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I tear through every room. I look in every closet. I search under every bed. I even peek in the bathtubs.
My heart is banging like crazy, again. I hope I don’t have a heart attack, like our painter did, before I find her.
She’s not in the house, but her suitcases are in the upstairs storage closet. She didn’t take her clothes, or the heart-shaped picture of Tomas and me on her nightstand. She always takes it when she goes on vacation so that she doesn’t miss us too much.
I ask the upstairs maids, and everyone else I see, but it’s late, and not many people are around. No one has seen Mamã since this morning.
Where did she go?
I get the flashlight from the kitchen pantry and go out to the stable. Her horse is going to foal soon, and Mamã always checks on her before she goes to bed.
She’s not in the stable. Or the barn.
My chest hurts more than the time Pedro kicked the ball and I didn’t jump out of the way fast enough. I am stupid.
I jog through her garden, calling her name, until the guards send me inside. They’re not as mean as usual, but I know they’ll drag me to Papai if I don’t obey. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve looked everywhere Mamã would be. She isn’t out here.
After I go inside, I search the whole house again, everywhere except Papai’s office. No one’s allowed in there, not even Mamã.
This time I don’t race around. I go from room to room, looking carefully for clues, but I don’t find any.
When I’m too tired to search anymore, I go back to her sewing room and curl up behind the love seat, with the blanket my grandmother crocheted for Mamã when she was a little girl. It smells like her.
When I start to miss her too much, I cover my head with the blanket so no one can hear me cry.
Please come back, Mamã. I love you.
But she doesn’t come back. Not that night, or the next. Not even at Christmas.
We’re not allowed to talk about her anymore.
Sometimes I see her in my dreams, or in the vineyards, but when I get too close, she disappears.
Maybe she fell and hit her head and can’t remember where she lives. She’d come back for me, if she wasn’t hurt. I know she would.
When I’m a man, I’ll have nice guards who’ll help me find Mamã.
I’ll never stop looking for her.
Never.
1
RAFAEL
Twenty-three years later
The promise of sin pulses through the crowded club, creating a vibe rivaled only by white powder and a tightly rolled bill.
From the VIP section, I have an unobstructed view of the main room below.
Both bars are humming, and the dance floor is packed with sweaty bodies writhing to the punishing beat. Every inch of real estate is taken up by socialites spending trust fund money, and college boys out to get laid.
Just another Thursday night at Sirena—only it’s not.
We’re minutes from taking down two fuckers who are part of a ring that’s been abducting young women all over Europe. They’ve eluded capture for the better part of two years, and my blood runs cold every time I learn about a new victim.
“Everything’s in place,” Zé, my right-hand man, assures me when he gets off a call.
