Chapter 16 - The Grandmother's Return|
Mateo spun around. Standing on the porch of the community center, leaning heavily on a wooden cane, was an old woman. Her hair was stark white, and her face was lined with deep, bitter wrinkles.
It was his grandmother. The woman who had handed his father the padlocks for the doghouse.
"How are you out?" Mateo choked out, stepping backward instinctively. The phantom weight of chains felt heavy on his wrists.
"Good behavior and a smart lawyer," she rasped, her eyes locking onto him with venomous intensity. "You grew tall, boy. But you still look weak."
Mariana shoved past Mateo, putting her body between him and the old woman. "You are trespassing. You have a restraining order against coming within a thousand feet of him. Vargas!"
Detective Vargas was already unholstering his handcuffs, jogging up the driveway. "Beatrice, you just violated your parole. Turn around and put your hands behind your back."
Beatrice didn't flinch. She just chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. "I didn't come to start trouble, Officer. I came to deliver a message."
"Save it for the judge," Vargas said, grabbing her arm and spinning her around.
"Vance isn't the one you need to worry about!" Beatrice shrieked as the handcuffs clicked into place. "He was just a distraction! They’re already inside, you stupid girl! They’ve been inside all along!"
Mariana’s blood ran cold. She whipped her head toward the open front door of the main house. "The kids!"
Mateo didn't wait. He bolted up the steps, bypassing his grandmother and the detective, charging straight into the hallway.
The house was dead silent. Too silent.
"Sarah?" Mateo called out for the senior volunteer. "Leo? Tommy?"
No answer.
He ran into the dining room. Empty. The living room. Empty.
Panic seized his throat. He sprinted toward Mariana’s private office at the back of the house. The door was slightly ajar.
He pushed it open and stopped dead in his tracks.
Standing in the center of the room was Sarah, the sweet, quiet volunteer who had worked at the center for three years. In her hand was a lighter, and piled on the desk in front of her were all of the foundation's physical banking records, adoption certificates, and server hard drives. They were soaked in gasoline.
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"Sarah? What are you doing?" Mateo asked, his voice shaking.
Sarah looked at him, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry, Mateo. They have my little sister. If I don't destroy the evidence, they'll kill her."
