River of Secrets (8 page)

She looked startled. “Why do you ask that?”

“Call it intuition.”

“I just have a lot on my mind,” she said as she blew out a sigh. “Look, this may not be the best timing and I was going to wait until after the picnic to tell you, but I…”

“Hi, do you mind if I join you?” Jonathas asked, a camera swinging around his neck.

Juan mentally groaned at the interruption, but smiled up at the teen waiting beside the blanket, plate in hand. “Sure, have a seat.” He pointed to the camera. “So, are you the official picnic photographer?”

“Looks like it.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of a hobby of mine anyway. Anna gave me the equipment and told me to go to work.” He laughed and lifted the camera. “Smile.”

Juan grabbed Amy and pulled her close. Her clean, sweet scent made his head swim, but he managed to grin at the camera even as he enjoyed her closeness.

The picture taken, Jonathas sat back. Amy asked, “How are you handling this morning?”

Jonathas blew out a breath, his laughter fading. Juan wished she’d left it alone, but could tell she’d asked out of sincere concern. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was taking care of the cows, the next the jeep was driving down the road.”

Juan leaned in closer. Might as well take the opportunity to find out what he could. “Do you think someone followed you out there?”

“It’s possible,” Jonathas said around a bite of salad. “I wasn’t driving fast, and I always go around the same time every morning. Today, I was a little later than usual, but not too much.”

Amy nodded, “I don’t normally see you leave.”

“
Sim,
I know.” Jonathas looked at Juan. “You have made someone very mad. What have you done?”

“I wish I knew, Jonathas. I wish I knew.”

Amy crunched on a homemade potato chip and studied the crowd, her nerves unsettled. She felt watched, as if eyes followed her every move, but she couldn’t figure out why.

Several laughing, giggling children played on a makeshift waterslide. One of the relief workers squirted soap on the plastic to make it a faster ride. A young teenage girl got a running start and went headfirst down the sloping hill where spectators normally gathered to watch the baseball games. Today, it was the perfect place for a water slide. Her high-pitched scream brought a laugh to the other workers supervising the activity.

There was a dunking booth, a face-painting area, a pie-eating contest and other games adapted from the United States. The outer part of the ball field had been set up for a dodgeball game.

Amy had come to love the game, but today her heart wasn’t into playing. Keeping her senses attuned to the people around her, in case one of them was a killer ready to strike again, and trying to work up the courage to tell Micah his identity took all her energy. She was sure once he remembered her, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her. He’d only known her as a spoiled socialite, interested in shopping and partying. But not telling him was selfish, and she couldn’t put it off any longer.

She’d definitely tell him tonight.

“Hey, you want to play?” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

The half smile on his face drew an answering smile from her. “Nah. Why? Do you want to?”

“Looks kinda fun.”

Jonathas laughed. “It’s a great game. Come on.”

Giving in to the pressure, Amy grabbed Micah’s outstretched hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She could get used to the feel of his hand in hers. Easily. He held it as they jogged over to the field where the game was just getting started. Amy and Micah ended up on opposite teams. Jonathas stood beside her. Their teammate on the other end of the field lobbed the ball over the opposing team. The ball headed straight for Amy. She dodged it.

The child on the other side caught it, then reared back and let loose with a ball that beaned a young boy about nine years old in the shoulder. He gave a good-natured shrug on his way off the field.

The other team picked up the ball and tossed it back toward Amy’s team. Everyone scattered, letting the ball roll away. This time, Amy picked it up and, without hesitating, zinged it straight for Micah. It caught him smack in the stomach. The look of surprise sent her into gales of laughter. Then she felt the ball punch her lightly in the thigh. She was out. It wasn’t exactly American dodgeball, but it was fun.

This time Micah was laughing. “That’ll teach you to laugh at me.”

A snicker escaped from her. “It was worth it. You should have seen the look on your face.”

“Where’d you learn to throw like that?”

Immediately sadness replaced giddiness. Two and a half years ago, he would have never had to ask that question. He would have known. Smiling up at him, she hid the momentary twinge. “I was the pitcher on my high-school softball team. I had to sneak out to play.” She took a deep breath, decided to take a chance and said in a snooty voice, “My mother, Cecelia Graham, wife of Senator Graham, did not deem softball a sport worthy of her only daughter.” In her normal voice, she said, “Now, if I’d chosen ice-skating or an equestrian sport, that would have been all well and good.”

