Chapter 6 - Dinner With the MendozasI closed the hospital-room door behind me.
“How did you get in?”
Karina placed the bottle on the bedside table.
“The officer outside went to verify my attorney’s authorization.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I needed to see her.”
“You already saw enough when you replaced her vitamins.”
Pain crossed her face.
“I did what my father told me.”
“That defense stopped working a long time ago.”
“I know.”
She looked toward my mother.
For once, Karina was not dressed like the polished daughter of a real estate dynasty. She wore faded jeans, a plain sweater, and no jewelry except her wedding ring.
I hated that I noticed the ring.
“I didn’t send Luis Barrera to the hospital,” she said.
“Esteban says you did.”
“Esteban says whatever keeps him alive.”
“There was a second phone in the apartment.”
“My father used that apartment too. So did his assistant.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
The honesty of her answer unsettled me.
Karina removed a folded card from her pocket and placed it on the table.
An address was written on the front.
A private residence in Las Lomas.
“My father is having dinner there tonight,” she said.
“With whom?”
“Two members of the company’s board, a judge, and someone from the prosecutor’s office.”
“You expect me to walk into a house full of people protecting him?”
“He expects you.”
“Why?”
“Because I told him you were ready to negotiate.”
I stared at her.
“You contacted him?”
“He contacted me. He believes I can still control you.”
“Can you?”
Her eyes met mine.
“No.”
I wanted that answer to mean something.
I could not afford to let it.
Marisol opposed the meeting immediately.
“It’s an obvious trap.”
“So was my house.”
“And you almost got killed.”
“We recorded Karina’s confession.”
“We also lost one suspect and discovered my commander was compromised.”
“Jorge will not speak freely to police.”
“He may not speak freely to you either.”
“He thinks I’m desperate.”
Marisol paced across the hospital consultation room.
“You are desperate.”
“That makes the performance easier.”
Sofia agreed to the meeting under three conditions: I would wear two recording devices, investigators would surround the property, and I would not sign anything.
At nine o’clock, Karina and I arrived together.
The Mendoza residence was hidden behind high stone walls and old trees. I had visited twice during our marriage, both times for formal holidays. The house had always felt more like a museum than a home.
A housekeeper opened the door without speaking.
Jorge sat at the end of a dining table built for twenty people.
Only three places were set.
He looked older than he had in press photographs, but not frightened. His silver hair was perfectly combed. A dark suit jacket hung over the chair beside him.
“Mateo,” he said. “Sit down.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“This conversation will be easier if we behave like family.”
“You sent men into my house.”
“And yet you are alive.”
Karina sat across from me.
Her hands remained beneath the table.
Jorge poured wine into my glass.
I did not touch it.
“You believe my father killed yours,” he said.
“I heard you admit it.”
“You heard a private conversation taken out of context.”
“What context makes murder sound better?”
Jorge smiled faintly.
“Rodrigo was not the saint your mother created.”
“Then tell me who he was.”
“My father built Mendoza Urban Development from nothing. Rodrigo handled the accounts and located distressed landowners willing to sell. He was useful until he became ambitious.”
“The deed says he owned the Coyoacán parcel.”
“He placed it in his name temporarily.”
“There is no document supporting that.”
“There was.”
“What happened to it?”
“Your father destroyed it.”
Jorge leaned back.
“Rodrigo discovered the city intended to rezone the area. He knew the land would become valuable, so he claimed it for himself. He betrayed his partner.”
“And Hector threatened him.”
“My father attempted to correct an injustice.”
“By poisoning him?”
Karina looked at Jorge.
For the first time, his composure shifted.
“You recorded me,” he said to her.
“You told me to keep records.”
“I told you to protect yourself from outsiders.”
“I finally understood who the outsider was.”
Jorge’s hand tightened around his glass.
Then he turned to me.
“My daughter made a mistake when she developed feelings for you.”
Karina went still.
“You were supposed to sign the acknowledgment and transfer the parcel. After that, the marriage would end quietly.”
“I saw the email.”
“Then you understand.”
“I understand you sold your own daughter into a marriage.”
“I gave her a purpose.”
Karina stood.
“You gave me orders.”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
The command carried the weight of her entire childhood.
For one second, I thought she would obey.
Instead, she removed her wedding ring and placed it beside his plate.
Jorge looked at it as though it were an insect.
“You think Mateo will forgive you?” he asked.
“I’m not asking him to.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Ending this.”
The lights went out.
The room became completely dark.
A chair scraped behind me.
I reached for Karina, but someone struck the back of my head. I fell against the table.
Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Jorge say, “Take him downstairs.”
Hands grabbed my arms.
I fought blindly, driving my elbow backward into someone’s stomach. A flashlight beam swept across the room. I saw Karina struggling with one of the house guards.
Then a gunshot shattered the window.
Police lights flashed beyond the curtains.
The guards released us.
Jorge was already gone.
Marisol entered through the side doors with an armed team. Investigators searched every room, but the study wall concealed a private elevator leading to an underground garage.
Jorge had escaped through a service tunnel.
On the dining table, beneath his untouched plate, we found a folder.
Inside was a recent photograph of my mother sleeping in her hospital bed.
Another photograph showed me entering Sofia’s office.
A third showed Detective Marisol Fuentes leaving her apartment.
Beneath the photographs was a note.
YOU CANNOT PROTECT ALL THREE.
Marisol read it without expression.
Then her phone rang.
She listened for less than ten seconds before turning toward me.
“The hospital has lost power.”
“My mother—”
“Backup generators are working, but the security cameras went offline.”
I called the officer outside her room.
No answer.
I called the nursing station.
The nurse who answered sounded confused.
According to the hospital computer, Elena Ruiz had been transferred thirty minutes earlier.
No transfer had been ordered.
May you like
No ambulance company had been authorized.
My mother was gone.
