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“He doesn’t have any playthings yet.”
“Emma. I told you, help yourself to anything. I don’t mind in the least. Now, where is Grace?”
To his rising concern, she didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she came out of her chair and plucked up Carter, who was crawling in Amos’s direction. Amos waited. A tide of suspicion rose ever higher as Emma held the baby in front of her.
Wetting her lips nervously, she met his gaze. “She left for the airport earlier this afternoon.”
The boat seemed to list under his feet. Amos widened his stance as incredulity, frustration, and stark fear spiraled through him. “To go where?”
He didn’t need to ask. Emma’s quiet response gave voice to the destination he was envisioning.
“Venezuela.”
His knees jittered, but he didn’t sit down. Instead, he scrubbed his eyes with one hand while fisting the other to keep from rattling off a blue streak that would have left Emma thinking he had lost his mind. He certainly felt in danger of losing it.
Dropping his hand, he met her wary expression and growled, “Thank you for telling me. We’re going out to dinner soon.”
With a swift about-face, he went back down the stairs, noticed the boys were on shore, setting the crab free, and let himself back into his houseboat, where he paced the length of the living area, biting out the words crowding his mouth.
When he could finally think clearly enough to articulate a message, he fetched his new cell phone and stared at it for a second. Unless Grace had access to Wi-Fi, she wouldn’t get regular texts. Did he remember the FBI agent saying something about WhatsApp? Still breathing hard and with fingers that trembled slightly, Amos downloaded the app for himself and added Grace to his contacts before preparing to send her a message.
He thought a moment, wanting to say the right thing.Grace, I am without words. That you could put your life so casually at risk when you mean so much to me and to Simon is appalling. Please respond when you arrive. If you need help, I will find a way.
With a sharp exhalation, he sent her the message. Perhaps he should have told her earlier how much she had come to mean to him. Would that have made any difference? He doubted it. A part of him wanted to hate her for abandoning him the way Candace had. But she was nothing like Candace. She wasn’t stealing his son; she was going to fetch her son-to-be. He, more than anyone, understood her need to recover Mateo, regardless of the risk. No, he couldn’t blame her.
But the enormity of what she was up against, traveling into a country at war, sent him to his knees. He dropped down next to the love seat, clasped his hands over the arm at one end, and prayed fervently and with all his heart for her and for Mateo’s safety.
Perhaps there was still something he could do, as he was heading shortly to the northern coast of that same country. Maybe God knew something he didn’t know. All Amos could do was trust that to be true. “Please, Father. Be with the both of us.”
* * *
It was nearly midnight local time when the small commuter aircraft, Grace’s third flight of the day, finally touched down on the tiny airstrip in Ayacucho. As it came to a shuddering halt on an airstrip hatched out of the jungle and illuminated with bright lights, she unlatched her seat belt and reached for the backpack lying on the adjacent seat. One of only two passengers on board, Grace was stepping off the plane in minutes. The moist air, slightly cooler than back home, told her at once she was in equatorial Venezuela, where the wet season brought temperatures down into the sixties at night.
The urge to pinch herself was overwhelming.Is this a dream?But the pungent, humid fragrance of the Amazon assured her she was here. Wide awake in anticipation of a threat, she peered about the brightly lit tarmac before following the stoop-shouldered businessman toward the tiny terminal building.
There was no sign of a war here, thank God. The jungle, a black shadow of dense foliage encircling them was alive with the constant buzz of insects and what could have been the snarling of a jaguar in the distance. God willing, she could grab Mateo and they would fly out together in the morning, headed to Bogotá, Colombia, to get his American visa.Easy, peasy.
With only a change of clothing and Mateo’s papers in her backpack, the customs official had little to inspect. He studied her passport and pointed out the near-to-expiring visa. She nodded her awareness, provided the Doyle’s address as her destination, and was duly admitted into the country. Just a few weeks ago, security would have had her arrested at the president’s behest. But Maduro had far larger matters to contend with now.
Exiting the airport’s main doors, Grace faltered at the sight of the empty taxi lane. She stood on the curb a moment, staring up the dark road, keenly aware of Mateo’s proximity. In just minutes, she could be holding him.
The other passenger, a local, had already departed. If only there were a way to contact Peter, but they communicated exclusively by email. He knew she was arriving sometime tonight, but she’d assumed she could just grab a taxi, which proved not to be the case. With a steadying breath, she stepped off the curb and started up the road toward town. It did not take long for the lights behind her to fade. As the road curved away from the airport, darkness swallowed her. The sounds emanating from the dark foliage on either side pinned her ears back.
Over the flow of her breath, the drone of insects, and the sound of her rapid footfalls came a sound that made her stop and listen. There were several voices now, accompanied by the patter of running feet. Was she about to be arrested after all? With her heart jumping up her throat, Grace stepped swiftly off the road and tucked herself into the first branches she encountered.
Four or five men, furtive and fleet-footed, dressed in what looked like fatigues, tore past her, coming from the same direction as she was. Seconds later, the unmistakable sound of truck doors opening and closing told her they’d jumped into a parked truck. Its motor rumbled to life. Twin beams shot through the darkness, strafing the area directly in front of her as the vehicle made a U-turn and peeled away.
Its haste left Grace paralyzed in her hiding spot. Who were those men, and what had they been up to that compelled them to flee? Her pulse echoed off her eardrums. Suddenly, a terrific explosion rent both the silence and the darkness, shaking the soil under her feet as it lit the sky. Then came another and another. Grace crouched instinctively, covering her ears. Through her slitted eyes, she beheld brilliant lights flaring in the direction of the airport. God have mercy! Those men had just sabotaged Ayacucho’s little airport. Whether planes were being taken out or the runway itself rendered unusable, she couldn’t tell. All she knew for certain was that she and Mateo wouldn’t be flying out of the country that way tomorrow.
Fueled with adrenaline, Grace stepped back onto the road and ran. God forbid she get blamed for setting the charges! She had to get away before the explosions summoned a response. At least she could see before her, as blazing fires brightened the sky.
Whoever the soldiers were, whether with Maduro or the rebels, they were gone now. With a stitch in her side and her lungs sawing, she arrived at the edge of town, having encountered no one to impede her progress. The city was plunged into darkness. Not a single light shone in any window, suggesting the electrical grid had been compromised, as well as the airfield. The buzz of a few generators replaced the hum of insects.
There had to be a curfew, as well, for the streets were deserted, causing the heels of her boots to sound in the post-apocalyptic silence. Eyes peeled for patrol guards, she hugged the sides of the buildings as she made her way closer and closer to Peter’s home, ever guided by the white steeple ofCatedral de María Auxiliadorathat rose over the rooftops, a crucial landmark.
Skirting the eerily empty Plaza Bolívar, she made her way up the cobbled street in the colonial quarters to Peter’s home. She could not believe she was here, in the very spot she had dreamed of being for weeks now. With her heart thumping against her breastbone, she rapped her knuckles on the door just loud enough to be heard inside without announcing her presence to others.
Her pricked ears detected movement seconds before the lock released. Blue eyes peered through the cracked door before Peter swung it open, grabbed her firmly, and pulled her inside. In the next instant, he was embracing her, his heartbeat audible beneath her ear.
