the right moment and now, with the execution days away I had decided to act.
But why send a drawing of a girl? What was he trying to say? She examined the drawing again, the blue shirt, the photos Carlos had shown her. Gonzalo always wore blue shirts. Salome had drawn what she saw that night. At 3 years old he had created the test that could save his father and someone had kept it all this time. Dolores needed to confirm that the drawing was authentic. She contacted an old friend, Patricia Mendez, a forensic psychologist with 30 years of experience in childhood trauma cases.
They met at Patricia’s office the next day. Time was running out. There were less than 40 hours left. Patricia examined the drawing with a magnifying glass, taking notes. The stroke is consistent with a child between the ages of three and 4, he said. The pressure of the crayon, the shape of the figures, the limited perspective. This drawing is authentic. Dolores, a little boy did it. Can it represent real trauma? Undoubtedly, children who witness traumatic events often process them through art.
This drawing shows a violent scene, a figure on the ground, another standing in a dominant position. The use of the color red here pointed to spots on the lying figure. It indicates that the boy understood that there was blood and the man in the blue shirt is the most significant detail. Traumatized children remember specific elements, colors, smells, sounds. If the girl drew a blue shirt, it is because the real aggressor was wearing a blue shirt. That’s a sensory memory, not an invention.
Dolores showed the photographs of Gonzalo that Carlos had collected. In each one, without exception, he wore shades of blue. Ramiro Fuentes always wore dark colors, Dolores said. Black, gray, brown, never blue. Patricia nodded. If you can prove that the girl drew this days after the event, you have psychological evidence that she saw someone other than her father commit the crime. It is not legal evidence on its own, but combined with other elements it can reopen the case. Exactly. Dolores put the drawing away carefully.
I had a piece of the puzzle, but I needed more. I needed to find Martín. Carlos arrived that night with more information. He had researched Sara Fuentes’ past and found something crucial. Sara had a close friend, Beatriz Sánchez. They had known each other since university. According to phone records I was able to obtain, Sara spoke with Beatriz the night before she died. A 40-minute call. Beatriz Sánchez, a relative of Aurelio, her cousin, but they have not spoken for years. There was a family fight a long time ago.
Beatriz lives on the outskirts of the city. She is a retired nurse. Dolores visited Beatriz that same afternoon. She was a 60-year-old woman who lived alone with three cats and memories of better times. Sara called me that night, Beatriz confirmed. I was scared. He told me that he had discovered something about Gonzalo, Ramiro’s brother, a fraud with the parents’ will. What else did he say to her? that Gonzalo had been harassing her since before the marriage. Ramiro never knew. Sara did not want to cause problems between siblings, but in recent months Gonzalo had become more aggressive.
He threatened her if she did not keep silent about the will. Why did he never declare this to the police? Beatriz lowered her gaze. My cousin Aurelio visited me two days after Sara’s death. He told me that if I opened my mouth, he would investigate my taxes, he would find irregularities where I did not know. He told me that he could destroy my life with a call. I was afraid, Dolores. I was afraid and I kept quiet. And I’ve lived with that guilt for 5k years. Would you be willing to testify now?
Beatriz looked out the window where the sun was beginning to set. Sara was my best friend. I let her innocent husband be convicted of cowardice. If testifying now can fix some of what I did wrong, I’m willing. Dolores left Beatriz’s house with a recording of her testimony and renewed hope. But when he got to his car he noticed something strange, a black vehicle parked at the end of the street, the same model he had seen in front of his house days before.
He pretended not to notice and drove home. The black car followed her from a distance. Dolores changed route taking secondary streets. The car was following her. His heart was pounding, but he remained calm. In her years as a lawyer, she had faced worse threats. He eventually stopped in a lighted area in front of a police station. The black car drove past but something fell out of its window as it accelerated. Dolores waited a few minutes before leaving, she picked up the object from the ground, a religious medal of those that mothers give to their children for protection.
it had the initials engraved. Mr. Martín Reyes. He was following her. Not Gonzalo’s men. Martín. Dolores looked around looking for the black car, but it had disappeared. However, now he had one certainty. Martín was alive, he was close and he was trying to communicate. The question was, why wasn’t it shown openly? Who was he so afraid of that he preferred to remain in the shadows after 5 years? The answer would come sooner than I expected. That night Dolores could not sleep.
He gathered all the pieces on his table. The drawing of Salomé, Martín’s medal, the false will, the recording of Beatriz, the connections between Gonzalo and Aurelio. Everything pointed in one direction. Ramiro was innocent. Gonzalo had attacked Sara to silence her. Aurelio had manipulated the case to protect his partner, but something was missing, the direct testimony of someone who had seen what happened that night. Salome could not speak. Martín hid. Without an eyewitness, everything else was circumstantial.
The clock struck 3 in the morning, there were less than 30 hours left for the execution. Then Dolores’ phone rang, an unknown number. Mrs. Medina. The voice was masculine, trembling. Who is talking? My name is Martín. Martín Reyes. I know he’s been looking for me and I know time is running out. Dolores felt her heart stop. Where is it? Why is he hiding? Because if they find me they eliminate me. as they tried to do 5 years ago. But I can’t keep quiet anymore.
They are going to execute an innocent man and I have the evidence to save him. What evidence? A long silence. The night Sara died, I was there. I saw everything and I saw something else that no one knows, something that changes everything you think you know about this case. What did he see? Sara Fuentes did not die that night, Mrs. Medina. I took her out of that house before Gonzalo finished her off. Sara is alive and has been waiting for this moment for 5 years. And Dolores couldn’t process what she had just heard.
Sara Viva, 5 years in hiding while her husband awaited execution. That’s impossible, he said. There was a funeral, a death certificate. The body, the body was so damaged that the identification was by records. Dental, Martín interrupted. Records that Aurelio Sánchez commissioned to falsify. The body they buried was not Sara. Whose was it then? A woman without a family who died that same week in a hospital. Aurelio has contacts in the morgue. He made the change. Everything was planned to bury the case along with the alleged victim.
