“I did what I did, I don’t make no excuses,” he said. “It wasn’t about anything but money. It was small-time, I don’t want to hurt no one. But then…then it became about hurting people. By then I was in too deep to bounce off. I was doomed, man. Doomed.” Odessa noticed that, despite his reluctance to talk, judging by the depth of his self-analysis, he had obviously been thinking about this for quite some time. “When you think you’re already damned, all bets are off, right? It’s just a matter of time. Some of the guys I knew, they were into Palo. It made sense. Like a protective aura. Worked out for me, ’cause I got out of jams I should never’ve gotten away from. It helped me get ahead. Then I…I met someone who said I could go even further. Supernatural powers. They wanted a grave dug up. They said the body was a saint’s. A little girl with magical healing powers. So I did the deed. Me and another dude, we got high and did it. And that was that—but it wasn’t. There was a ceremony using the bones and shit. It was too intense for me, you know? Too…what do you call it? When you play with religion, but you play too hard?”

“Sacrilegious?” she said. “Blasphemous?”

He nodded. “I took off. I just split. It all came crashing down on me. Since that night, it felt like someone put a curse on me, a mark. My good-luck run was over. I messed with the wrong stuff.”

“Who was it?” asked Odessa. “Who came to you with the idea for digging up Baby Mia’s grave?”

“Nah. See, I can’t do that, I won’t. I’m out now. I want to stay out. I got to stay out. You walk in here saying, We just want to know this and that. No, you don’t just want that. You want me to put my neck on the line…”

“We’ll protect you,” Odessa said. “I can vouch for that.”

“No one can,” Mauro said. “I talk, I’m dead.”

He shook his head firmly. The room lights went out.

Mauro headed for the timer.

Then he heard the rustling again.

In the laundry bin—more forceful this time. Like something about to rise out.

Odessa heard it. Mauro became incredibly agitated again.

Blackwood stood still, no expression.

Mauro wanted to leave, but he was unable.

The sheets moved again.

Mauro said, “You ain’t no cop.” He regarded Blackwood with a mixture of hatred and terror. To Odessa, he said, “What’d you bring on me?”

Blackwood said, “Tell us where to go next, and we can all leave.”

“Evil,” whispered Mauro, shaking his head at Blackwood. He hissed more words in Spanish, which Odessa did not understand.