Rafael snorted. “That’s your evidence that our father killed our mother? A torn page from her journal? She probably tore it out herself and thought it would be a good way to let us know how she was feeling when she ended things.”
“That would make sense,” Esteban said, “if she’d been depressed and ready to end it. But she wasn’t. The last ten pages, the most recent ones, talked about how well her treatment was going. They spoke about how much better she was feeling and that she would treasure life more going forward. But there was something else in those last ten pages too. She’d fought during her entire marriage to keep us out of the criminal life that Dad leads.”
He glanced at Beau, then shrugged. “It’s the truth. Everyone knows it.” His gaze slid to Sierra. “Even his baby girl who tries to look the other way.”
She tightened her hold on Beau’s hand. “Because I choose to dwell on the good in him.”
He winced. “Rafael and I know him far better than you. We know our real father. Yes, there’s good in him. But there’s bad too, a whole lot of awful. And in spite of Mom trying to steer us all clear of it, neither Rafael nor I remained as pristine as you. You were Mom’s one hope for breaking the cycle. Her sons failed her.”
His voice broke, but he quickly sobered. “The other stuff Mom wrote in those last ten pages, I’m sure, is why Dad killed her. The cancer changed how she looked at things, made her more determined than ever to change us, to save us, basically, to her way of thinking. She wrote that she’d started gathering together documentation ever since her diagnosis that would prove the most egregious crimes our father has committed. She had evidence she was certain could send him to prison for the rest of his life.”
“What?” Sierra demanded. “She loved him. She would never—”
“I agree with you,” Rafael said. “She wouldn’t turn him in.”
“I know, I know.” Esteban’s jaw tightened. “I agree too. But Dad had far too much to lose. I think he was afraid to risk that she might actually do it. Her journal said she was going to tell Dad that if he didn’t stop his life of crime and get her sons out of it, she would turn over the evidence to the FBI. That was the last entry in her journal. The day she died.”
Rafael and Sierra exchanged pained glances.
“Where is this evidence she had?” Sierra asked.
“I don’t know. Her journal said she hid it in a special, safe place. I think what must have happened was that she told Dad what she had and threatened to expose him if he didn’t agree to her demands. Dad would have been infuriated, on that we can all agree. He values loyalty above all else. I think he must have flown into a rage and killed her without even thinking about it. Then, to cover it up, he staged her suicide. I imagine he had regrets later, especially when he searched for the evidence she said she’d collected. Mom might have been a poor judge of character, but she was smart about other things. If she said she hid it somewhere safe, she did. I believe it’s probably still wherever she put it.”
Rafael gave him a hard look. “That’s a lot ofifs, andI thinks. What can you actuallyprove?”
“I can prove what I said about her getting better, that her prognosis was good. She was beating the cancer and knew it. The journal wasn’t the only thing I found in Dad’s desk. I found the medical reports from her treatment. I don’t have them with me, but I kept them. I can show you later. They prove what I’ve said.”
“About her illness,” Sierra said. “But what about Dad…hurting her? Do you have any evidence about that?”
“The empty bottle of pain pills and alleged suicide note were found by Dad with Mom’s body. The coroner, knowing Mom was sick with cancer and faced with the note and empty bottle of pills, ruled it a suicide and no autopsy was performed. I didn’t want to believe Dad was guilty. I wasn’t trying to prove a murder. But I had to know the truth. So I went to the funeral home that took care of her. I spoke to the man who…handled her body, got it ready for the viewing. I asked him if anything seemed out of the ordinary for an overdose death like hers. At first he said no, but I gave him an obscene amount of money, and he told me she had bruises around her throat, big bruises like a man’s hand would make. And her eyes were bloodshot. The coroner, not suspecting foul play, probably thought it was a side effect from her treatment. But it wasn’t.”
“Petechial hemorrhaging,” Beau said. “You think he strangled her.”
“Yes. The man I spoke to was certain of it. He’s handled bodies there for decades and knows the signs.”
Sierra shook her head. “But the police, when they came for her body, wouldn’t they have seen her eyes, the bruises, and asked questions?”
Beau shook his head. “The bruises probably wouldn’t have shown up until the body was sitting awhile. If her eyes were closed, they wouldn’t have opened them to check for anything ifthe suicide staging was convincing enough—mainly because of your father’s powerful reputation. Or maybe the police were just plain afraid of him and, since she was allegedly dying of cancer anyway, chose not to dig deeper. They took his word for it.”
“Those were my thoughts too,” Esteban said. “It’s why I bribed the funeral guy to tell me the truth as he saw it. She was definitely murdered. And the only person who could have done it was Dad. Proving she was murdered is actually the easy part. She was embalmed and buried. An exhumation would show the bruises under her makeup, the blood in her eyes, maybe damage to the bones in her throat. They might even be able to test her body somehow to see whether any of the pain medication was actually in her system. But even without that, I think the bruises and eyes would be enough to prove strangulation as the cause of death.”
“I agree,” Beau said. “But then you have to prove he’s the one who did it. That’s a different legal battle altogether, even if we all agree it sounds like he’s the perpetrator.”
Sierra sat in stunned silence. Rafael was quiet too. Esteban hung his head, obviously miserable that he’d had to tell them such painful news.
“Just a few more questions,” Beau said, his voice somber. “First, how did your father discover that you knew the truth?”
“I think…he must have set a trap, something in his desk drawers, to show him if anyone ever opened them. He somehow knew I’d gone not just in the top drawer, but the others too. Or maybe he realized I’d taken the journal and medical reports. That was stupid of me. I made copies and was going to put them back a few days later, when he left on another business trip. But when I went to put them back, the locks had been changed on his drawers. The very next day is when the attacks began.”
“Attacks?” Beau asked.
“Someone ran me off the road. I was lucky. Came away with only a few scratches. There were other close calls, things that would look like accidents if I was killed. I could see it in his eyes too, when I’d come over for dinners with the family. He knew. And he hated me for it. I think that since Sierra and Rafael didn’t act differently or do anything to raise his suspicions, he realized I hadn’t told them yet. I wanted all my ducks in a row, all the evidence, including what Mom hid about Dad, before going to them to share what I knew. But then I started worrying that if I told them, he’d kill them too. As much as he knows how, he loves us. But he loves his money and freedom more. If those were put at risk, he’d stop at nothing to protect himself. Don’t you agree, Rafael?”
“I agree. We’re all a family, close, tight. But the three of us are still different from the others. You and I have done things we’re not proud of. But not like our other brothers who are deeply entrenched in Dad’s seamy side of the business. And of course, Sierra has never been a part of any of that. If any of us could ever be seen as a threat, it would be us three. He knows how much we adored Mom, that we’d want to bring him to justice if we believed he’d killed her. That alone would make us a threat if we found out. So yes, I believe he’d sacrifice us to keep himself safe.”
Sierra cleared her throat. “As much as I hate to admit it, I agree. What happened after that, Esteban? You faked a drowning and put another man’s body in the lake to keep Dad’s men from continuing to search for you? If so, why go after Beau? Why go after me?”
His eyes widened. “I didn’t go after you, sis. I swear. But, yes, I faked my death. The supposed friends with me on the boat were low-level criminals I hired to play a part. They didn’t even know my real identity. I thought by faking my death that I’d finally be safe, that Dad would stop sending men to search for me. And it worked. No close calls after that. None of Dad’smen nosing around. Months later my money was running out because I couldn’t access my accounts without tipping Dad off that I was still alive. So I began my own businesses. And I needed guys to help me…uh, run it.”
