The Mãe de Santos’ gaze stopped on Adriana. “How about you, little girl? I bet you know who did this work of Quimbanda. Tell me. Who closed the paths of health from this man?”
Adriana wiped the tears from her face.
“Pay attention, girl. Can’t you see my friend is running out time?”
She could. Michael looked so pale and weak hanging over the big woman’s arm. Adriana had to do something. She sniffed back the tears and blurted, “Jian Carlo.”
The Mãe de Santos glanced down at Michael, braced against her flabby hip, and frowned. “He has come all the way from California, and that is the best you can offer?”
Adriana shook her head. There was no way out, she had to say it. “My husband hired a Quimbandeira to kill him.”
The congregation gasped. A few twittered. Adriana wanted to sink in a hole and die.