Solange was sitting up in bed, cross-legged. Spread across the sheets in front of her were what looked like hundreds of colorful Lego blocks. She was so engrossed in her play, she didn’t notice me until Jeannie spoke.

“Nice of you to pay us a visit this afternoon.” Jeannie was, I assumed, sitting on the same yellow chair, but her bulk hid all evidence of it. Her reading glasses were perched down her nose, and a flowery-covered novel lay on her lap.

“It took me a little longer than I thought.” Solange looked up and attempted a shy smile. On the floor, I saw the basket of toys Jeannie had evidently brought from her boys’ room. In addition to the Legos, there were trucks, a couple of stuffed animals, and a few picture books. I thought of how nice it would have been if I had thought to bring the girl a toy, too, but it hadn’t even occurred to me.

“Collazo’s already been here,” Jeannie said. Then she chuckled. “He was really pissed off that she still wouldn’t say anything to him or his translator. He gave up after about twenty minutes. Said I should tell you he wants to talk to you, wants to know if she’s said anything.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said I didn’t know if she was talking to you or not.” Solange watched Jeannie’s face, then turned to wait for my reply.

“That’s good.”

“Hey, it’s also true. And I did pass on the message that he wants to see you, so I’ve done my part.” She reached across and threatened to tickle Solange. “Right, kiddo?”

Solange grinned and covered her sides in self-defense. Evidently she and Jeannie had played this game before.

She looked like an entirely different child from the one I had plucked from the sea just twenty-four hours earlier.

“Have you talked to a doctor? Know anything about how she’s doing?”

Jeannie shook her head. “Aside from someone bringing her lunch and taking the tray away, I haven’t seen anybody. And, by the way, Solange did eat this morning, and kept it down, even though it was some kind of pukey-looking mystery meat. For what they charge, they could provide better food.”

“They probably wouldn’t tell us anything anyway. We’re not next of kin.”

“Ha! You want me to find out?” Not waiting for an answer, she heaved herself up from the chair. “I’ll be right back.”

I set my shoulder bag down on the rolling table that held a water pitcher, cleared aside some Legos, and sat on the foot of the bed. “Are you feeling better?”

She nodded slowly, her head lowered. She twirled one of her braids and played with the beads on the rubber bands at the ends. Someone had rebraided her hair and added the pretty beads. Everyone else seemed to know what to do for a little girl.

“I want to help you, Solange, but I need you to help me. Do you understand?”

She nodded again.

“What is your last name?”

Her eyebrows came together and her forehead wrinkled. Her lower lip jutted out.

“My name is Seychelle Sullivan. You are Solange ...” I motioned with my hand for her to fill in the silence.

She shook her head. “Seulement Solange.” She imitated my motion. “Solange ... non.”

“You don’t know your last name?”

Her shoulders lifted, but she kept her eyes lowered.

I switched tacks. “Can you tell me about the trip to America? Start with Haiti. Do you know the name of the town you lived in?”

“Cap Haitien.”

“Good. And you told me you lived with a family there, as a restavek.”

She lowered her eyes at the word restavek. It seemed to make her ashamed.

“Did you go to school in Cap Haitien?”

She shook her head and still did not lift her head to look at me.

“Who put you on the boat to America?”

“The bad man.” Her voice was barely audible.

“The bad man who killed Erzulie?”

She nodded.

“How did you meet him?”

“Water. I bring water to house. Bad man talk to Madame Maillot.”

“Who is she?”

“I work in Madame house.”

“Had you ever seen this man there before?”

“No.”

“So you came back with the water and he was there talking to Madame Mayo. Then what happened?”

“I wash baby Christophe. Madame say no. She send me away with the bad man.”

“He took you to the boat?”

Her head bobbed once. “Erzulie was there,” she said.

“Anyone else?”

“Bad man. Le Capitaine.”

“The bad man, he was the captain of the big boat?”

Her beads bounced as her head bobbed up and down.

I picked my shoulder bag off the table and reached inside to retrieve the sunglasses I’d found on the Miss Agnes. “Have you ever seen these glasses before?” I knew before I’d finished speaking that she recognized the glasses from the look in her eyes. “Solange?” She continued to stare at the little white skulls.

“Capitaine bawon samdi." She scrambled to the head of her bed, up on her pillows, trying to distance herself from the sunglasses and began making little squeaky, whining noises. She grabbed one of the pillows and tried to hide under it.

I put the glasses back in my shoulder bag. “Shhh. It’s okay. I don’t understand when you speak Creole, Solange. Did these belong to the captain of the big boat you were on with Erzulie?”

The curved black lashes fluttered several times and a fat tear slid from the corner of her eye, coursing a wet trail down her cheek. She nodded. “He say he take me to Papa, he say Papa want me—” Her rounded shoulders hitched up as she sucked in a quick breath. Her body looked like it was trying to curl into itself.

I slid up the bed, wrapped my arms around her shoulders, pressed her head against the curve of my neck, and rested my chin on her head. Her tiny body trembled with tight, convulsive sobs. As quickly as it had started, it stopped, and her breathing quieted back to a regular rhythm.

“Solange, I promise you, I will find your papa,” I whispered into the dark braids, knowing full well that in order to find her father, I would have to find a murderer first.

IX

When Jeannie returned, she opened her mouth to speak, but I raised my finger to my lips. I’d just finished tucking the sheet under Solange’s chin, and I was standing there admiring her eyelashes, so long that each one formed a perfect letter C. I motioned Jeannie to go out into the corridor, and it wasn’t until we were both outside the door that I saw what she had been about to tell me. She had a federal escort.

“Nice to see you again, Seychelle,” Rusty said, smiling so broadly that the creases at the corners of his eyes looked like the spokes of a wire wheel.

“Can’t really say the same, Rusty.” He was in civilian clothes today, faded jeans and black T-shirt, sockless, raggedy-looking boat shoes. It was difficult not to notice the way the T-shirt tapered down from those broad shoulders to his trim waist and how those weathered jeans wrapped his hips neatly in denim. It could have been really nice to see him if he wasn’t employed by U.S. Immigration.

“How’s our patient?” he asked, inclining his shaggy head toward the door to Solange’s room.

“Our patient? No, no, no, my friend. You have no claim on her.” I turned to Jeannie. “Were you able to find a doctor?”

“Finally, yes, after walking through miles of hospital corridors and continually getting directions that had me following yellow lines and blue lines all over this friggin’ hospital. But yes, eventually I found this lovely woman doctor, a little bit of a thing. She said the kid is doing great. Much better than should be expected, the doc said, because Solange was malnourished long before this whole boat trip even started. But there’s no need to keep her in the hospital, as long as she is eating and drinking on her own. Doc said she’d be willing to cut her loose this evening.”

“Good,” Rusty said. “We’ll take her into custody. Cases like this we usually send down to Miami to the Girls and Boys Town facility there.”