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  “What?”

  “I’m talking, you’re not listening.”

  “I am.”

  “Right.”

  “Just—nothing.”

  Michael had suffered a lot more than Jesse ever had, and Jesse felt guilty for feeling crappy about his situation when Michael had actually risked his life to save all the boys who now lived at St. Catherine’s. Like, he could have actually died.

  Michael dropped it, and a minute later said, “I think I know what’s going on with Brian.”

  “And you’re only now telling me?”

  “It took me a while to figure it out. This isn’t just gang territory—it’s Saints territory. Brian’s dad was a member of the Saints. He was in prison for years, since Brian was a little kid, and got shivved last year. Probably because we escaped the general.”

  Jesse knew that “the general” was this guy who’d kidnapped, threatened, or bribed kids into working for him to move drugs across the border. He was dead. Michael had been with his uncle Kane in Mexico and they went to rescue a kidnapped DEA agent and the general’s daughter, whom the general had taken from her mother. His dad was there, and Jesse thought Lucy was, too, though no one talked about it.

  “Brian isn’t like that,” Jesse said. “He’s not going to join a gang.”

  “Brian is weak,” Michael said without any emotion. It seemed an odd comment. But before Jesse could ask what he meant, Michael continued. “Family makes us weak.”

  “You don’t believe that,” Jesse said. “Everyone at Saint Catherine’s is your family.”

  “You don’t get it.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot.”

  “Family makes us do stupid things. I went to work for Jaime Sanchez because I loved Hector and Olive and I knew that Jaime would hurt them if I didn’t go. That put me in a weak position.”

  “Who are Hector and Olive?”

  “They were my foster parents. They wanted to adopt me…” His voice trailed off, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes.

  “They know you’re okay, right?”

  He nodded. “Father Mateo has talked to them. They go to Saint Catherine’s; I see them in church.”

  “Why didn’t you go back to them? They wanted you, right?”

  “Because.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “You would never understand.”

  “God, you’re an asshole.”

  “When you care about someone you are weak. They can be used against you.”

  “You care about Tito. And Frisco and Brian and…”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Stop saying that! Shit, you’re such a jerk.” Jesse didn’t know what was going on with Michael, but he couldn’t possibly believe what he was saying. He did everything to take care of the boys at St. Catherine’s, and both Father Mateo and Sean relied on him to be the leader. The role model. Maybe that’s why Michael stayed instead of going back to Hector and Olive. Because the boys needed him more.

  After what seemed like forever, Michael said, “Brian has an older brother. No one knows about Jose. He was probably mentioned in Brian’s foster care records, but those were destroyed by the people who worked for the general. I never met Jose. He’s twenty, twenty-one maybe. Brian believes in his heart that Jose would have come for him if he had known what was going on. That Jose would have rescued him. Brian convinced himself that Jose was lied to just like we all were, or that he was in danger himself. He was probably in jail or something—and really just didn’t care about his little brother. But Brian hasn’t talked about him in a long time, and I always thought he didn’t want anything to do with him because Jose didn’t help. But I can’t think of another reason for Brian to lie to me, to be deceptive like this, to sneak around. This can’t end well.”

  “We have to tell Sean,” Jesse said.

  “You promised, Jesse. First I have to try to help Brian.”

  “But you just said—”

  “You should never have come here.”

  “Screw you.” Jesse was tired of this shit. Michael had hated him the minute Sean introduced them, but he thought they’d worked through all that. Now, however, it was clear he didn’t trust him.

  “I’m glad you brought this to me,” Michael said. “I won’t forget it. But it would be safer for you if you let me handle this.”

  Maybe he didn’t really understand Michael or what he was doing, but one thing he knew was that he couldn’t let Michael do this alone. “We’re in this together,” Jesse said.

  Michael stared at him. Jesse had no idea what he was thinking. Jesse stared back. Wished he could read minds or something because he felt he was way over his head.

  Michael said, “Brian is weak because of Jose. He wants his brother to be someone I know he is not, certain he cannot be. If Jose is in the Saints, he will recruit Brian, and Brian will let himself be recruited … because he wants his family back. He won’t realize the truth until it’s too late, and there will be no turning back. There are initiations that no one can forgive. But I have to know for certain what is going on before we can fix this. I need to know how deep Brian has gone, if I can still save him.”

  “Okay,” Jesse said, not really understanding what Michael wanted from him.

  “I will watch him at school and home; you watch him at soccer. If you see the man Brian was talking to, get a picture. We’ll figure out who he is, if he is in fact Jose, and then confront Brian before he gets hurt.”

  “We have a plan,” Jesse said, relieved. “Now let’s go before we’re late.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Saturday Night

  Marissa Garcia went to bed more to avoid her mother-in-law than because she was tired. She didn’t know how she would ever rest peacefully again, without Julio at her side.

  It was too early to sleep, and she stared at the wall, her hand on her stomach. Tears came again, silent tears, as the impact of Julio’s death hit her. Her baby would never know her father. Her baby would never know what an amazing, honorable, loyal, loving man Julio was.

  Marissa didn’t know how she was going to move on.

