Chapter 10 - A Father on the Telephone
"Put Jamie on," I demanded.
There was a pause, then a boy's ragged voice. "Raf? Tell Mom I'm sorry."
"For what, buddy?"
"For getting in the van. He said she was hurt."
I heard a slap, a gasp, then my father's voice again. "Midnight. The south entrance to the orchard. No police."
He hung up.
I put my fist against the wall and stood there until the urge to smash something passed. Lucía watched me closely.
"He knows exactly how to make you feel like it's your fault," she said. "That's what he did to Mom."
Nora had the call preserved. She didn't pretend they could trace it instantly, but technicians could analyze the audio and location data. Meanwhile, Evelyn obtained a temporary court order blocking the property sale. The development company, shocked by evidence of forged signatures, agreed to pause all payments.
Then Nora interviewed Pike. He admitted preparing the closed coffin under instructions from Mercer, but insisted he'd believed Lucía was dead. When pressed about the woman's clicking boots at the hospital, he requested an attorney. Nora said investigators were seeking warrants; she wouldn't tell me what they had or hadn't found yet.
At dusk, I went with Nora to my mother's orchard for the first time in eight years. The trees were neglected, their branches thick with dead wood. Wind tapped a loose sign against the gate: CRUZ ORCHARDS, EST. 1978. Dad had once taught me how to pick an apple without tearing the stem.
"He knew I would come here," I told Nora.
"That's why we need him to think you came on his terms."
Her team planned to watch the south entrance from multiple positions. I would not go alone and I would not bring the only copy of the ledger. She made that clear three times.
Just before midnight, an old delivery truck rolled into the dark orchard. Its headlights flashed twice. The driver's door opened.
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A slim figure stepped out carrying a flashlight and a bloodstained scarf.
It wasn't my father. It was Lucía.
