Chapter 17 - EDUARDO TALKS
Eduardo Silva had the face of a man who had spent four years waiting for a door to open behind him.
He was brought back under guard.
I did not sit in the interrogation room.
I watched a monitored feed with investigators.
Eduardo’s attorney negotiated for hours.
Then he began.
He worked for Arturo for almost twelve years.
At first, legitimate operations.
Research.
Logistics.
Corporate intelligence.
Then Arturo started asking him to solve “sensitive problems.”
Tracking people.
Obtaining documents.
Paying intermediaries.
Destroying records.
He admitted paying José after Elena’s crash.
“Did Beatriz order the sabotage?”
the investigator asked.
“No.”
“Did she know about it?”
“Yes.”
“Did she pay José?”
“First incident, no.”
“Second?”
“I don’t know.”
“José identifies her.”
Eduardo nodded.
“She met him.”
“Why?”
“Arturo told her to make sure the warning was repeated.”
My stomach twisted.
“So she participated.”
“In the warning.”
“Not the final event.”
“What final event?”
Eduardo stared at the table.
“The night Elena died.”
“What happened?”
“Arturo followed her.”
“I followed Arturo.”
“Why?”
“He told me to.”
“What was the plan?”
“Stop Elena from meeting Marta.”
“How?”
“Intercept her.”
“Talk.”
“Take whatever evidence she carried.”
“No one was supposed to touch her car that night.”
I leaned toward the monitor.
“What happened?”
“José had already weakened the brake line days earlier.”
“On whose instructions?”
“Arturo’s.”
“Through Beatriz.”
There it was.
Not murder planned that night.
But a dangerous sabotage already in place.
“Elena left.”
“Arturo followed.”
“I followed Arturo.”
“Beatriz called.”
“What did she say?”
“She told Arturo Elena was driving toward Marta’s meeting.”
“How did she know?”
“Marta.”
“So Beatriz helped Arturo locate Elena.”
“Yes.”
“What happened on the road?”
“Elena realized she was being followed.”
“She accelerated.”
“The road was wet.”
“Arturo stayed behind.”
“Then her brake lights flashed.”
“The car moved strangely.”
“She lost control.”
My chest tightened.
“Did Arturo hit her vehicle?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you stop?”
Eduardo looked sick.
“Arturo wanted the evidence.”
“She had just crashed.”
“Yes.”
“And he went to her car?”
“Yes.”
“Was she alive?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
My vision blurred.
“What did he do?”
“Talked to her.”
“What did she say?”
“I couldn’t hear everything.”
“Did he help her?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
Eduardo looked down.
“No.”
I had to leave the room.
Mateo followed.
I pressed both hands against the hallway wall.
Elena had been alive.
Two men stood near her.
Neither helped.
Maybe emergency services would still have been too late.
Maybe not.
I would never know.
That uncertainty would stay with me forever.
After several minutes, I returned.
The investigator asked:
“Did Arturo cause additional harm?”
“No.”
“Did he prevent Elena from calling emergency services?”
“I don’t know.”
“She already had her phone.”
“She called Rafael.”
“Then Arturo took papers from the vehicle.”
“What papers?”
“Folder.”
“Color?”
“Blue.”
My heart pounded.
That explained Arturo’s possession of the blue file.
“What else?”
“A small recorder.”
“Then?”
“We left.”
“You left a woman after a serious crash?”
Eduardo whispered, “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Arturo said emergency services were already coming.”
“Were they?”
“Yes.”
“A passing driver had called.”
“What happened to the recorder?”
“Arturo kept it.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he ever say what was on it?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Something that could put him in prison.”
The investigators exchanged looks.
“Where is Arturo now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where would he go?”
Eduardo listed properties.
Countries.
Marinas.
Safe contacts.
Then he mentioned Morocco.
Arturo had access to a yacht through a company in Tangier.
Police expanded the search.
That night, Beatriz’s cooperation agreement became public through a leak.
Reporters surrounded her lawyer’s office.
Beatriz was now openly admitting financial misconduct.
She claimed Arturo manipulated her.
She claimed she never intended Elena to die.
She claimed she had helped with the brake “warning” because Arturo convinced her the car would remain safe.
It was the kind of statement designed to minimize the unforgivable.
I did not respond.
Isabella did not need to hear adults arguing over degrees of responsibility.
She needed stability.
So we created routine.
Breakfast at seven-thirty.
Schoolwork at nine.
Walk after lunch.
Dinner together.
No business calls during meals.
No locked doors.
One evening, she asked:
“Are we rich?”
I almost smiled.
“That’s a complicated question.”
“Beatriz said I was spoiled because we’re rich.”
“You can be spoiled with money.”
“You can also be spoiled without it.”
“What does spoiled mean?”
“Believing the world owes you whatever you want.”
She thought.
“Do I?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you asked before taking the last slice of pizza.”
She laughed.
Then became serious.
“Is Mom’s money mine?”
I froze.
Someone had clearly spoken around her.
“Someday, some of it.”
“Is that why Beatriz was mean?”
I chose my words carefully.
“Money was part of why some adults made very bad choices.”
She looked down.
“If I didn’t have it, would everything be okay?”
My heart broke.
I moved beside her.
“Listen to me.”
“Nothing about this happened because of something you have.”
“Adults choose what kind of people they become.”
“That belongs to them.”
“Not you.”
She nodded slowly.
Then my phone rang.
Mateo.
“Arturo surfaced.”
“Where?”
“Marbella.”
I frowned.
“He came back?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We think he needs something.”
“What?”
“Beatriz.”
My stomach tightened.
“He contacted her through an old secure channel.”
“What did he say?”
Mateo read the message.
YOU OWE ME ONE LAST THING.
“What?”
“He wants her to meet him.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Police know?”
“Yes.”
“Is Beatriz cooperating?”
Mateo paused.
“She says she is.”
That distinction mattered.
“What does Arturo want?”
“We don’t know.”
Then Beatriz sent a second screenshot.
Arturo’s next message.
BRING ISABELLA’S GUARDIANSHIP DOCUMENTS.
AND COME ALONE.
The plan was not over.
May you like
Arturo still believed there was a way to take control.
And Beatriz was our only direct path to him.
