CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Tech from the Miami office implanted listening software on Travis Wells’s phone, and a GPS tag was sewn into the pocket of his jacket, providing a redundancy system that allowed us to track him in multiple ways.
And while Frank ironed out Travis Wells’s deal with a lawyer from Justice, Cassie and I established the details of his backstory. Travis had met a girl at a bar called the Oaks and taken her home. The next morning, the pair drove to Miami and got liquored up at a beach hotel, where they’d been ever since.
We’d been in Hambis all day, and I wanted to check in with my daughter before the op got underway. I also realized that I’d not reached out to my mom’s doctor last night as I’d planned.
“I’m gonna head home,” I said to Cassie. “Crash down there so I can see Camila in the morning. I’ll be back here first thing.”
She nodded, and I got in my car and drove toward Miami. I also needed to check in with Richie or Shooter on the other case up north. I phoned Richie, but it went to voicemail, so I left a message.
By 7 a.m. Sunday morning, I had showered, dressed, and wasunlocking Rosa’s front door. My mother-in-law was asleep on the couch in a decorative gold-and-red dress that I’d seen her wear many times. Rosa was part of a local group that met Saturday evenings and practiced a mix of salsa and swing dance.
I walked quietly toward her. At her side, a heating pad was plugged in, but not hot, and on the living room table was a prescription bottle for Carisoprodol, also known as Soma. A muscle relaxer.
I moved into Camila’s room and knelt by her bed. Placed a hand on my daughter’s head. She rolled over and opened her eyes, a smile forming on her face.
“What happened to your nana?” I asked.
“Hip impingement,” she said. “If I were more awake, I could tell you all about it.”
I smiled at my daughter. More often than not, I found her reading WebMD for fun and memorizing most of it.
Was this the 2020s version of Gardner Camden as a child?I wondered as I ran my hand through her hair.
“Am I in trouble?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Grandma says I’m staying here again,” Camila said. “Instead of with you.”
“I’m traveling a lot right now,” I answered. But I knew she was referring to the science project.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I studied her face. She knew what I suspected.
“I know you are,” I said. “But why?”
“Sheila Torre is a bully,” Camila said.
“She’s bulliedyou?”
My daughter shook her head, and little brown hairs stuck to her forehead. “To Sophie.”
This was Camila’s best friend, and they were fiercely close.
“Loyalty is important,” I said, referencing an emotion that I rarely felt, but admired in every member of PAR. “But you can’t do something like this again.”
“People will find out?” she asked.
“It’s wrong,” I said.
I kissed her on her head and stood. Told her I had to go.
“Te amo,” she said.
“Te amomore,” I replied.
