“Everything’s clear,” he says as Blake steps out of the car. “How were things on your end?”
“No problems,” Blake says, opening the tailgate and pulling out his bag. “But I want someone on the perimeter tonight.”
Cooper’s eyes flash to me and he tips his head at Blake in a question. “And tomorrow?”
Blake nods, moving toward the elevator and sliding in his key. “Tomorrow too,” he says, pressing his code into the panel.
“We’re still going through with it?” Cooper says warily.
The elevator door opens and Blake steps in. “Yes.”
I look at Blake as I follow him into the elevator, trying to sort what they’re saying, but it’s like they’re speaking in some secret agent code that I’m not privy to.
“ ’Night, Jezebel,” Cooper says as the door slides shut.
“What’s tomorrow?” I ask Blake as we descend.
“Saturday, last I looked,” he answers without looking at me.
“So . . . Saturdays now warrant someone on the perimeter? I thought we went out today because the danger has passed.”
Finally, as the door opens into the living room, Blake turns to face me. “I believe it has . . . and I want you to have your life back.” He rubs his neck, dropping his backpack on the tile floor. “I want that more than I can tell you . . . to give you back what I took. But we’re still in a little bit of a cooling off period, and as long as it’s my job, I’m going to keep you safe. We just need a few more days, Sam.”
He takes the mesh bag to the kitchen and pulls out the abalone, and I move to the window. Outside, the sun is setting over San Francisco, streaking the sky with lavender and crimson and gold. I step out onto the balcony, trying to keep the sudden pang in my chest off my face. Because in a few more days, this will all be over. In a few more days, I won’t be Blake’s responsibility anymore. I’m just now realizing that the thing I’ve been hoping for all along is the thing I’m dreading most.
Chapter Thirty-Two
THE SME LL OF frying bacon wakes me, and when I stumble out of my room the next morning, Blake is already finished with his workout. He’s freshly showered and his hair is sticking up every which way as he moves around the kitchen.
“Morning,” I say, making a beeline for the coffeepot and filling my Alcatraz mug to the rim. On the counter are our abalone shells. Blake said I could keep them, though I have no idea what I’m going to do with them. I worked most of the night after dinner cleaning them. Inside the shell, under where the abalone was, there’s a beautiful prism of shimmering blue and green. It reminds me of my dragonfly’s wings.
He smiles up at me as I lift my mug to my face and gulp. “Just in time.” He slides on an oven mitt and reaches into the oven, pulling out a plate mounded with French toast.
“Wow. Are you expecting Jenkins or something?”
He arranges three slices on a plate, sprinkles powdered sugar over the top, and hands it over the counter to me. “He’s been outside all night. If there’s any left, I’ll bring him up a plate.”
I help myself to a few slices of bacon and pour too much syrup over everything. “Why did you want someone out there last night?”
His eyes flick to me as he serves himself. “Just a precaution.”
“Because of what happened last time we left the house?”
“Partly.” He steps around the counter and slips onto the stool next to me. “Arroyo has pled out, and with the murder charge off the table, there’s nothing you can do to hurt him anymore. I just want to make sure he knows that before we let you go.”
“How will you know he knows that?”
“His lawyers will take him through the evidence. Nowhere in any of the racketeering evidence does your name appear. He should figure it out pretty quick. But . . .” He trails off and I look up at him. “We got Sayavong, Sam. It’s starting to fall like a house of cards. The FBI got the manifest for a container ship that Sayavong contracted with under the name of Chang in the past. There were some inconsistencies, and when the Bureau pushed, the company caved and handed over the records. With the help of local officials the FBI was able to locate the girl who went missing from Benny’s. He shipped her to Central America, and from there flew her to a buyer in Brazil.”
There’s a full minute that I can’t breathe. “Are you serious? You found her?”
A smile blooms on his face. “Thanks to you. And there were others, Sam. We’ve located four other American girls and a handful of Mexicans and Central Americans. Your information has taken down the ring. You’ve probably saved dozens of girls.”
“I didn’t do it. You said the FBI was already looking at him, right?”
“But you put the pieces together for them,” he says with a flash of admiration in his eyes.
Even if I helped a little bit, it feels like, maybe for the first time in my life, I’ve done something worthwhile. I prop my elbows on the counter and drop my head into my hands. “Are they okay?”
His voice is wary. “They’ve been through a lot, but now that they’re coming home, they can get the help they need.”
It makes me think of Sabrina, and I wonder how she’s doing. Can any of them ever be right again?
I can’t really eat, so we barely make a dent in the French toast, but I can’t keep from picking at the bacon, so Jenkins’s plate only has one slice on it when Blake brings it up to him. When he comes back, I’m on the balcony, looking out over the view I’m going to miss so much when this is over. He steps up to the rail next to me and leans his elbows on it. “Looks a little windy out there,” he says, his eyes on the bay. “Wonder if it’s windy in the city.”
“Probably,” I say absently, turning my face up to the sun and drinking it in. “At least there’s no fog this morning.”
“A nice day for a wedding, don’t you think?”
A wedding.
Trent and Lexie.
With everything that’s happened, I’d lost track, but today is their wedding.
“I suppose.” I brace myself for the wave of hurt or betrayal or anger, so when what I feel isn’t any those things, it takes me a second to get a grasp on what it is. And when I realize it’s excitement, I breathe out a laugh. Lexie is getting married today. My best friend. But on the heels of the excitement there’s disappointment that I won’t be there.
“C’mere,” Blake says, taking my hand and towing me into the living room. He picks up a garment bag that’s draped over the back of the armchair and hands it to me. “Open it.”
I unzip the bag, and inside is a champagne-colored halter dress with bling around the collar and down the front.
“The invitation says seven o’clock. I thought this was appropriate for an evening wedding.”
I lift the dress out of the bag and hold it up against me. “Oh my God. It’s beautiful.” I look up at him. “They said I could go?”
The hint of a mischievous smile tugs at his mouth. “It took a little arm twisting, because it’s possible Arroyo’s men might know this woman is a friend of yours, but Special Agent in Charge Navarro agreed to let us go for an hour.”
“Us?” I ask, surprised.
His gaze turns cautions. “I have to go with you, Sam. And Cooper will be posted outside. I don’t think there’s any real danger, but if anything were to happen . . .”
“The reception,” I say as he trails off.
He looks a question at me.
“If we can only go for an hour, I want to go to the reception so I can talk to people.”
“You still can’t say anything . . .” he warns, “about any of this.”
“I won’t. But my friend Katie will be there, I’m sure. And . . .” I put the dress down and look at it. “. . . if I only get to wear this for an hour, I want it to be an hour that counts.”