“Oh, you don’t know what Mercedes is capable of. You never have. Where is she? I can’t get past the gate at the house. Neither you nor she returns my messages. Georgie’s on his way to the house again, and when I tell him you’re here, he’ll fuck you up worse than that if you don’t tell us right now.”
“Jesus. Take a breath, hellraiser,” Theron says.
She swivels her head in his direction. “What did you call me?”
He puts both hands up in mock surrender. I see the amusement on his face and hope for his sake she is too distracted to. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
I can’t see the look she gives him, but she turns her attention back to me. “Sit down, Solana.”
“Tell me where she is,” she says, choosing to remain standing.
“She’s at her brother’s house.”
She studies my face again, gaze growing concerned as she understands who did the damage. “Is she okay?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
“She is.”
“How do I get in touch with her?”
I take a piece of stationery and scroll through my phone to find Ivy’s number from the text she sent me.
“Here. This is Ivy’s number. She’s Santiago’s wife. She sent me a text to let me know Mercedes was safe. You can try calling her, but I can’t promise anything. This is out of my hands, Solana.”
“What do you mean you can’t promise? How is it out of your hands? Don’t tell me you just let her go?”
It’s my turn to look away in shame, that darkness descending again. That absence of Mercedes. The knowledge of what I did.
“Jesus. You’re a real prick, you know that?” She stands, snatches up the piece of paper, and walks out of my office, slamming the door behind her.