Chapter 3 - THE DEAD MAN’S VOICE INSIDE BUNNY
The first file on the memory card was eleven seconds long.
A baby laughing.
Mateo’s voice.
“Ruby, that is absolutely not food.”
Selena broke before the sentence finished.
She turned away.
Damon stopped the recording.
“No.”
She wiped her face.
“Keep going.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
She sat beside the conference table.
“Keep going.”
The investigators had made forensic copies.
Nobody touched original card.
Good.
The second file was longer.
Mateo speaking alone.
Date-stamped three weeks before his death.
“If Selena ever hears this, I’m sorry.”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
Mateo continued.
“I should’ve told Damon months ago.”
Damon went still.
“But every time I request five minutes, Victor cancels it.”
Marcus looked at him.
Damon stared at screen.
Mateo:
“He says Damon doesn’t deal with dispatch-level problems.”
Something inside Damon tightened.
That sounded exactly like Victor.
Efficient.
Protective.
Filtering.
Mateo continued.
“This isn’t dispatch anymore.”
Then the recording clicked.
Different environment.
Warehouse hum.
Two men speaking.
Mateo’s voice:
“Truck 41 isn’t supposed to be on the Nogales route.”
Victor:
“It is tonight.”
“Damon didn’t authorize it.”
“He doesn’t authorize every truck.”
“This load isn’t in system.”
Silence.
Victor’s voice became colder.
“You have a wife and a baby.”
Selena stopped breathing.
Then Mateo:
“Was that supposed to scare me?”
Victor answered:
“It was supposed to remind you to mind your lane.”
File ended.
Nobody spoke.
Damon’s fists tightened.
Not proof Victor killed Mateo.
Proof of threat.
Proof of unauthorized routes.
Proof Victor used Damon’s organization while keeping Damon outside the decision.
The next recording was made four days later.
Mateo apparently in his car.
“I checked three more trucks.”
“Same pattern.”
“Victor’s moving loads through Damon’s construction fleet after midnight.”
“No manifests.”
“No driver paperwork.”
“Cash pickups near the border.”
Damon looked at Marcus.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
His security chief looked sick.
“Those trucks were outside my division.”
Exactly.
Victor had built cracks between departments.
Then moved through them.
Another file.
Mateo:
“I told Walter Kline in accounting.”
Damon knew Walter.
Retired now.
Mateo continued:
“Next morning Walter told me to forget it.”
“Wouldn’t look at me.”
“He was scared.”
Then:
“I think Victor has something on everybody.”
Selena cried silently.
Ruby slept upstairs with Margaret.
Good.
This truth was not for her.
Then came the file Damon would remember for years.
Mateo sounded tired.
“If I can’t get to Damon, I’m putting copies somewhere Victor won’t look.”
A pause.
“Ruby’s rabbit.”
Selena laughed through tears.
“He hated that rabbit.”
Mateo continued:
“Victor hates kids.”
The room almost smiled.
Then his voice softened.
“If this is paranoia, Selena can yell at me later.”
“If it isn’t…”
Long pause.
“Tell Ruby I didn’t leave.”
Selena bent forward.
Damon stopped playback.
No one asked.
They waited.
Minutes.
Then Selena whispered:
“He died the next day.”
Damon knew the official report.
Single-vehicle crash on State Route 85.
Early morning.
Mateo’s company pickup went through a guardrail.
No alcohol.
No other vehicle found.
Mechanical inspection blamed tire failure.
Victor had personally reported the death to Damon.
Called it tragic.
Arranged insurance payment.
Recommended an additional private benefit for Selena and Ruby.
Damon had approved it.
Never met them.
Not once.
He stared at Selena.
“I signed the settlement.”
She looked at him.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“Your name was on the letter.”
He felt sick.
“I didn’t know who you were.”
“No.”
No comfort.
Fair.
Victor had brought Damon a summary:
Employee killed in vehicle accident.
Young widow.
Infant child.
Recommend generous package.
Damon signed.
Moved on.
Selena continued:
“Victor came to funeral.”
Damon looked up.
“He did?”
“He said he and Mateo were close.”
The recording suggested otherwise.
“He checked on us every few months.”
“Why?”
“I thought because he felt guilty.”
“For what?”
“Mateo worked late because Victor asked.”
There.
Victor had kept himself close enough to monitor whether Selena discovered Bunny.
Then Selena was hired at Damon’s estate eight months ago.
“How did you get this job?”
Damon asked.
“Margaret.”
“Yes.”
“But who approved final background clearance?”
Marcus went pale.
“Victor.”
Silence.
Damon looked at him.
Marcus continued:
“Household hires above residence access get secondary review.”
“Victor handled those while I was overseas last year.”
Selena’s expression changed.
