Chapter 8 - The Raid on Treviño’s OfficeAt two o'clock that afternoon, I stood across the street from a ornate colonial building near the city's historical plaza.
Three marked state police cruisers were parked out front, their blue lights flashing against the stone archways. Plainclothes forensic investigators carried heavy cardboard boxes filled with paper files, desktop drives, and official brass seals out through the front doors of Licenciado Ernesto Treviño’s office.
Roberto stood beside me, watching as two armed officers led a stout, silver-haired man in an expensive linen suit down the front steps in handcuffs. It was Treviño himself. His face was pale, his eyes darting frantically toward the gathering crowd of reporters.
"That's him," Roberto whispered. "The man who put his seal on your life insurance policy and your house title."
As the officers loaded Treviño into the back of an unmarked van, a flash of bright red caught my attention down the block.
Standing beside an outdoor cafe umbrella, partially hidden behind dark sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat, was Patricia. She was watching the police raid with her mouth slightly open, clutching her handbag tightly against her chest.
She had come to Treviño’s office hoping he could fix her legal problems—only to watch her co-conspirator get hauled away in chains.
I stepped off the curb and walked across the cobblestone street toward her.
She noticed me when I was twenty feet away. She gasped, backing up against the cafe window, her body trembling with a mixture of rage and terror.
"Looking for your notary, Patricia?" I asked, stopping five feet from her.
"You... you ruined everything!" she hissed, her hands shaking so violently her sunglasses slipped down her nose. "We had a future! You were just supposed to keep driving your trucks and leave the family matters to me!"
"You didn't want a family," I said, my voice low and steady. "You wanted an estate to plunder. You wanted my daughter's dignity, my house, and my life insurance."
"You have no idea who you're dealing with, Gabriel!" she spat, trying to step around me. "Treviño isn't the only person I know in this city. If I go down, I'm taking your house and every peso you've ever made with me!"
"Treviño just went down in handcuffs," I replied calmly, pointing toward the police van pulling away from the curb. "And Prosecutor Gomez is waiting for you at the hotel."
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Patricia backed away, turned on her heel, and ran down the pedestrian alleyway as fast as her heels would carry her.
I didn't chase her. I didn't need to. The trap was already set.
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