Detective Vega warned me not to treat Martín’s memory as proof.
Six years had passed.
Memories shift.
People fill gaps without realizing it.
Phone records, if they still existed through archived carrier data or related records, would matter more.
I understood.
I still spent half the night hearing one sentence.
Your mother.
By morning I was no longer certain what frightened me more.
The possibility that Teresa had played some role in Julián’s death.
Or the possibility that she had done nothing to cause it and had simply spent six years hiding everything around it anyway.
One would make her dangerous.
The other would make her exactly who I had always known she was.
Someone who believed control justified almost anything.
At nine, Samuel called.
“Teresa has retained counsel.”
“Good.”
He sounded surprised.
“You mean that?”
“Yes. I want her to have someone who tells her to stop destroying things.”
“That would be useful.”
He told me her attorney wanted to arrange a voluntary interview with Detective Vega.
Teresa had learned about Martín’s statement.
“How?”
“Her attorney received notice that police were seeking certain records.”
“And now she suddenly wants to explain?”
“So it appears.”
I laughed without humor.
“My mother never explains until someone else already knows half the answer.”
Samuel did not disagree.
The interview happened that afternoon.
I was not allowed inside.
Nor should I have been.
Instead I sat with Valeria in the police station waiting area because Detective Vega had asked both of us to remain available.
We did not speak much.
At one point Valeria bought coffee from a vending machine and handed me one without asking.
It was terrible.
We both drank it anyway.
Forty minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Finally Detective Vega came through the security door.
“Clara.”
I stood.
“Did she admit calling Martín?”
“Yes.”
The answer hit differently than I expected.
Maybe because denial would have been simpler.
“Why?”
“She says she wanted to know whether Julián would be using the pickup because she intended to speak with him before work.”
“About what?”
“The mortgage.”
Valeria muttered, “Of course.”
Vega continued.
“Teresa says she planned to intercept him at a gas station he often used.”
“Did she?”
“She says no.”
“Why not?”
“She claims she changed her mind.”
“Do you believe her?”
Vega’s face remained unreadable.
“My beliefs are not the investigation.”
I almost smiled despite myself.
She had said some version of that so often I could hear it before she spoke.
“What else?”
“She provided information we had not previously documented.”
My stomach tightened again.
“What information?”
“According to Teresa, someone else was pressuring Julián over the mortgage arrangement.”
“Who?”
Vega looked at Samuel, who had just entered the waiting area.
He stopped when he heard the question.
“An investor named Esteban Cruz.”
Samuel’s expression changed.
“I know that name.”
“So does Teresa.”
“Who is he?” I asked.
Samuel set down his briefcase.
“He provided part of the capital used to acquire the distressed mortgage.”
“You told me there was an investor.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t tell me his name.”
“I had no reason to believe it mattered beyond the transaction.”
“Does it now?”
Detective Vega answered.
“Possibly.”
She led us into a conference room and closed the door.
“Teresa claims Esteban expected a faster return.”
Samuel frowned.
“That contradicts the agreement.”
“She says he was unhappy with Julián’s decision to transfer the interest into Mateo’s trust.”
“He knew that was the plan.”
“Did he approve?”
“He didn’t need to. His investment terms were separate.”
“Was he repaid?”
Samuel thought.
“Not entirely by the time Julián died.”
I stared at him.
“How much?”
“I’ll need the file.”
“Roughly.”
He hesitated.
“Enough to create motive for a financial dispute.”
Those were exactly the words I did not want to hear.
Detective Vega opened a folder.
“We pulled archived contact notes from the original crash investigation. Esteban’s name appears once.”
Samuel straightened.
“Where?”
“He called police two days after the collision.”
“Why?”
“He identified himself as a business associate asking whether anything had been recovered from Julián’s vehicle.”
My skin prickled.
“What did he want?”
“He specifically asked about a black notebook.”
Samuel and I looked at each other.
“What notebook?” I asked.
Samuel shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Valeria spoke from the corner.
“I do.”
All three of us turned.
My sister’s face had gone pale.
“Julián carried one.”
I stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“He left it at Mom’s house once.”
“When?”
“A few weeks before he died.”
“What was in it?”
“I didn’t read it.”
“Did Mom?”
Valeria hesitated.
“Yes.”
Of course.
“What did she say?”
“She was angry.”
“About what?”
“She said Julián was writing down everybody’s business.”
Samuel looked toward Vega.
“That fits his behavior. He documented everything.”
“What happened to the notebook?” Vega asked.
“Julián came back for it.”
“Did Teresa keep anything from it?”
“I don’t know.”
I rubbed both hands over my face.
There had been so many documents.
So many copies.
So many people touching pieces of Julián’s private recordkeeping.
It was becoming clear why he had used a bank box.
“What does Esteban say now?” I asked.
“We haven’t located him yet.”
“Is he alive?”
“As far as current records indicate.”
“Where?”
“Possibly another state. We’re confirming.”
Samuel paced once toward the window.
“There may be another route.”
“What?”
“Julián’s accountant.”
“You never mentioned an accountant.”
