Gabriel swallowed.
“Yes. My mom taught her to embroider those daisies. Melissa used to stitch them on her things… She was fifteen when she disappeared.”

Renata nodded and quickly gave orders—photos, gloves, evidence bags, a full search of the house.

Lucía arrived half an hour later, already shaken before she even knew why. When Marco tried to explain, Gabriel watched the color drain from her face. She climbed the stairs slowly, as if each step weighed more than the last. Then she saw it—the pink fabric, the stitching—and time seemed to stop.

She didn’t scream.

That silence was worse.

She stepped closer, hand trembling, barely daring to touch the air above it.
“It’s Melissa’s,” she whispered. “I made it with her…”

Gabriel closed his eyes. Fourteen years of absence, empty chairs, unanswered questions—all of it cracked open at once.

The search lasted until late night. The room looked ordinary—crucifix, old clock, heavy furniture—but nothing felt normal anymore. Everything carried a sense of secrecy.

Around eleven, they found something else.

Not hidden behind walls, but tucked inside a pillowcase in the closet—a worn notebook dated 1989.

Renata flipped through it in the kitchen while everyone waited. Her expression shifted—not to surprise, but to something darker.

“No one leaves the house,” she said. “And I need a warrant to open the shed.”

“The shed?” Marco asked.

“The notebook mentions it. And… it mentions Melissa.”