The floor is shaking under my feet. “Because they’ll want to know my friend’s name!” I choke.
Bob nods gravely. “Yes, they will.”
“And what would happen to him then? To my family?”
A deep silence descends on the conference room. “He’d likely be deported and not able to return for at least ten years. They can also charge him with fraud too, and a jury would decide whether a fraudulent artist or an illegal immigrant is lying.”
“But he’s innocent! He didn’t participate in Feign’s fraud! He just paints so he can eat!”
Aiden’s arm tightens around my shoulders and he glares at Bob. “What about witness protection visas—S-5, S-6?” he hisses again. “Could they apply to him? Maybe he himself can testify and relieve her of the burden?”
Bob shakes his head. “The government reserves those visas for terrorist or organized crime witnesses. Not an isolated fraud case.”
“What about another witness? Can someone else come forward and render the need for her testimony irrelevant? The smoking gun if you will—so the investigation stops before they get to her.”
“Who else would know about this?” Bob asks, squinting his eyes.
“No one,” I say. “Feign would not have trusted anyone with this.”
“We’ll find someone.” Aiden arm flexes around my shoulders. “I’d do it myself but I’d only implicate her further.”
Bob shakes his head, squinting more at a vein in the black marble. The longer he is silent, the more my airways tighten.
“It’s a good thought,” he says at last. “But we can’t bank on it. Not with only days left. Besides, she has to explain about her modeling work. Otherwise, she’d still lose.”
The deep V cracks between Aiden’s eyebrows. He rests his chin on his fist, narrowing his eyes at the same marble vein.
Bob turns to me. “Elisa, I know this is an impossible position. But my only concern is your best interest. My advice is that you talk to the DOJ and tell them the truth. It will actually help with your green card. By mid-June, you’ll have what you’ve always wanted.”
My head whips up. Despite Bob’s twinkly eyes, all the anguish makes room for anger. What I’ve always wanted? The chair starts shaking again. My teeth snap together before I can scream. The violence turns inward and propels me to my feet.
“Please, listen!” Bob says, raising his liver-spotted hands. “That’s not what I meant, dear.”
“Elisa? Please?” Aiden says very quietly, rising next to me. I meet his eyes. How can I listen to this with my heart imploding? How can I sit when everything inside is shivering like it did in that morgue four years ago? He puts his hand on my shoulder, pressing down gently. I drop. His arm wraps around me again like a rampart.
While we were looking at each other, something changed in Bob’s face. It has creased as though whatever he saw desiccated it. The lawyer is gone. An ancient man sits before me.
“I know what I’m asking you to do,” he sighs. “But I want to talk like a seventy-eight-year-old man to a…a granddaughter.”
I meet his gray aged eyes. Like the first time I met him, I think of Grandpa Snow.
“I won’t lie and tell you this won’t be the biggest regret of your life. It will be. Some days, it will hurt so much that you may even come to my grave and kick it. I won’t blame you. But then one day, holding your husband’s hand, you’ll bring to life a little boy or a little girl. You’ll hold them in your arms and you’ll think everything was worth it so they could be in this world. You’ll raise them with all the love you’ve been missing, and they’ll go on to do good things, change laws, save a friend. And this thing that feels so monstrous now, will hurt a little less because something beautiful will come from it.
“And maybe someday, you can fix things with your friend. Sneak him back in, make things right for his family. You’ll survive this one, just like you survived your parents. Not whole, but still good in the end.”
The room falls silent. I close my eyes, trying to see what Bob sees. A bright hospital room, Aiden in blue scrubs, a sapphire-eyed boy or a Clare-eyed girl in my arms. I love you, Aiden says. The nurse turns to put a little hat on my baby. Bendita, she whispers and becomes Maria. The door opens and the girls burst inside to meet the baby. My baby. Antonio wheels in too, a pile of Maria-knitted baby sweaters on his lap. And Javier at last. With a beaming smile like the first time I was able to tango again. Sweetheart, you did it, he says.
My face drops on my hands. Sobs start and I can’t stop them. The floor tilts as it did on that January night, four years ago, and I start shivering. Which love am I losing this time? My family or my life?
I hear a harsh oath from Aiden and his arms tighten around me, tucking my face in his neck. “Give us some time, Bob. We’ll let you know tomorrow,” he says.
I hear Bob’s footsteps, a hand clutching my shoulder and the conference room door opening and closing. Still, Aiden does not move or speak. He just holds me and lets my tears soak his jacket. The only thing still right in my world is he.
Chapter Forty-Six
Salvo
In the Rover, I curl on Aiden’s lap, his arms a vise around me. I can’t remember getting out of Bob’s office or into this backseat. I just know Aiden’s sandalwood-and-cinnamon scent. It makes me cry harder as fragments of thought form in my head. Thoughts I’d rather not have. Which love wins?
“How long is jail for obstructing justice?” I sniffle against his throat.
His muscles quiver. He doesn’t answer. Maybe he doesn’t know. Or maybe he doesn’t want to tell me.
“M-m-maybe it’s b-better that w-w-way.” My voice shudders. “Javier will be s-safe. I’ll still be h-h-here for a while. And maybe you can come visit m-m-me?” My tears soak his skin even though the words feel surreal. A plot for imagination, not life.
Suddenly, the Rover stops. We’re home.
Benson gets out and opens our door. Three wrinkles crease his forehead—exactly like Javier’s. I stumble out, Aiden gripping my waist. Benson reaches for my hand.
“Thank you, Benson,” I croak.
“It’ll be all right, Miss S—Elisa.” He exchanges a look with Aiden. “I’ll park and check in with Feign’s tail, sir. Then send out Cardoza to scour for witnesses.”
Aiden nods once and clutches me to his side, and we tread down the fieldstone path to the double doors. I enter the foyer in a trance. He leads us past the living room to his library, never releasing my hand. The moment we step inside, he closes the door.
“Elisa,” he says before the lights have stopped flickering. His voice is quiet.
I turn to face him, to walk into his arms. But his eyes stop me. They’re not midnight anymore. They’re solid cobalt.
“Love, you have to turn him in.”
I see his lips move. And I hear his voice but the words are foreign. “What?”
He takes a step toward me. “You have to give him up.” He speaks very slowly.
There’s no mistaking the words this time. The air turns icy. Sharp like a January night.
“No!” The word whips out of my mouth, piercing and bare. “No! I can’t do that! I won’t!”
My staggering volume startles me but not him. He takes another step toward me, hands out as though to catch me. I step back.
“Elisa—”
“Why don’t you just give me an IED and tell me to tuck it under their pillow, Aiden? That should spare you whatever speech you prepared while I sat there on your lap, thinking you’re on my side!”
He flinches this time. When he speaks, his voice is very soft—counterpoint to mine. “I am on your side. I’ll be there even when you don’t want me to be. But this…this self-execution isn’t right. Think about your future, your dreams, your life, your health. If those die, your parents might as well die again. But this time, you’re behind the truck’s wheel, love.”