Chapter 30 Erin #2
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I should’ve listened to her.”
Wind nips at my face, and the door opens, footsteps approaching.
He’s here. The man with the tattoo.
Hands cup my face. “Erin, listen to me. You’re having a panic attack. Open your eyes.”
“I can’t. I’ll see him. He’ll hurt me.”
“No one’s gonna hurt you, Erin. I’m here. You’re safe.”
I crack my eyes open slowly and find Brax kneeling in front of me outside of the café.
“Tell me five things you can see.”
My voice trembles. “B-Brown eyes, dark h-hair, t-tattoos, a scar, trees.”
“Four things you can touch.”
“G-Gravel, fabric, skin. And the wall.”
“Three things you can hear.”
“Birds, a bell, and w-wind.”
“Two things you can smell.”
“Donuts and flowers.”
“One thing you can taste.”
“Coffee.”
Brax’s features settle, a misty look crossing his face. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
This isn’t fair.
Everything has been perfect. I’ve been doing so well. Things between Chase and I have been going great, and now I’m sitting in the dirt, reliving one of the worst days of my life.
Brax studies me carefully. “I don’t have to get Roman from school for a couple hours yet, but on Fridays, we get ice cream. Come with us. He’d be thrilled to see you.”
He holds out his hand, and I take it, his grip an anchor that keeps me steady in the chaos.
Without a clear explanation, I find myself asking him a question I never thought I’d ask anyone. “Do you investigate murders from a long time ago? Maybe thirteen years?”
“Are you telling me you’ve committed a crime?” he asks playfully. “Chase is not going to be happy if he comes home to find I arrested his girlfriend.”
“Is it a crime to witness a murder and not report it?”
“Let’s talk. Sit,” he says, pointing to a bench. I realize as we move through the park, it’s the same one Chase and I sat on months ago. The rough textures of the wood under my hands bring back memories of my nervous palms. It’s comforting, even though I’m a fire hydrant ready to burst open.
“Sentimental spot?”
“The first time I was here, Chase asked me out and I, um… I ran away from him.”
Brax chuckles. “Can’t imagine Chase loved that, but it seems to have worked out. Happy’s definitely a color he pulls off.”
“I won’t hurt him,” I whisper, compelled to defend myself.
His eyes grow tender. “I know that, Erin.” He takes a seat, facing me. “Start from the beginning.”
The plan was to tell Bella and Griff. Not Brax.
I shake my head quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I…”
“Erin, you’re not in trouble. You can talk to me. It’s just us. I promise nothing is going to happen to you,” he says, eyes sincere as he holds my hand.
I realize I can’t hold my words back anymore. I can’t keep this secret any longer. Not after what he saw, after what I asked him.
“My name’s not Erin,” I tell him. “It’s Lucia Alvarez.”
Brax just looks at me.
“My parents were Carlos and Clarissa Rose Alvarez. When I was eight, my dad was murdered. I didn’t know who killed him.” My voice splinters, that same rawness clawing at my throat that came when I saw my dad lying on that floor lifeless. “Not until today, anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“I never saw the face of the woman who shot my father. I only heard her voice,” I explain. “I always thought the person who shot him was a scorned lover, but I’ve been wrong this whole time—for years.”
Brax hands tighten around my shaking ones.
“I remember everything about her, Brax. My mother’s voice has been in my head for years. I know the way it sounds when she’s mad. So why didn’t I recognize it that day?”
I look up at Brax. The sad look on his face tells me he finally gets it.
I repeat myself. “Why didn’t I recognize her voice?”
The answer blooms as a rotten, unreliable truth.
“Why didn’t I know that the person who killed my father… That the voice I heard,” my breath shudders, “was my mother’s?”
Brax shuffles forward on the bench and cradles me. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as his chin lands on the top of my head.
I sob, letting it sink in.
“How could I not know it was her?”
“Difficulty with voice recognition can be a result of trauma. What you went through that day, Erin, was nothing shy of it,” Brax says in a gentle tone.
“It’s possible that when you heard the gunshot you went into a state of shock and your brain didn’t allow you to recognize a voice you’ve always known.
” He explains it as if he has experience with it firsthand.
