Chapter 7: The Night My Uncle Died
The photograph remained on Detective Cole's tablet long after he stopped speaking.
My mother sat in the passenger seat of my father's silver sedan. Her face was turned toward the windshield, pale and rigid. Rafael's hands gripped the steering wheel.
She wasn't smiling.
She wasn't looking at him.
She looked like someone waiting for something terrible to happen.
“Where did this photograph come from?”” I asked.
Cole stood beside my bed, his phone pressed to his ear.
“We're trying to identify the sender. The image appears to be from an archived vehicle camera or a similar recording device. Our digital team is examining the file.””
“Can you tell when it was taken?””
“Not yet. The photograph itself has no reliable visible date, but there may be metadata attached to the original file.””
I stared at my mother's face.
“That's the car Dad drove the night Gabriel died.””
Cole lowered his phone.
“You're certain?””
“He had that car for years. It's a silver Mercedes sedan. I remember it because he refused to let anyone else drive it.””
My voice faltered.
“After Uncle Gabriel died, Dad said he had been home all evening. Mom said the same thing.””
Cole pulled up a chair.
“Did the police question your father at the time?””
“I was twenty. I remember a detective coming to the house. Dad showed him a receipt from a restaurant, and Mom said they'd eaten dinner together. The detective left after about twenty minutes.””
“And you believed them?””
“I didn't have a reason not to.””
I hated how easily that answer came.
At twenty, I had believed my father when he said my uncle stole company money. I'd believed him when he called Gabriel irresponsible. I'd believed him when he said my grandmother had become confused by grief.
I'd even believed him when he told me that my grandmother's accusation had been the final straw in a family already falling apart.
Now I wondered whether he had manufactured every detail.
“What did the investigation conclude?”” Cole asked.
“That Gabriel lost control of his vehicle during heavy rain. The road was dangerous, and they found alcohol in his system.””
Cole's expression sharpened.
“Was that information ever disputed?””
“My grandmother disputed everything. She said Gabriel didn't drink that night. She said he was frightened, not drunk, and that he'd called her shortly before the crash.””
“What did he tell her?””
“I don't know. Dad said Grandma invented the call because she couldn't accept her son's death.””
Cole wrote something down.
“Do you remember which road the crash occurred on?””
“County Road Nine. There's a sharp bend near the old quarry.””
He glanced up.
“Did your parents live nearby at the time?””
“They lived in the same house they do now. About fifteen miles away.””
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I remembered something else.
“Dad said Uncle Gabriel's car had been found empty of personal belongings. He claimed the police took everything for evidence.””
“Do you remember seeing any of those belongings afterward?””
“No.””
“Was there a briefcase?””
I stared at him.
“Why are you asking that?””
“The statement attached to the email mentioned company records. If your uncle was carrying documents, we need to establish what happened to them.””
I thought of the thick envelope Camille had handed my father outside the motel.
“I don't remember a briefcase. But Grandma once told me Gabriel always carried a brown leather one to work.””
Cole's pen stopped moving.
“Did you ever see it after his death?””
“No.””
He wrote another note.
“I'll add that to the information we're checking.””
I looked back at the photograph.
My mother's hands were clasped tightly in her lap.
She looked terrified.
Perhaps she had been terrified for years.
But fear didn't absolve her. It didn't undo the spit on my face, or the way she'd watched my father move toward me in the kitchen.
I could understand how someone became trapped in a cruel marriage.
I couldn't understand how that person learned to help the cruelty continue.
And I wasn't sure I wanted to anymore.
At four that afternoon, Detective Cole received the first results from the digital forensics unit.
He stepped into the corridor to take the call. When he returned, his expression had changed.
“The image was extracted from a collection of archived files recovered from your grandmother's old computer.””
“My grandmother's computer?””
“An old desktop was included among the property being searched. It had been stored in a closet upstairs. Investigators found a folder containing scanned photographs, financial records, and several files that appear to have been transferred from a vehicle camera.””
My mouth went dry.
“Why would Grandma have a recording of my parents in their car?””
“We're still establishing that. One possibility is that someone gave her the files. Another is that she copied them herself.””
“Can you tell when the image was created?””
“Preliminary analysis places it on the night your uncle died.””
The room went cold.
“Then she knew.””
“It's consistent with that possibility.””
I gripped the blanket.
“What else was in the folder?””
Cole turned his tablet toward me.
A photograph showed my grandmother standing in front of her house, holding a cardboard box. Beside her was a man I recognized from my uncle's funeral.
Arthur Bell.
He had been Gabriel's accountant before leaving my father's company. After the funeral, he'd sent my grandmother a sympathy card and disappeared from our lives.
I remembered my father calling him a coward.
“Arthur,” I whispered.
“You know him?””
“He worked with Uncle Gabriel. Dad accused him of abandoning the company when things got difficult.””
Cole examined the photograph.
“Do you know where he lives?””
“Not anymore.””
“We'll try to locate him.””
Another image appeared.
It showed Gabriel outside an office building, holding the same brown briefcase I'd described. The date was several months before his death.
My eyes filled unexpectedly.
I remembered my uncle carrying me on his shoulders at the county fair. I remembered him sneaking me extra birthday cake and telling me that the world was full of adults who confused obedience with goodness.
