In the wee hours of Monday morning, I sat at Liliana’s bedside in the Emergency Room watching her eyelids and fingertips, praying for any sign of movement. Blood had been drawn and she had been given Narcan, a drug commonly used to reverse overdoses. The ER doctor seemed confident Liliana would pull through, but waiting was taking its toll. The thought of both Ferrera children in comas was almost more than I could bear. But that was only half my misery. I’d had no word from Nick.
Kiri had reached the hospital not long after I did, escaping unscathed from the firefight at the yacht. She had managed to rescue the other drugged, abducted girl, and both of them arrived via helicopter. In a vigil similar to mine, Kiri sat at the second girl’s bedside in an ER cubicle next to Liliana’s.
Kiri had told me the battle was over and her fellow agents were sorting out the damages on both sides. All the bidders who had attended the auction were in custody, along with the auction’s organizers and armed enforcers—at least those who weren’t in the hospital or the morgue. Bodies were in the process of being identified. No word so far about Dr. Prine or Errol Parkington, except that both had been at the auction.
No word about Nick, either. I closed my eyes, refusing to consider the prospect of life without him.
“Aimee?” I heard Kiri’s soft voice. I opened my eyes. “Want some company?”
“Sure. How’s your girl doing?” I asked.
“She’s coming out of it. Her name’s Sarita, by the way. It means ‘little princess.’ How about your girl?”
“Not yet. I’ve been watching. Hoping.” Kiri’s somber face prompted me to ask about her fellow officers.
“Keeping my fingers crossed. We have two in surgery.”
“Mind if I ask another question?”
Kiri managed a weak smile. “Go ahead. I owe you some answers.”
“Are you really Sanjay’s cousin?”
Kiri laughed softly. “Yes, but not his first cousin from India. I’m second-generation American … from Illinois. Sanjay and I are distant relatives, but we had never met until I needed the undercover job in Dr. Carver’s office.”
“Does Sanjay know you’re DEA?”
“He does now. I spoke to him a little while ago. He said Quinn’s arranged to have Liliana’s parents flown down. Nick’s co-pilot will fly them here in one of Buck Sawyer’s planes.”
I hoped Harry would come along with Rella and the Ferreras. I needed my brother in case of bad news about Nick.
“How soon will they arrive?”
“Another hour or so,” Kiri said.
I glanced at Liliana. “I hope she’ll be awake when her parents get here. They’ve spent enough time at her brother’s bedside in TMC.”
“How’s he doing? Any word?”
“I’m told he’s emerging from his coma, but we’ve been through this before. The last time it happened, he relapsed.”
“Paulo?”
“Yes. That’s his name. You must know it was his gunshot wound that prompted Nick and me to get involved in this case.”
“I do, Aimee.” Kiri smiled. “But it wasn’t me who just spoke his name.” She nodded toward the bed where Liliana lay. “It was her.”
I drew a quick breath and grabbed the nurse’s call button.
“Onde estou?” The girl stared at me. “Onde é o Francisco?”
I looked at Kiri. “What is she saying?”
“She’s asking where she is. And she’s asking for someone named Francisco. Do you know who she means?”
Puzzled, I said, “You mean you don’t?”
“No. We haven’t run across that name in our investigation. It was only recently that we became aware that the two girls were on the yacht. We’ve been tracking this operation for quite some time, but our focus was drugs and other contraband. We weren’t aware of human trafficking.” Kiri glanced toward Liliana. “What shall I tell her?”
“Please tell her that her parents will be here soon. It’s probably best we don’t mention Francisco.”
Kiri spoke in Portuguese to Liliana, who seemed confused, but simply nodded and closed her eyes.
Eric, the nurse who’d been checking on Liliana, came by to take her vitals. As he spoke to her, Kiri interpreted. Liliana managed to open her eyes and murmur responses.
Eric said he would alert the doctor. Arrangements were being made for the hospital’s medical interpreter to come in. He left, asking us to use the call button if we noticed any changes.
“I should get back to my charge,” Kiri said. “We’re still trying to figure out where she’s from. All we have so far is her name.”
