Chapter 14 - A Voice from the Past
Adrian had heard hundreds of recordings in boardrooms and legal offices, but none had ever changed the shape of a room the way that old cassette did. He looked at Mateo and saw the boy who had once watched the driveway for his sister, the young man who had worked two jobs to help his parents, and the father who still carried a missing person's photograph in his wallet.
“I'm sorry,” Adrian said.
Mateo shook his head. “Don't make this about your guilt.” His words weren't cruel. They were tired. “I need to know if she had a good life. I need to know whether she was lonely. I need to hear her say my name.”
For an hour, Harris explained how identity changes, old records, and incomplete leads could complicate confirmation. Mateo listened without interrupting. He refused to tell his parents, both elderly and fragile, until Isabel herself agreed. He didn't want to give them hope that might be ripped away another time.
When the call finally came, he held the phone so tightly Adrian feared the glass would crack.
Mateo stared at the drawing on the floor. “Isabel was alive when Sofia was little?”
Lucy nodded. “Mom said Isabel taught her how to read bus schedules. She called her Izzy.”
For years, the Reyes family had imagined every possible end to Isabel's disappearance. Knowing she had survived even one more year changed Mateo's grief into something more dangerous: hope.
Nora opened Margaret's box records as soon as the court released authorized copies. Box 417 contained letters, photographs, payment ledgers, and a cassette tape labeled FOR MATEO.
They found a cassette player in the attic. Harris arranged for the tape to be copied without damaging the original. Mateo listened in a quiet interview room.
At first there was static. Then came Margaret's voice.
“Mateo, I'm sorry I failed your sister. I believed my husband when he told me the program placed the girls with good families. Isabel found out it was a lie. She tried to help others leave. I knew she was alive in 2009. I lost track after that. Please don't stop looking because I was too ashamed to tell you sooner.”
Mateo bent over the table, both hands covering his face.
A second voice sounded faintly in the background of the recording. It was young, female, and unmistakably alive.
“Mrs. Blackthorn, we need to go. Keene is here.”
“Is that her?” Adrian asked.
Mateo pressed his palms against his eyes. “I'd know my sister anywhere.”
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Harris used the tape's date and location notes to contact investigators in neighboring states. Two hours later, she returned with a cautious expression.
“There is a woman in Maryland using the name Isabel Moreno,” she said. “She wants to speak with Mateo.”
