Mrs. Alvarez shook her head. “I did not know him. But he drove a government sedan.”
Alejandro stared at the forged casualty notice. “Sergeant, may I see the lower-left corner?”
Quinn held the evidence sleeve up.
Alejandro leaned forward. Beneath the false signature was a tiny routing code most civilians would never notice.
His face drained of color.
“That code belongs to my brigade administration office.”
Victoria whispered, “Alejandro…”
He looked at her as though he had never seen her before. “Only three people had access to it.”
Before she could answer, one of the officers returned from the hallway carrying a small plastic organizer.
“Found this in the pantry behind a locked flour bin,” he said. “Prescription labels have been peeled off.”
Inside were tablets in separate compartments marked with days of the week.
My body went cold.
I remembered the tea Victoria prepared every night. The bitter taste she blamed on iron supplements. The mornings I woke dizzy, unable to focus, ashamed that pregnancy seemed to be making me weak.
The paramedic asked permission to draw blood.
I nodded.
Victoria took one step backward.
Quinn saw it.
“Doña Victoria Ruiz,” she said, “do not leave this room.”
“I was organizing medication for Elena.”
“I never asked you to,” I said.
“You forgot.”