  She may have dozed, because when she opened her eyes it wasn’t light—but it was still only nine in the evening. Her face was sticky from her tears. She sat up and stared at the picture of her, Julio, and Dario on the wall—right next to their wedding picture. Marissa loved Julio with all her heart. Her heart that was now shattered into a million pieces. She would never be able to put it back together.

  The baby rolled, then settled, and Marissa rubbed her large stomach. They hadn’t planned to peek at the baby’s gender, but she had some early complications, and when the doctor asked if they wanted to know boy or girl, she and Julio said yes. Then they could paint the small room to fit the baby. She chose a soft yellow, then her sister Anna painted one wall with yellow, blue, and pink flowers. Whimsical, happy flowers with a flying robin and a buzzing bee and a cheerful ladybug.

  Julio and Anna had surprised her with the room only last month, and Marissa couldn’t have been more tickled. She recognized then that she had been selfish for her frustration when Beatrice moved in after breaking her ankle. Julio’s mother needed help, and Julio was the only one of her children who had stayed in San Antonio. The other six had moved far and wide—three went to Houston, two joined the military, and one went to Seattle for an important computer job. Sandra had said that it was because Beatrice was impossible and everyone had to get far from her. Marissa felt guilty that she had laughed, because it was true.

  “Julio is a saint, you know that,” Sandra had said. “But don’t let that woman live here forever. She would drive Mother Teresa to drink.”

  The truth was that Julio was working extra hours, but not because Marissa wanted him to. He was earning money to put a manufactured house on the edge of their five-acre property for his mother. Beatrice didn’t know that, Marissa suspected she planned on never leaving their house, but Julio wanted to help and suppo
rt his mother while also making sure she didn’t come between him and Marissa.

  “Mi madre is difficult. I will tell her to find an apartment.”

  “No. She can’t afford it. She’s family.”

  “My love, you are my family. She’s too hard on you. I’ve told her to stop being critical, but she doesn’t know better.”

  She did—Beatrice just chose to be obstinate. But Julio loved his mother. She was difficult, but she had raised seven children after her husband died in a construction accident. She had worked two jobs and they lived in a three-bedroom one-bath house in south San Antonio and not one of her children turned to crime or drugs. She favored Julio and didn’t believe that Marissa—probably didn’t believe that any woman—was good enough for him. But Marissa was the one who was pregnant before marriage. Beatrice had once told her that she trapped Julio.

  Marissa had never told Julio that. He would have never spoken to his mother again.

  And it wasn’t like that at all. She and Julio were engaged. And Marissa didn’t plan to get pregnant. She didn’t want to get pregnant … it wasn’t her fault.

  But Dario was a gift, and she loved Julio more with every passing day.

  “What about one of those trailers?” Julio said. “The ones with a foundation, like Robert’s parents live in. We have five acres here. She can have her own place, but still be close. When I go back to work, it would be good to have her nearby to watch the children.” Beatrice loved Dario with all her heart; she spoiled him, but was also strict. Though Marissa had problems with her mother-in-law, she appreciated that she wanted to babysit and help them save money.

  Julio rubbed her stomach. “Are you sure that wouldn’t be too close?”

  “Well, truly, yes, but I can compromise.”

  He smiled at her, kissed her. “How are you feeling this evening, my queen?”

  “I’ve missed you, my king.” She kissed him warmly and they went to bed, never thinking that three months later Julio would be dead.

  * * *

  Marissa jumped when someone knocked lightly on her door. She wiped the new trail of tears from her face and said, “Come in.”

  Sandra entered. “Anna is going to sleep in Dario’s room with him.”

  “Dario can come in here, with me.”

  “They’re already asleep, Issa.” Sandra sat next to her on the bed. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Some.”

  “You need to tell the police about Chris.”

  “What? No. No—you promised—no.” The mention of that man’s name turned her blood cold.

  “Someone killed Julio. If Chris figured out—”

  “No! Just—no. Please, Sandra, no.” Christopher Smith was an awful man, but he wouldn’t kill anyone. He wouldn’t kill Julio. They had once been best friends.

  “I saw Chris at the hotel,” Julio had said many weeks ago, shortly after they found out Baby Bump was a girl. “I wanted to hurt him.”

  “He’s b-back?”

  “He won’t be staying for long. I promise. I will never let him hurt you again, Marissa.”

  Sandra stared at her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  She shook her head.

  “We’ll talk about this later, Marissa.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Please, Sandra—not tonight. Not tonight.” She started sobbing again, and her big sister held her tight.

  “I am sorry, Issa. I am so, so sorry about Julio.”

  Marissa accepted Sandra’s embrace, but just the mention of Chris instilled fear into her heart.

  Could he have killed Julio?

  Marissa didn’t want to believe it.

  But now that Sandra had opened Pandora’s box, Marissa couldn’t stop thinking about what might slither out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sunday Morning

  Nothing pleased Lucy more than when Sean cooked—especially breakfast. He’d turned into an amazing chef, which Lucy appreciated since she didn’t particularly like cooking, and when she did try something it never tasted right. Sean had learned to cook as a teenager, though just basics—including the most delicious spaghetti sauce Lucy had ever had. After he and Lucy moved in together, he started experimenting and discovered he enjoyed cooking—much to the satisfaction of Lucy’s stomach.

