PART 4
For several seconds, I could not breathe.
Rebecca’s number was still glowing on my screen.
GET EMILIANO OUT THROUGH THE BACK DOOR.
I read it again.
Then again.
My mother leaned closer.
“What does it say?”
I turned the phone toward her.
Her face drained of color.
“That’s Rebecca’s number.”
“I know.”
“But she’s—”
“I know.”
Another sound came from outside.
Not a knock this time.
Footsteps.
Slow footsteps moving along the side of the house.
Someone was walking toward the backyard.
I looked at Emiliano.
He was staring at the floor.
“Sweetheart,” I whispered, “did your mom ever tell you what to do if someone came to the house?”
He nodded.
“What?”
“Hide.”
“Where?”
He pointed toward the kitchen.
“Behind the pantry.”
I looked at my mother.
“Get everyone into the hallway. Now.”
Nobody argued.
The room suddenly came alive.
Aunt Clara grabbed her purse. My mother hurried the older relatives away from the windows. Someone blew out several candles, leaving only a few flickering around Rebecca’s casket.
I took Emiliano’s hand.
“Come with me.”
He squeezed my fingers.
“Is it time?”
“For what?”
“The last part of the game.”
I stopped.
“What last part?”
He looked up at me.
“When Mommy told me to wait for the sound, she said you would know what to do after it.”
I remembered the buzzing device.
The recording.
The note.
The ledger.
The abandoned motel.
Everything was connected.
But I didn’t yet understand how.
We moved into the kitchen.
The pantry was small, barely large enough for three people.
My mother came behind us.
“What about Rebecca?” she whispered.
I looked toward the living room.
My sister’s body was still lying in the open casket.
The thought of leaving her there made my chest ache.
But then I remembered her voice.
Don’t let Omar take Emiliano out of the house.
And the message.
GET EMILIANO OUT THROUGH THE BACK DOOR.
I grabbed the black device from the table.
“We’re not leaving her.”
My mother looked confused.
“What are you talking about?”
“Rebecca wanted us to find something. We need to find it before we go.”
My mother shook her head.
“Alma, someone is outside.”
“I know.”
“And the police—”
“Rebecca specifically told us not to call them from this house.”
My mother stared at me.
“What are we supposed to do?”
I looked at the clock.
11:57 p.m.
“Wait.”
“For what?”
“The sound.”
The words barely left my mouth when the black device vibrated again.
Once.
Twice.
Then three times.
The red light came on.
A tiny green light appeared underneath it.
I pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
Then Emiliano reached for it.
“Mommy said only you could open it.”
“How?”
He pointed toward the side.
“There.”
I turned the device over.
There was a tiny metal slot.
My fingers found the folded paper Rebecca had hidden inside her shoe.
I unfolded it again.
The six words were still there.
THE HOUSE IS NOT SAFE ANYMORE.
But beneath the message, something I hadn’t noticed before had appeared.
A series of numbers.
4-1-7-9.
I stared at them.
“Four-one-seven-nine.”
Emiliano whispered, “That’s the secret.”
I entered the numbers.
The device clicked.
A small compartment opened.
Inside was a microSD card.
My mother gasped.
“What is that?”
“Evidence,” I said.
I grabbed my laptop from the dining room.
We were only a few steps away when something slammed against the back door.
Everyone screamed.
The door shook violently.
Someone was trying to get in.
“Move!”
I grabbed Emiliano and pulled him into the pantry.
My mother followed.
The others crowded into the hallway.
Another slam.
The lock cracked.
Someone shouted from outside.
“Open the door!”
It was Omar.
My stomach dropped.
“Where is my son?”
Nobody answered.
“Alma!”
He hit the door again.
“Give me Emiliano!”
I looked at my nephew.
His eyes were enormous.
“He found us,” he whispered.
I pressed a finger to my lips.
Omar’s voice changed.
“Alma, listen to me. You’re putting everyone in danger.”
I whispered back:
“You’re the one putting us in danger.”
Silence.
Then Omar said something that made my blood run cold.
“Rebecca wasn’t supposed to survive long enough to tell you.”
I stared at the door.
My mother covered her mouth.
I felt the world tilt.
“What did you say?” I shouted.
Omar went silent.
Then I heard his footsteps retreat.
“Don’t let him leave!” I shouted.
