Chapter Twenty-Seven
Isabela sat alone in her office, long after the sun had dipped below the Seattle skyline. The city outside her window buzzed with life, lights casting a glow across her walls, but her own world had narrowed to a single painful decision.
Kelly had begged her to join him and Alexis for dinner, something about cocktails and crab cakes, but tonight wasn’t for company or laughter. Tonight, she had to be a big girl. She had to earn her keep. The cost of doing so was gnawing at her like acid.
She stared at her computer screen, reading over the words she’d rewritten for the third time. She was spinning the shooting of Hector Torres as a side effect of Chris’s PTSD, an understandable overreaction caused by the trauma of failing to act during a Special Victims Unit case years ago.
She’d typed and retyped phrases like “reasonable response under psychological duress” and “exacerbated by prior inaction resulting in civilian deaths.” Legal armor to wrap around a man who had trusted her with his truth, while naked and vulnerable, no less.
After running a spell-check, she saved the brief and wrote up an email to Marcus.
She attached the document but lingered over the “send” button.
Her hands trembled on the keyboard. She couldn’t even blame the cold air for the chill running down her spine.
Could she betray him? Even if it was to save him?
She sat back in her chair, without hitting SEND, and dropped her head into her hands.
Chris hadn’t told her his story to be used.
He hadn’t laid it bare expecting her to weaponize it in court.
Now here she was, polishing it into a legal defense while scraping every ounce of dignity from the man she. ..
Don’t go there. There had to be another way. A better way. Something that protected both him and her career.
She forced herself upright and scanned the room, searching for inspiration.
Her eyes landed on a photo taped on her white board.
It was part of the case file. It showed Hector Torres with his niece under his arm, both smiling, but something in the girl’s eyes seemed dim. A little too flat for a child that age.
Mariana. That name echoed like a chime in her mind. Mariana had been nearly catatonic during their meeting. Withdrawn, aloof, almost robotic in her responses. It had struck Isabela as strange. Unless there was more under the surface.
A bolt of intuition lit through her. She had meant to dig into the case file with Mariana’s name on it but had dropped the ball with everything that had been going on.
Grabbing her cell, she sent a text to a new friend.
She hoped Randall was sincere when he had given her his number and said he was happy to help in any way.
Forty-five minutes later she found out he was, as she stared at a report filed in the state of New York. It had been where the Torres family lived ten years ago. Sure enough, Mariana Torres had filed a complaint against Hector.
The complaint had never gone anywhere. No charges filed. It had been logged and closed. But it existed. That may be enough.
Isabela reached for her phone again. With a quick text to Randall, she thanked him, then asked for one more favor.
After acquiring the contact number for Andrea Torres, Mariana and Lorenzo’s only child, she dialed before she could chicken out.
Nineteen now, Andrea still lived in New York City, where she attended university.
It was nearly midnight in Manhattan, but Andrea picked up, voice groggy but polite.
"Hi Andrea, I’m so sorry to call this late. This is Isabela Cruz. I am an attorney working on a case involving your family. I just have a few questions, and if it’s okay with you, I’ll keep it brief.”
Andrea hesitated, then said, “Now? Can’t it wait?”
“I would only call at this time if it was absolutely imperative.”
After a few seconds of shuffling around, Andrea said. “Okay, sure, I guess.”
Isabela let out a breath of relief. “Can I ask what your relationship was like with your uncle, Hector Torres?”
“This is about the shooting.” It wasn’t a question. “Are you defending the detective or are you from the DA’s office?”
Isabela needed to be honest. There were only so many ethics violations she could commit in one week.
“I am from the firm of Walker and Doyle. We are helping assist the Seattle Police Officer’s Guild with the detective, Mr. Macklin’s case.”
A long silence passed before Andrea spoke, “I’m surprised you called me. No one ever talks to me about Uncle Hector. Not even my parents.”
“Anything you can tell me, positive or negative will help. We are just trying to uncover the truth.”
“I ... ahh ... I’m probably going to get reamed out for talking to you.” Andrea sighed.
Just as Isabela was second guessing involving the young woman, Andrea continued. “Hector was weird. Always made me feel uncomfortable. I never said anything because I didn’t know how, but I hated being alone with him. He used to just stare at me. Like, not blinking. It was creepy.”
Isabela’s stomach flipped.
“My mom never liked him either,” Andrea continued.
“He wasn’t around much, especially after.
.. The night he...” Andrea’s voice caught and then the words came pouring out.
“He barely touched me, but I knew. I knew it was wrong. I knew he was going to hurt me. I screamed and he backhanded me, but I didn’t stop screaming. My mom came running.”
Isabela closed her eyes, the pain in Andrea’s voice like a fresh cut.
“My mom went ballistic. Told my dad to throw him out and he did. Sent him to live with my grandfather in Seattle. I hardly ever saw him after that. But when I did, he’d still stare. Kinda like it was a challenge to him.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Isabela spoke gently. “Was there ever a police report filed?” She knew the answer but wanted to know how much Andrea remembered. How credible of a witness the young woman would be.
“My mom called the cops. They showed up, but my dad freaked. Said it was a misunderstanding, that we were having a party and Hector was drunk. But he wasn’t drinking. He followed me around all night. Like he was waiting for the right time to strike. It wasn’t a misunderstanding.”
“Thank you, Andrea,” Isabela said. “That helps more than you know.”
Taking a breath, Isabela had one final request. She asked Andrea for her assistance in tying everything together. To her astonishment, Andrea agreed without hesitation. After the call, Isabela sat motionless, the heaviness of the moment settling over her, tempered by a sharp new clarity.
This was the alternative. This was her lifeline. She wouldn’t have to expose Chris’s trauma. Wouldn’t have to betray his trust. There was a path forward, and she had just uncovered it.
She turned back to her computer with new purpose, fingers already flying over the keys. This time, she would win the right way and would protect Chris in the process.