“You should join us,” Devlin offered.

Before Sadie could respond, Falco added, “We make a good team. The three of us.” He shrugged. “Just saying.”

“I guess we do,” Sadie admitted. She looked to Devlin. “I appreciate the invitation, but I have some loose ends to take care of at my place. We’ll grab lunch or something next week.”

Devlin gave her a nod. “For sure.”

Falco gave her a fist bump, and Sadie headed out. As weird as this was, it felt good. Maybe she should do some celebrating of her own sans the alcohol, even the beer.

Sadie’s Loft

Sixth Avenue, Twenty-Seventh Street

Birmingham, 6:40 p.m.

Sadie was fairly sure that beyond the morning she woke up under the overpass on Eighteenth, she had never felt so exhausted in her life. She could sleep forever.

As she neared the turn into her alley, she spotted a big black SUV parked at the curb. Her instincts went on alert, no matter that this could be a patron of the pub. Still, in her line of work and with her history, it was better to be cautious. She parked in her usual spot and got out of the piss-yellow Beetle. She hoped to hell she had her Saab back soon. Before closing the door, she reached under the seat and grabbed her Beretta and tucked it into her jeans at the small of her back. She locked up the borrowed car and walked around it.

When she would have started up the fire escape, the driver’s-side door of the SUV opened, and a man climbed out. Big guy. Broad shouldered, dark jacket and trousers. Sunglasses even at night. Typical muscle guy.

Well hell. Maybe old man Osorio had managed one last order before his capture. She reached for the weapon at her back. The big guy held up a hand.

“There is someone who wishes to speak with you.”

Couldn’t be her dad or the mayor. Naomi was dead. Maybe Lana Walsh had decided to stop by on her way to the airport.

The big guy opened the door behind the driver’s door and reached inside.

Sadie kept her right hand on the butt of her weapon just in case.

The first thing she saw was a colorful skirt that reached the ankles of the woman stepping down. Her shoes were gray-leather, well-worn flats.

When she moved beyond the vehicle door, her gaze locked immediately on Sadie.

Old.

Petite—no, tiny.

Long gray hair lay in a thick braid. Wrinkled face as if she were a couple hundred years old.

“Do you remember me, la muchacha?”

Sadie blinked. Her hands fell to her sides. “Yes.” Her pulse started to race. “You’re the healer who took care of me.” Oh shit. Was she hallucinating again? This couldn’t be real . . . could it?

The old woman nodded. “I kept you safe and invisible until it was time for you to go.”

Take my hand and you’ll be invisible.

It hadn’t been Isabella behind the mask that last time. Sadie had lost the baby, and all she wanted to do was die . . . this woman had saved her life. Even during the months of torture and mind games, this woman, this healer, kept her breathing. She suddenly knew this with the same certainty she knew her own name.

“Thank you.” Sadie wasn’t sure what else to say. Her entire being hummed with some kind of anticipation. Not fear. Something far more intense. Something she couldn’t name.

“When they learned what you had done, you were to die. Eduardo had begged for your life and for the life of the child you carried. He came to tell you he could not save you, and you killed him.” Her thin chest rose with a shuddering breath. “A deal was made. A trade. You were returned to your father, barely alive, but alive.”

The voices and images Sadie could never quite grab on to, never fully see or understand, filtered through her mind now. Her father had talked about a trade. “I can’t remember. What kind of trade?”

She nodded to the driver, and he reached inside the back seat as the old woman turned back to Sadie. “Now there is a new deal.”

Sadie watched, her heart pounding, threatening to rupture.

The driver drew back from the vehicle, a small child in his arms. He stood the child next to the old woman. Boy. The child was a boy. The boy looked up at Sadie. Gray eyes—gray eyes exactly like hers—stared back at her. This wasn’t possible.

Her heart lurched. “But . . . but my baby didn’t make it.”

“Another baby was brought to you . . . one from the village who did not live past birth.”

Unable to keep her eyes off the child she had believed for years didn’t exist, Sadie shook her head. “Why?”

“You took her son, and she took yours.” The old woman pulled something from a pocket in her skirt and thrust it at Sadie. It was a small photo of her and Eddie. “I did what I could. I have shown him this picture every day of his life. I have kept him safe from his sister and other threats until this day came. I knew it would come.”

Sadie looked from the child to the woman, long-dormant emotions crowding inside her. “I don’t know what to say.”

The healer smiled and turned to the boy. “Esta es tu madre.”

Sadie’s breath caught. She closed her eyes a moment, certain this had to be a hallucination.

“This is your son,” she said to Sadie.

Sadie forced her eyes open. They were still there, the three of them, including the beautiful boy. It wasn’t another hallucination.

“His name is Edward. He belongs with you now.”

Sadie couldn’t speak, much less move. She could only stare at this child with his beautiful dark hair, his big gray eyes.

The driver went to the back of the SUV and removed two suitcases and placed them on the sidewalk next to the boy.

“You will find his papers there,” the old woman said. She looked down at the boy. “Go to your madre, Edward.”

The boy took the few steps that separated him from Sadie. He looked up at her and smiled.

Sadie dropped to her knees, every part of her bursting with some foreign emotion that overwhelmed all else. “Nice to meet you, Edward.”

He nodded and offered his hand.

Sadie took his hand in hers and gave it a shake. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Take good care of him.”

Sadie looked beyond the boy to the old woman. “I’ll do my best.”

The healer gave a final nod, and the driver assisted her back into the vehicle. He slid behind the wheel and drove away.