“Security footage?”
Valeria nodded.
“From the night before Papá retired.”
Don Chema’s breathing became shallow.
“What does it show?”
Valeria looked at him.
For several seconds, she couldn’t speak.
Finally she whispered:
“It shows Mr. Robles moving the missing supplies.”
The courtroom exploded.
But then she added:
“And he wasn’t alone.”
Robles closed his eyes.
Sofía looked at her sister.
“Who else was there?”
Valeria plugged the flash drive into the laptop.
A grainy video appeared.
The timestamp showed 11:48 p.m.
Don Chema recognized the school hallway immediately.
Then Robles appeared on screen.
He was pushing a cart stacked with boxes.
A second figure followed him.
Smaller.
Wearing a hood.
The person turned toward the camera.
Don Chema leaned forward.
His face drained of color.
“No…”
Sofía looked at him.
“Papá?”
He stood so quickly his chair nearly fell over.
Because he knew that face.
He had known it for twenty-four years.
The same person had been connected to the school on the freezing morning when he found baby Sofía abandoned beneath the auditorium bleachers.
And suddenly the robbery was no longer the biggest secret in that courtroom.
Don Chema turned toward his eldest daughter.
“Sofía…”
His voice broke.
“I know that woman.”
Sofía stared at him.
“Who is she?”
Chema could barely force the words out.
“She’s the woman I saw running away from the auditorium the morning I found you.”