Chapter 7 - THE FIRE THAT WAS MEANT TO ERASE EVERYTHING
At eleven-fifteen, orange flames were crawling up the exterior wall of a modern office building near Valencia's old riverbed.
Firefighters were already working to contain the blaze.
Police had blocked both ends of the street.
A crowd gathered behind the barriers.
Smoke rolled across the roof.
The building housed three businesses.
An accounting firm.
A legal consultancy.
And Fundación Nueva Esperanza.
The foundation occupied the entire fourth floor.
Tomás arrived with Rafael shortly after Inspector Ferrer.
He had insisted on coming.
Ferrer had warned him not to interfere.
He had promised he wouldn't.
Now he stood beneath the flashing emergency lights, watching firefighters carry equipment through the entrance.
"Was anyone hurt?" he asked.
Ferrer approached.
"One maintenance worker was rescued."
"Is he alive?"
"Yes."
"Did he see anything?"
"He reported smelling gasoline before the fire."
Tomás stared at the burning windows.
"Someone started it."
"That's a possibility we're investigating."
"Right after the police arrived at my house?"
Ferrer didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
A firefighter emerged from the building.
He approached the incident commander.
They exchanged a few words.
Then the commander turned toward Ferrer.
"Inspector, we found something."
"What?"
"A locked storage room."
"On which floor?"
"Fourth."
Tomás looked at the building.
The windows on that floor were blackened.
"What's inside?"
The firefighter hesitated.
"Paper records."
"How many?"
"Thousands."
Ferrer moved closer.
"Are they destroyed?"
"Not all of them."
Tomás felt a brief surge of relief.
Then the firefighter added:
"But somebody tried to burn that room from the inside."
Ferrer immediately began giving instructions.
The scene would be photographed.
The surviving records would be secured.
The building's security footage would be requested.
The foundation's financial accounts would be examined.
Tomás stood quietly while she worked.
He had spent most of his adult life believing that money could solve problems.
Build a hotel.
Repair a roof.
Fund a hospital wing.
Offer scholarships.
Create jobs.
But tonight, he was discovering what money could also do in the wrong hands.
It could buy silence.
It could turn desperation into leverage.
It could build beautiful charitable organizations that hid ugly things behind locked doors.
And it could persuade good people to look away.
His phone rang.
The screen displayed Carlota's name.
He stared at it.
Then answered.
"What?"
Her voice came through trembling.
"Tomás, where are you?"
"Does it matter?"
"Please don't speak to me like that."
He looked at the burning building.
"Your foundation is on fire."
Silence.
Then:
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Oh my God."
Her reaction sounded convincing.
Too convincing.
Tomás closed his eyes.
"Did you know this was going to happen?"
"How can you ask me that?"
"Because everything connected to you is falling apart tonight."
Carlota began crying.
"I made mistakes."
"Mistakes?"
"I was desperate."
He lowered his voice.
"You lied to me about carrying our child."
"I know."
"You brought a pregnant woman into my home and helped keep her there against her will."
"I didn't know Eduardo would lock her in."
Tomás's eyes opened.
"So you admit Eduardo was involved?"
She went quiet.
"Tomás..."
"Did you know about the other women?"
"No."
"Did you know about Clara Ruiz?"
The line went silent.
Tomás heard only faint breathing.
Then Carlota whispered:
"Who told you that name?"
His grip tightened around the phone.
He had expected denial.
Instead, she had revealed recognition.
"Why do you know Clara?"
"Tomás, you need to come home."
"Answer me."
"Please."
"How do you know the woman who killed my wife?"
Carlota began breathing rapidly.
"I can't talk about this over the phone."
"Then tell the police."
"No!"
Several people turned toward him.
Carlota lowered her voice.
"You don't understand."
"Then help me understand."
She whispered:
"Elena was going to ruin everything."
Tomás stopped moving.
For a moment, he couldn't hear the firefighters.
He couldn't hear traffic.
He couldn't hear Rafael calling his name.
There was only Carlota's voice.
"What did you say?"
Carlota began crying.
"I didn't mean—"
"What did Elena know?"
"Tomás, please."
"What did my wife know?"
The line disconnected.
Tomás stared at his phone.
Rafael approached.
"Sir?"
Tomás looked at him.
"She knew Elena."
Rafael frowned.
"Who?"
"Carlota."
He swallowed.
"She knew my first wife."
Rafael's expression hardened.
"How?"
"I don't know."
Tomás looked toward the burning building.
"But she just told me Elena was going to ruin everything."
Rafael went completely still.
"That doesn't make sense."
"No."
Tomás put his phone away.
"Not yet."
Across town, in a quiet police-protected room, Lucía was helping Vega change into pajamas that Pilar had brought from her apartment.
The child was exhausted.
Her curls were tangled.
Her cheeks were sticky from a cookie.
Lucía kissed her forehead.
"You were very brave tonight."
Vega looked up.
"Did I do bad?"
Lucía's heart broke.
"No, baby."
"The green lady was mad."
"I know."
"She said I was a liar."
Lucía pulled her close.
"Sometimes grown-ups say things that aren't true."
Vega rested her head against her mother's chest.
For a while, she was silent.
Then she whispered:
"Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"The baby lady had a picture."
Lucía stroked her hair.
"What picture?"
"A little girl."
Lucía smiled sadly.
"Like you?"
Vega nodded.
"She had yellow shoes."
Lucía paused.
"Who had yellow shoes?"
"The girl in the picture."
"And where was the picture?"
"Inside the wall."
Lucía stopped stroking her hair.
"Inside what wall?"
Vega pointed toward an imaginary doorway.
"The moon room."
Lucía felt a shiver.
"Was it behind something?"
Vega nodded.
"The horse."
"What horse, honey?"
"The one that goes up and down."
Lucía remembered the old nursery.
The antique rocking horse near the window.
She kissed Vega's forehead.
"Okay, baby."
But Vega wasn't finished.
May you like
She looked up and asked a question that would haunt her mother for the rest of her life.
"Mommy, why did the lady in the picture look like me?"
