Chapter 6
Chapter 6: The Mechanic in the Shadows
I stood frozen in the empty lot, gripping the steering wheel until it hurt. History was repeating itself. Another poor soul crushed beneath the wheels of the De la Vega family, and they thought their money could wipe away the stains.
Not this time.
I took out my phone and took over twenty consecutive photos. Close-ups of the dent. The uniform fabric. The blood smears. The license plate and the VIN number on the windshield. Then, using a tissue, I carefully extracted the navy blue fabric and sealed it inside a plastic ziplock bag I kept on me. This was their death warrant.
I drove to a dilapidated auto shop in Santa Catarina. A grease-stained mechanic walked out, squinting at the luxury vehicle.
"Well, that's a nasty dent," he muttered, wiping a finger near the dried blood. "Is this your boss's car? Looks like he hit a calf... or something."
"You don't need to know what it is," I said coldly, shoving ten thousand pesos into his hand. "Take this money. Hammer it out and repaint it tonight. No receipts. No questions. If you do a good job, you get another ten thousand tomorrow morning. Can you do it?"
The mechanic stared at the cash, swallowed hard, and nodded eagerly. "By six AM, it’ll be like new."
Returning home that night, under the dim light of a single bulb, I opened my laptop. The local news sites were flooded with the story. A live stream from Morones Prieto Avenue.
"...A 9-year-old boy was struck by a luxury sports car while walking home from school. The vehicle fled the scene. The child is currently in critical condition. Police are pulling C4 security footage to track down the culprit..."
I stared at the ziplock bag containing the fabric on my table. Any normal person would take this evidence to the police. But I knew the police here. The De la Vega family would bribe the prosecutor, the evidence would magically disappear, the mechanic would be silenced, and I would wind up dead in a ditch.
No. I had to let the fire of public outrage burn them down before they could throw their money at it.
I created an anonymous email address and attached all the photos I had taken that afternoon. I sent it directly to the most famous, fiercely independent investigative journalist at Monterrey's local news station.
May you like
"This car belongs to Mauricio de la Vega. He hit the child at 4 PM today and fled. The license plates and VIN match. Do not let money cover up another life."
I clicked "Send". The bomb was armed.
