Chapter Ten
Isabela had avoided returning Lianna’s call for as long as possible. She now had five minutes before her next meeting. If she didn’t return the call soon, her overprotective best friend would probably contact her mom, or worse, the local police. Then she’d have both on her back.
Dialing before she could chicken out, the line rang once.
“Did you tell your boss yet?” Lianna asked immediately.
“I promise I will. Today’s been crazy. One more meeting and then I’ll show Marcus the letter,” Izzy replied.
Lianna had been through something similar not long ago. Except her situation had escalated until her deranged neighbor tried to kill her. Isabela knew this wasn’t the kind of thing Lianna took lightly.
“I’m not worried. ‘Traitor’ could refer to anything. I’ve worked on dozens of cases. It could be from any one of them.” Isabela tried to calm her friend.
“What does your gut tell you?” Lianna asked.
That this is different. That I should be worried.
“That I haven’t eaten since my breakfast burrito six hours ago,” Isabela sighed.
“Izzy...”
The guilt at brushing off something that clearly upset her friend made her remorseful. “I promise to talk to Marcus. I’ll call you on my walk home tonight,” Izzy added, trying to reassure her.
“Okay. Promise to take this seriously. And please eat something before you waste away.”
Isabela noted the panic in her friend’s tone, at her attempt to lighten things. “I will take this seriously.” Then she glanced down at the love handles peeking from her waistband and smirked. “And I promise to eat. Bye, mom.”
“Bye,” Lianna said before disconnecting.
Isabela’s stomach growled its desperation, but she ignored it. The letter had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. She’d barely slept again last night. Now she wondered if Chris received threats too. That was something she hadn’t asked. Probably something she should.
She needed to talk to Marcus and not just about the anonymous, unnerving letter. Earlier that day, she’d been caught off guard when a striking Black man walked into her office, introducing himself as Chris’s best friend and former partner.
Why hadn’t Chris mentioned that? Especially now, when the media was painting him as a cop with a vendetta against minorities. She had expected something entirely different. It frustrated her that Chris hadn’t defended himself against the narrative.
In fairness, she hadn’t exactly given him the chance.
She’d made her own assumptions before he’d even spoken a word to her.
Reflecting on their first meeting, she wondered if his cold expression simply reflected what was on her own face.
The realization stung. She was ashamed, and deeply disappointed in herself.
The next meeting wasn’t going to make her feel any better. The Torres family was on their way in. Luke Barrett, their power-playing attorney, would be with them. Thankfully, Marcus would lead the discussion.
Izzy appreciated that Marcus didn’t like surprises.
He wanted every possible angle examined, which included hearing from Hector Torres’s family directly.
Thanks to Marcus’s connections and solid legal rep, he’d convinced Barrett to agree to this one-time meeting. They would have to make the most of it.
As if on cue, her phone dinged: two minutes to go.
She made a quick bathroom stop, reapplied her lip gloss, and dashed for the elevators.
She’d conducted meetings with both sides in plenty of cases before, so she didn’t understand why her nerves were so jumpy this time.
Probably because murder was usually not the underlying issue.
The Torres family had come to the U.S. from Venezuela when Hector and his brother Lorenzo were children. They were the poster family for immigrating the “right way.” Of course, that’s always easier when you have generational wealth and blurred connections with the cartel.
They were wealthy, successful, and connected.
Too connected, perhaps. Her research revealed a tangled web between their fortune and organized crime.
Lorenzo, now entrenched in politics, spent his inherited money dining at elite tables.
His disarming smile had made headlines and gossip columns.
She doubted there was much to admire up close.
Isabela exited the elevator to find the Torres group waiting in the lobby. Three men huddled in conversation while a woman, Mariana, Lorenzo’s wife she guessed, stood apart, gazing out of the seventh-story window.
“Good afternoon,” Nicole walked up behind her, greeting the group. “I’m Nicole, Marcus Walker’s paralegal. Have you met Isabela Cruz yet?”
Isabela gave a polite smile. Luke Barrett, predictably, barely brushed her hand before moving on, already looking past her for Marcus. That dismissal stung, but it wasn’t new. Men like him had been underestimating her since playground basketball games. It still pissed her off.
