Reborn Page 22

  I lean in, pinning her with a look full of steely determination. “You do realize that I’m going to do whatever it takes to find my way back to her. No matter what you say. If you decide to help me or not.”

  “I know that,” she utters quietly.

  “Then, please, for the love of your daughter, tell me what you know.”

  She takes a deep breath, as if she’s deciding at this moment that she will.

  “Mariana did not expire in a natural way. She was given an experimental drug that ended her life two days after it was administered. My father, Gabriel Martinez, begged for help from the people who’d been developing the drug, despite the bad blood between them. They were…estranged, bitter enemies. But a child’s life hung in the balance. They could have saved Mariana. Instead they chose to settle the score, robbing us of the time we had left.”

  The photo in Isabel’s room flashes in my mind. Then Isabel’s sad but accepting account of her sister’s untimely death. “She doesn’t know.”

  “I raised Isabel hoping she’d never need to know these things, but she understands the men who took her sister’s last days are the ones who now want her dead. I explained everything when I came to the hotel.”

  I worry now that inviting Lucia to stay with her was my worst misstep yet. Not only did she help Isabel disappear, but her involvement runs deeper than I could have imagined. Either that or she’s completely crazy. All of this could be the paranoid delusions of a grieving parent who needed someone to blame.

  “If they settled the score twenty years ago, what’s changed? Why would they be after Isabel all of a sudden?”

  “The grief was too much. My father didn’t know what to do with it, and neither did I. We had to fight for her in our own way.” She levels a tired gaze at me, some of her earlier sternness seeming to ease. “We chipped away little by little, exposing information about their company, their finances, figuring out their connections. Over the years, the company grew, merged with others. Their interests expanded. Their power stretched so far and so fast, we could hardly keep up.”

  “Wait a minute. Who are they?”

  “Today, they are Chalys Pharmaceuticals. You may recognize the name.”

  My blood turns to ice. My heart’s in my throat, and my hands turn to hardened fists. Jesus, they’ve been right there the whole time. Under my nose. In her goddamn bed. The pendulum in my chest has turned into a murder weapon, wreaking havoc on my insides. I can’t breathe right. Can’t see properly through this sudden rage.

  “They couldn’t have sent him there for her.” I’ll kill him…

  “He could have been there by chance. I never made the connection between Kolt and Chalys until Isabel went missing and his full name came across in the police reports. He was the last person to see her, so I looked him up, hoping to find out more about him. Then I realized who his mother was. Gillian Mirchoff. She and her brother took over operations for Chalys and its subsidiaries a decade ago. I would have gone and gotten Isabel out of there myself if I’d known.”

  I pound my fist on the table. “Why else would he have been there if not to kill her?”

  “Because he can do whatever he wants, and Rio’s a playground for the young and the rich. Besides, why would his family risk putting blood on his hands when they could pay someone like you to do it?”

  I stand abruptly. The chair groans against the tile floor. I pace to the opposite side of the café and back again.

  “He loves her,” she says when I’m near again. “I’m sure of it. Not just from the way he acted the other day. Isabel and I spoke often. He’s been in her life for months. He wanted her to come to Boston with him after the school year ended. Mentioning her to his family could have spurred all of this. I can’t be sure.”

  I keep pacing, trying to tamp down my violent thoughts. Isabel’s penchant for walking directly into danger and surviving is nothing short of astounding. I’m past furious for Isabel making her well-being known to Kolt the other day. If she hadn’t, he’d believe today’s headline as pure fact. She’d be dead to him. Lost forever.

  “Tristan, sit down. Please.”

  I return and drop angrily into the seat. “Why doesn’t Morgan do something about this?”

  “Because he doesn’t know.” Her admission falls like a stone between us.

  I still. My bloody thoughts clear. “Are you kidding me?”

  “He’s never known,” she says.

  “They killed his daughter. How can he not know that?”

  “We signed away our rights, Tristan. We had no recourse against them. Until my father knew for certain it was foul play, we let Morgan believe it was her time. We were so heartbroken already, after months of treatments and not knowing if she could get better. If he’d known what really happened, it would have destroyed what was left of our family. He would have never forgiven me.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It’s always someone’s fault,” she whispers.

  “He could have helped nail them for what they did.”

  She shakes her head. “He’s bound to the law, and these people are above the law.”

  “Well, you certainly could have told me. I’ve been in DC for days trying to find more information, and you’ve been sitting on it this whole time.”

  “I had to make arrangements. Do my own due diligence. I just needed you to keep her safe while I figured out a more permanent solution.”

  “You mean killing her.”

  She exhales a sigh and rubs her forehead. “We can bring her back to life just as easily. Trust me, this is far from over.”

  I’m roiling. Vexed in more directions than I can count. Pissed at myself for having so narrow a view that I let Isabel slip through my fingers. I’d been so focused on Morgan, I’d ignored Isabel’s concerns about her mother’s behavior. If Lucia was able to fake her daughter’s death and hide her away, I have to question what else she’s capable of.

  “Who is she with?”