  Today it was basic, but still delicious. Eggs scrambled with cheese, tomatoes, and onions along with bacon and diced potatoes left over from a dinner earlier this week.

  Jesse had been quiet last night after he came home from St. Catherine’s, so Lucy was surprised when he said between bites of bacon, “Are you going to church today?”

  “I was thinking about it,” she said. She didn’t go every Sunday, but since she had to meet Jerry Walker at the morgue at noon, she’d thought she’d swing by St. Catherine’s beforehand.

  “Can I come? Then go hang with Michael and Brian?”

  “Sure,” she said, glancing at Sean.

  Sean said, “Want me to join you?”

  Sean didn’t like organized religion, and he wasn’t Catholic, but he knew it was important to Lucy and he respected Father Mateo.

  “You don’t have to,” Jesse said.

  Lucy wasn’t going to push religion on Jesse—she was brought up in the faith and it was a deep part of her that provided great comfort during times of trauma and stress. At the same time, she wasn’t going to dissuade him. If Jesse wanted to go, she’d take him. He had been hanging out with the boys a lot, and maybe he felt that would give them another connection.

  “I can pick you up after the autopsy—might be four or five,” Lucy said.

  “Great. I’ll get changed.” Jesse jumped up and ran upstairs.

  Lucy helped Sean clear the table. “That’s odd,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. Maybe it was just that it wasn’t expected. “At least it’ll give me the opportunity to talk to him, one-on-one, and see what’s on his mind.”

  Sean kissed her. “Thank you. I don’t want to worry so much, but I can’t seem to stop.”

  “I suspect that’s part of parenthood.” She smiled at him. “What are your plans for today?”

  “I’m testing software for RCK. Once we get this down, Duke will install it and then I’ll have to go out of town for a few days to test it on-site.”

  “That’s your favorite part of the job,” Lucy said. Duke’s specialty was designing security systems; Sean’s specialty was breaking into them.

  “It is,” he said, “but I’ll miss you. Maybe you and Jess can come with me. We’ll make a vacation of it.”

  “That might be fun,” Lucy said. “Where?”

  “New York.”

  She brightened. “I would love that. I can visit with Suzanne and maybe have dinner with Max and meet her new boyfriend.”

  “It would be fun. And we can take an extra day or two and go see a show. I’ll let you know when as soon as I know, so you can ask for the time off.”

  * * *

  On a Sunday morning the drive across town to St. Catherine’s was much faster than during the week. Lucy asked questions about school, soccer practice, how Jesse was adjusting from beautiful California weather to the humidity in Texas. He answered everything, yet it was clear he was going through a mental checklist of what he thought she wanted him to say.

  “You know,” she said, “Sean and I are a little concerned because you seem preoccupied. We want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “I don’t want anyone worrying about me.”

  “It goes with the territory.”

  “Really, I’m fine.” He didn’t say anything for a minute. Then, “My dad seems kind of sad. Is he okay?”

  There it was. Jesse was worried about Sean, and that Lucy understood.

  “He will be.”

  “My grandfather was a jerk when we were out there. I knew it bothered Sean, but he just took it.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean
.”

  “Well, I could see that he wanted to tell my grandfather to fu—I mean knock it off when he started making all these ultimatums and threats. But he didn’t. He just listened and let him be a jerk. But I know it really bugged him.” He paused. “I’m not explaining this well.”

  “You mean Sean wasn’t acting like himself.”

  “Exactly! He doesn’t just let people treat him like that, and I don’t know why he did it. But he’s been sad since we came home, and I think the whole thing with my grandfather really bothered him. Is still bothering him.”

  “You know that has nothing to do with you, right? He is absolutely thrilled that you’re living with us.”

  “I know, but—”

  “There are no buts.” Sean had a hard time expressing himself to Jesse, partly because he still harbored a lot of guilt about what happened to Jesse’s mother. “You’re Sean’s son, and I am very happy to be your stepmother. We love you, and nothing will change that.”

  “Sean doesn’t think I want to live with my grandfather, that’s not why he’s sad, is it? Because I don’t. I made it clear that I want to be here.”

  “Of course we know you want to be here. If Sean thought for a minute that you wanted to be with your mother’s family, he would have let you go—no matter how hard that would have been on him. He wants you to be happy, healthy—he wants what’s best for you.” She paused, thinking about what to tell Jesse, and decided that the truth was always best. “I think Sean blames himself for what happened in July. He promised you and your mom that you’d be safe and you were violently taken and your mom died.”

  “That wasn’t his fault. My mom should never have come to San Antonio.”

  “It’s not your mother’s fault, either. It’s wholly the fault of the people who put together the conspiracy to blackmail your stepfather.”

  “And it’s his fault. You’re not letting Carson off the hook, are you?”

  She glanced at Jesse. His fists were clenched and he was looking at her as if daring her to argue with him about this. There was a lot of anger there—anger that Sean would understand, and Lucy wished he and Jesse could talk about this more. But she wasn’t lying about the guilt Sean felt deep down.