Page 15 of South of Justice

ELEVEN

NINE YEARS AGO

Lucía adjustedthe lanyard around her neck, the laminated badge still too stiff and glossy to feel like it belonged to her. Her name was printed in bold: DUARTE, L.

The training floor buzzed around her, low voices, clicking keyboards, the occasional bark of a supervisor. Glass walls boxed them in like fish tanks and the morning sunlight refracted off polished floors. A few clocks showed different time zones. The one labeled “CDMX” ticked just past 8:47 a.m.

“You’re sitting in the shark tank,” said a voice behind her.

Lucía glanced up. It was the man from the waiting room, whose small talk had eased her nerves. He gave her a goofy smile, a half-empty coffee in one hand, his own lanyard twisted around a finger. CASTILLO, M.

“You know, where they throw the interns in to see who swims first. Or gets eaten.”

Lucía let out a small laugh before she could stop herself. “So encouraging.”

“I like to offer realism with a side of gallows humor,” he said. “It’s my specialty.”

She turned slightly in her chair, studying him. He had a relaxed, unbothered energy—sleeves rolled to the elbow, tie loose, collar just a little rumpled like he’d been running late but didn’t care. His hair was still damp from the shower. It was an oddly intimate detail, and made her picture him standing naked under a stream of hot water, hands raking through his hair…

Or maybe she’d just been single for too long.

He held out a hand. “I’m Mateo.”

“Lucía,” she said, taking it in hers. His palm was warm, the skin rougher than she was expecting from a man who worked in front of a screen all day. “You didn’t sit next to me yesterday.”

“I didn’t want to look too eager.”

Lucía raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he said, shrugging, “I wanted to see if you came back.”

“And?”

“And here you are.”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. He didn’t press it. Just sipped his coffee.

They turned back towards the projector screen where their trainer, a lanky man in a too-tight suit, was walking them through their second case of the day: shell corp unwinding protocols. Lucía’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, already navigating the structure diagram like she’d seen it before.

“You’re quick,” Mateo murmured.

“I’ve done something similar.”

“Where?”

“University internship. Shadowing.”

He nodded. “That explains it. You’re not like the others. They’re still looking for the ‘on’ switch.”

She smiled at him, or at least at his blatant attempt to flatter her abilities. No one made it into Esquivel y Asociados’ Internal Data Integrity Team if they weren’t already skilled analysts.

A moment later, Mateo leaned in just slightly, his voice pitched low. “See that flag on node three? It’s hiding a re-routed dividend. Whoever designed this did it with their eyes closed.”

Lucía paused. Then she saw it, too. He was clearly more than a pretty face himself.

“Hiding under a non-dom subsidiary,” she said. “Lazy.”

“Or confident. Means they’ve done it before and gotten away with it.”