school. Dorian and Tanya had been given no news of Gerald. U.S.-Mexico relations were friendly except when it came to the fight against illegal drugs. No smuggler of any nationality crossing the border in either direction was shown mercy. Nor would a sixteen-year-old’s act of rebellion—growing cannabis in laid-back Southern California be excused in Mexico.
Even more of a problem, Gerald’s business—a small but lucrative computer-chip manufacturer—was ripe for the picking by any bigger corporation. Without Gerald to run the business and Dorian to keep the books, funds were tied up and the handful of employees understandably nervous. Aurora had made the last two payrolls from her own bank account. She earned a good living, but her pockets couldn’t hold out forever. There was another payday next week. After that, Aurora would be scraping the bottom of the barrel herself. Sadly, the astronomical legal fees she’d paid out so far had been totally unproductive.
She couldn’t keep the family’s business solvent much longer. She had no money left to salvage the San Rafael on her own, either. But she’d found a single gold medallion at the wreck, and her salvager’s instinct told her there was more. That could mean millions in profit, millions she and Jordan would share—once he agreed to a partnership. The key to your freedom is Jordan Castillo—if I can keep him alive…And if you and Tanya and Gerald will work with me.
Sadly, that was easier said than done. Aurora’s family considered her the proverbial black sheep, and consequently they didn’t have the best relationship.
Following the dictates of her heart, she’d run away from home to join a salvage crew and dive in Florida when she was sixteen. No one had ever forgiven her. Her parents still talked about how she’d broken her mother’s heart and given her father his ulcer those two years before she turned eighteen and finally visited them.
“Too many bad memories,” fifteen-year-old Dorian had taken pleasure in telling Aurora back then. “Phone calls to and from the police, the FBI, relatives, your friend Donna. Mom said she can’t bear to look at the old place—let alone celebrate your eighteenth birthday. You don’t deserve a party, they said, and I agree. Bad enough I end up with Mom and Dad becoming my jailers after you ran away. Now I lose my house, thanks to you! And maybe my friends and my school.”
“What?” Aurora hadn’t believed her parents could sell the family home.
“They’re talking about leaving California for good. This is all your fault.” The bitterness in Dorian’s voice had taken Aurora by surprise.
Their parents hadn’t even waited until Dorian graduated from high school before selling the family home to the first decent bidder and moving into a rented condo.
“Dorian, I never meant to hurt you,” Aurora had said during that shocking conversation.
“You’re off on some grand adventure while I’m here with Mom and Dad. All they talk about is you. Finding you, missing you, wondering about you. I’m nothing. It’s all your fault. And now that they’ve found you, they can’t stand to see you. They want to move to Arizona. Do you know how far away Arizona is?”
“Dori, I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
“You didn’t even tell me goodbye,” Dorian had sobbed. “Some sister you are, Aurora. I hate you! I wish you’d never come back.”
The relationship between the sisters hadn’t improved as the years went on. Their parents did move to Arizona, leaving Dorian at a California college, living in a dorm. When Dorian got married, Aurora had been out at sea, unable to return for the swiftly arranged wedding—something else Dorian held against her. The same had occurred with Tanya’s birth. Then, to everyone’s horror, Tanya grew up resenting her mother’s unrelenting bitterness over Aurora’s effect on her life.
Tanya felt neglected by her own mother, and became a rebellious, angry teen who couldn’t be managed. At every attempt to correct her behavior, she replied, “I’m going to be just like Aurora. She did what she wanted when she was sixteen, and I intend to do the same.”
Dorian had convinced herself and her parents that Aurora’s bad example was the cause of Tanya’s problems. Gerald had tried to make peace, saying Tanya’s behavior should be blamed on Tanya herself, not Aurora. That had caused more strain in the family and the marriage in particular.
Finally Aurora had decided to stay away from them all, save for birthdays and holidays—and then only if she was invited. Her parents made new friends in Arizona, Dorian and Gerald closed ranks, Tanya was forbidden to associate with her aunt, and Aurora had sadly realized that her need for independence would continue to cost her dearly.
I don’t care, she told herself daily. If I had it to do over again, I would. She’d known how she wanted to spend her life since she’d first learned to swim. When opportunity came, she’d begged her parents to let her join the Florida salvage team—a group of divers she’d met at a dive site she frequented in those days. They’d refused. She knew she might never have another chance like this; she knew she was ready.
Mom and Dad saw me as a child, but even then I was an adult. I was sure what I wanted. After all these years, why can’t they understand that? Or at least forgive me? Must they spend the rest of their lives blaming me for all the family’s problems?
I love them. I always have. And now I’ll probably be blamed for Tanya’s ending up in jail. And everyone wonders why I keep to myself.
But this was one time she couldn’t run away—one time she couldn’t ignore her ties to family.
I’m the only one left to help—if I can.
Tijuana Women’s
Jail One hour later
THE RADIO STATION blared Spanish rush-hour reports as Aurora pulled into the bumpy, potholed parking lot at the women’s prison. Dirty diapers and ant-covered fast-food wrappers littered the ground, while rusting vehicles of dubious colors crowded the lot. Aurora climbed out of her shiny, late-model truck with her diving and salvage-service logo and phone number painted on the sides. She carefully locked the doors, but as added insurance held a five-dollar bill in the air. Instantly she was surrounded by a swarming horde of Mexican boys of various ages and sizes.
Aurora let the largest of the bunch push his way through, and gave him the money. “Another five if I come out and my truck is still safe,” she said in smooth, California-school Spanish.
“Sí, señora—señorita,” the boy correctly substituted, obviously noticing no wedding ring on Aurora’s finger. “Truck, tires, all safe,” he said in English.
“Antenna and windshield wipers, too,” Aurora added, pushing through the throng of clamoring children. She gave the smaller children 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 to 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?”