Hammer placed it down.
A small brass lock held the lid.
Rachel touched the dented edge.
“How long have you had this?”
“Four years.”
She looked up.
“Luis died three years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you have his box before he died?”
“Because he gave it to me.”
“Why?”
“He thought somebody might search our houses.”
Rachel stared.
“Our?”
“The men who rode with him.”
“Hammer.”
“Start from the beginning.”
He rubbed one hand over his beard.
“Luis had trouble at work.”
“I know.”
“He got fired.”
“I know.”
“Do you know why?”
Rachel hesitated.
“He argued with a supervisor.”
“That’s what they told you.”
“That’s what Luis told me.”
Hammer looked toward the mountains.
“He didn't want you involved.”
“Stop saying that like it makes this better.”
“It doesn't.”
“Good.”
Hammer faced her.
“He found maintenance records that didn't match the trucks.”
Rachel frowned.
“Warehouse trucks?”
“Delivery fleet.”
“Luis wasn't a mechanic there.”
“No.”
“He was shift supervisor.”
“Yes.”
“But you know Luis.”
She did.
Luis could not hear a strange engine sound without opening a hood.
Hammer continued.
“One of their drivers complained that a truck was pulling hard left.”
“Luis looked at it.”
“He found a steering component that should have been replaced weeks earlier.”
Rachel listened.
“The maintenance sheet said it had been replaced.”
“But it hadn't.”
“What does that have to do with his firing?”
“That wasn't the first one.”
Hammer leaned against the table.
“Luis started checking other trucks.”
“Brake inspections signed without work.”
“Tires recorded as replaced that were still on vehicles.”
“Parts invoices for parts never installed.”
Rachel felt something tightening.
“He told management?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They told him to stay in his lane.”
“That sounds like him.”
“He didn't.”
That also sounded like him.
Hammer’s mouth moved faintly.
“He copied records.”
Rachel stared.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“Because one worker had already died.”
Her chest went cold.
“Who?”
“Carlos Vega.”
Rachel remembered.
Warehouse employee.
Truck crash on Interstate 17.
Everyone had said fatigue.
Hammer continued.
“Luis thought brakes contributed.”
“Company blamed the driver.”
“Police investigation didn't find enough.”
“Luis found a maintenance report created after the crash.”
Rachel’s eyebrows lifted.
“After?”
“Backdated.”
She looked toward the box.
“He was collecting proof.”
“Yes.”
Hammer reached beneath his shirt.
A small brass key hung from a chain.
He removed it.
Rachel watched.
“Why wait three years?”
Hammer inserted it into the lock.
Click.
Mateo jumped.
Hammer opened the lid.
Inside lay an envelope.
Cash.
Property documents.
A house key.
And a photograph placed face down.
Rachel stared.
Across the envelope, in Luis’s handwriting:
FOR RACHEL AND MATEO ONLY
Her throat closed.