Chapter 5 - Sofia’s Secret
We returned to the farmhouse in eleven minutes.
Sofia was safe.
Gabriel was furious.
“So the photograph was taken earlier.”
“Yes.”
“He wants you panicking.”
“It worked.”
Isabella ran to Sofia and hugged her so tightly the girl complained.
“Mom, I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry.”
Sofia looked toward me.
“Did you find Bunny?”
Nobody answered.
Her expression changed.
“You lost him?”
Isabella knelt.
“Sofia, listen to me.”
“No!”
“Sofia—”
“You promised!”
The girl began crying.
I had expected fear over bullets.
Not a stuffed rabbit.
Then Sofia said something strange.
“But Bunny has Grandma’s secret.”
All three adults froze.
I crouched.
“What secret?”
Sofia wiped her eyes.
“Mom said never tell.”
Isabella stared at her.
“When?”
“Before the bad men came.”
Isabella’s face went pale.
“I told you to forget that.”
“I didn’t.”
Gabriel leaned closer.
“What exactly did your mother tell you?”
Sofia looked at Isabella.
“Can I?”
Isabella nodded slowly.
Sofia pointed toward her shoe.
“The real secret isn’t in Bunny.”
I stared.
“What?”
The girl pulled off her pink sneaker.
From beneath the insole, she removed a tiny plastic object wrapped in tape.
A microdrive.
Isabella covered her mouth.
“Sofia.”
“You put it there,” Sofia said. “When you were crying.”
Isabella sank onto the couch.
“I forgot.”
Gabriel almost laughed.
“I officially take back every criticism I’ve ever made about hiding things around children.”
I held the microdrive.
Something this small had gotten people killed.
Victor had tortured Isabella for it.
My mother had died because of what it represented.
“Computer,” I said.
Gabriel brought an isolated laptop.
No internet.
We inserted the drive.
Password prompt.
Isabella typed.
Rejected.
“Try your mother’s birthday.”
Rejected.
Gabriel said, “Alejandro used dates backward.”
Rejected.
I stared at the screen.
Then remembered something my father used to tell me.
The truth begins where fear ends.
I typed:
FEARENDS
The folder opened.
Hundreds of files.
Bank records.
Audio recordings.
Photographs.
Contracts.
Names.
Senator Adrian Vale appeared everywhere.
But then another name surfaced.
Tomas Salazar.
Victor’s father.
Payments.
Orders.
Travel records.
And finally, an audio file dated three days before my mother’s death.
I clicked.
My father’s voice filled the room.
“Mariana, please. Think about Ramon.”
Then my mother.
Clear.
Strong.
“I am thinking about Ramon.”
My throat closed.
I had not heard her voice in decades.
She continued.
“What kind of man will he become if we teach him powerful people never answer for what they do?”
My father said, “Vale will kill you.”
“Then expose him.”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“It is exactly that simple.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Then Sofia slipped her hand into mine.
“Was that your mom?”
I nodded.
“She sounds brave.”
“She was.”
“You sound sad.”
“I am.”
Sofia leaned against my arm.
“My mom says being sad means you loved somebody a lot.”
Across the room, Isabella’s eyes filled with tears.
I cleared my throat.
“We have enough to destroy Vale.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“These records are twenty years old.”
“There are newer files.”
“Yes. But lawyers will attack chain of custody. Claim fabrication. Claim your father created it to protect himself.”
“What about audio?”
“Useful. Not enough.”
I looked at him.
“Then what is enough?”
“A living witness.”
“Who?”
Gabriel scrolled.
Then stopped.
A name appeared in a payment ledger.
TOMAS SALAZAR.
Status column:
ACTIVE RETAINER.
I stared.
“Victor told me his father died.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“He lied.”
“Tomas is alive?”
“It appears so.”
Victor had attended a funeral.
I remembered standing beside him.
Closed casket.
Rain.
Victor saying his father died overseas.
It had all been theater.
“Where?”
Gabriel searched the files.
A property address appeared.
Montana.
Under a shell company.
“We go.”
Isabella said, “No.”
I turned.
“You and Sofia stay here.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what?”
“If Tomas is alive, Victor probably knows.”
“Exactly.”
“You go after Tomas, Victor waits for you.”
“That’s why Gabriel and I don’t go.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Who goes?”
“Federal agents.”
Silence.
Gabriel smiled slowly.
“Your father would faint.”
“My father’s dead.”
“Yes. But somehow you’re still arguing with him.”
I picked up the phone.
There was one federal prosecutor I had met years ago through legitimate business.
Rachel Kim.
Brutally honest.
Nearly impossible to intimidate.
I called.
She answered after midnight.
“This better be important.”
“It is.”
“Ramon Ortega calling me at 3:00 a.m. is never good.”
“I have evidence involving Senator Vale.”
Silence.
Then:
“How much evidence?”
“Enough to make you forget what time it is.”
“Where did you get it?”
“That takes longer.”
“Then start talking.”
Three hours later, Rachel arrived with two federal agents.
She reviewed only ten files before her expression changed.
“You understand that if this is real, everyone in this room is in danger.”
Gabriel said, “We passed danger three days ago.”
Rachel looked at me.
“I need original corroboration.”
“Tomas Salazar.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Dead.”
“No.”
I gave her the Montana address.
She called a team.
By morning, agents surrounded the property.
We listened through an encrypted call.
“Target vehicle present.”
Rachel stood beside me.
“Entry.”
Thirty seconds.
Then a voice.
“House clear.”
My stomach tightened.
Rachel demanded, “Where’s Salazar?”
The agent replied.
“Nobody here.”
Then:
“Wait.”
Static.
“Found a basement.”
We heard footsteps.
Then silence.
“Agent?”
Finally:
“You’re going to want to see this.”
“What?”
“Walls covered in photographs.”
“Of who?”
A pause.
“Ramon Ortega.”
Another pause.
“Isabella Marquez.”
Then:
“And the child.”
Sofia looked at me from across the room.
The agent continued.
“There’s also a calendar.”
Rachel asked, “For what?”
“Dates.”
“What dates?”
“One is circled.”
“When?”
The agent answered.
“Tomorrow.”
May you like
Next to it were two words.
ORTEGA FUNERAL.