But by the time someone opened the back door, Omar was gone.
His car screamed away from the curb.
I ran to the window.
The dark SUV across the street was gone too.
For several seconds nobody moved.
Then my mother whispered:
“He just admitted it.”
I nodded.
“But admitted what?”
“That he knew Rebecca was going to die.”
I looked at the microSD card in my hand.
“We need to see what’s on this.”
We returned to the dining room.
My laptop took several seconds to recognize the card.
There was only one folder.
REBECCA.
Inside were nineteen video files.
Most were dated from the week before her death.
I clicked the first one.
Rebecca appeared on the screen.
She was sitting in her car.
Her face looked tired.
Her eyes were red.
She glanced toward the camera.
“If Alma is watching this, then I’m already gone.”
My mother began crying.
I leaned closer.
Rebecca continued.
“Omar has been stealing money from the company.”
I froze.
My mother whispered, “What company?”
I didn’t answer.
Rebecca continued.
“Not small amounts. Hundreds of thousands.”
The video changed.
Documents appeared.
Bank transfers.
Account numbers.
Dates.
Names.
Shell companies.
I barely understood half of it.
But one name appeared again and again.
Canyon Ridge Holdings.
Rebecca’s voice continued over the images.
“Omar isn’t doing this alone.”
The screen changed again.
A list of names appeared.
At the top was Omar.
Below him were several others.
One name made my stomach twist.
I knew that name.
Everyone in our family knew it.
Daniel Mercer.
My father’s former business partner.
A man who had supposedly disappeared from Arizona years ago after a financial scandal.
My mother leaned toward the screen.
“That’s impossible.”
I looked at her.
“You know him?”
She nodded slowly.
“Your father trusted that man.”
Rebecca continued.
“Daniel never disappeared. He changed his name.”
Another document appeared.
Then another.
And another.
Money had been moved through multiple companies.
Rebecca had apparently discovered the network months earlier.
But then the video changed.
She was no longer in her car.
She was in her kitchen.
And she looked terrified.
“I made a mistake.”
She looked directly into the camera.
“I confronted Omar.”
My mother whispered, “No…”
Rebecca continued.
“He knows I know.”
The video shook slightly.
“I thought I could go to the police. But someone inside the department is working with them.”
I felt a chill.
“That is why I can’t report this normally.”
She leaned closer to the camera.
“I need to make sure Emiliano survives even if I don’t.”
The screen went black.
Then another video started.
Rebecca was sitting beside Emiliano.
He looked much younger, maybe six.
She smiled at him.
“Do you remember our game?”
Emiliano nodded on the recording.
“The waiting game.”
“That’s right.”
She kissed his forehead.
“Sometimes adults keep secrets because they think children won’t understand.”
She looked at the camera.
“But sometimes a child is the only person who can carry a secret without being suspected.”
I glanced at Emiliano.
He was watching his mother.
He wasn’t crying.
He looked like he had been waiting to see this.
Rebecca handed him a small red toy car.
“Remember what Mommy told you.”
“Wait for the sound.”
“And when you hear it?”
“Give the key to Aunt Alma.”
I looked at my nephew.
“You remembered all of that?”
He nodded.
“She made me practice.”
My mother broke down.
Rebecca continued on the screen.
“Alma doesn’t know yet, but she is the only person I trust completely.”
My breath caught.
“If you’re watching this, Alma, I’m sorry.”
She paused.
“I should have told you everything sooner.”
The next video began automatically.
Rebecca was crying.
“Omar is planning to move money tomorrow night.”
She looked at the clock.
“He thinks I’m asleep.”
She lowered her voice.
“He also has a second phone.”
I looked at my mother.
“The phone.”
“What phone?”
“The phone that belonged to Rebecca.”
I held up my own phone.
Her number had just sent us a message.
The screen suddenly lit again.
Another message.
THIS IS NOT REBECCA.
My blood went cold.
A second message appeared.
BUT SHE LEFT SOMETHING FOR YOU.
Then a photograph arrived.
It showed Rebecca standing in front of an old motel.
The abandoned motel from the note.
But there was something strange.
Rebecca wasn’t alone.
A man stood behind her.
His face was partially hidden.
I zoomed in.
My mother gasped.
“That man…”
“What?”
“I know him.”
