The drug had done its work; his fingers lay slack and unresponsive, and for a moment I feared he had slipped too far under to hear me at all.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whispered to him.

“I’m not a detective or a lawyer or anyone important.

I’m a maid with a baby.

But I know what I saw, and I know what it means, and I am telling you now: I am not going to let them kill you.

Whatever it takes.

I am not going to let them do this to you.” It was a reckless promise for a person in my position to make, a woman with no money and no power and a child who depended on my keeping this very job.

But I made it, and I meant it with my whole heart.