>“He wasn’t lying,” I said, turning my gaze away from him to look up at the ceiling. The IV tape itched on my right wrist. The beeping of the monitors seemed loud and claustrophobic. My legs and lower back were stiff from lying down for so long. I felt like punching Hernandez in his fake empathetic frown.

“Why do you say that, Seniorita Riviera?” Hernandez asked, holding his gaze.

“You wouldn’t understand if I told you,” I explained, “it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“Seniorita, please,” Hernandez pleaded, “This is a very important investigation. I urge you not to withhold information.”

“The information is irrelevant to your case,” I said, turning back to look at him, “and nothing you can do will bring him b...

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