“So you stayed,” I said. “Even though you’re scared.”
“The money is good.” Her lips trembled around the admission. “My husband cannot work now. His back… it is ruined. He cannot even lift our youngest without pain.” A wetsniff. “We need the insurance, and Mrs. Sinclair arranged it so my insurance is paid out of my salary. The pay is still good, he didn’t cut it back even if he trimmed the number of days.” She swallowed hard. “So I come. I do as I’m told. I clean. I stay where they allow me.”
“And barricade yourself in when you hear the men,” I murmured.
She gave a tiny, broken laugh. “Sí. I go to the laundry room. The closet locks from the inside. They do not look for me.”
God. I hated how well I understood that kind of survival.
“Hannah,” I said, inching closer, “have you ever considered quitting?”
“Every day.” The answer came out on a cracked breath. “But then I look at my husband, and my children, and I tell myself—mañana.Tomorrow. I will quit tomorrow.”
“But now?” I asked gently.
Another tremor. “Now I think I must. He will know I was here when he comes back.”
“He won’t hurt you,” I said, and my voice stayed firm even though my throat tightened. “We won’t let him.”
I didn’t look at the men behind me, I didn’t have to. Not when absolute agreement radiated through the room like heat. They were not fans of bullies. They may not think of themselves as heroes and maybe they weren’t anything so prosaically labeled. Yet, they saved people.
That was more than enough for me.
I drew in a slow breath and asked the question that had been sitting like a stone in my stomach.
“Hannah… do you know where Mrs. Sinclair went?”
Silence. Heavy, terrible silence.
Her breath shuddered. Her fingers twitched in my hands.
“No debo decir… no debo…” I must not say.
“Hannah,” I whispered. “Please. I’m not asking you to betray her. Just tell me if she’s safe.”
Another silence, even longer this time. More agonizing.
Finally, so softly I almost didn’t hear it, she said, “I don’t think she is coming back.”
My heart lurched. “Why?”
She went rigid, as though she braced for a blow. “Because,” she whispered, “Mr. Sinclair did something. Something that made the wrong people very angry.”
Cold slid down my spine.
“What did he do?”
Her breath shook. “I don’t know. I only heard pieces. Shouting through the walls. The men… the ones who use the door that is not the front… they said he made a mistake.” She swallowed audibly. “A big one. And that they wanted their money back.”
My lungs squeezed tight.
“And Mrs. Sinclair?” I asked. “What does she have to do with it?”
Another pause, and this one was filled with dread. She swallowed hard. “She was supposed to come home,” Hannah whispered. “But she didn’t. And the men said…” Her voice cracked. “They said she was the collateral now.”
I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t.
Behind me, Bones said my name very quietly, like a warning and an anchor all at once.
