Chapter 3 - The Driver Who Saw Gabriel in Chicago

His name was Ignacio Ruiz.

Seventy-three.

Thin.

Gray hair.

A cane he did not seem to need as much as he pretended.

Lucía opened the door only after Daniel’s security checked the hallway.

Ignacio stepped inside.

He saw Daniel.

Stopped.

Then said:

“You have Gabriel’s eyes.”

Daniel did not react.

“Why are you here?”

Ignacio looked at Lucía.

“She called me ten days ago.”

Lucía nodded.

“I didn’t know if he would come.”

Daniel turned toward her.

“So you expected me?”

“No.”

Ignacio answered instead.

“We expected Gabriel’s investigation to wake up again.”

That sentence bothered everyone.

Valeria folded her arms.

“What does that mean?”

Ignacio placed an old leather envelope on the table.

Inside were photographs.

Parking receipts.

Hotel slips.

Chicago dates.

Daniel picked up the first picture.

Gabriel entering a riverside warehouse.

Samuel beside him.

A third man following twenty feet behind.

Face hidden.

“Who is that?”

Ignacio pointed to the next photograph.

Clearer.

Same coat.

Same posture.

Esteban Vega.

Valeria whispered something under her breath.

Daniel stared.

Esteban had told the board he had not visited Chicago in five years.

The photograph was dated two years ago.

“Why was he following my father?”

Ignacio looked tired.

“Because Gabriel knew someone inside Ortega Group was watching Samuel.”

“Did Gabriel know it was Esteban?”

“Not at first.”

“And later?”

“He suspected.”

Lucía opened another envelope.

A hotel key sleeve.

Room 814.

Gabriel’s handwriting on the back.

WATCH WHO ARRIVES AFTER MIDNIGHT.

Daniel looked at Ignacio.

“Who arrived?”

“Esteban.”

“Alone?”

“No.”

Ignacio hesitated.

That mattered.

“With who?”

“A woman.”

Daniel’s expression changed.

“Name.”

“I never heard it.”

“Describe her.”

Ignacio looked toward Valeria.

Then back at Daniel.

“Late fifties. Elegant. Dark hair. Spanish.”

Valeria frowned.

“That describes half the board.”

“No.”

Ignacio shook his head.

“She wore your family crest on a brooch.”

Daniel stopped.

Only three women in the Ortega family still wore that crest.

His mother was dead.

His aunt Elena.

And Gabriel’s widowed sister-in-law, Teresa.

Lucía asked:

“Did Gabriel see them together?”

“Yes.”

“What did he do?”

“He did nothing.”

Daniel understood.

Gabriel watched.

Collected.

Waited.

“What happened next?”

Ignacio opened a smaller envelope.

A receipt from St. Jude Parish.

South Chicago.

Gabriel’s name.

“Your father left a document box there.”

Daniel looked at Lucía.

“Samuel’s evidence?”

Ignacio nodded.

“Some of it.”

“Where is it now?”

“I don’t know.”

Daniel’s patience thinned.

“You drove him.”

“I drove him there.”

“Then?”

“He went inside alone.”

“How long?”

“Thirty-seven minutes.”

“And when he came out?”

“No box.”

Valeria leaned forward.

“Then the evidence is still there.”

Ignacio shook his head.

“No.”

Daniel looked at him.

“Why?”

“Because Gabriel returned one week later.”

“For the box?”

“For something inside it.”

“What?”

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Ignacio looked at Daniel.

“That was the last night I saw him alive.”