Chapter 3 - The Account Book
Emilio waited until midnight to speak. Gabriel found him sitting on the back steps with a blanket around his shoulders, staring at the dark garden.
“Your mother knows you’re here?” Gabriel asked.
“She thinks I went home.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Gabriel sat beside him. From the kitchen came the soft clatter of Teresa heating rice. She had refused help, insisting that she could still feed her own family.
“You said the shirt was connected to you,” Gabriel said.
Emilio rubbed his bruised knuckles. “I hit someone.”
“Who?”
“A man named Víctor.”
“The man from Luz del Sur?”
Emilio looked at him quickly. “How do you know that name?”
“It appeared in my account.”
The boy lowered his voice. “Dad said Luz del Sur was a real estate investment. He said you were helping the family buy a second property. But the money didn’t go to a property.”
“Where did it go?”
“Víctor collected it.”
Gabriel waited. Emilio’s breathing had become shallow.
“He came to Grandma’s house three months ago,” Emilio continued. “Dad told him the title papers were ready. Víctor said the numbers didn’t match. They argued in the garage. I heard him threaten Dad.”
“What did you do?”
“I hit him with a wrench.”
“Was he badly hurt?”
“His mouth split. There was blood on my shirt.”
“And your parents told you to keep quiet.”
Emilio nodded. “They said Víctor would report me. Dad said the police would believe a grown man before they believed me. Mom made me change clothes. She kept the shirt.”
Gabriel studied the boy. “Why bring it tonight?”
“Mom wanted Dr. Becerra to say Grandma was violent and confused. She thought the blood would help prove she had attacked Víctor.”
Gabriel’s anger turned cold. “They planned to use you as evidence.”
“They use everyone as evidence.”
Teresa opened the back door. “Come inside, Emilio.”
“Grandma—”
“Your fear has lasted long enough.”
At the kitchen table, Teresa placed three objects in front of Gabriel: the metal tin, a ring of old keys, and a black composition book swollen from dampness.
“Your father kept accounts by hand,” she said. “After he died, Ramiro offered to organize everything. I was grateful. I did not understand that he was copying my signatures.”
Gabriel opened the book. Dates filled the pages in Teresa’s handwriting. Beside each monthly transfer were notes: cash withdrawal, no medicine, Marisol took card, doctor refused visit, asked about house.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Gabriel asked.
“Ramiro showed me a recording.”
“Of what?”
“You, four years ago, telling him to handle everything. You were at the airport. You were tired. You said, ‘Use what you need to keep Mom safe.’ He cut the rest of the conversation.”
Gabriel remembered the call. He had been flying to Guadalajara after Teresa’s hip surgery. He had meant use what you need for her care, not use whatever you want.
“He said the recording proved you had given him authority,” Teresa continued. “Then he told me that if I complained, you would be arrested for financial fraud because the transfers crossed borders.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Fear does not need to make sense.”
She touched the notebook. “He also said you would put me in a home if you learned I was forgetting things.”
Gabriel looked at her. “Were you forgetting things?”
Teresa did not flinch. “Sometimes. After the surgery, the pain pills made my mind cloudy. I missed appointments. I repeated questions. But I knew my name, my home, and who was stealing from me.”
“Why did you let him keep coming?”
“Because Emilio began leaving notes beneath my door.”
The boy’s face tightened. “I wanted her to know I was sorry.”
“He was afraid his father would send him away,” Teresa said. “So I protected him. Ramiro knew I would stay silent to protect my grandson.”
Gabriel photographed every page of the notebook. Then he opened the tin. Inside was a pharmacy receipt, a torn envelope, and a small memory card wrapped in wax paper.
“What is this?”
“I don’t know. I found it taped beneath the drawer after Ramiro changed the lock.”
Emilio leaned closer. “That’s Víctor’s logo.”
On the card was a black-and-gold emblem and a handwritten date—the night of the garage incident.
Gabriel plugged the card into his laptop. A single audio file appeared. Static crackled, followed by Ramiro’s voice.
“The house is worth more than the transfers,” he said. “Once she is declared incompetent, the court will approve the sale.”
Marisol answered, “And Gabriel?”
“He’ll be made to look greedy. He has no idea what he signed.”
Then came Víctor’s voice. “If the old woman talks, the boy takes the fall.”
The recording ended.
For a moment, only the refrigerator hummed.
“We have them,” Gabriel whispered.
Teresa shook her head. “We have a threat. We need proof of the money.”
“I can get bank records.”
“Not if Ramiro has already changed your access.”
Gabriel opened the banking application. The screen went black. A new notification appeared.
Your account has been suspended pending an investigation into suspected elder-fraud activity.
May you like
Below it was a second message from his own number.
Come alone tomorrow, or the boy goes to jail.
