Chapter 20 Daniela
DANIELA
I sleep.
For a few hours, I sleep in a guestroom in the main house. I didn’t want to go to my mother-in-law suite. Not when so much is going on. I wanted to be close to Vinnie and Raven.
Close to Belinda.
I would have slept in her bed if the cops hadn’t asked us not to disturb anything.
I wake to light and an ache behind my eyes. For one suspended heartbeat I don’t remember, and then everything lands—Belinda, the note, the grainy video, the Chef from Colombia with somebody else’s name.
And Hawk.
Who I haven’t heard from.
I wipe the thought from my mind.
Too much else to think about. I’m on my feet before the blanket finishes slipping off. Down the hall, down the stairs. I aim for Vinnie’s office when Raven steps out of the kitchen and blocks me with a shake of her head.
“Vinnie’s locked in,” she says. “He started two hours ago. Colombia files, travel manifests, staff rosters from your father’s estate. He left instructions. Unless it’s Belinda or a fire, he’s not to be disturbed.”
“Then I’ll start working on my own,” I say, moving left, but she slides with me.
“Not yet,” she says. “You and I are going to the courthouse. We’re going to talk to the judge who handled the dissolution of your marriage to Vinnie. Or we’re going to find the local DHS office. We’re going to figure this out.”
My mouth goes dry. “Raven—”
“You can’t help Belinda from Bogotá,” she says, voice low and even. “We handle this now. Then we come back and you can tear the walls down.”
I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose and count to five. “Fine,” I say. “Five minutes.”
“Perfect. And grab those papers Officer Patel gave you. We need to show them everything.”
I splash water on my face, change my shirt, brush my hair. The mirror shows a woman I recognize and don’t—eyes swollen at the edges, jaw set, a line of determination cutting through exhaustion.
Move, I say to myself. Solve one thing so you can solve the next.
Raven drives while I scroll through photos of Belinda I don’t need to see to remember. At a stoplight, I text Hawk: Going downtown with Raven. TPS mess. Call if anything breaks.
Three dots pulse, disappear. Nothing.
We arrive at the courthouse, and my pulse starts to hammer.
The last time I was here, I was nearly killed by a grenade hiding in a teddy bear.
Breathe in, out, in.
I’ve been through worse. I can get through this.
We don’t wait at a window. Raven walks us straight to the clerk’s office with the kind of stride that assumes compliance and usually gets it. “Judge Bernadette Matthews, please.”
“Is she expecting you?” the clerk asks.
“She will be in ten seconds,” Raven says, already handing over a card. “I’m Raven Bellamy and this is Daniela Agudelo.”
The clerk eyes it and then stands. “Just a moment, please.”
“What did you give her?” I ask.
“Vinnie’s card. Judge Matthews works with the Gallo family. She’s a trusted friend.”
I blink a few times. “Right. I guess I knew that. It’s how Vinnie was able to get our divorce so quickly.”
The clerk returns. “Judge Matthews can see you, but she’s due in court in an hour.”
“That will be plenty of time,” Raven says with a smile. “Thank you so much”—she glances at the nameplate—“Judy.”
Judy nods. “You’re welcome. Follow me, please.”
The judge’s chambers is exactly how I remember it—warm and quiet with dark wood paneling, shelves packed with legal volumes, and an oversized mahogany desk.
“Ms. Bellamy,” Judge Matthews says to Raven. “Ms. Agudelo.” She tilts her head. “You look like women who don’t have time to be here.”
“We don’t,” Raven says. “And we’re grateful you were able to see us so promptly.”
The judge gestures to the chairs. “Sit. Tell me quickly.”
Raven looks to me. “Dani, go ahead.”
I clear my throat. “When I was here getting the divorce from Vinnie, you said that Federal law states that if you were a victim of a severe form of trafficking, you may be allowed to stay in the United States. You need to have suffered past harm that was so severe it would be cause for ‘extreme hardship’ were you to return home.”
