“You’ve already done that.”
Dylan positioned himself in the doorway to the kitchen where he could keep an eye on both entrances. He didn’t want to disrespect Laura by doubting her. Still, he needed to ask. “Why did you help us? If they discover what you’ve done, you and your son could pay the price.”
Laura’s expression sharpened. She set a kettle of water on the stove to boil, the silence stretching. “We have already paid the price. We went to a protest about the food shortages. The Guachimanes fired into the crowd, killing people who just wanted to feed their families. My husband died on the street in front of us.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sister María beat Dylan to offering condolences, empathy shining in those sweet brown eyes. “Would you like for me to pray for him?”
The anger on Laura’s face transformed into grief. “You would do that?”
“Of course.”
Laura led her to the living room with the photo of her husband and lit a small votive candle. “He was a good husband and father. He was a school teacher. He voted for the president. He believed they would make life better for all of us.”
“He’s not the only one who believed that.” Sister María said gently.
She knelt, crossed herself, then folded her hands and began to pray in silence, her face luminous. When she had finished, she asked Laura if she would like to pray theAve Mariawith her. Laura knelt beside her, drew Yadiel against her, tears trickling down her cheeks, and joined Sister María. Dylan found himself praying along, the words he’d memorized as a child coming without effort.
When the prayer was over, Laura wiped her tears away. “Gracias, Hermana.”
In the kitchen, the kettle whistled.
They drank cups of hot tea together, Laura reminiscing about her husband and happier days.
Yadiel wrinkled his nose, his gaze on Sister María. “Why do you smell so bad,Hermana?”
“Yadiel!” Clearly embarrassed, Laura apologized. “How could you say such a thing? She had to hide in the garbage. That’s why. I’m so sorry,Hermana.”
“There’s no need to apologize. You’re right, Yadiel. I do smell bad. I haven’t been able to wash for a week, and I had to hide in the trash.”
Laura stood. “Come,Hermana. You can take a hot shower here.”
Sister María looked at her with longing on her face. “That’s very kind of you. Are you sure?”
“Of course! This way.” Laura led Sister María toward the back of the house, little Yadiel tagging along behind. “We do at least have hot water and soap.”
Dylan peeked out at the street from behind the curtains, saw the men in black uniforms piling back into the truck.
This had been a close call, and it wasn’t likely to get easier. The Colombian border was only a twelve-hour drive away. At this rate, it would take them till Christmas to get there.
You should have gotten her onto the damned helo.
“Is it true what they’re saying?” Laura stood behind him. “Are you a US soldier?”
Dylan wrestled with how to answer. Yadiel wasn’t with her, so he decided to tell her the truth. “No, I’m not a soldier. I used to be in the US Navy. Now I work for a private military company. I came with others to rescue the hostages, and one of thesicariostried to run off with Sister María. He pointed a gun at her head.”
“Is he the one who hurt her? Her face is bruised—and her lip.”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill him?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Good.”
“Not good enough. I wasn’t able to get Sister María onto the helicopter. I need to get her out of the country.”
Laura crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not going to be easy. Everyone is searching for a man traveling with a nun. Her picture is everywhere.”