“She wasn’t taken from the Azores?” I asked.
“Not as far as I can tell. We’re thinking runaway from the Miami area. We're thinking she’s Cuban American. I’m pretty sure she’s bilingual—Spanish and English—but she’s still pretty incoherent.”
“Are you as disgusted by this as I am?”
Kiri’s lips twisted. “I am. Just when I’m convinced human beings can’t think of anything worse to do to each other, someone comes up with another creative way to prove me wrong.”
“We’re not all like that,” I said.
“Of course not.” She stood, looked down at Liliana. “That’s why we keep doing what we do and hoping we’re tilting the odds in favor of decency and humanity.” She blushed. “Listen to me. I sound like a self-righteous hypocrite.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because that scum Miguel is in critical condition, and I don’t have a forgiving bone in my body where he’s concerned. I honestly don’t care if he survives. It was his idea to auction those girls. I just wish I’d known what he was up to before he drugged them.”
“The doctors have determined that neither girl has been attacked or molested. That’s something to be grateful for.”
“That’s because they were tricked into feeling safe until the night of the auction. And because they were being advertised as virgins. Miguel and the Seashell crew members had been warned to keep their hands off the merchandise.”
“You know, Miguel’s in critical condition because of me. I caused his accident.”
Kiri nodded. “I heard about that.”
“Have you heard the odds of him surviving?”
“So-so. If he does, he’ll have one of the ugliest faces on death row. Does that bother you?”
“Not so much,” I said. She snickered, I giggled. Clearly inappropriate considering the setting and circumstances, but the tension of the night had caught up with us. We had to release it somehow.
Kiri went back to check on Sarita. I was glad we at least knew her name. She deserved an identity more fitting than Jane Doe.
Both girls were soon admitted to the ICU. Because neither girl had family available, Kiri was permitted to stay with Sarita. I was allowed to sit with Liliana.
On our way up to the ICU, I asked Kiri if she’d heard any news about Nick.
“No. I’m only hearing about the people in my task force,” she said. “Nick hasn’t called you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve lost track of my phone. I used it to take photos of the accident. When I got here, I couldn’t find it.”
Then it dawned on me. The homeless man. No wonder he was smiling so happily as he waved goodbye. Oh, well. I had almost killed him.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Kiri said.
She went back to sit with Sarita. I settled into the bedside chair in Liliana’s ICU cubicle. It was soft and comfy, made more so when her nurse brought me a blanket and a pillow. Although it was past two in the morning and Liliana was progressing well, I wouldn’t give in to sleep. Not until I knew if Nick was safe.
“Aimee.” A familiar voice called my name from the depths of a dream. I was walking on a pier with a curly-haired, sleepy baby riding in a carrier strapped to my chest. The baby’s eyes were the same stunning shade of turquoise as the pristine seawater ringing the beaches of the Azores Islands. The same shade of turquoise as Nick’s. The baby had just drifted off to sleep against my chest when I heard the voice again.
“Aimee?”
“Shhh, you’ll wake her,” I mumbled.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. She’s awake.”
“Nick?” My eyes slowly opened, tugging me out of the dream. “Are you really here?” I was clutching a pillow to my chest.
He set the pillow aside and raised me up into his arms. “I’m here.”
I sobbed, unable to stop myself. “I was so afraid.”
Liliana’s parents were sitting on either side of her bed, holding her hands. “When did they arrive? How long have I been sleeping?”
“A few hours,” Nick said. “The Ferreras have been here awhile. I thought we’d give them some time alone with Liliana. Feel like walking down the corridor to the waiting room?”
Several familiar faces looked up when Nick and I walked in. Harry and Rella were there. So was Buck. The fourth face I’d seen only twice before. It was a remorseful-looking Francisco Santos, sitting next to a middle-aged couple who had to be his parents. After introductions, we asked about Francisco’s graffiti arrest.
The Santos family had been visiting relatives in the Bronx, when two of Francisco’s older male cousins decided to initiate him into city life. An hour of fun with a few cans of spray paint had resulted in Francisco’s DNA turning up in CODIS.