OLIVER
The first photograph shows bruises across Lucía Herrera’s throat.
The second shows blood on a hotel pillow.
By the third, Anny’s hands are shaking.
Felipe has finally surrendered the envelope. Its contents now cover my desk: medical records, messages, bank statements, and a signed account of the night I allegedly assaulted a twenty-two-year-old Adams Group employee.
Seven days after that supposed assault, Lucía was found dead in her apartment.
The official cause was an overdose.
The anonymous report accused me of causing that too.
“Did you know her?” Anny asks.
Felipe answers for me. “She worked for the company.”
“I asked Oliver.”
I force myself to look at my wife. “I met Lucía twice. Both times were at corporate events with dozens of witnesses.”
Anny picks up a printed
