Armed with the name Arturo Vega, we needed more. We needed Luna to remember.
We went back to the art room at night, a risky move after the warning, but we were desperate. Leo stood watch by the door, a nervous sentry with his phone ready to call for help.
I held the sketchbook open to the drawing of Arturo Vega's face. "Luna, look at it. You started to draw him for a reason. You needed to remember. Try. Please."
Luna hovered before the drawing, her form wavering violently. The temperature in the room dropped. Her hands were pressed to the sides of her head, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration and pain.
"It's… loud," she gasped. "The memory… it's so loud."
The single light bulb above us began to flicker wildly, casting the room in a disorienting strobe.
"He was arguing with my father," she said, her voice strained, coming in fragments. "Outside… by the cars… My father was yelling… 'I know what you did… the permits are forged… the coast is protected…'"
The bulb flickered faster.
"Vega… he laughed. He said… 'No one will believe a fisherman over Don Alcantara.'… My father said he had proof… documents…"
Luna's eyes flew open. They were wide with the memory of pure terror. "He saw me. In the window. His face… it changed. The anger… it was for me. I dropped my pencil… I ran…"
The memory ended. The light bulb above us shattered with a soft pop, plunging us into darkness.
In the sudden silence, broken only by Leo's sharp intake of breath from the doorway, the truth was deafening.
Luna's father, Miguel Reyes, had proof that could stop the Alcantara resort deal. Arturo Vega silenced him by taking the one thing that mattered most: his daughter. Luna hadn't just witnessed an argument. She had witnessed the motive for her own disappearance.
We had our why. Now we needed the proof. And we needed to find it before Arturo Vega, or whoever was still protecting the Alcantaras, silenced us, too.