“Who?”
She pointed at the screen.
“That is Daniel Mercer.”
I stared at the photograph.
Daniel Mercer was supposed to have disappeared nearly twenty years ago.
But the picture was recent.
Very recent.
There was a timestamp.
Three days before Rebecca died.
Then another message appeared.
COME TO THE MOTEL BEFORE 2 A.M.
I stared at the words.
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Absolutely not.”
“We have to.”
“No.”
“Mom, Rebecca died trying to get us there.”
“We don’t know who sent that message.”
“I know.”
“And it could be a trap.”
“I know.”
My mother stared at me.
“Then why are you going?”
I looked at Emiliano.
“Because Rebecca planned for this.”
He nodded.
“She said you would be brave.”
I closed the laptop.
“Get everyone’s cars ready.”
My mother shook her head.
“Alma…”
“I won’t take Emiliano alone. We’ll stay together.”
“What about Rebecca?”
I looked toward the living room.
For the first time since the wake began, I felt something different.
Not only grief.
Purpose.
“We’re taking her with us.”
My mother looked shocked.
“What?”
I pointed toward the casket.
“The funeral isn’t happening tomorrow.”
She stared at me.
“What are you saying?”
“I think Rebecca’s body is carrying something we haven’t found yet.”
We returned to the living room.
The candles were nearly burned down.
I approached the casket.
I looked at the maroon dress.
Then I remembered the buzzing.
The device.
The hidden message.
The shoe.
The recording.
I carefully examined the dress.
The fabric looked ordinary.
But near the inside seam, my fingers found a tiny stitched pocket.
I pulled it open.
Inside was a brass key.
My mother whispered:
“What does that open?”
I turned it over.
There was an engraving.
The same numbers as the device.
I looked at Emiliano.
His eyes widened.
“That’s it.”
“What?”
“The place Mommy told me about.”
“Where?”
He pointed at the key.
“Under the motel.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Under the motel?”
He nodded.
“Mommy said Daddy thought he found everything.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Emiliano looked at the photograph on my phone.
Then he said:
“Daddy didn’t know Mommy found the room.”
“What room?”
“The room underneath the floor.”
Outside, an engine started.
Everyone froze.
I rushed to the window.
A black SUV had stopped at the end of the street.
Then another car pulled up behind it.
Two men stepped out.
One of them looked directly toward our house.
My mother whispered:
“They’re here.”
I grabbed the key.
“We leave now.”
We rushed through the back door.
My mother took Emiliano.
I grabbed the laptop and the evidence card.
But before I stepped outside, I looked back at Rebecca one last time.
“I promise,” I whispered.
“I’ll find out what happened to you.”
Then something happened.
The black device in my pocket vibrated.
I pulled it out.
One final recording had appeared.
It had not been there before.
The file name was simple.
ALMA — LISTEN ALONE.
I pressed play.
Rebecca’s voice came through.
But this time she wasn’t crying.
She sounded calm.
Almost relieved.
“Alma, if you’re hearing this, then you found the key.”
A pause.
“There’s something I couldn’t tell you while I was alive.”
I stopped walking.
Rebecca continued.
“Omar isn’t the person who killed me.”
My heart stopped.
“He helped them.”
Another pause.
“But he didn’t give the order.”
I looked toward the dark street.
Rebecca whispered:
“The person who ordered my death is someone you’ve known your entire life.”
I felt my stomach twist.
Then she said the name.
“Mom.”
The recording ended.
I stared at my mother.
She was standing beside Emiliano, waiting for me.
Her face was pale.
I could barely speak.
“Mom…”
She looked at me.
“What?”
I held up the device.
“What did you do to Rebecca?”
My mother’s face changed.
Not with surprise.
Not with fear.
With recognition.
And then, for the first time that night, my mother said something that made Emiliano start crying.
“I didn’t kill my daughter.”
She looked toward the house.
“But I know who did.”
Behind us, the front door suddenly slammed open.
Someone had entered the house.
And from inside came a man’s voice.
“Alma!”
I turned.
The voice belonged to Omar.
But he wasn’t alone.
Standing beside him was Daniel Mercer.
And between them was a woman I had never expected to see alive again.
Rebecca’s best friend, Elena.
The woman who had told everyone Rebecca was already dead before the hospital had officially announced it.