  My jaw is locked tight. I pin her with a look, daring her to challenge my final request for the information I came here for. Acting like a decent human being for her sake was just that. An act. I’m ready to buy a ticket to hell for Isabel. I wouldn’t hurt her mother, but I’m silently imploring her not to get in my way.

  “She’s with a friend,” she says, pursing her lips as if that’s all she’ll tell me.

  “In New Orleans?”

  Her expression remains impassive save a small twitch at the corner of her mouth. “She told you.”

  “She left a note. Are you surprised?”

  “No, I don’t suppose I am.” She rises, her hand firm on her purse once more. “If she wants to be found, that’s where you’ll find her.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Isabel

  Halo, as Martine calls it, is more than a picturesque estate along one of New Orleans’s historic arteries. It’s a haven. As soon as I step through the front door and into the foyer warmed by the spring sunshine pouring in through the bay windows, I can feel it. A sense of home that has nothing to do with this brief reprieve from imminent danger. The worn floors creak under our footsteps as Martine gives me a tour through the rooms.

  As she describes them, the local cadence of her voice becomes more obvious. Every room is welcoming. Clean but lived in. The dining room, which holds an extended rustic table that could seat more than a dozen, flows into an impressively large kitchen equipped with modern appliances and wrapped by exposed brick, creating a feeling of comfort and hominess.

  “The bedrooms are upstairs.” She gestures to the narrow staircase in the hallway.

  I follow her up, running my hand along the thick railing. The bones of the house are strong, and I get the sense it’s been stripped down and thoroughly restored while preserving all the heart of the place.

  We pass several bedrooms and pause at the last doorway. “This is your room. Skye and Zeda are next door.”

  She steps aside and waves me in. The bedroom is small
but cozy. My suitcases are just inside the door. A full-size bed is set against a wall and flanked by a bedside table and an antique chest of drawers. An oval mirror hangs on another wall. I share a brief look with my tired reflection before going to the window that takes up nearly the full height of the wall and faces the back of the house. Below is a stone courtyard surrounded by a variety of leafy trees and bushes, some already flowering with white blossoms. Skye and Zeda are sitting with a couple of other women around a painted picnic table. Some are smoking. Most are laughing, though I can’t tell what they’re talking about.

  “How many people are staying here?”

  “Seven right now, including you. Sisters come and go. Most usually stay just the once and move on when they’re ready. Our door is always open, though. This will always be your home for as long as you need it.”

  “Why do you call it Halo?”

  My curiosity is burning about this place and its steward, this strangely magnetic woman.

  “Halo isn’t the house, Isabel. It’s a mission.” As she stands beside me, the afternoon light reflects on her fair skin, exposing every smudge of rouge, every imperfection. “We exist to illuminate the truth. The truth in ourselves first.” She touches her chest. “Then we cast light on the people who threaten our well-being.” She follows my gaze to the courtyard below. “We take women in and we help them onto a better path. Any age, any background, under any circumstances. Prostitution, violent relationships, drugs.” She lifts her gaze to mine. “We offer protection…asylum from those who would do us harm, mentally or physically.”

  Asylum is the word that rocks me. More than a place, it’s a state of being. Here I somehow feel out of reach from the people who would have killed me if they’d gotten a clear shot.

  Martine’s intent is so matter-of-fact, I have a hard time accepting it. Have I lost trust so quickly? Or is the picture she’s painting too altruistic even for me to buy into? How can any place, any entity, have such pure intentions?

  “How do you sustain all this?” I gesture around the room. Maintaining a house like this with only one occupant would be expensive. How can she afford to support so many others?

  “Halo sustains itself in its own way. But we don’t ask for money from within. All we ask for is an open mind. A willingness to consider our doctrine and a chance to be a part of something bigger. A band of light that reaches all corners of the globe.”

  I tense a little. A doctrine?

  “So you’re like…missionaries?”

  Maybe my earlier assumption about the nunnery was right. I’ve found myself brought to my knees in desperate prayer more than ever lately, but I’ve also faced death and seen the horrible acts human beings are capable of up close and personal. I’m not ready to hear anyone’s doctrine with my own faith on such shaky ground.

  “Missionaries in that we have a mission. A fluid one at times. We must evolve as the world around us changes. We aren’t faith-based. However, I find that light travels well through those channels. Not all of course, but there are plenty of kind souls left in the world. People like the reverend. People like Noam.”

  “Light… What do you mean by that?”

  “Information, mostly.” She takes my hand gently in hers. “Don’t worry about any of that, though. For now, we focus on you.”

  I laugh. “Where would someone start? My life—if I can even call it that anymore—is a complete mess.”

  “You’ve been on the run.”

  I nod. “Not long. But it feels like a lot longer.”

  She frowns. “Running is a hard place to be. You may feel alone with what you’re going through, but you’re not. When you’re running away from something, remember you’re also running to something.”

  “I wish I knew what that something was.” Because right now this journey feels like a never-ending road paved with unknowns and lined with heart-wrenching pit stops.

  “Maybe we can help you figure that out. Show you ways to tap into your power when it feels as if you have none, and then help you use that power to fight back and win. Not just to survive, Isabel, but to thrive and cast light on the darkest corners of your life. You have the power to do that.”

