“She doesn’t have to keep staying with you. It’s incredible what you’ve done, taking her in, but you have to do what’s right for your family.”

“She’s our family now.”

“Okay. I only wanted to say it out loud in case you needed to hear it.”

Izabel wanted to say more, to tell her off, maybe, or at least to explain it better, this thing Opa didn’t seem to understand, about how Jana was part of Izabel’s family, about what that meant to Izabel. But Izabel was too tired. And then she remembered the dream. She remembered how close she was to holding her mother again. How she’d yelled at her instead. She started to cry.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Opa said.

“I had this dream.”

“That can be a side effect of the pill I gave you, too—vivid dreaming.”

“I didn’t like it.”

“If you were to keep taking it, that side effect would go away.”

“I don’t want to take it again.”

“I know, but you might change your mind. I can take you to your family now, if you’re ready. Inspector Paz is coming back soon to talk to you.”

Izabel stood up and felt woozy.

Opa said, “Can I tell you what I think?”

“About what?” Izabel said, unsure she wanted to hear anything Opa had to say after the last twelve hours they’d had together.

“About your idea,” Opa said. “Your trap.”

“Oh. Sure,” Izabel said.

Opa clenched and unclenched her jaw. “I want you to do it.”

“That’s not what I thought you would say.”

“It’s not what I should say, professionally. The psychologist in me says you should be careful of actions that give you a perceived sense of control. That control is often false and relying on it can be dangerous. When you find out that control isn’t real, you can feel more out of control than you did before. That’s a moment that can break you.”

“That’s comforting.”

“But,” Opa grabbed Izabel’s arm, “as someone who lives in this town with her family, her children, your idea sounds like it could work. We need something that works right now.”

It was the first time Opa and Izabel had touched. Izabel realized how few people she came into skin-to-skin contact with anymore. Not like in high school, when she held her friends, when they sat under each other’s arms, heads in each other’s laps, running their fingers through each other’s hair. Touching people was part of becoming an adult, but then it was given up in adulthood. It seemed unfair and illogical.

Izabel put her hand on Opa’s hand. “I’m going to do it,” she said.

    Chapter Twenty-Nine

Paz brought Andy with her to the hospital. They took Kaito and Izabel to a room where they could talk.