Micah took her hand again. “Your mother sounds like quite the character. Come on, let’s go get some dessert.”

Unfortunately, Micah had shown no recognition of her mother’s name.
Quite the character.
Yes, that was one way of putting it. Amy shoved the bitterness aside and felt a chill raise the hair on her neck. Subtly looking around, she noticed nothing out of place. Just fun and games. Why was she feeling so skittish? Doing her best to ignore the creepy sensations, yet staying alert for any suspicious activity, she followed Micah back to their spot.

Jonathas ended up walking back with them. Sitting on the blanket, Amy eyed her watch. She was running out of time. Soon, the picnic would be over and she’d need to have that talk with Micah.

Goose bumps danced along her nerve ends. She looked around, searching the familiar faces of each of the staff. Who held something against Micah? Who’d tried to kill him three times? And when would he or she strike again? Maybe here at the picnic? At that thought, she wondered if Micah should have stayed away. Would his presence here be a threat to the safety of the others? Or should they have simply asked for extra security to be available? Micah was obviously the target. Surely, no one would try anything with this crowd. She shuddered and prayed the person would just keep his or her distance. Just knowing that someone was out there put a damper on the afternoon. That, and the fact that she had to tell Micah who he was.

Looking up, she saw Salvador working, cleaning up in the aftermath of the picnic. Anna had said she offered him the day off, encouraging him to join in the fun, but he’d refused, not wanting to give up the day’s wages. Amy watched him wipe down the picnic tables and empty the trash into a plastic tub. He seemed to take pride in his work.

Occasionally, he would look up and watch them talking. Amy smiled at him and he nodded. Carlita wandered into the area, spied Amy and made a beeline toward her. The little girl tapped Amy’s leg, as though asking permission to sit in her lap. Shock, then joy, zipped through Amy at the overture of affection, and she pulled the child up into her arms.

Salvador stopped cleaning, and his eyes went wide. Shocked him, too, apparently. Carlita snuggled her bunny under her chin and laid her head on Amy’s shoulder. Within minutes, she was asleep. She acted a lot younger than six years old, most likely due to the trauma she’d endured.

Micah’s eyes followed the movements, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he offered Amy a grin. “Seems you’ve made a friend.”

Amy kissed the silky dark head, her throat tight with emotion for the pain this child had been through—was still going through. “She misses her mama. Guess I’ll do for right now. I still think it would be a good idea for her to see a child psychologist.”

Jonathas shook his head. “It is a shame.”

Amy asked, “What?”

“How her family died.”

Amy frowned, glanced at Micah and noticed the same expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

Jonathas glanced over at Salvador, who had resumed his duties.

With a lowered voice, he explained in English, “The human traffickers came, tried to take the older girl, Natalia. The parents fought back, so the men killed them. Took the girl anyway. Shot up anyone they could find, even the baby, then set the house on fire. Salvador was coming home from the store with Carlita when he saw the flames. When he realized what was happening, he took Carlita and ran to hide in the jungle. He told me this a couple of days ago. Carlita is all he has left in the world.”

The tears on her lashes threatened to fall, but Amy blinked them back and cleared her throat. She’d known his family had been killed but hadn’t been aware of the details. “That’s awful,” she whispered.

“Yes, there are some very awful people who live here.” Jonathas’s eyes hardened. “My own father was one of them. Even though he is dead now, I still carry hate for him in my heart. And for a lot of other people, too. I do not like the hate, but it is there.” Jonathas snickered, a humorless sound. “It would make him proud if he had lived, my father. The one thing I never wanted to do. Make him proud.”

Micah said, “What? I didn’t know you felt that way. Why? Who was your father?”

Jonathas just shook his head and picked up the remains of his lunch. “Very bad man. Very bad.”

After he left, Amy looked at Micah and said, “There’s so much hurt here. How do you help them all?”

Micah looked at Carlita, snoozing on Amy’s lap, and said, “Like that, I guess. Love them one at a time.”