  I swallow over the emotion constricting my throat. The weight of the past two weeks threatens to crash down on me. “I can see now why my mother wanted me to come.”

  “When your mother reached out to me, I accepted without hesitation. Lucia’s been vital to our work for many years.”

  I still. “Really?”

  She nods. “After your sister passed, our paths crossed. Halo was just beginning to take shape, and she told me about your grandfather and what happened to Mariana. We’ve been helping each other ever since.”

  “I never knew about Halo. She never mentioned you either.”

  “I don’t think our work was something she ever wished to burden you with.” She touches my shoulder. “Circumstances have changed. But perhaps this was fateful that you would find your way here.”

  Perhaps.

  Her eyes soften with quiet understanding. “For now, just rest, Isabel.”

  By the time I wake up, the sky has grown dark. I should feel rested, but the exhaustion is still heavy on me. Weighing down my limbs as I force myself upright. Lingering in my bones as I unzip one of my suitcases and pull out fresh clothes and some toiletries.

  I shower in the little bathroom across from my room. When I emerge, I hear female voices down the hall. Delicious aromas waft upstairs from the kitchen, tempting me. My stomach growls, but I’m not sure I’m recharged enough to face the rest of Halo’s tenants just yet.

  Instead I spend the next hour or so reorganizing my things into drawers and the bedroom closet. Doing so reminds me of my first days at college. Brienne and I had become fast friends. She was honest and real, and I could always just be around her without pretense. She didn’t drain me or expect me to be someone else. And she didn’t expect me to be whole again after Tristan had broken me.

  Because of those times and countless others, we could flow in and out of each other’s lives knowing that we could always count on that solid foundation of friendship.

  By the time my second suitcase is emptied, tears are streaming down my face. I still can’t believe she’s gone. Because of me. If I hadn’t gone to her, she’d still be alive.

  “Hey.”

  I whip around to find Skye in the doorway. I wipe my tears quickly.

  She comes in holding a plate in her hands. “Dinner’s ready. I brought you up a plate in case you wanted to eat in here tonight.”

  I accept it. “Thanks. I was going to go down later to see if there were leftovers.”

  “When Martine cooks, there usually aren’t leftovers. But there’s always takeout. It’s hard to get a bad meal in this town.”

  The food smells amazing, and my growling stomach can’t disagree. I take a seat on the bed and dive into the rice dish. It’s an explosion of flavor on my tongue, and I don’t hesitate to go in for another bite and another.

  “Wow, girl. When’s the last time you ate?”

  I catch my breath a moment. “Drive-through on my way into town. I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”

  Skye flops her body over the end of the bed. A bite of the moistest cornbread I’ve ever had distracts me from the pretty girl edging her way into my personal space.

  “My God, this is good.”

  “I figured you wouldn’t be able to resist.” She smiles. “So what’s your story anyway?”

  “My story?”

  “Everyone at Halo has a story. But Martine knows you, so you must have a good one. We’re all dying to know.”

  I eat my next few bites a little slower, the immediate pangs of hunger having subsided. Skye seems like a nice girl, but the last thing I want to do is recount the past two weeks of hell.

  “Where are you from?” she asks next, showing her persistence.

  I set the empty plate aside and lean against the headboard. “DC. How about you?”

/>   “Houston.”

  “What brings you to Halo?”

  She props her head up on her elbow. “The short version? A life on the streets.”

  “And the long version?”

  “I came to New Orleans with my pimp a few years ago. He heard there was money to be made in the Quarter, and I was his best girl. Got me dancing in one of the clubs and wanted me to push drugs to the johns too. One of the johns got mad when I wouldn’t snort coke off his dick one night. Made a big show about it like I was rejecting him or something. Charlie was into all kinds of shit by then. High all the time. He beat the hell out of me after. Didn’t touch my face, of course, but I ended up in the hospital with internal bleeding. When he came to pick me up, one of the nurses who’d been taking care of me turned him away. Threatened to call the cops if he came back. Of course, I freaked out because he was my whole life. Didn’t matter that he almost killed me. I thought I loved him. Why else would I do all those things for him?”

  She traces her fingers over the quilt stitching on the bedspread. I bite my lip, not knowing the right words to say. Skye’s story is heart-wrenching and, for the moment, pulls me out of my own malaise.

  “The nurse told me about this house where you can go and stay free,” she continues. “Free food, a clean room, other girls like me who are trying to start over from bad situations. Said the woman who ran it had some good connections and could get me a real job. Help me start over.”

  “Martine.”

  Martine’s the one who’s brought us all here, like a beacon of hope.

  She nods. “It was scary at the time because I didn’t know what it’d be like here. If it didn’t work out, Charlie probably would hurt me really bad if I had to go back to him.”

  “Looks like it worked out,” I say softly.

  “I’ve been here for a couple years.”

  “What do you do now?”

  She shrugs. “Odd jobs here and there. But mostly I help Martine.” She straightens on the bed before I can question her further. “Hey, do you want to come with me and Zeda to Noam’s class in the morning?”