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“Alejandro De Leon?” her mother asked, surprised.
“I don’t think we ever met,” he said in a soft voice. “But I knew Pete Sanderson a long time ago.”
“Yes. You were young, but making a name for yourself. Pete said you’d grow into someone powerful.” Mama looked over at Cat worriedly.
“It’s all right, Mama. Alejandro loves and protects me. He’s been helping me search for you. You actually brought us together.”
“I did?”
“I went looking for Alejandro, hoping he might have answers about Dad’s death. Or the man I thought was my father.”
Her mother blanched and looked like she was going to throw up.
“Mama? Are you all right?”
“There’s more to his death, isn’t there?” Alejandro asked gently. “Cat believes she was quite young when he died.”
“You had just turned six when Pete died,” she said. “I told you he was your father because I thought it would keep you safer than the truth. And Pete agreed to say you were his, even though we only lived with him for ten months before he died.”
“Then how come I can barely remember him?” Wouldn’t she have some memory?
“Like I said, we didn’t live with him for long. And . . . I think you forgot about that part of our lives to protect yourself.”
“Protect myself from what?”
“It really doesn’t matter now.”
“Mama, no,” she said sharply. “No more secrets.”
“Cat,” Alejandro warned.
“No, I’m sick of secrets. I’ve lost so many years with you, Mama, because of secrets. I want to finally know it all. I deserve to know.”
“Oh, Mija, I was only trying to protect you.”
“I’m an adult now, Mama. And I need to know. These last few years . . . wondering where you were . . . it’s been hell. You couldn’t have tried to get in contact with me? To let me know what happened?”
“I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk him finding out about you. When I discovered I was pregnant, I knew I had to leave him. He’d seemed so charming. So kind. But there were warning signs. A sharp temper, the way he treated people he thought were below him, not telling me he had a son who was living away at school. I was scared, but I knew as soon as I found out I was pregnant that I couldn’t allow him near my child. So I ran. It wasn’t easy. But I had some help along the way. I met Pete when he came into the diner where I was working. I was exhausted and stressed and working under the table for terrible pay and conditions. He offered to help me, to look after you. I foolishly thought he would be my savior.”
Mama ran a shaking hand over her face. “Jake used to come into that same diner, that’s where I met him. He brought in Elsie and we hit it off. They never liked Pete, but I was just so tired and he was offering to help me. Plus, he was kind to you. Said he wanted to raise you as his own. He gave you that toy pirate that you love so much. I really thought it was the right thing to do . . . moving in with him.”
“What happened?” she asked.
Her mother took in a long breath. “Pete used to beat me. It started off with a slap. And he was so apologetic. Then he forced me to stop working, and he wouldn’t let me see Jake and Elsie. Things were bad. One night, he was screaming at me, then he threw a glass. He was escalating and I knew it was going to be bad. And you . . . you walked into the living room and picked up his gun. He was always leaving it lying around. I hated that. But he got so mad when I pointed out how dangerous it was. Lord, he used to pick up his gun and aim it at the TV when he was angry at something.”
“Oh my God! Did I . . . did I kill him?”
“No, Mija. Oh God, no. You were a baby, you could barely hold up the gun. It fired, but it went wide. Pete lost it. He grabbed the gun off you and started smashing things. He was in a vicious temper. I just grabbed you and my handbag and ran. We hid out in a motel room while I tried to figure out what to do. I needed to go back to get my nest egg. I’d hidden some cash from him.”
Her mother rubbed her forehead, and Alejandro handed her a bottle of water. She gave him a grateful smile.
“So we snuck back when I thought he would be out. When I walked in, he wasn’t there, but his truck was. I found him dead inside it. I don’t know what happened. Perhaps he was having a heart attack and climbed into the truck to get help. I was so scared someone would blame us. So I went back into the house, found the gun and hid it. Then I . . . I went to where I knew he kept some cash. There was a lot. More than I thought there would be. Enough to keep us going for a long time without me having to work. I stashed it in my handbag before I called the police.”