“He wanted me here.”
Maybe.
Or at least allowed it.
Why put her close?
Easier surveillance.
Easier access to Ruby.
Easier to search belongings.
Victor had transformed Damon’s home into the safest place to monitor them.
Damon almost admired the audacity.
Almost.
The remaining files gave no murder confession.
Important.
They showed Victor diverting trucks.
Receiving payments.
Threatening Mateo indirectly.
Blocking meetings.
Then one final voice memo recorded the night before Mateo died.
“I got an appointment.”
Damon stopped.
“What?”
Mateo sounded almost relieved.
“Marcus’s assistant called.”
“Damon will see me tomorrow at four.”
Marcus looked confused.
“I never—”
Mateo continued:
“Victor doesn’t know.”
Then:
“If I can get through the gate, this ends.”
File ended.
Damon stared.
Mateo died at 6:12 the next morning.
Ten hours before meeting.
Marcus pulled archived gate records.
It took two hours.
The meeting existed.
Entered manually by Marcus’s former assistant.
Canceled at 5:48 a.m.
Reason:
Employee unavailable.
Who canceled?
Victor Lane’s credentials.
Selena stared at screen.
“He knew.”
Damon said nothing.
Marcus whispered:
“He knew Mateo was supposed to reach you.”
Then the detective arrived with another result.
The tire failure report from Mateo’s crash had been performed by a private mechanic.
Company name:
Lane Automotive Services.
No obvious relation on paper.
But the owner?
Victor’s cousin.
Damon stood.
“Was the tire cut?”
The detective raised a hand.
“We don’t know.”
The truck had been scrapped.
Three years gone.
No miracle evidence.
“But the original photographs are still archived.”
They showed a catastrophic sidewall failure.
Could be road debris.
Could be deliberate damage.
No certainty.
Damon hated uncertainty.
He was learning to live inside it.
Then Marcus said:
“Mateo’s truck had telematics.”
The detective looked at him.
“Archive retention?”
“Usually five years.”
Damon’s pulse rose.
Data showed something strange.
Mateo stopped at a Reyes Logistics service yard at 5:02 a.m.
Stayed eleven minutes.
Then left.
Crash seventy minutes later.
Who had access to that yard?
Dozens.
But camera records still existed in cold storage.
Low-quality.
Predawn.
One man walked toward Mateo’s truck.
Face unclear.
Suit visible.
Then another image caught him leaving under a light.
Victor.
Selena made one sound.
Small.
Broken.
Damon felt fury.
But the detective said:
“This still doesn’t prove he tampered with the vehicle.”
Correct.
Presence.
Opportunity.
Not act.
Then Marcus received a call.
He listened.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Victor’s gone.”
Damon’s face hardened.
“Gone where?”
“His house is empty.”
“Phone off.”
“Driver says he dismissed him this morning.”
Then:
“And one of our freight aircraft filed a private departure request forty minutes ago.”
Damon’s blood went cold.
“Destination?”
“Mexico.”
The detective was already moving.
Damon almost ordered men to airport.
Stopped.
Official authorities could handle airport.
Evidence mattered.
Selena watched him.
He looked at her.
“You expected me to send armed cars.”
“Yes.”
“So did I.”
That was growth happening in real time.
Then another call came.
Not from security.
From Margaret.
Ruby had woken.
She was crying for Selena.
Selena stood immediately.
Investigation stopped mattering.
Mother first.
Damon walked with her to library.
Ruby ran into Selena’s arms.
“Mommy!”
Selena held her.
Hard.
Ruby pointed at Bunny on evidence photograph displayed accidentally? Better Bunny itself was still with technician. She asked:
“Where’s Bunny?”
Selena’s face broke.
“He’s getting fixed.”
Ruby looked suspicious.
“Again?”
Everyone froze.
Selena stared.
“What do you mean again?”
Ruby sniffed.
“Mr. Victor fixed him.”
“When?”
“Lots.”
Damon crouched.
No interrogation.
One question.
Then stop.
“Ruby, when Mr. Victor fixed Bunny, did anyone else come with him?”
The child thought.
Then nodded.
“A lady.”
Selena looked at Damon.
“What lady?”
Ruby frowned.
“Pretty lady.”
Not useful.
Then:
“Red shoes.”
Margaret’s face changed.
“Red shoes?”
Ruby nodded.
“She smells like flowers.”
Damon knew exactly one woman who wore red-soled shoes and enough gardenia perfume to announce herself before entering a room.
His sister.
Isabella Reyes.
Damon stood.
He had spent the last twenty years trusting Victor more than anyone.
But Victor had not been operating at the edge of the family.
He had been standing beside it.
May you like
And now Ruby had just placed Damon’s own sister inside her bedroom with him.
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