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A gentleman, thought Grace—unlike a certain Navy SEAL she’d encountered recently.
“Has she brought in the therapy horses yet?”
“She has just one horse that I know of.”
“That’s our old horse, Otis.” Grace sat back, locking her cold hands together. “You must think I’m an awful sister leaving her at a time like this.” Guilt pinched her belatedly.
The agent’s auburn eyebrows quirked. “You mean, with her baby due so soon.”
“No, I mean with her starting all over again.”
Fitz nodded slowly.
Grace searched his curious expression. “You don’t know about Jerry, do you?”
The agent stilled. “What about Jerry?”
“He was killed in a drug sting. You knew he was a state police officer, right?”
Fine lines appeared on Fitz’s forehead. “Yes, when was this?”
“It was January, so—seven months ago. Faith didn’t even know she was pregnant. She sold their house and bought my parents’ home. That was something she and Jerry had always planned to do, to have a hippotherapy ranch.”
A taut silence followed her words. Grace sensed that she’d caught the agent utterly by surprise, but it was hard to tell as his pleasant demeanor scarcely changed.
“Excuse me.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “I need to have a word with the pilots. Can I get you anything? More milk?”
“No thanks.” His polite retreat failed to disguise the fact that her words had shaken him. Yet, he could not have been close friends with Faith and not known about her situation, so why would he be upset?
Thoughts of Mateo edged aside her curiosity. As grief impaled her again, she turned her stricken face to the window, grappling with the terrifying suspicion that she’d lost yet another son forever.
* * *
Without Grace noticing, Fitz slipped into the small lavatory behind the cockpit and leaned against the door as he locked it.
A confusing mélange of emotions swirled inside of him. Faith hadn’t said one word about Jerry’s death. The fact that she had focused on her sister’s needs rather than bring up her own only confirmed what he’d already deduced about her. She was a selfless soul, always putting others first.
Guilt nipped at him. How could he have spent fifteen minutes in her company and not suspected? The dark circles under her eyes weren’t solely caused by worry for her sister but also worry for her children’s future. For her own. She had steered the conversation away from herself for a reason. She hadn’t wanted him to concern himself with her.
But how could he not be concerned? He, more than most, knew what it was like to lose a loved one—four of them, in his case. In the blink of an eye, his world had been forever changed.
At least he could return Faith’s sister to her, unharmed, though unhappy. Senior Chief McLeod had sketched him a quick summary of how they’d had to tear a young boy from her arms, the boy she was working to adopt, of course. Perhaps there was something Fitz could do to help reunite them, although he didn’t know what that would be.
He also didn’t know what he would say to Faith the next time he saw her. I’m so sorry you lost your husband.
Don’t say anything, Fitz. Just give her a hug.
It was Mary, his late wife’s voice, sounding in his head. Ever since her death, his conscience had taken on the sound of her voice—probably because, in life, Mary had always known what was right and good. He’d made decisions based on her counsel. Without her, he’d been a rudderless ship.
But this advice was unwanted. Hugging Faith would signal a willingness to know her better, and that was never going to happen because he didn’t do relationships. All he did was work, and that brought him sufficient satisfaction. He didn’t need to complicate his existence or leave his heart vulnerable to yet another tragedy.
* * *
Amos stared at the patina of moonlight shining on the ceiling of the barracks of the installation belonging to Colombia’sAgrupación de Fuerzas Especiales Antiterroristas Urbanas, located twenty-nine klicks northwest of Bogotá. His inability to sleep had nothing to do with his work there, nor the constant drone of insects audible through the high screened windows, nor even the occasional volley of gunfire, as Colombia’s government battled to push drug lords out of the capital. It was the memory of Grace Garrett’s heartbreak.
He couldn’t get her out of his head. Even with her hair matted, her eyes swollen, and her nose running, he’d been struck by something ferociously beautiful in her. It wasn’t just her physical appearance, which had appealed to him from the moment he’d admired her photo. It was her fighting spirit and the depth of her commitment to a little boy she hadn’t even given birth to.
Had Amos’s ex-wife ever loved Simon like that?
