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I grab my gun on the ground and get into the car, screeching away before the men have a chance to shoot back. Simone sits on the back seat with her knees drawn to her chest, shuddering, staring into space. I wish I had some words of comfort.
After joining the road—not the gravelly path I drove in on—I take my burner cell from the glove box.
“Good work,” I tell Russel, an old team buddy.
“Narco, piece of shit,” Russel grunts. “You didn’t even have to ask.”
“Where’s you-know-who?”
I’m talking about our other team buddy, Trent. They’re both involved withThe Answer, though on a lower scale. I’ve thrown myself into the work because it’s what Jack did. Maybe I’ve been too mindless in that way. Perhaps it’s time to settle down.
“Hit the road when I popped the cork,” Russel says. “I’ll be doing the same. In the meantime, find yourself a lady to settle down with.”
I laugh gruffly. Russel and Trent were married and had children when we served together over a decade ago. “Maybe I’m just a late bloomer.”
“There’s being a late bloomer, brother, then there’sthis.”
I laugh again, maybe insensitively since Simone is breaking down in the back seat, sobbing into her hands. It’s how we always used to deal with things. Laugh it off. Try not to let it eat away at us. “I hear you.”
“Stay safe.”
“And you.”
I hang up, then guide the car with my knees as I quickly dismantle the phone and seal it in a plastic bag.
“Th-thank you, Jamie,” Simone says from the backseat, her voice distraught.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
She flinches as if she’s stunned at my bluntness. It’s not fair, not after what she’s been through. Maybe I’m bitter about what she told Lena, but I can’t take that out on her. “No. Not physically. My ears are ringing.”
“That will go. Don’t worry.” What I don’t say is she’s lucky Russel is such a good shot. A bad aim could’ve resulted in the shot injuring her. “Lena’s waiting for you.”
“L-Lena.” Simone slumps against the seat, a small smile touching her lips. “How long have I been gone? Days? It feels like weeks, but all I had to do was close my eyes and think of her—my perfect daughter. I don’t deserve her. I failed her. God help me. Jesus can’t save me from this. I failed her.”
She’s hyperventilating, dammit. I bring the car to a slow stop, looking in the rearview. “Simone, you need to listen to me. I need you to count your breaths with me.”
“I c-c-can’t… I’m a t-t-terrible… m-m-mother…”
“Simone,”I say fiercely. “Breathe in for two seconds like this.” I breathe in slowly. “Then blow out slowly, for two seconds if you can, like this. Nothing else matters. Not right now. Just your breath, okay?”
Thankfully, she lets me lead her through it. The whole time, an unfair question is niggling at me. Why did Simone have to tell her? Why did she have to say that?
Once she’s able to breathe normally, she clasps her hands in front of her, a small cross hanging from a gold pendant. She starts praying with more zeal than anybody I’ve ever seen, probably more zeal than Antonio Romero had for the old narco with the whalebone wallet.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Lena
I can hardly believe it’s her voice when I stumble down the hallway into the living room, but she’s right there, her hair bundled up in a ponytail and covered with what looks like Jamie’s baseball cap. Or a man’s baseball cap, at least. No, I won’t let myself feel a stab of jealousy now just because she’s wearing hishat.
I run toward her. We collapse into each other’s arms, both crying so hard we can’t hear each other. I’m sayingI love you;I know she’s saying the same. Finally, we sit together on the couch.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” I say, holding her hands tightly.
“It’s my fault.” She squeezes me just as desperately. “I’ve had time to think, to pray. Oh, Lena, it’sallmy fault. After your dad passed, I let my mind get all twisted up. I forgot about God. I forgot myself.”
I don’t care where Mom’s getting her strength from, only that she looks far tougher than I expected, ready to face the evil of what happened to her.