She nods slowly. “Yes, I did say that. And it’s the truth.”
“Well…I was visited by someone from DHS, Officer Leona Patel.” I hand her the papers. “She told me they determined that there’s insufficient evidence that I face danger if I’m removed to Colombia. That my temporary protected status was revoked and I could be deported at any time.”
Judge Matthews flips through the documents, her expression flattening with every page. By the fourth sheet she snorts. At the last, her mouth goes sharp.
“This is garbage.” She taps the corner of the top page. “Wrong seal. Wrong signature block. No case number where you’d expect it, and the templating still uses Dear Respondent in the salutation.” She smirks. “DHS doesn’t template like that anymore. They haven’t in years.”
Cold relief slides through me so fast I sway. “So my status—?”
“Stands,” she says, already at her computer.
“I entered it myself. It’s in the system.
It hasn’t even been reviewed by DHS yet.
If anyone pulled it, there’d be a trail.
I see nothing of the sort, which means no one pulled it.
” She continues to type. “I’m flagging your file.
If anything changes, we’ll be notified. But nothing should change.
You can work and remain here in town while you pursue permanent residence. ”
I grip the chair arm. “Thank you,” I manage.
Raven leans forward. “Your honor, could there have been a clerical hiccup? Some federal—”
“No,” Judge Matthews says. “If two agencies want to fight, they fight with memos and jurisdictional chest-thumping, not with a woman in a suit at a private residence after business hours.”
I close my eyes. The scene on the porch snaps back in brutal high-definition—badge flash, flat tone, the smell of panic.
“Besides,” the judge says, “I know everyone at our local DHS office, and I’ve never heard of Leona Patel. What did she look like?”
“Thirty-something,” I say. “She wore a dark suit—I think it was navy blue—with a silver badge. Her hair was dark and twisted back.” I shake my head. “She seemed professional. Like she’d done it a thousand times.”
“She’s done something a thousand times,” the judge says dryly.
She swivels to her printer and grabs a form.
“I’ll draft a judicial notice confirming your status and the authenticity of my prior order.
If anyone bothers you again, you carry this like a shield.
You keep a copy with any employer. You hand one to any officer who thinks he can bark louder than the law. ”
My heart lifts and then stutters.
Raven sees it. “What?”
I look down at my hands. “Why,” I ask slowly, “would someone build a fake case so flimsy a judge could spot it from across the room?”
“Because they’re sloppy,” Raven says immediately. “Because they underestimated you. Because criminals are idiots.”
I shake my head. The answer is a stone dropping through a well. The splash hits my gut. “No,” I whisper. “Because the paper wasn’t the point.”
Raven straightens. “Dani—”
“They wanted me out of the house,” I say. “Not for good. Just for a few hours. Enough to move, to watch, to plant, to take—”
I’m already on my feet. The judge stands too.
“Ms. Agudelo,” she says, voice firm. “Breathe. Tell me who they are.”
“We don’t know yet,” Raven answers for me. “But we know it’s not DHS.”
The judge nods once. “Go,” she says, handing me another paper. “Take your notice. And if this person returns, you call 911 first and my chambers second. Here’s my personal number.”
“Thank you,” Raven says, and then we’re moving—out past the clerk, through the metal detector, and outside into the air.
Raven jogs to keep pace with me as I sprint for the car. “Slow down,” she says, but she hits the unlock button twice and we’re both in, doors slamming.
“What are you thinking?” she asks as she peels away from the curb.
“That we were watched,” I say, the seat belt biting my collarbone. “That Patel was a puppet. That while we stood in the foyer arguing about immigration, someone took notes on how long it took us to panic and how fast the police showed up.”
Raven’s jaw tightens. “Vinnie’s cameras would have picked up anyone casing the house.”
“Unless they were already inside,” I say. “Patel was inside.”
Raven exhales. “I hate this.”
“Me too.”
“We need to get home,” Raven says. “Now.”
I nod.
Someone wanted me out of the house.
I am not leaving again.