Found at Sea - By Anne Marie Duquette Page 0,7

a sad smile. Their ragged clothes, dirty bare feet and extremely thin bodies wrenched at her every time. Her heart went out to them. Still, her priority right now had to be her sister, her sister’s family and their misfortunes—especially with her bank account emptying fast.

Her truck’s Mexican guard snapped out a curt order, and the ragtag bunch of children reluctantly moved away, their dirty, tugging hands leaving smudges on her clean jeans as well as her truck.

Authorities frisking her for weapons and other contraband left more smudges. Aurora went through what had become her Friday-afternoon routine over the past two months and was finally shown to Dorian and Tanya’s cell. There were no fancy visiting areas for those awaiting trial—just the smell of sweat, urine and fear from both sides of the bars. In fact, Mexican prisoners weren’t allowed out of their cells to visit, the way they were at home.

“Aurora!’ Dorian called out. Aurora rushed to the cell for a hug, despite the bars between them, as her sister asked, “Have you got any news of Gerald?” Dorian ignored Rory’s outstretched arms.

“Nothing yet, but—”

Dorian began to cry, cutting her off. “You promised you’d help.”

“I’m working on it, but it takes time.”

“How much time?” Dorian demanded, her voice starting to break.

“Well...”

“Mom, knock it off,” Tanya ordered. “We can’t hear her talk if you’re bawling again.”

Aurora looked over her sister’s shoulder to her niece. Blonde, blue-eyed, pretty—and ever the cynic. Full of teenage attitude. Tanya took after neither of her dark-eyed, dark-haired parents with their law-abiding ways.

“Tanya, please. How are you two holding up?” Aurora asked. She tried to stroke Dorian’s shaking shoulders through the bars, but Dorian pulled away.

“How does it look, Rory?” Tanya defiantly refused to call her Aunt. “I’m dirty, my hair’s a mess, the food stinks. My mother’s a nervous wreck.” Tanya gently drew Dorian away from the bars, led her to the prison cot to sit. “Wipe your nose, Mom. You look gross.”

Aurora compared the two women as Tanya passed Dorian a piece of questionable-looking toilet tissue from a roll on the concrete floor.

Dorian was tired and far too thin, despite Aurora’s regular deliveries of Dorian’s favorite nonperishable foods. Today she’d brought a bag of trail mix, some juice boxes and chocolate bars, which Tanya grabbed eagerly. Dorian wore a defeatist attitude along with her ill-fitting prison jumpsuit. Tanya, on the other hand, seemed more than just fine. She was actually thriving amid the adversity.

Tanya’s tough—but tough enough to survive life in prison? She’s hard enough to love as it is. What would prison do to that small, remaining lovable part?

Tanya wrapped a thin gray blanket around her mother’s still-shaking shoulders and patted them before returning to the bars.

“Mom needs news about Dad, and better food. She can’t keep down the prison slop. Nerves, I guess.”

“My nerves are just fine,” Dorian said.

“And rodents get into the dry stuff you bring, and she won’t eat it. I’ve made arrangements with her.” Tanya jerked her stubborn chin in the direction of the female guard. “She’s got a sick kid at home. You give her fifty now and twenty a week, and she’ll give Mom more food, extra blankets, stuff like that.”

Aurora gazed into eyes that reminded her so much of her own. “I see that sophomore Spanish course stuck with you.”

“Despite failing it?” Tanya asked flippantly.

“Grades aren’t the only indicator of intelligence,” Aurora replied.

“And what about being in jail, Tanya?” Dorian threw in. “How smart is that?”

For just a moment, Tanya looked like a little girl, then she was herself again. “Whatever, Mom. So what’s the deal? Any news from the lawyers? Or are they still milking you dry? You know I’ve got registration next month. It’s my junior year.”

“You hope, kid.”

“You don’t have everything arranged yet?”

“The lawyers can’t get you out of jail. Neither can the U.S. embassy. You have to go to trial. They’re still working on getting access to the bank funds, but I’m having problems with the power of attorney. And I’m running out of money because I’ve been making your parents’ payroll.”

“But I thought you told me Jordan Castillo was our ticket out of here,” Dorian cried.

“I said maybe, sis. And he can’t do us any good if he’s dead. Someone’s trying to kill him. I—”

Tanya interrupted, muttering something negative. Aurora felt her own temper rise.

“I’m doing my best. And skip the tough-girl act with me, Tanya,” Aurora spat out. “I was on my own and self-supporting when I was sixteen. And