“Hi,” she greeted the others. Mariana gave a soft smile and a small nod. The men turned, one of them stepping forward.
“Lorenzo Torres,” he said, flashing that infamous smile.
Wow. He was even more attractive in real life. In his early forties, Lorenzo was tall and polished in that slick, too-perfect way that set off every internal alarm. His hair looked glued in place. The kind of man who never let a thing slip. He took her hand, holding it just a moment too long.
“Encantado de conocerte,” he all but purred.
“Bueno, es un gusto conocerte a ti también,” she returned smoothly.
He smiled, eyes lingering on hers too long, making her skin prickle. A predator’s stare.
“This is my assistant and close family friend, Keith Stewart,” Lorenzo said.
Keith was shorter and rounder than his boss.
He smiled warmly and Isabela felt more comfortable.
It was a welcome reprieve from Lorenzo’s predatory charm.
When he gestured for her to lead the way, she turned, resisting the urge to glance back but feeling Lorenzo’s eyes on her backside like a physical touch.
Gross. Chris had looked at her, but his eyes held admiration.
Lorenzo’s stare made her want to shower.
In the conference room, Marcus was already chatting with Luke. Isabela took her seat beside Nicole, relieved when Lorenzo didn’t sit beside her. He took a seat between Mariana and Keith. Marcus stood and addressed the room with his signature grace.
“Let me start by offering our sincere condolences on the loss of your brother, Hector. I’m thankful for the opportunity to speak with you. While we’re consulting on Mr. Macklin’s legal defense, our goal is to uncover the truth. Your cooperation helps us reach that goal.”
Lorenzo nodded eagerly, soaking up Marcus’s praise. Mariana, though, stared ahead blankly. Her eyes were on Marcus, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. Keith watched Lorenzo like a shadow, echoing his nods and smiles.
“We understand that in this great country, everyone is innocent until proven guilty,” Lorenzo said. “We only wish Hector had been given the same chance. But we also understand Mr. Macklin deserves his day in court. Which we hope will come soon.”
Isabela fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Here we go. She knew the truth, or as close to it as she could get.
Hector Torres had been caught on camera escorting a missing girl who was later found dead.
Child pornography was found on his computer, including photos of three missing children, dating back years.
Hector wasn’t some misunderstood soul. He was a monster. But now, all anyone remembered was that he’d been shot.
Marcus skillfully navigated the conversation, guiding it back to fact-gathering.
Luke stepped in often, advising the family on what to answer.
Lorenzo spoke freely but artfully, deflecting and weaving subtle accusations of bias and misconduct.
Isabela bit her tongue on so many occasions she was surprised there wasn’t blood.
Mariana remained disengaged, until someone mentioned their daughter, Andrea Torres, who was a freshman at NYU. Through her research, Isabela uncovered a CPS file from a decade ago that involved a minor in the Torres household. Isabela suspected it was Andrea.
When asked, Mariana visibly panicked, her brown eyes widening, hands twisting with nervous energy. She glanced toward her husband, but before she could utter a word, Lorenzo smoothly explained it away as a misunderstanding. Just "opportunistic people" making false claims.
Isabela made a mental note. Look into that file.
An hour later, the Torres family finally left. Isabela remained in her chair, mind buzzing. She was certain that they were hiding something. Especially Mariana. Her silence said more than Lorenzo’s polished words ever could.
Marcus had to run, muttering something about an appointment with Jasmine. “We’ll debrief in the morning,” he promised, disappearing out the door.
Izzy trudged back to her office. She tried to focus on other work but gave up after reading the same sentence five times. Her brain was too fried. She was hungry and agitated. That family had secrets, and something told her that if she could uncover them then she could win this case.
She rubbed her eyes and checked her phone. It was already six o’clock. Who was she staying late for? Marcus was gone, the building nearly empty. Screw it. That had become her mantra lately.
For the second time this week, she packed up early. Her files went into her bag, then her heels clicked down the silent hallway. Outside, the evening air felt cooler, heavier. She pulled her blazer tighter and told herself food and pavement would clear her head.
Still, as she headed toward her apartment, she couldn’t shake the prickling sense that someone, somewhere, was already two steps ahead of her.