I find myself giving it to her. Not the abridged version, but the whole story, leading to my wreck, to the conversation I had with my father, and finally—when I can tell she knows where Meredith Kinsey, or Missy King is—my hunch that I need to keep my real name quiet at first. Because Meredith might not leave with me if she knows who I really am.
“If she's in danger, I want to get her to the States, where I can help her. It's the least that I can do.”
“And your father?”
“I would never give her back to him. I'm going to get in trouble for it, but I plan to turn him in.”
She nods for a long time before standing up. “Come follow me, Mr. Carlson.”
12
Merri
I'M PRETTY SURE if I have a visitor, it's not one I want. My heart pounds so hard I can barely draw a breath as I follow Sister Mary Carolina down the hallway in the direction of the prayer rooms.
Why is this happening today? Is this Jesus? I decide as I walk briskly behind the woman who's been most influential in my life, that if this is one of is Jesus's guys, I’ll go willingly. The Sisters have said over and over that they won't allow that. That we all stand together; that's the only way it can be. But I can’t let harm come to them.
The only thing I can’t figure out is why Jesus would send someone to kidnap me after the message Father Mendez delivered.
Sister opens the door to a small reading room with green carpet and white bookshelves, and we pause before going in. All at once she pulls me to her chest and kisses my head.
“Be brave, Merri, my love. You must do what you must do. We only want what's best for you.”
And then she...leaves. She leaves me here, before I even see who's in the room.
For the longest second, I stay on the threshold, staring at the man who is facing the bookshelf. My eyes run down the length of him, expecting to find Jesus or one of his sicarios, but that's not what I find.
I don’t know who this man is. He’s tall, with dark hair and large bones. Long legs, wide back, big shoulders. He looks lean, almost sick, because I can tell he should be bulkier. He reminds me of a starved lion I saw once in a documentary.
He turns toward me slowly, and as he moves I'm frozen, like in those nightmares where you're being chased but you can't run.
At first I'm not looking at his features—only the expression, which is somehow both solemn and surprised. And I feel like I've been struck dead, because he has an angel's face. It's not just the flawless blue of his eyes or his celebrity-perfect bones. It's not his perfect, straight-line nose or that lush, cherubic mouth. It's not his smooth skin. It's what I see inside his eyes. Something so intense, so sad, so ecstatic, so relieved, that I know he must be God's answer to my prayer.
For the longest moment, he just looks at me. I feel like I'll unravel in the brilliance of those ice blue eyes. I'm so thrown off I whisper exactly what I'm thinking.
“Are you here to take me?”
His lips curl slowly, into something that's not at all a smile. My heart stops as he steps closer.
“Rescue you.” His eyes. They're still on me, burning through me. Holding my gaze like his hand is under my chin. His throat works and he seems to struggle with his words. “Meredith Kinsey.” His chest heaves. “You're her. You're really her.”
I wrap my arms around myself as my throat constricts. Nobody here in Mexico knows my real name.
He strides closer, close enough so I can smell his sweat and see his stark white teeth. And his skin: I can't see a single pore. His lips aren't chapped. His nose isn't crooked. His eyes are even bluer this close. Tall, dark, and handsome, I think dizzily. I'm gawking at my killer.
I back into the bookshelves, holding out my arms. “Who are you?” It's embarrassing, the way my voice comes out a croak. I flail behind myself for a heavy book and hold it out like that might keep him away.
His blue eyes widen. “You don’t believe me.”
“No joke!” I’m shrill. My chest is heaving now. He starts to step closer but I wave the book. “Don't do that! No! I want to know who you are, right now!”
He's from the U.S. Government. He must be. Sean really did pin everything on me and I'm a wanted woman. Wanted for dealing drugs. And they found me down in Mexico! I have ties to Jesus Cientos!
Mother Mary, I'm going to go to prison.
My eyes fill with stinging tears, but I'm not sad. I'm angry. “Do you know why I'm hiding here? Because a Mexican drug lord wants to kill me. Because he bought me as—” my voice cracks here— “a sex slave! I was sold as a sex slave! I don't know what Sean told you but I didn't do those things. I have my flaws, I have my flaws but I was just his girlfriend!”