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PROLOGUE
VENEZUELA, PRESENT DAY
The classroom door burst open, startling Grace Garrett as she stood at the chalkboard instructing ten indigenous children on how to read. Peter Doyle, the Irish missionary she had worked with both last summer and this one, summoned her from the doorway with a harried blue gaze. His towering stature and beaked nose reminded her of Liam Neeson. He even had the same charming accent.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you.”
Grace glanced toward her waiting pupils. “Right now?”
“It’s urgent.”
His breathless tone underscored the words, causing her to cast an eye at the four-year-old she was working to adopt. Mateo had stopped his drawing to stare at them.
“Maria?” Summoning the brightest student to the front of the room, Grace handed her the chalk and told her to play teacher for a few minutes. Then she slipped into the hallway, leaving the door cracked to keep one eye on the kids. “What’s up?”
“I’m afraid I’ve got unpleasant news. A friend in the British Embassy just informed me that the National Army has orders to arrest any and all Americans. This is happening all over Venezuela, not just here.”
A chill skittered over Grace, though the news wasn’t unexpected. Ever since four so-called mercenaries—aka CIA agents—had tried to assassinate President Maduro, then escaped from prison with the help of American Special Operators, the Venezuelan dictator had been bent on revenge, putting every American in his country behind bars. “All Americans? Even missionaries?”
“Yes, all.”
Peter’s grim tone speared Grace with alarm. All at once, she knew why. “They know where to find me. I provided the customs officials with your address.” She clamped her fingers around the doorjamb as the floor seemed to tilt. “And there’s an Army base right near here!”
Peter laid a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. I’m going to the port now to find a fisherman who’ll take us across the river to Colombia.”
“Us?” There wasn’t any point to mentioning her fear of water.
“You, Amanda, and I,” he said, including his wife. “I doubt the soldiers will be any friendlier to Irish nationals harboring an American.”
“I won’t leave Mateo,” she warned him. “He’s coming, too.”
Peter’s countenance softened at the panic in her voice. “Of course. I’m going now to prepare for our exodus. Be ready to leave at any moment.”
“But…who’ll care for the orphans while we’re gone?”
“Padre Tomás will watch over them. He did so before when we made a trip back to Ireland.”
Grace nodded. Could she legally take Mateo from his native country when his dossier wasn’t yet complete? “I’m so sorry, Peter, for causing you all this trouble.”
The words fell woefully short. Not only had the Doyles given her room and board two summers in a row, but now they were risking their very lives for her.
“It’s not your fault, Grace. Best advise your sister, but no more phone calls. There’s only one wireless provider in this country. It’s easy enough to discover who’s calling the United States. Send her a WhatsApp message. That should be secure.”
She nodded. “I will.”
Her thin voice must have betrayed her fear, for he stopped and caught her eye. “It’ll be all right, Grace. God will protect us.”
She nodded again, wishing that were true. But God had given her a stillborn son instead of a healthy baby boy, and then He’d let her marriage fall apart. If God had wanted to protect her, she wouldn’t be in Venezuela now, in danger of imprisonment.
After a steadying breath, Grace went back to the classroom where Maria had added four more words on the board, similar to the first.
“Very good, darling.” Grace spoke to her in Spanish, though the indigenous language, Wayúu, was her first tongue. “You’re a natural-born teacher.”
As she took the chalk back from Maria, Grace glanced protectively at Mateo, who seemed to sense a change was in the air. His dark, worried gaze tugged at her heartstrings.
Don’t fret, my darling. I won’t go anywhere without you.
CHAPTER1
