“A little girl called,” Mariela added.
For one instant, so brief it almost seemed imagined, the man’s face hardened. Then he smiled.
—My daughter is asleep. She must have pressed something while playing.
Behind him, from the stairs, a small sound was heard.
A sob.
All three turned around at the same time.
There was the girl.
Pink pajamas.
Mismatched socks.
An old stuffed rabbit pressed against the chest.
Her eyes were swollen, and she looked like someone who had been crying silently for hours.
“Dad…” she whispered.
Mariela saw something else.
The girl’s hands were trembling.
And he avoided looking at his father.
That was enough.
The non-commissioned officer took one step forward.
—Sir, we need to talk to the minor.
—You can’t just come in like that. This is my property.
But Esteban had already crossed the threshold. There were small cameras in the hallway walls. Two interior doors had locks on the outside. The air smelled of chlorine, dampness, and something sour, as if the house were trying too hard to appear clean.
In the girl’s room they found dirty sheets, broken toys, clothes lying around, and marks on Sofia’s arms that no fall could explain.
Mariela crouched down in front of her and spoke in a voice so soft it almost seemed to break.
—Sofi, honey, nobody’s going to scold you. Tell me what happened.
The girl hugged the rabbit tighter.
He looked at his father.
Then he looked down.
—He said that if I told anyone… he was going to kill me.
The silence turned to lead.
Esteban handcuffed the man right there, in front of the stairs.
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