“Such a nice friend,” her mom said with a smirk. “And Isha told me that there is this drug trafficking kingpin dude that will take us to a desert and demand ran- som for us and—” “No more nonsense, Paloma,” her mom said in a stern voice. “Let’s just wait over there by that little store.” As Paloma followed her mom, she scanned the crowd, looking for anyone holding a sign with her mom’s name on it. But there were so many people. All of them hurried by, dragging luggage and speaking rapid-fire Spanish on cell phones. Paloma frowned. She felt stranded in a strange place. “Maybe they forgot us. Can you call someone?” Paloma said just as a man walked by, slowing down to glance at Paloma and her mom. Paloma tugged on her mom’s sleeve, but her mom was checking messages on her phone and didn’t notice. “Mom, there’s a guy staring at—” “Give me a minute, Paloma. The university left a voice mail.” The man looked back at Paloma before walking farther into the crowd. She felt her heart thump harder. Why had he looked back at her? Just like Lulu Pennywhistle, Paloma started making mental notes of the man’s appearance in case she needed to report him to the police. He was medium height, had black hair and a brownish complexion, and wore khaki pants, tan loafers, a green polo shirt, and a brown leather messenger bag. Suddenly, he turned to look at Paloma once again, and their eyes met. Paloma turned away quickly,
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