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The wordsthereanduniformidentified him as a New Englander.
Unwilling to thank him, she shuffled away from him, her legs tingling and reviving with every step. He was still watching her when she fumbled with the handle on the restroom door and pushed her way inside.
As the door thudded shut behind her, Grace met her reflection in the mirror—mussed hair, a puffy face, and red-rimmed eyes. She looked every bit as miserable as she felt.
With a fresh onslaught of tears, she twisted on the faucet and set about washing up. She would get through this, she promised herself. Even though God had turned his back on her, she would muddle through alone. And no matter who or what tried to get in her way, she wouldn’t rest until Mateo was back in her life, where he belonged.
* * *
Casey Fitzpatrick had to take the senior chief’s word that Grace Garrett was in the restroom.
McLeod had seemed all too happy to foist the woman off on someone else. “Good luck.”
Fitz eased into one of the many chairs and waited. This wing of Curaçao’s Hato International was used exclusively by U.S. and NATO forces. At the moment, the steel-and-glass terminal stood deserted. He didn’t know what to expect as the restroom door squeaked open. A woman identical to Faith, minus the baby bump, edged through the opening, and his breath caught. Her pale, exhausted countenance brought him quickly to his feet.
“Grace Garrett?” He didn’t know why he even asked. Who else would she be?
Beautiful brown eyes focused on him, then searched the room for the missing SEALs “Are you the FBI agent?”
“Yes. You can call me Fitz.” He tried to keep his gruff voice from scaring her.
“Where did the SEALs go?” The plastic sack she held fell to the floor as if too heavy for her to hold.
“Back to Colombia, where they’re training a counterterrorism force.”
The freckles dusting her nose stood starkly against her pasty complexion. Abandoning the sack, she stumbled toward the window, gazing at the spot where the helicopter had just taken off. She then sank onto the nearest seat, clearly devastated.
Fitz retrieved the sack before going to sit by her. If she were Faith, who knew him better, he would put a hand on her back to comfort her. Instead, he said, “I’m a friend of your sister’s.”
She spun on her seat to look at him. “Faith?”
“Yes. She’s been worried sick about you.”
The grief filming Grace’s eyes seemed to clear. “Is she okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine and very pregnant. She’s looking forward to having you home.”
“Home,” Grace repeated in a hollow voice.
“I have a plane waiting.” He nodded to the Cessna parked just outside the exit. “Is there anything you need before we go?”
Her attention dropped to the sack on the other side of him. “Just my clothes.”
He helped her to her feet and walked her to the exit.
* * *
As the twin engines sliced through the thin atmosphere over the Gulf of Mexico, Grace felt the effects of the tranquilizer waning. It might have been the sugar in the powdered donuts Fitz had set before her shortly after takeoff, but as they entered U.S. airspace, with the Mississippi River snaking far below them, she felt renewed enough to ask, “How, exactly, did Faith get the FBI and the Navy SEALs to yank me out of Venezuela?”
The attentive agent cast her a ghost of a smile. “The SEALs were my doing. But your sister gets points for persistence. She called my office six times asking for my help.”
Faith had never mentioned a friend in the Bureau, certainly not a well-dressed gentleman with short auburn hair and attractive features. “You must have known Jerry first.”
“No, actually. I met Faith when I came to the ER with a laceration in my neck.”
“Oh.” Her gaze darted to the scar above the lemon-yellow collar of his shirt. “So…” It was so hard to think coherently with thoughts of Mateo filling her mind. “How is Faith doing? Is the barn up yet?”
“The barn is up.” He put away the magazine he’d been flipping through and offered her his full attention.
