When it became clear we couldn’t get any further with our suppositions about who had tried to kill me, Mika helped us clean up and then headed home. Santiago and I went back to the couch, where he watched some TV show about spaceships and I sank into my sewing and the up and down of simple black thread. Unfortunately, every time I felt myself relaxing, the nagging question of who wanted me dead would poke itself up into my consciousness again.
Eventually, though, I had to get some sleep, so we went upstairs and climbed into bed, where Santiago held me close until I drifted off. Sometimes, the body does work we can’t do for ourselves, and I slept like a baby for eight hours before waking gently to sunshine on my face and the smell of coffee.
Santiago set the mug next to me and said, “I’m
