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Spanish, flash mama’s ring. My brain was too cloudy. Desperation and confusion flooded my consciousness.
    Joaquín stood up, gave me a smirk and an intense glare as my world crashed down around me.
    Grant seemed pissed off too. He didn’t speak, and I could swear he sneered in my general direction.
    We walked out of the jail without speaking a word. I needed to be alone, to call Roman about the DNA sample, to reconnect with Mitch, and to get away from Grant’s intensity and bitterness.
    I asked him to drop me off at home. “Do you know where she is, his sister?”
    He shook his head, without taking his eyes off the road. “Not a goddam clue. And I don’t give a fuck.”
    I choked back a sob. I didn’t have a clue where Mia was either.

A fter Grant dropped me off , I knew I had to do something to alleviate my anxiety. The lady I lived with had left to visit her family for a week, so I was alone. I drew myself a hot bath, squeezed a few drops of lavender essence into the tub, and released my body from my clothes.
    My body.
    I still marveled at my transformation. Poor Grant’s wheels were probably spinning trying to find Mia for my brother. Did he have a clue I was already in his grasp?
    My toes slipped into the bubbles, and I settled into the tub. No magazine, no music, just the calm chords of beautiful silence. I forced my mind to be still, to enjoy this moment, live in the present and not focus on the future or the past.
    When the water lost its heat, I toweled off and dressed comfortably in sweats and a tank top. I did a few yoga poses to relax and prayed that I could come up with some cold hard evidence that would exonerate Joaquín.
    But all my usual calming techniques didn’t work. I couldn’t quiet my mind, too much information. My visit with my brother had completely rattled me. I needed some answers.
    I called Roman.
    “Allo.”
    “ Privet . It’s me. Did you get the DNA back?”
    He let out a long sigh. “ Ksyushen’ka, I’m glad it is you.”
    I loved his pet name for me. The comfort in his voice soothed my nerves. “What? Did you get a match for the hair? Is Julián Joaquín’s son?”
    “No, I am afraid he is not.”
    I choked back tears.
    “What? Are you sure? Because I’m pretty positive . . .”
    “It was not match, I am sorry.”
    No. It had to be. I saw him. The boy looked just like my father. “Maybe Joaquín’s sample was bad? It was old. I can get another one? Or, I’m his sister. Can’t you check mine?”
    He hesitated, the tone of his voice sounded edgy, but maybe it was just his accent. “You are his biological sister, da ?”
    “Yes. Of course I am.”
    “Well, brother and sister share DNA. I will see. But my guy, he is very good.”
    “Just try it again, please. I’ll send it today. Please call me when you get the results. Thanks.”
    “ Khorosho. Poka .”
    “Poka.”
    My understanding of genetics wasn’t my strong suit but brothers and sisters shared DNA so I’m sure this would work. The sample I’d collected from Joaquín’s apartment was probably damaged anyway. It had been hairs in his brush. Maybe it wasn’t even his brush. I needed to wait for the new results—I couldn’t stress about it now. I had bigger fish to fry.
    Mitch.
    I sat down again to my computer to check any updates to Mitch’s trace. Again nothing jumped out, except another message to Rafael. Again with no text.
    Okay. Now I had two weird messages to Rafael. Was he a drug dealer? If my plan worked, I would find out tonight.
    I texted Mitch.
    Ksenya: Handsome. My time of month is no more. When can I see you?
    Mitch: Tonight. I can’t wait for you to sit on my face. I’ll pick you up @ 8.
    Ah, Mitch. Such a gentleman.
    I texted him my address. And plotted my revenge.
    I frantically ran around my apartment, gathering my tools into a corner of my room. My gun, handcuffs, and Rohypnol—the drug that both Tiffany and I had been given. Mitch, it had to be Mitch. I knew now that he’d been at