Untethered

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"A week before Greta died, there was a break-in to the house, and she was attacked. It was Daniel, she got a good look at him. My mom also showed up at the hospital, by herself, to 'visit' her. They hated each other, it made no sense to me at all. Then, during the memorial service for Greta, I found my mom searching my Grandma's house, and she was behaving strangely. With all of that, I'm almost positive it was Daniel who broke into the moving van. We also know that he showed up at Ryan's business right before the break-in at Greta's."

Now she made the leap, the one she'd been contemplating and needed confirmation of. "I think," she began slowly, watching Manny's expression carefully, "that my mom and Daniel set my dad up all those years ago. I think they are the reason he's dead. And I think that, for whatever reason, my grandma dying has caused them to reconnect in order to try to find the gems. From all the research I've done, they were never recovered." Emma sat back in her seat, breathlessly waiting for Manny to confirm or deny her hypothesis.

He regarded her silently, leaning back, his fingers steepled over his chest. Abruptly, he sat up straight.

"You are too smart for your own good, Emma," he admonished. "You are correct in the essential details."

Giddiness washed over Emma followed by a slow wave of dread. She was right! But some part of her wished she wasn't.

"Explain, please," she urged. "Telling me what happened can only help me. It seems that I'm involved and in danger either way, and I don't even know how to protect myself, or from what. It doesn't seem like Daniel or my mom are planning on stopping anytime soon, just that they are getting more and more desperate."

"Sí, I think you're right," he sighed. "Your father will not be happy with me," he lamented.

"I'm not a little girl anymore, Manny," she asserted gently. "Knowledge will help me, protect me. Right now, I'm blind. All I have are half-baked theories, and you are the only one who can help me."

"Si, si, you are right. Keep in mind, I know only what your father told me and what I figured out for myself. I believe Greta knew something more, or he entrusted her with something, but I don't know what. He wanted to protect everyone, and in the end, neglected himself." He fixed Emma with a warning gaze, "Do not make the same mistakes, chica."

"I'll be careful, I promise. I have to know the truth, Manny. I've lived my whole life thinking the worst of my father. It messed me up... I owe it to him-to his memory—to give him the benefit of the doubt. To get him justice, if I can. Everyone thinks he was guilty, and if all you've told me about him is correct, he deserves so much better. Especially from me." Now her tears did come, an overflow of the weight of the past months pressing down on her.

Sitting forward, Manny reached out and gently ran a thumb across her cheek. "Do not cry, chica. Your papá loved you and your brother so much. He knew what you might think of him, and he would not hold it against you. He wanted you to be safe.

"Very well," he sighed, reclining back in his chair again, "I owe your father a great deal. I would like to see this matter settled as much as you."

Ron breezed back into the room with a couple bottles of beer and offered them each one. When they both had their drinks, he quietly excused himself again.

"You two talk as long as you need to," he smiled, "I'll be puttering around the garden." With that, he made his way out, leaving the pair in a silence pregnant with anticipation.

Manny's eyes followed him for a moment with a distant expression. Whether it was someplace or sometime else, Emma couldn't be sure. Then his eyes drifted back to hers and locked. "Your father loved Julie. I believe she was even in love with him, in the beginning. I frequented the bar he worked at, especially after he saved me that night, so I saw the relationship develop. For him, it was love-at-first-sight. Like someone conked him over the head with a sledgehammer. I'm not too sure about her—she was always hard to read—and I'm good at reading people. There was just always something a little bit off about her. Almost as if she wanted to feel, but was incapable of anything but imitating emotions."