Chapter 7 - THE FIRST DEATH CERTIFICATE
They drove to San Marcos before noon.
Officer Torres told Julian not to go.
Julian went anyway.
The warehouse stood behind an abandoned mechanic shop.
Rust covered the doors.
Windows were broken.
Inside, everything smelled like oil and wet concrete.
Ernesto led them to an old office.
A filing cabinet had been pushed against the wall.
Inside were boxes.
Receipts.
Contracts.
Old photographs.
Then Mariana found a folder labeled RAFAEL MENDOZA.
Julian opened it.
Insurance policy.
$500,000.
Beneficiary: Eulalia Mendoza.
He kept turning pages.
Claim approved six weeks after Rafael’s death.
Payment deposited into a bank account.
Then transferred twice.
The final destination made Julian stare.
VÉLEZ HOLDINGS.
Mariana whispered, “Your mother gave them the insurance money.”
Julian shook his head.
“Why would they come back for more?”
Ernesto started searching another box.
“Maybe because it wasn’t enough.”
Julian found another document.
Property deed.
The old Mendoza family land.
Transferred to César Vélez three months after Rafael died.
Then sold.
Julian’s anger turned into something colder.
His father’s death paid a debt.
Money.
Land.
Everything.
So why were they after Julian’s house?
Mariana suddenly called from the next room.
“Julian.”
He ran.
She was holding an old cassette recorder.
Beside it sat a tape.
RAFAEL — MAY 12.
Ernesto stared.
“That’s three days before he died.”
They found batteries.
Pressed play.
Static.
Then Rafael’s voice.
“If you’re hearing this, César didn’t believe me.”
A pause.
“I already paid him.”
“All of it.”
Julian looked at Ernesto.
Rafael continued.
“But he says Eulalia made another agreement.”
Julian’s blood went cold.
“She promised him something that belongs to our son.”
Mariana covered her mouth.
Then the tape crackled.
Rafael’s voice lowered.
“If she tries to use Julian’s name, the proof is in—”
The tape stopped.
Julian hit play.
Nothing.
He opened the compartment.
The tape had snapped.
Ernesto cursed.
Mariana looked toward the front of the warehouse.
A car door slammed.
Then another.
Julian froze.
Voices.
Men.
Ernesto whispered, “We weren’t followed.”
Julian looked through the dusty window.
A black SUV.
The same model from the kidnapping attempt.
Three men got out.
One carried a crowbar.
One carried a pistol.
Julian grabbed Mariana’s hand.
“Back door.”
They ran.
A gunshot exploded through the warehouse.
Glass shattered.
Dieguito screamed.
Julian pulled him behind a steel cabinet.
Another shot.
Ernesto shouted from the hallway.
“Go!”
Julian turned.
His uncle stood near the front entrance holding an old shotgun.
“Tío!”
“Get your family out!”
A third shot rang out.
Ernesto jerked backward.
Julian screamed.
But Mariana dragged him.
“Julian!”
May you like
Ernesto fell.
And the men kept coming.
