Page 15 of His Gilded Cage

“Thank you,” I said to Veronica, leaning back in my chair.

“For what?” Veronica said. She held the stack of folders on her outstretched

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said. “It feels better than I expected. I have feared this place for so long without even realizing it . . .”

“I can see why your mother loved this place.”

“Me too,” I said, my gaze returning to the blue of the ocean. “I wish I’d had the chance to share it with her.”

Veronica smiled and opened a manila folder in her lap.

“If you believe the police report, your mother chose to kill herself in Cabo but she clearly had plans to stay here later. Why does a suicidal woman make a reservation and then change her mind?” Veronica said, sifting through papers. “We have the original case report, there are statements from the crew, your father, and employees in your father’s house all stating your mother was unstable, depressed, volatile.”

Veronica read, “Mrs. Amador spends most of her time crying in her room. She hides out below deck. Mrs. Amador does not eat and rarely sleeps. She doesn’t get out of bed until dark. She suffers from a great depression.”

“A great depression,” I repeated. I closed my eyes. “I don’t remember her like that Veronica. She is vibrant in my memories. She is joyful. She used to tell me stories about the faeries in our garden and talk about the places we would travel together someday. I have heard this theory of depression before, but I’ve never admitted to anyone that it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Because you needed to believe,” Veronica said. “I remember your mother too. I don’t think she was happy but I don’t think she killed herself. I think she loved you too much.”

My vision blurred and I took a breath. I wanted to tell Veronica how much it meant to hear those words spoken out loud, but I couldn’t.

It had been so long since I’d allowed myself to think of my mother’s love and how it felt like a force field. Wallowing in sorrow over what I had lost felt self-indulgent and weak. I had told myself that my strength allowed me to move on, but that was a lie. My blindness had allowed me to turn my back on my own beliefs. I had never accepted this version of my flawed and broken mother yet I had never once challenged it out loud.

“Give me the files,” I said.

Veronica nodded and handed me a stack of paperwork. Together we read the detailed reports about the drift pattern of the dinghy and the location of her body.

The coroner concluded death by drowning. There was no sign of a struggle leading investigators to believe she had jumped into the water willingly instead of slipping and injuring herself.

Veronica’s eyes widened as she opened a small white envelope. “This is it,” she said. “This is a letter your mother, Amalia, mailed to Casa Flores ten years ago. It was addressed to my mother for pick up but she never got it.”

“I don’t understand. She wrote your mom?”

“Before my mother died last fall, she talked a lot about Amalia drowning.” Veronica hugged her knees into her chest. “You have to understand that my mother wasn’t herself before she died, I wasn’t sure if her ramblings amounted to anything.”

“Veronica, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I feel like a selfish bastard only focusing on my own grief.”

“No apologies,” Veronica said. “I had a lifetime with my mother. Losing her has been hard, but it was her time. We each had our say and she made her peace which included talking about your mother. She told me that she was supposed to meet Amalia in Sayulita at Casa Flores. She claimed your mother had mailed her a letter for pick up that would prove she didn’t want to die but the letter was gone. She could never find it.”

“But it’s in the police report.”

“Because clearly someone buried it here. My mother said she called the Cabo San Lucas Police Department every year asking them to investigate, but no one would take her seriously.”

Veronica scanned the document in her hands. “Your mother didn’t want to die, Marco. Read this.”

Dear Nadia,

If you are reading this, then we are almost free. It is too risky to call and I want to give you time to digest these final details before Marco and I arrive in Sayulita. I hope the shipment has arrived in New York. You should have also received a key to the storage unit. I have only taken items from the house that I think will help Marco transition to his new life. I know it will be hard to start over, but I’d rather have nothing than remain captive at the house in Guadalajara.

Here is the schedule:

Boat anchors Tuesday the 18th.

Marco and I day trip to shore and meet you on the 19th. I’ll set the dinghy adrift to distract.

You bring a car and papers. Flight from Puerto Vallarta to NYC on the 19th. Worst case, we stay the night somewhere.

Thank you for everything you are doing for us. When I feel fear, or I doubt I have the courage to disappear, I only have to look at my son and I find strength. Marco will be a man soon and I will not allow him to follow in his father’s footsteps. Luis’s greed has eclipsed everything and left no trace of the man that I once loved.

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