The police arrived in less than twenty minutes, but for Gabriel, time felt like an eternity.
No one touched the garment again. It lay on the dresser in the parents’ bedroom, like a silent piece of evidence in a house that still smelled of dampness, mothballs, and old medicine. Marco paced the room, agitated, fists clenched. Lucía kertati , Gabriel’s mother, had not yet been informed—whether out of kindness or fear, no one knew. How do you tell a mother that her missing daughter’s clothes have been found hidden under her own father’s mattress?
When the police entered, the house changed atmosphere instantly. It was no longer a place of mourning. It was a crime scene.
The lead inspector, Renata Tavares, examined the garment without touching it, then looked at Gabriel.
“Are you certain it belonged to your sister?”
Gabriel swallowed. “Yes. My mother taught her to embroider these daisies. Melissa stitched them onto her things… She was fifteen when she disappeared.”
Renata nodded and quickly gave instructions: photos, gloves, evidence bags, a full search of the house.
Lucía arrived half an hour later, already upset without even knowing why. When Marco tried to explain, Gabriel watched her crumble. She slowly climbed the stairs, each step seeming heavier than the last. Then she saw it—the pink fabric, the stitches—and time seemed to stop.
