They haven’t released her yet.

It wasn’t a clean miracle.

It was worse and better at the same time:
the very slow machinery of truth beginning to move after years of pushing to the other side.

That night, sitting in a white room with a blanket over her shoulders, Ramira watched Salome sleeping on a makeshift sofa and felt something she no longer remembered well.

Hope.

It hurt almost as much as the fear.

Clara was arrested two days later.

Not for the homicide.
Not yet.

For obstruction.
Manipulation of a minor’s testimony.
Concealment of key information.

Clara cried, screamed, pretended to faint, called Salomé ungrateful and Ramira crazy. Then she began to speak when she understood that Becerra wasn’t going to protect her.

She sang more than they expected.

Yes, Héctor Becerra was involved in shady dealings with Esteban. Money laundering, forged signatures, embezzlement at a regional construction company. Esteban wanted out when he learned the true extent of the fraud. He threatened to report him. Becerra went to the house that night “to sort it out.” They argued. He fired a shot. Clara arrived later, saw what had happened, and agreed to keep quiet in exchange for money and the promise of keeping some of the assets. Ramira’s arrival minutes later gave them the perfect opportunity.

A distraught wife.
A frightened little girl.
A police officer desperate to close the case.

Everything fell into place too easily.

Becerra tried to flee.