Victor didn’t make it to the door.
Two guards got in the way.
“I just need air,,s” he murmured.
“Sit down,” the director ordered.
My brother was still hugging Mom.
I knelt in front of him.
“Ethan, look at me. What did you see?
I was eight now.
But that night I barely had two.
That’s why no one thought I could remember anything useful.
“Dad was screaming with Uncle Victor.
A white towel.
Victor’s wet shoes.
I never understood what it meant.
Up to three weeks earlier,s, when he found a box of family photographs at our grandmother’s.
In one image, Victor appeared wearing those same shoes.
Then he remembered something else.
There was red mud.
Investigators returned to the archives.
The night of the murder had rained.
And next to a side door of our house had been photographed small stains of reddish earth.
