I read the third page with trembling hands. “If anything happens to me, look for Elena Navarro. I don’t know if I trust her, but she knows things I don’t. Distrust everyone, even the one who takes care of you with love. Sometimes people love and hide things at the same time. That destroys you, too.”

My dad wasn’t accusing. He was warning. That was worse. Because in the letter, there was no clear monster. There were shadows. Silences. Signatures. Women who loved and lied at the same time.

“Did you know my dad was going to see my grandmother?” I asked. Veronica stood motionless. “No.” “The letter says he received a call.” “I didn’t know.” “He died the next day.” “I know.” “On the way to Milwaukee.” Veronica shook her head. “He wasn’t going to Milwaukee.”

The silence made me deaf. “What?” She swallowed hard. “That was what was said to avoid questions.” “Where was he going?” Veronica lowered her eyes. “To Moline.” “Why Moline?” “Because Elena told him the nurse who cared for Mariana during her final days was there.”

I felt the attic floor open up. “So my dad died going to find the truth about my mother.” Veronica folded like the sentence had hit her. “Yes.”

I pressed the letter to my chest. I didn’t know where to put so much pain. For years, I mourned an accident. Now I understood that I might have mourned a murder disguised as rain. “And you hid this from me?” “I was protecting you.” “No.” I took a step toward her. “You were protecting yourself.”

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