We didn't open it there. We ran. We ran all the way back to the safe house, the bundle feeling like a live bomb in my backpack. Luna flickered in and out of sight beside us, exhausted but exhilarated.
Inside the safe house, under the lantern light, we carefully unwrapped the oilcloth. The air left my lungs.
Inside were two things. First, a stack of documents. Official-looking permits for the Alcantara resort, stamped and signed. But next to them were forged versions, identical but for one crucial difference: the environmental impact signatures were blatant, clumsy fakes. Miguel Reyes had been right.
The second item was a small, spiral-bound notebook—Miguel's personal log. The final entries weren't about fish. They were names, dates, and amounts of money. Bribes paid to local officials. And the last entry, scribbled in a frantic hand, read: "Met with A.V. again. Threats more direct. Says he will 'uproot my life' if I don't stop. Told him I have copies of everything. Hiding them. If anything happens to me…"
The sentence was unfinished.
We had it. The proof that Miguel Reyes was threatened by Arturo Vega. The motive. It wasn't enough to prove murder, but it was enough to blow the Alcantara family's reputation apart and reopen a cold case.
We sat in stunned silence, staring at the evidence that had cost a girl her life.