Salomé looked directly into his eyes, and something in her gaze made the seasoned officer feel unexpectedly uneasy.
“My uncle Mateo,” she said.
Ramira gasped.
The name struck her like lightning because Mateo had been her husband’s younger brother, the man who had testified during the investigation claiming he arrived after the crime had already happened.
“No…” Ramira whispered, shaking her head slowly.
But Salomé continued.
“I saw him that night,” the girl said quietly. “He told me to stay in my room and not come out because adults were talking.”
The social worker straightened immediately.
“Salomé, you never mentioned this during the investigation,” she said, her voice now tense.
Salomé lowered her gaze slightly.
“No one asked me what I saw,” she replied simply.
Those eight words made the air in the room feel heavier.
Méndez rubbed his chin slowly.
He remembered reading that the girl had been asleep during the incident.
That assumption had been accepted without questioning.
“What exactly did you see?” he asked again.
Salomé took another breath.
“I woke up because they were arguing,” she said. “My father was shouting, and Uncle Mateo was shouting louder.”
