“I am calling my personal contact at the department,” Patricia said. “Captain Vargas will be here in ten minutes.”

She held the phone to her ear, her eyes locked on mine.

The phone began to ring, the soft hum vibrating through the tense silence of the kitchen.

The dial tone hummed in the quiet space between us.

Patricia held the phone close to her ear, her manicured nails pressing hard against the gold case.

Outside, the rain began to beat against the high glass windows of the kitchen, a dull, rhythmic drumming.

Martina did not let go of Rosa’s hand.

I could feel my sister’s shoulder shaking against mine, but her feet remained planted on the cold marble floor.

“Yes, Captain Vargas,” Patricia said, her voice instantly shifting into a sweet, troubled purr.

She took a step back, her high heels clicking sharply against the tile.

“I am so sorry to bother you on a Sunday afternoon,” she said, smoothing down the front of her cream silk trousers.

Rosa let out a soft, shuddering breath behind me.

I reached back and touched Rosa’s arm, feeling the coarse fabric of her gray uniform.