She nodded once, still staring at the page.

Another photo showed Andrés standing in the kitchen at 9:42 p.m., holding Valeria’s phone while she wasn’t in the room. Another showed Doña Rebeca opening the cabinet where Valeria kept envelopes, receipts, and the old tin box from her grandmother.

Then came the transfer ledger.

Valeria took one step forward. The paper listed transfers from her personal account to a private clinic — the clinic Doña Rebeca had once mentioned at dinner, pressing a hand to her chest, saying her heart doctor was expensive.

I’d remembered the name because widows learn to remember details.

The amounts were not enormous. That almost made it uglier. Cruel people often steal in pieces, because pieces feel deniable. A little money. A little sleep.