“Come on, Juan, we need you in the dunking booth!” Anna called from the event. Carlita woke at the shout, blinking and rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, no.” He held up his hands. “You get me in that booth and I’ll never get out.”

Amy shoved his shoulder. “Ah, go on. Be a good sport.”

Several children ran over to him, latching on to his hands and legs. “Juan, Juan, Juan,” they chanted.

Giving a rueful laugh, he rose, allowing himself to be escorted to the booth. Amy followed them, a grin on her face, Carlita’s hand tucked in hers. Oh, boy, no way was she missing this one. Looking back over his shoulder, Juan narrowed his eyes. “You’re not planning on participating in this, are you?”

A smile threatened to break loose. She bit her lip, widening her eyes innocently. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t,” he growled as he climbed the few steps to the platform settling himself on the collapsible seat.

“Wouldn’t what?” Sweetness dripped from her tone. She eyed the bull’s-eye sticking out to the side. Chills scooted up her spine. There was that watched feeling again. She stopped, turned and looked for…something. All she saw were the grinning, expectant faces of the crowd gathered to cheer her on. She shrugged off the feeling. Who would try something with this group?

She focused back on Micah. “You know what,” he was saying. “Drop the innocent act. You’re already warming up that pitching arm, aren’t you?”

Flexing the fingers of her pitching hand, Amy loosened it up. She shook off the creepy feeling and forced a wicked smile. She felt someone place a ball in her hand. “I think it’s time for a swim, don’t you?”

“Amy…” he warned.

“I’m sorry,” she snickered, getting into the fun of teasing him. “This is just too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“You realize if you do this, you open yourself up to all kinds of possible, unexpected moments of revenge on my part, don’t you?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment. “Yeah, but I think it’s worth it.” The audience cheered. She drew back her arm. Micah glared at her, but she could see the hint of laughter behind the look. He was enjoying this as much as she. Releasing the ball, she watched as it skimmed the target and fell to the ground.

A groan sounded all around. Micah shifted on the seat, gave her a taunting look, but kept his mouth shut. She grabbed another ball, wound up and let it fly. It went wide to the chorus of another round of disappointed mutters.

Tilting his head, Micah gave her a mocking smile. “What’s the matter, you got pitcher’s elbow or something?”

Insulted, Amy said, “Well, I wasn’t going to do it, but you asked for it. Ready or not, hold your breath.” The last ball flew from her fingers, smacked the bull’s-eye dead in the center. The explosion that followed rocked Amy and the onlookers to the core.

Screaming cries resounded through his shocked mind right before the water closed over him and the booth fell apart. He felt himself falling, hitting the soggy ground; pain lanced through him, grabbing his right side. Flames flickered, licked around him. Sudden memories flooded his mind even as he fought his way out of the debris.

“Something’s wrong, it doesn’t feel right,” he whispered into the microphone, then reached up and shoved the earpiece a little tighter into his ear canal.

“Then get out now,” came the order.

He gripped the boy’s hand, turned to repeat the words to the three men behind him. Before he could open his mouth, the explosion threw him backward to slam into the stone fireplace, his head cracking against the edge. Pain swirled, his world blurred. Fighting for consciousness, he pulled the small body closer, wincing as the four-year-old screamed his terror.

Get us out of here, God. Please get us out of here.

They’d been set up.

Betrayed.

Darkness closed in fast. Another explosion shook the building even as it crumbled around him.

Hands pulled him from the debris. Amy sobbed over him. “Are you okay? Talk to me, please tell me you’re okay.”

Ringing ears, his spinning head and the pain in his right side made it hard to focus. Was anyone else hurt? He felt himself lifted, carried a short distance, then settled on a soft bed.

“Lucas is on the way.”

“I thought he was coming to the picnic.” Amy’s voice ricocheted through his head.

“He had an emergency.”

“Hey, I’m okay,” he whispered. His left hand felt heavy, bruised and throbbing. His right side felt as if it were on fire. Amy touched the side of his face, tears shimmered, threatening to spill over the edge. He stared up at her, grateful for her concern, her worry, but wanting to reassure her that it wasn’t necessary.