“It’s not your fault. It was just your body’s way of protecting you. ”
“This whole time…” My words die on my lips. It makes so much sense now. “I walked in on her cheating on my dad years ago. She told me not to say anything or bad things would happen. I just never thought she would be the one to carry it out.”
Brax pulls back. His face hardens as if he’s angry for me.
“I’m sorry for what your mom asked you to do, for what you saw. It was wrong. You were a kid, Erin. She was the adult. She should have known better.”
“I know.”
Still holding on to me, he asks, “What did you mean when you asked if it was a crime to witness a murder and not report it? Did you lie to the police about what happened that night?”
I shake my head against him. “No. I didn’t lie.” I pull out of his strong hold and swipe under my eyes.
Brax’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t speak. He just sits there, waiting for me to tell him what I’m comfortable with him knowing.
“I was never asked, so I never told anyone.”
“Never asked?” he questions.
“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy,” I say quietly.
“I won’t. You can trust me, Erin.”
“My foster father told me my dad died in a car crash. It always made me think what happened to my dad was covered up so that nobody asked questions. I was scared I’d look insane if I told people I was there. So, I never said anything. The only person I’ve told is Chase, and now you.”
“You’ve kept what happened a secret this whole time?” he asks, but there’s not a lick of annoyance in his voice. It’s full of sympathy and sadness.
“The nightmares I used to get convinced me that I was safer if I said nothing. I thought if I talked, he would come after me.”
“He?” Brax questions.
“Not long after my dad was shot, a man came in through the front door. He called me Lucia and stuck a needle in my neck that made me sleepy. I remember being strapped into a car, and then everything went dark. When I woke up, I was already with Roger and Griff. When nobody asked me questions or said anything other than my dad was dead, and they couldn’t find my mom, I just stayed silent. ”
“Did you recognize his voice or face?”
I shake my head. “The only thing I remember about him is his tattoo.”
“What can you tell me about it?” Brax asks, still holding my hand.
“I remember wondering if the curved lines over his arm had been drawn by a child. They were short and long. But each one curled at the end. I never saw the whole thing, but the image has stayed with me.”
Brax’s expression changes. There’s a puzzle inside his gaze, and as seconds pass, a thought seems to come up for him. He pulls out his phone, taps on the glass, then turns his screen around. “Was it this?”
My eyes immediately fall to the swirls. I count eight of them, the same way I did back then, and my stomach flips as I take in the full image that’s haunted my dreams a thousand times.
“That’s it,” I confirm. “Is an octopus a common tattoo?” I ask. I never would have guessed back then that’s what it was.
Brax curses underneath his breath, and uncertainty coats my skin. “Erin. This isn’t just a tattoo. It’s a brand.”
“For what?”
“A cartel,” Brax explains, voice tightening. “One of the largest in the country.”
The words hit fast and quick, a punch I don’t have time to prepare for.
“My dad worked in publishing, and my mom owned a hotel.” My hands tremble as I press them to my temples, pulse pounding hard against my skull.
“Breathe, Erin,” Brax says gently.
“Why would a Cartel want anything to do with us?”
I want to throw up, and my vision starts to blur.
This doesn’t make sense.
“Was my dad part of the cartel? Is that why my mom killed him?” I ask, my brain firing signal after signal as it tries to understand.
“I don’t know, Erin,” he answers. “Do you remember what your mom said that day?”
I close my eyes and go back to a day I’ve tried but have failed to forget. The memory slams into me at full force.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
That gut-wrenching sound fills my ears, and I’m there, but this time, I’m not wondering who’s on the porch because I know it’s my mother, even though I don’t see her.
“What do you hear?” Brax’s voice penetrates the vision, and he materializes into the memory. His voice is loud and clear as if he’s right next to me, watching from the wooden panels.
My chin quivers at the sight of my dad lying on the floor, blood spanning out around him.
“‘I love him. You should have known better. I never wanted this to happen, but you left me no choice. You ruined everything,’” I say, my mother’s words rolling off my tongue. Brax leans forward and holds me again.
“Good job, kid,” he murmurs, voice brushing over me. “You did so good. I’ve got you.”
And for the first time since that day, I let myself believe it.