Chapter 8 - THE GIRL IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Tomás returned to Palacio de las Rosas just after midnight.
Most of the guests were gone.
The orchestra had packed up.
The champagne had been cleared away.
Only investigators, household staff, and a handful of police officers remained.
The mansion looked strangely empty.
Tomás entered through the front doors.
He had walked into that house thousands of times.
Tonight, it felt unfamiliar.
Rafael followed him toward the staircase.
"Inspector Ferrer wants the nursery sealed."
"I know."
"Then why are we here?"
Tomás stopped at the bottom step.
"Because Lucía just called."
Rafael studied him.
"What did she say?"
"Vega remembered something."
They climbed the stairs.
Two officers stood outside the nursery.
Tomás explained that the child had mentioned a possible hidden photograph.
One officer contacted Ferrer.
She gave permission for the room to be inspected under police supervision.
Nobody would touch anything until it was documented.
The nursery door opened.
The room looked exactly as Tomás remembered.
Pale blue walls.
White curtains.
Handmade dolls.
An antique rocking horse.
The same rocking horse Elena had bought for Inés on her second birthday.
Tomás approached it slowly.
He touched the smooth wooden mane.
For a moment, he could almost hear his daughter's laughter.
"Daddy, faster!"
He remembered kneeling beside the horse while Inés bounced up and down.
Elena would stand in the doorway, smiling.
"Careful, Tomás."
"She's fine."
"She's two."
"And she's fearless."
He closed his eyes.
Inés had been fearless.
She had loved thunderstorms.
Loved climbing furniture.
Loved feeding ducks at the park.
She had called butterflies "flying flowers."
Tomás swallowed.
Then he stepped away.
"Vega said the picture was behind the horse."
One of the officers photographed the area.
Rafael examined the wall.
At first, there was nothing unusual.
Then he noticed a thin line in the decorative paneling.
"Sir."
Tomás looked.
"What?"
"This panel doesn't sit flush."
They called the forensic technician.
She examined it.
A few minutes later, she carefully removed a small wooden insert.
Behind it was a narrow compartment.
Tomás stared.
He had owned the house for more than a decade.
He had never known the compartment existed.
Inside lay a flat metal box.
Its lid was covered with dust.
The technician photographed everything before opening it.
There were several items inside.
A child's yellow shoe.
A small silver bracelet.
A photograph.
And a handwritten note.
Tomás recognized the bracelet first.
His breath caught.
It was engraved with a tiny letter.
I.
For Inés.
He had bought it for her third birthday.
The accident happened four months later.
He had believed the bracelet was buried with her.
His hands began shaking.
"That belongs to my daughter."
The technician looked at him.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
He could barely speak.
"I bought it."
Rafael moved closer.
"Tomás."
But Tomás was staring at the photograph.
It showed a little girl standing outside a small house.
She wore a yellow dress.
Yellow shoes.
Her dark curls were tied with two ribbons.
She looked about five years old.
The photograph was dated two years after the accident.
Tomás felt his knees weaken.
Because the girl looked like Inés.
Not vaguely.
Not in the way strangers sometimes resembled one another.
She had Elena's eyes.
His mother's smile.
And a small crescent-shaped birthmark near her left wrist.
The same birthmark Inés had possessed since birth.
Tomás reached for the desk.
"No."
Rafael caught his arm.
"Sir?"
Tomás shook his head.
"No, that's impossible."
The technician carefully turned over the photograph.
Written on the back were three words.
She's still alive.
Tomás made a sound that didn't seem human.
He dropped into the chair beside the window.
For six years, he had believed his daughter was dead.
He had watched a coffin lowered into the ground.
He had mourned birthdays.
Christmas mornings.
The first day of school.
He had imagined the woman she might become.
And now a photograph suggested that somewhere in the world, she had continued growing up.
Rafael crouched beside him.
"Tomás, we don't know what this means yet."
Tomás looked at the photograph.
"That's her."
"Sir—"
"Look at her."
Rafael examined the image.
His expression changed.
He remembered Inés.
He remembered carrying her through the garden on his shoulders.
He remembered the way she called him Uncle Rafa.
And he remembered the crescent-shaped birthmark.
"Oh God," he whispered.
Tomás covered his mouth.
For the first time since the accident, hope entered his heart.
It was terrifying.
Because hope could destroy him all over again.
The technician unfolded the note.
It was written in hurried handwriting.
If something happens to me, look for the girl near the orange fields.
The blue bird knows the truth.
Don't trust the woman who wears the emerald.
There was no signature.
But Tomás knew who favored emerald jewelry.
Carlota.
He looked toward the hallway.
"Where is she?"
Rafael answered quietly.
"At the police station."
Tomás stood.
"Then I want to talk to her."
"Not tonight."
"Rafael—"
"Listen to me."
Rafael gripped his shoulders.
"You need to let the police handle this."
Tomás stared at him.
"That is my daughter."
"Maybe."
"No."
Tomás pointed at the photograph.
"That's Inés."
Rafael's voice broke.
"And if it is, we're going to find her."
Tomás looked down at the yellow shoe.
It was small.
Too small for the girl in the photograph.
A shoe from years earlier.
He imagined someone saving it.
Hiding it.
Protecting it.
Why?
And who had known?
Inspector Ferrer arrived twenty minutes later.
She examined the evidence.
Then she looked at Tomás.
"I need to be very careful about what I say."
He nodded.
"The photo may be genuine."
"Yes."
"The child may be your daughter."
"Yes."
"But we need independent verification."
"I understand."
Ferrer hesitated.
"There's something else."
Tomás looked up.
"We checked the records from the accident."
"And?"
"The identification of your daughter's remains was based on documents supplied to the original investigation."
Tomás stared.
"What documents?"
"Hospital records."
"DNA?"
Ferrer shook her head.
"Not according to what we've found so far."
Tomás felt his pulse hammering.
"And who signed the final identification report?"
Ferrer looked at the file in her hand.
"Dr. Álvaro Serrano."
Tomás frowned.
"Serrano?"
She nodded.
"The same surname as Marina."
May you like
Then she added:
"And he's the medical director of Clínica Santa Aurelia."
