His hair is ebony. His skin is ruddy brown. He is unmistakably Mayan, even at eight months. They call him Acito, or little turtle. In fact, he seems to be as hard-shelled as his animal-spirit namesake. Lucky for him, because he's just survived a near-fatal poisoning. The lab analysis reveals that the toxin found in Acito's body is a rare, deadly herb that has to be carefully cultivated, harvested, and stored. There is no doubt that someone was trying to kill the child. As she pulls strings and makes deals to place Acito in a loving home, Bo must ask herself the unthinkable: who would want to murder a little Indian baby? Could it be the seemingly modest Latino couple paid to care for him? Or his elusive mother, an exotic folk singer clawing her way to the top of the Mexican music scene? Or the strange yanqui hillbilly who performs with her? And where - and who - is Acito's father? Finally, what could possibly be the motive? Despite the not entirely unwelcome distraction of a love affair, Bo pursues a trail of misty clues to the Mexican border town of Tijuana. Here her instincts - and the heightened perceptions that ever haunt and guide her - direct her into a seething brew of drugs and prostitution, stealth, and ambition. But ancient traditions and evil spirits hover over the case, even when Bo escapes to the desert to seek solace from her own demons. And they will lead her to the answers she seeks...in the lair of an obsessed and duplicitous killer.