“My ankle hurts.”
“Call nine-one-one,” said Vega. “Ask them for an ambulance and fire truck response. Tell them to meet you at the entrance to the woods on Spring Street.” He handed her his flashlight.
“Don’t you need the flashlight?”
“I’m not sure I can carry Sophia back up this muddy incline.”
“What are you going to do?”
“If I can’t move her? Stay with her. What else?”
Diablo panted beside Vega. He turned and rubbed a knuckle against the dog’s head. “Good dog.”
“Good dog? Are you kidding?” asked Adele.
“He found Sophia.”
“He’s the reason she’s in this mess in the first place!”
Vega frowned. Even in the pale glow of moonlight, his dark eyes registered the truth: We’re the reason she’s in this mess. Not the dog.
Adele watched Vega’s shadow fade into the blur of darkness, the dog at his side. The embankment was steep. Even in heavy-soled boots, it would be hard for anyone to negotiate at night. Adele took out her cell and dialed 911 and gave them the information Vega had instructed. On the other side of the embankment, she heard loose stones scatter like rice down the rocky, crusted hillside. Branches cracked and snapped in the darkness. There was a quick, deft splash of water—likely Diablo—followed by a heavier sloshing sound that was likely Vega. She heard her daughter’s soft, panicked cry and Vega’s soothing voice.
“It’s okay, mija. I’ll wrap you in my jacket. Put your arms around my neck and I’ll see if I can get you out of here.”
Adele pointed the flashlight down at her feet and maneuvered through the broken branches and tree limbs until she found her way onto the street. The pale yellow wash of street light felt glaring after the darkness of the woods. The trip into the woods had seemed so long. The trip out, so short. What felt interminable now was the wait. She bobbed up and down on the curb to stay warm, her breath clouding up before her, and waited for the sound of the sirens.
Sophia would be all right. Adele knew that. Despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the nervous pins and needles draining the feeling from her limbs, her logical mind knew that Sophia was not in mortal danger. Even if the child’s ankle was broken, she was with Vega. They would get her to the hospital. Sophia would be fine again in a few days or so with a great story to tell her friends. This wasn’t anything like what Marcela’s daughter, Yovanna, probably just experienced on her 2000-mile trek from Honduras to here. This wasn’t anything like the terror that Marcela and her family were experiencing now.
And yet in those moments before Adele and Vega found Sophia, Adele’s pain had been as acute as any of the women in Las Madres Perdidas. Her heart blew up in her chest until it felt like it was going to explode in desperation. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t feel cold or dampness or hunger. At that moment, she would have struck any bargain, risked any punishment, and paid any price to assure her daughter’s safety.
Just like Marcela.
She heard the sirens before she saw the red flashing lights. The police arrived first. Two young officers whom she knew by face, though not by name. She could barely form the words but they knew what to do. The ambulance came next. Then a fire truck. The firefighters helped Vega and Sophia up the embankment. Sophia was lost in the folds of Vega’s jacket. She wasn’t crying anymore. She was holding tight to Vega’s neck while Diablo danced around his feet.
Vega was shivering. His shirt was muddy. His boots and pants were soaked to the shins.
“She’s gonna be fine,” Vega told Adele. He gave her a wink. “She’s brave like her mother.”
The EMTs loaded Sophia into the back of the ambulance. One of them handed Vega back his jacket. He slipped into it gratefully.
“Thank you,” Adele said to him. Those words didn’t begin to cover her gratitude.
“You ride over to the hospital with Sophia,” said Vega. “I’ll take Diablo back to your house, grab your car, and meet you there.”
The EMTs were closing the doors of the ambulance. Adele needed to hop inside.
“Jimmy—” There was so much she wanted to say and no time to say it.
“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
Chapter 23
Marcela pulled her hood tightly around her face and slipped into her father’s building. Darkness fell early this time of year. In the Bronx, the concrete canyons ate up the natural light, replacing it with the glare of streetlights and hallway CFL bulbs that offered neither warmth nor clarity.
Marcela desperately needed both at the moment. Alma wasn’t expecting her. Alma would not be happy to see her.