I lifted it again and tapped the floor.
Boom.
Hollow.
My heart began beating faster.
I knelt.
The floorboards were covered with dirt.
I brushed it away.
There.
A straight line.
A seam.
My hands began to shake.
I found an old knife and pushed it between the boards.
Nothing.
I tried again.
The board moved.
I stopped breathing.
Someone had built a compartment underneath the floor.
I pried the board upward.
Beneath it was darkness.
And inside the darkness was a metal box wrapped in oilcloth.
I stared at it for almost a minute.
I didn’t touch it.
Something told me I shouldn’t.
Then I saw the handwriting.
Three words written across the top.
FOR MY MOTHER.
My knees weakened.
I sat on the floor.
“Neftalí?”
Of course he didn’t answer.
My hands trembled as I pulled the box free.
There was a small lock.
But the key was taped beneath the lid.
He had hidden everything so carefully.
I opened it.
The first thing I saw was a stack of documents.
Then photographs.
Then USB drives.
Then bank statements.
Then copies of contracts.
Then handwritten notes.
I picked up the first page.
My name was written on it.
