Chapter 3 - The Web of Lies
Detective Miller was a veteran officer with weary eyes and a slow, methodical way of speaking that instantly commanded authority. He sat across from me in the visitor's lounge, pulling out a small spiral notebook while Mr. Harrison took notes on a tablet.
"Miss Vance," Detective Miller began, his pen poised above the paper. "I’ve reviewed the preliminary medical report from Dr. Aris. Diego shows signs of acute dehydration, moderate physical trauma consistent with trying to force a door open—specifically bruising on his shoulders and fingernails that were split to the quick—and severe emotional distress. Can you walk me through the text messages you received from your sister-in-law?"
I pulled out my phone and handed it to him. "I haven't deleted anything. The first message came in at 1:15 PM today. She asked me to drop by the house because she was 'worried Buddy might be running low on water.' But as my friend Marisol confirmed, Buddy was already at the resort with her."
Detective Miller scrolled through the exchange, his brow furrowing deeper with every line he read. "She set you up," he murmured thoughtfully. "If you hadn't gone, she would have returned on Monday, found the boy in a desperate state, and blamed it on a tragic accident or a home invasion gone wrong. But by asking you to go feed the dog, she created a paper trail that made it look like she had arranged for someone to check on the house."
"She wanted a scapegoat," Mr. Harrison added, looking up from his tablet. "If something horrible had happened to Diego, Carla could point the finger at Pau and claim she entrusted her sister-in-law with the key, shifting the criminal negligence away from herself."
The cold brilliance of Carla’s sociopathy made my stomach turn. She hadn't just abandoned her son; she had laid a trap for me to take the fall if he didn't survive.
"We’ve already requested an emergency warrant for Carla Vance’s arrest," Detective Miller said, handing the phone back to me. "And a border alert has been issued in case she tries to leave the state or cross into Mexico from the resort. But we need to discuss the legal status of the child moving forward."
Theresa stepped forward, holding a folder containing several legal documents. "Pau, because your brother Rick is the legal father and wasn't present at the scene, he legally maintains parental rights until a judge orders otherwise. However, given the extreme circumstances, the court has granted a Temporary Protective Custody Order. Diego cannot be released to Carla under any circumstances."
"What about Rick?" I asked, my voice tight. "He claims he had no idea. He thought Carla and the kids were visiting her mother."
Theresa sighed, her expression conflicted. "We will have to evaluate Mr. Vance thoroughly. Ignorance is not always an excuse, especially when a child’s life is at risk. Until CPS completes a full home study and criminal background check, Diego cannot go back to that house. Do you have a safe place where he can stay once he’s discharged from the hospital?"
"My apartment," I said without a second's hesitation. "It’s quiet, secure, and I have a spare bedroom. I will take time off work. Whatever it takes."
"We will process the temporary kinship placement paperwork immediately," Theresa said with a warm, approving smile. "You saved his life today, Pau. You're the only stability that little boy has right now."
As if responding to her words, a sudden cry echoed from the inner hospital room. It was a thin, terrified sound that pierced right through me. I rushed back into the room to find Diego sitting bolt upright in his bed, the heart monitor racing as he clutched Rex to his chest, his eyes wide with blind panic.
"Mommy! Mommy, no! Don't turn off the light!" he shrieked, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.
"Diego! Diego, sweetie, it’s Aunt Pau!" I hurried to his bedside, careful not to disturb the IV line, and wrapped my arms around his tiny, shivering frame. "You're safe. You're in the hospital. Nobody is going to turn off the light."
He buried his face in the crook of my neck, sobbing uncontrollably. His body was so small, his ribs pressing against my chest like thin wooden slats. "She locked it," he whimpered, his voice barely audible between heavy gasps. "She said I was a bad boy because I spilled the juice. She said... she said if I made noise, the monsters would eat me."
My heart shredded into a thousand pieces right then and there. The sheer cruelty of telling a terrified five-year-old child that monsters would get him if he called for help was beyond human comprehension.
"There are no monsters, Diego," I whispered, resting my chin on top of his damp hair, rocking him gently. "I'm right here. I'm going to stay right here until you wake up again, and then I'm taking you home with me. No more locked doors. I promise you, on my life."
He clung to my shirt, his breathing gradually slowing down as the monitors began to stabilize. Within twenty minutes, the exhaustion settled over him again, and his eyes fluttered shut.
As I sat there holding him, my phone chimed softly in my pocket. It was a text from an unknown number. I pulled it out with one hand and opened the message.
May you like
“You think you’re so smart, Pau. You ruined my life and my marriage. But you won’t win. Diego is MY son. You have no idea what I’m capable of when someone takes what’s mine.”
I stared at the screen, my grip tightening on the phone. Carla wasn't fleeing. She was coming back, and she was coming for blood.
