Everything started to make sense.
Mateo had tampered with the crime scene before calling the police.
And the system accepted his version because it matched the evidence.
Evidence that he had orchestrated everything.
“Why are you telling me this now?” the social worker asked Salomé, who was still trying to understand what she was hearing.
The girl looked at her little hands for a moment.
“Because I saw him again yesterday,” she said softly.
All the adults in the room felt a shiver run down their spine.
“Where?” Méndez asked immediately.
“Outside the orphanage,” Salome replied. “He came by car and kept an eye on the gate.”
Ramira stood up abruptly once more, panic etched on her face.
“He’s killing me,” she screamed. “He wants the truth to remain hidden forever!”
The guards looked to Méndez for instructions.
The colonel remained silent for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on the girl sitting beside the table.
After thirty years in prison administration, he had learned one thing above all else.
Children rarely lie about being afraid.
And Salome wasn’t talking like a child making up a story.
She spoke as if she were finally revealing a secret that had become too heavy to bear alone.
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