He’s silent for even longer. “Huh.”
I roll my eyes, more at myself than his abbreviated response. “I mean, it probably sounds crazy, but it was all crazy anyway.” I sigh loudly in frustration and defeat. “Anyway, it doesn’t even matter because it was a long time ago. But, again, I don’t have a lot going on right now, and I have a lot of time to think about all of this stuff.”
“I don’t think it sounds crazy, Isla,” Malachi says after another beat of silence. “I don’t know what it means, but I don’t think it’s crazy. I do think you should discuss it with your therapist. I hope you begin meeting with her soon.”
“I am. My first appointment is next week. I’ll be going twice a week to start.”
“That’s good,” he says, still low and quiet, and that voice. Something in me wants to cry, and that makes me feel crazier than the rest of it.
“Anyway, I’m sorry for bothering you this late. I dialed without thinking.”
“I’m not,” he says simply. “You can call me at any time, for any reason.”
I nod, and then I have to press my lips together as a feeling of anguish wraps tightly around my lungs. “Thank you. Uh, I hope you’re…” I say through a blatantly fragile voice that I know he can hear, “doing well.”
“I am.” He pauses. “I read your manuscript.”
I close my eyes as mortification surges through me and lights my cheeks on fire. “You did?”
“I did. I really enjoyed it. You’re a very gifted writer, Isla. It was a beautiful story. A very sad one, but sad in a beautiful way.”
“Yeah.” My voice squeaks as a tear slides out of the corner of my eye. “I’m sorry, Malachi.”
I don’t need to clarify what I’m sorry for, and he knows it, and he responds with a simple, quieter, “I’m sorry, too.”
“I know.” I sniff and wipe my face. “I’m going to let you go now.” You already let him go, my mind hisses at me, and I push the thought away. “Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime.” He pauses for so long that I open my mouth to say goodbye, but then he speaks again. “Darling.”
The simple term of endearment with the deep, rich timbre of his voice is kryptonite, and I melt against the bed. “Yeah?”
“Uh,” he says with sudden, slight sheepishness, “I probably shouldn’t call you that, but—”
I fight the smile that tugs one corner of my mouth. “It’s okay.”
“I was going to say,” he hastily goes on, “I don’t think you should dismiss any of the feelings you have about that information as crazy. I think you should pay attention to them, because it’s entirely possible that, on some level, you know, but your mind can’t reconcile any of it yet. I think it’s your mind fighting to recall everything. You should keep thinking about it and talking about it, because that might enable you to continue to peel back those layers and eventually recollect the information.”
Hope blooms in my aching chest. “You do?”
“I do.” There’s a barely audible, listless exhale on his end. “Talk about it with your therapist. And good luck with the therapy and… you know… everything.”
I nod. “Thank you, Malachi. I—”
I snap my mouth shut, because the words I was about to utter have no place in this relationship anymore, because—again—there is no relationship.
Instead, I offer a polite, “I hope you get some sleep.”
“Thank you, Isla.”
I end the call without saying anything else. All of it is way too treacherous and feels like I’ve grabbed a thread on an old sweater and started pulling it, and if I don’t stop, the entire thing will unravel.
And I’m suddenly not sure why that would be such a bad thing.
EIGHTEEN
MALACHI
Present
“WELL…” VINNIE PASQUINO, THE seedy PI, rasps over the phone, then hacks a smoker’s cough. “If your plan was to throw ‘em off her trail, it seems like it worked, ‘cuz they’re still over there.”
I chew the side of my thumbnail as I pace the length of my office maniacally. “How sure are you that none of them followed her?”
“Pretty friggin’ sure, kid. I had some guys staked out around the airstrip and along the routes from there to her folks’ house, and we’re not seeing anything.” There’s a pause as papers shuffle on the other end of the line. “I got guys staking out her pop’s main building in the city, and nobody’s there. I got people in that hoity toity yacht club town where the house is, down by the beaches and such, scoping tourist traps where they might try to blend in, and nothing. The only folks we’ve seen are the same guys from the festival, who are still overseas.” He exhales loudly. “Either these vatos are slicker than anyone I’ve ever encountered, or they’re just not very good at their job. Based on our observations that indicate they’re dumber than a box of rocks, I’m gonna go with the latter. Or they’ve lost interest in her and moved on to other opportunities to hit Reyes where it hurts the most. Doesn’t he have other kids? Doesn’t he have a son? In my experience, folks like this typically go after a male.”
I shake my head, raking my hand through my hair. “Every threat Ernesto ever received was that they would come after his first born, which is Isla. The warning I received was that they were specifically targeting her.” I pause and reflexively pull the phone away from my ear as an idea comes to me. “Can you trace text messages from unknown numbers? Should I have my phone sent to you?”
He exhales again, this time long enough that it morphs into a series of wheezing coughs at the end. “That’s not what I do, kid. I keep eyes on people. I can’t do friggin’ forensics on your friggin’ phone. You might wanna just go to the police for that.”
“I already told you,” I snap, “I can’t go to the police for this. I’m not interested in taking down an entire cartel. I cannot involve myself in an international incident, especially since the American feds might consider her collateral damage in order to take down a bigger target. That is what involving the police would result in. I don’t give a fuck about the cartel. I give a fuck about making sure she’s out of harm’s way.”
“Well?” Vinnie wheezes another cough. “From the looks of it, I think she’s outta harm’s way. I have no evidence of her being followed, I see nobody in the vicinity of her house, and you’ve got more security detail set up around that place than Fort friggin’ Knox. You’ve done pretty much everything you can do. Just keep your guys on her, and I’ll keep my guys watching everything.”
A fireball of indignation surges through my veins, and I grip the phone so hard I’m shocked it doesn’t crack in my hand. “For what I paid you, I need more than tough luck, kid. I was told that you are the best at what you do, and I demand more than this. If you can’t trace messages, why don’t you locate the old woman who initially contacted me with information about the threat?”