“He wasn’t a regular accountant. He helped with the LLC setup and tax filings.”
“Name?”
“Luis Barrera.”
Detective Vega wrote it down.
Samuel continued.
“If Julián had a dispute with Esteban, Luis may have seen financial correspondence.”
Vega left to make a call.
I remained with Valeria and Samuel.
My sister looked devastated.
“I thought Mom was the whole secret.”
I looked at her.
“So did I.”
Samuel shook his head.
“No. Teresa may have hidden things, but Julián’s financial arrangement involved multiple parties. We need to separate what she concealed from what she caused.”
It was a necessary distinction.
One I kept resisting.
Ten minutes later Vega returned.
“Luis Barrera is deceased.”
My heart sank.
“But his firm still exists.”
“Can they help?”
“Potentially. We need process before they release records.”
Samuel nodded.
Vega sat down.
“There’s more from Teresa’s interview.”
I braced myself.
“She says the night before Julián died, he came to the house.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I was home.”
“Were you?”
I started to answer, then stopped.
That night.
Mateo had a fever.
No.
That was another week.
I worked late Thursdays.
The salon closed at nine.
Julián often picked Mateo up from my mother.
“What date was it?”
Vega told me.
Thursday.
I was working.
“Yes. I wasn’t there.”
“Teresa says he arrived around eight.”
“What happened?”
“They argued.”
“About Esteban?”
“Partly.”
“What else?”
“She says Julián accused her of giving Esteban information.”
“What information?”
“His work schedule. Vehicle. Routine.”
The room seemed to narrow.
“Why would Esteban want that?”
“That is one of the questions.”
Valeria looked at me.
“Mom knew where Julián worked. Everyone did.”
“But why give his routine to an investor?”
Vega answered.
“Teresa says Esteban told her he needed to serve Julián with legal papers.”
Samuel’s expression hardened.
“There is no record in my file of threatened litigation at that point.”
“Could Esteban have acted separately?”
“Yes.”
“Would he need Teresa?”
“No. Julián’s work address was public enough.”
“So her story makes no sense.”
“It may make incomplete sense.”
I hated how careful every sentence had to be.
“Did she admit giving him information?”
“Yes.”
A cold line traveled down my back.
“What exactly?”
“She says she told Esteban where Julián worked, what time his shift began, and that his own car was being repaired.”
I stood.
Valeria whispered, “Oh my God.”
Detective Vega kept her voice level.
“Clara.”
“She told him about the pickup.”
“Teresa says she did not.”
“But then she called Martín asking whether Julián would drive it.”
“Yes.”
“Why ask unless she planned to tell Esteban?”
“That is under investigation.”
I turned away.
My mother’s actions formed a shape I did not want to see.
Maybe not murder.
Maybe not intent.
But information.
Routine.
Vehicles.
Pressure.
Secrets.
Then destruction afterward.
“She knew someone was interested in where he would be,” I said.
“Yes.”
“And she still called Martín.”
“Yes.”
“And she destroyed the brake invoice after Julián died.”
“According to Valeria.”
My sister spoke immediately.
“I’ll testify to it.”
Vega nodded.
Samuel sat beside me.
“Clara, there may still be an innocent explanation for some actions.”
I looked at him.
“Do you hear how many innocent explanations we need now?”
He did not answer.
The door opened.
Another detective entered and handed Vega a printed sheet.
She read it.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She looked at Samuel first.
“We found Esteban Cruz.”
“Where?”
“Phoenix.”
“Did he agree to speak?”
“He already did.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“What did he say?”
Vega placed the paper on the table.
“He denies ever asking Teresa about Julián’s work schedule.”
Samuel frowned.
“Then one of them is lying.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“He says Teresa contacted him first.”
I stared.
“When?”
“Three weeks before Julián died.”
“Why?”
Vega looked directly at me.
“According to Esteban, your mother wanted to buy him out of the investment.”
“With what money?”
“He says she offered something other than cash.”
No one spoke.
“What?”
“A percentage of the house after Julián’s interest was removed.”
Samuel sat very still.
“That would require the trust transfer to fail.”
“Yes.”
“And Julián had already executed it.”
“Yes.”
“So she couldn’t promise that.”
“Not legally.”
My mouth went dry.
“What did Esteban do?”
“He says he refused.”
“And you believe him?”
“We’re verifying.”
“What did my mother say when you asked?”
“She denied offering him anything.”
Another contradiction.
Another hidden arrangement.
Then Vega slid the page toward me.
At the bottom was a note from the preliminary interview.
Esteban claimed Teresa had used a specific phrase during their conversation.
A phrase he remembered because it unsettled him.
If Julián is out of the way, the paperwork can be fixed.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
Valeria whispered, “She wouldn’t.”
I did not answer.
Because for the first time, I was no longer afraid only of what my mother had hidden after Julián died.
I was afraid of what she had been planning before he did.
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: Esteban’s Story Gave Teresa a Motive, but an Old Garage Ledger Revealed Someone Else Had Touched Julián’s Car First
The Red Car Was the Only Thing Mateo Had Left of His Father, Until One Dinner Changed Everything
Part 8 of 27
