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Amara sighed heavily. “We flew into Carrasco. When we arrived in Montevideo, we probably flew over the house where my son is.” She felt oddly disconnected, likely a result of the emotional roller coaster she’d been dragged behind. She wondered if the ride was ever going to end.
Quint held her around the waist as they left the house and fled to the car. “It’s okay. It’s over. We’re finally going to get Hampton.”
Amara was afraid to take it for granted, but she didn’t say as much. She wished the car had wings.
Chapter Thirty Seven
AMARA AND QUINT WAITED IN the car outside Isabela’s home in Paso de Carrasco. Gabriela had described her cousin as a kind woman, but Gabriela worried that she would break under the pressure of trying to hide her emotions from them, being strangers. And so Gabriela had insisted it would be better if they stayed outside. Amara fought the deep desire to break into the house and snatch Hampton.
All Quint could do was hold her hand firmly in his. Since they’d arrived at Isabela’s house, an immense flood of emotions had poured through her. Her calm facade was slipping away with each passing moment that the front door remained closed.
She kept seeing flashes of the ugly scene on the cliff. No matter how badly Frederik had treated her, or what terrible things he’d done, she quaked at the memory of him throwing himself off the cliff. She still saw the black smoke and flaming cinders rising into the air.
Nothing could take away the impact of seeing Gabriela at the cliff, and Amara imagined herself in Gabriela’s place, mourning her son rather than her brother.
“Quint … at the cliff … it was so ghastly. All of it. I don’t know how …”
He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “He was a monster, but I know you cared for him once. Whether or not he was the man you thought he was, I can’t imagine having to see someone I once cared about do something like that.”
She passed a hand over her thick hair. “I hated him. I really did. I hated him before any of this happened. When he sabotaged my work, that was more than enough — and it’s only gotten worse. I’ll never forgive him. I can’t. But I never thought he would do anything like that. Even up to the last moment, I thought he was bluffing. I guess I never really knew him. And perhaps some of this was my own fault. He might’ve been all right if I had corrected some of the department gossip.”
“No. You heard Gabriela and her father. Frederik was ill. And dangerous, and off his meds, and his family was nowhere in sight. Let them deal with their guilt. You and I aren’t part of that.”
“You’re right. And then there’s all that money he threw away into the bonfire, Quint. I can’t wrap my head around it.”
“He was delusional, Amara. That money isn’t gone. The accounts are still there and I can still access them.”
“Seriously?”
“Of course. He was a scientist and believed he knew more about financial transfers than he did,” Quint said. “Had he lived, and somehow escaped the country, he might have been able to use some of it, but my people put default backups in place that Frederik didn’t know existed. The funds are retrievable.”
“Good, I’m glad to know he didn’t win in any way at all.” She sat heavily against the seat, leaning her head back. “I feel Hampton is close. Is that crazy? I just want to grab him and go home. Uruguay is a beautiful country, and someday, maybe I’ll have it in me to come back, but I don’t know how soon that’s going to be.”
Quint turned to her, a slight smile on his face. “Not to jinx our flight out, but I’d rather endure the crash again than go through anything we’ve gone through here again. Having made it through this, we can make it through absolutely anything. You’re an incredibly strong woman.”
“I thought earlier that you were my rock. My God. How much longer is Gabriela going to be in there?”
Quint looked out the side window. “We’ll give her a few more minutes.”
Amara studied the sprawling home. Signs of children were all around outside — toy vehicles, a short basketball net, a shallow pool. The lights inside were on, the faint, orange glow visible through gossamer draperies.
Gabriela had told them on the drive over that Isabela had been close to Frederik as children. She once lived in the Orlando villa as a child, but there was a rift between her parents and Frederik’s over the choice of her husband. That rift had never been healed, yet Isabela had been trusted with the care of the baby they believed to be Frederik’s child.
Perhaps, Gabriela had speculated, this tragedy would bring the family back together and make it whole in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. Perhaps something good could come of Frederik’s death.
When they’d arrived at the house, Isabela had stood in her doorway, backlit, her front in partial shadow. Her expression was stern, but it hardly seemed natural on her. Even down the driveway, it was obvious what sort of woman she was.
As it turned out, that would be all they ever saw of Isabela.
Amara and Quint swiveled in anticipation as the door of the house swung open. It was Gabriela, and she was holding a wriggling bundle. She waved them forward, urging them to get out of the car.
Amara shoved her door open, leapt out and dashed forward, Quint stepping aside to let her pass. She heard nothing but the sound of wind rushing by, the roar of excitement pulsing through her veins.
And then she was in front of a stricken Gabriela, and Amara’s heart stopped beating. Was he okay? Give me my baby, she thought. Give him. To. Me.
Gabriela passed the bundle over gently, and Amara pulled away the thin blanket. She couldn’t restrain her cries when she saw him.
Hampton. Her baby. Her life. And love.