Once, when I'd asked why he never seemed afraid of my father, he'd smiled.
“Because being afraid of someone doesn't make them right, Val.””
I hadn't understood then.
I understood now.
“Can we prove the photograph was taken that night?”” I asked.
“The vehicle recording contains several sequential images. The timestamps appear consistent with the crash investigation's timeline, although the files will require authentication.””
“Does the recording show what happened?””
Cole hesitated.
“Possibly.””
My heartbeat quickened.
“Can I see it?””
“Not until the forensic team verifies the file and determines what it contains. I don't want you making identifications based on incomplete or misleading material.””
I nodded, though disappointment burned in my chest.
He wasn't being cruel.
He was being careful.
That was something my father had never been.
Sofia arrived shortly before five with a stack of clean clothes and a small container of strawberries.
I stared at the container.
She noticed.
“Too soon?””
I let out a breath that almost became a laugh.
“No. It's just strange.””
She placed the strawberries on the table.
“I thought you might want something familiar.””
I picked one up with my good hand.
For a moment, I was back in the grocery store, choosing between two containers while the world still made sense.
Then I remembered my father's face in the kitchen.
I put the strawberry down.
“Sofia, do you remember Arthur Bell?””
She frowned.
“Your uncle's accountant?””
“Yes. The police found a photograph of him with Grandma.””
“Why?””
“I don't know yet.””
She sat beside me.
“Your grandmother always said she'd prove Gabriel was innocent. Maybe Arthur helped her.””
“Then why didn't he come forward?””
“Maybe he was afraid. Maybe he didn't have enough evidence. Maybe he waited too long and thought no one would listen.””
I looked at her.
“Do you think my mother knew more than she admitted?””
Sofia didn't answer immediately.
“I think she has spent years choosing whichever version of the truth allowed her to remain married to your father.””
I swallowed.
“That's what scares me.””
“Why?””
“Because if she could bury what happened to Gabriel, how much else could she have hidden?””
Sofia took my hand.
“You don't have to answer every question tonight.””
“But I need to know.””
“I know.””
She squeezed my fingers.
“And whatever the answers are, you won't face them alone.””
I believed her.
That was a strange feeling after the last few days.
I had always thought my family was the safest place in the world. Now the people who shared my blood were the ones I feared most.
Yet Sofia, who had no obligation to put herself in the middle of this disaster, kept showing up.
Sometimes family was the person who brought you strawberries.
Sometimes it was the person who moved out of the way while someone hurt you.
The difference had never been clearer.
At six thirty, Detective Cole returned with news that my mother had been located.
She was at a small roadside motel outside the city.
The same kind of place as Briarwood.
“She contacted the department through a public telephone,” he explained.
“She says she left the station because she saw your father waiting outside.””
“Was he?””
“Traffic footage appears to support her account. She says she didn't know where else to go.””
“Is she safe?””
“Officers are with her now.””
I closed my eyes.
“What does she want?””
“To speak with you.””
I shook my head.
“Not yet.””
Cole nodded.
“She also claims she can identify the person who contacted you about your uncle's files.””
My eyes opened.
“Who?””
“She's withholding the name until she knows whether you'll meet her.””
I felt anger rise so sharply that my ribs ached.
“She's still bargaining?””
“That's how she's choosing to handle this. You don't have to accept the conditions.””
I looked at Sofia.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
I understood.
My mother had lied to me. She had defended my father. She might have helped conceal a crime.
And now she wanted me to provide something before she'd tell the truth.
“No,” I said.
Cole nodded.
“I'll tell her.””
He started to leave, but I stopped him.
“Wait.””
He turned.
“Tell her I'll meet her tomorrow, with you and my advocate present. But I won't promise to forgive her. I won't promise to defend her. And if she lies to me again, the meeting ends.””
Cole wrote down my conditions.
“I'll make sure she understands.””
After he left, Sofia adjusted my pillows.
“Are you sure you're ready?””
“No.””
I stared at the ceiling.
“But I'm tired of letting fear decide what I can know.””
At seven, my temporary phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A text appeared.
*Your mother is telling the truth about the car. She is lying about the briefcase.*
I sat upright.
Sofia read the message over my shoulder.
“Who sent that?””
“I don't know.””
Another message arrived.
*Ask Teresa what she carried out of the crash scene.*
I stared at the words.
Then I showed them to Detective Cole when he returned.
He preserved the messages and asked the digital team to examine the number.
“Could it be Arthur Bell?”” I asked.
“It's possible. It could also be someone attempting to mislead us. We'll verify before drawing conclusions.””
He paused.
“Valeria, your mother has agreed to tell us more about the night Gabriel died.””
“What did she say?””
Cole looked toward the closed door.
“She claims she was in the car when your father followed Gabriel onto County Road Nine.””
My throat tightened.
“What happened?””
“She says your father didn't intend to kill him.””
I stared at the detective.
“Then what did he intend to do?””
Cole's expression hardened.
“According to Teresa, he intended to make your uncle stop running.””
He opened his notebook.
“And she says the crash happened after Rafael reached for the steering wheel.””
I felt the room spin.
My father hadn't simply known Gabriel was dead before the police arrived.
May you like
He had been there when it happened.
And my mother had been sitting beside him.
