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found our witness,” he finally said.
    “I didn’t want to believe she saw something like that.”
    “Did you talk to her about it?” Isabel couldn’t interpret Eli’s expression. He folded the piece of tablet paper and slipped it into his wallet.
    “I tried. I pointed to the body and tried to say who —but she just looked at me like she didn’t understand.”
    “Okay.” Eli leaned over the counter and grabbed Isabel’s hands. “Look, don’t worry about it for now. I’ll have a police artist look at it and see what they can figure out. You can keep gently questioning her, and if you see anything else…” He shrugged. “Just keep your eyes open, okay?”
    Isabel didn’t want to see anything else. She wanted to go back to her normal, regular life. She sighed. “All right. Eli, thanks for checking on us, but it’s late and I’m tired.”
    He straightened, dropping her hands. “I’m sorry. I’ve got an early day tomorrow, too. I’ll call you with any news.”

    At first Eli couldn’t tell what had woken him up. He lifted his head and stared, bleary-eyed, at the green monster-eyes of the digital clock on the dresser. 2:00 a.m. He knew he hadn’t set the alarm, because he didn’t go on duty until seven.
    Who was in his room playing the Mission Impossible theme?
    Cell phone. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
    Please, Lord, not Isabel. He lunged for the phone. “Hello?” he croaked.
    “Eli, it’s Benny,” said a husky feminine voice he barely recognized through a surge of static. Not Isabel. He relaxed a fraction. “I need you to come down here,” she continued, her voice wobbling. “Something terrible’s happened.”
    His hair stood on end. Bernadette Malone was the least melodramatic woman Eli had ever met.
    “What’s the matter?” He reached for his jeans.
    She started to cry so hard he could hardly understand her. “I just found one of the children—somebody broke in—Oh, Eli she’s dead—”
    “Benny, whoa. Which child?”
    “Dulce Garcia. I got up to check on the twins—they’ve both been running fever—” Benny gulped. “Anyway, I had the bathroom light on so I could read the thermometer, and I noticed Dulce was lying on her back. She always sleeps on her stomach, curled up in a knot. I put my hand on her forehead out of habit, and she was cold, I don’t know how long she’d been—” Benny’s voice disintegrated into sobs.
    “Benny, listen.” Eli felt like throwing up. He had his jeans on, and he dug a T-shirt out of a drawer. “Had she been sick?”
    “Eli, the window screen over her bed is cut. The air conditioner’s been out, and we haven’t had the money to fix it—”
    “You’ve called an ambulance? The police?”
    “No, I wanted you to come first. I don’t trust them, they were out here asking questions a couple of days ago—”
    “Questions? About what?”
    “About Mercedes. When I realized they didn’t know you’d taken her, I played dumb.”
    “Good girl. I’m working with one guy that I trust over there. Nobody else is in the loop.” Gathering his thoughts, Eli started to holster his gun, then remembered he couldn’t take it across the border. “Listen, I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere.”
    “Where would I go?” Benny asked. “Hurry, Eli.”
    The connection ended.
    Praying for direction, Eli clipped the phone to his belt and headed for his Jeep. As he drove across the international bridge that led to the Border Patrol checkpoint station, he reviewed what he knew.
    A child murdered in her sleep in a Mexican orphanage. A child bearing a close resemblance to a mysterious little girl who had appeared there two days ago. A little girl gifted with extraordinary artistic talent, and who happened to be carrying a murder weapon.
    And two years ago, Eli had decided to get involved in his church’s mission outreach to that orphanage. Nothing was accidental. In the same way he’d sensed the connection with Mercedes, Eli knew God had