stopped stacking large empty sacks near the crates. “Fleur is five years old. She’s lived with me for the past year. I already adopted her in this country. What happened to Fleur’s mother is one reason Marlee’s Mangoes is important to me. I met Jacqueline about a year ago. She was a single mother, only nineteen, trying to sell Fleur to me because I was a wealthy American.”
Jarrett’s jaw clenched. “I’ve heard of that happening.”
“Her mother had kicked her out of the house because Jackie had an illegitimate child. Jackie was staying at a friend’s guesthouse, but it was only temporary. She begged me to take her daughter because Fleur’s father refused to give Jacqueline child support. He was a wealthy man and they had a brief affair.
“I gave her a job. I tried to find out who the father was, so I could pressure him, but Jackie refused to tell me. One day she showed up with terrible bruises on her face. She told me Fleur’s father had shown up the previous night, drunk, and then beat her because she refused to have sex with him.”
The hammer trembled in her hands as she picked it up and turned it over. “I was renovating my guesthouse and promised to give her a safe place to live, but I didn’t act soon enough. When Jacqueline didn’t arrive for work the following morning, I had this terrible feeling. I went to her home. Fleur was sitting on the floor by her mother’s body. Fleur’s bastard father had beaten Jackie to death...and Fleur saw everything.”
Jarrett’s stomach pitched and roiled as he imagined the horror witnessed by the little girl. “What about the cops?”
Lacey shook her head. “No one knew the name of the father, because Jackie kept the affair secret. All we know is he was a very big man and Jackie called him Chou Chou. Fleur was too traumatized to say anything other than she saw Chou Chou kill her mother.”
French for “my favorite.” Not much to go on.
“I wanted to take Fleur home with me, but she got embroiled in a mass of red tape. The police took her to an orphanage. I spent two months trying to find her because the admission paperwork was misfiled. When I finally found her, she refused to speak. I legally adopted her here. I have her passport and I’m just waiting on the damn visa to get her into the States.”
She threw down the hammer. “I want to go back home to my parents and give Fleur the opportunity to heal and receive a quality education. Get her far away from the memories that give her nightmares each night. Only in the States can I find her a psychologist who will help her recover.”
“And you’re stuck here until the visa comes through.”
“This is why I can’t leave with you, Jarrett. Can’t leave and won’t. I am not leaving my little girl behind.”
Her lush lower lip wobbled a little. “I’ve already lost one child. I’m not losing another.”
“I’m sorry, Lace,” he said gently. And he was sorry, for many things. He pushed aside the surging guilt. Now was not the time to examine how he’d screwed up in their marriage.
He had run into unexpected trouble before, and gotten his team out of a royal goat fluster when they’d been pinned down by enemy fire. Nearly lost one of the guys, too. He could figure out a way around this.
“Did State give you an ETA?”
“No. You know bureaucracy, and now with the unrest, it’s not looking great. Even my father can’t pull that many strings. I have to wait until after elections.”
Assess and then action. “What else do you need to tell me, Lace? If there are any other surprises, I need to know. Now.”
Disclosure would allow him to plan and strategize. And action was a hell of a lot better than the guilt squeezing his guts right now. I’ve already lost one child.
The ghost words that weren’t uttered hovered in the air all the same. Lost one child and you ran off, away to some foreign country, leaving me to deal with the loss on my own.
He had a job to do. Jarrett kept telling himself that over and over, a soothing balm that assuaged his conscience. But this time, faced with his ex-wife and old hurts, the balm wasn’t as effective. Deep inside, he found a tiny sign flashing over and over, taunting him:
All your fault she left you. All your fault. You failed.
He was not failing her this time. Not leaving her here with her little girl to face a country toppling around her like a house of cards and a terrorist who wanted access to her NGO.
And that dead chicken on the gate...
“Why do you need to know about my life, Jarrett? You’re not part of it anymore. I can handle myself. Unless you have a way of pushing the adoption papers through faster.”
“I can’t. But your father could.”
She shook her head. “He’s already tried. He wants me to come home as much as you do. I’m here until the papers come through, Jarrett.”
A breeze lifted stray locks that escaped her ponytail. Jarrett folded his arms across his chest and looked over the compound. It seemed peaceful, and the broken glass atop the tall wall would deter trespassers, the ordinary type. But he’d witnessed what kind of damage a grenade lobbed at a wall could do, and worse, what a grenade thrown at a person could do to a human being.
Why was Augustin interested in her compound? He held up a finger. “Give me a minute.”
Jarrett walked away as she kept working on the crates. When Ace answered on the first ring, he lowered his voice. “Ace man, got a problem. I’m here at Lacey’s house. She has a daughter she’s adopting and wants to bring to the States. But her visa is stalled.”
His friend groaned. “She never told me and neither did Aimee. Your ex plays it close to the chest, Ice.”
“Yeah, don’t I know it. If that visa comes through soon, I can hustle her out of here. She won’t budge until then.” He gripped the phone. “Any word on what Augustin wants with her farm and the donation?”
“Dude, the man’s an octopus, not a snake. He has tentacles all over the island with NGOs and parades around as a do-gooder. But word is he’s supplying guns to the drug gangs that are causing all this bang bang before elections. He’s a quiet supporter of the current regime, although the president would never admit to controlling these gangs. He just throws up his hands and says the police can handle it.
“They’ve burned homes in the slum in the capital and executed two people. One was a radio journalist who talked extensively about ousting the current president. The guy kept advocating a candidate who is gaining more popularity, a candidate the US supports.”
Ace paused. “A candidate that Congressman Alexander H. Stewart himself backs.”
Jarrett’s blood ran cold. “I didn’t know Stewart was involved in supporting political parties here.”
“His daughter’s living here, and he still maintains business interests in St. Marc. He wants her home as soon as possible.”
Quickly he told his friend about the threats at Lacey’s compound.
“Maybe the threats are politically motivated. Lacey is well connected. But back in the States, not here.”
“Or maybe Monsieur Augustin doesn’t want to build homes. Maybe he wants to kidnap your ex and wave that over her dad’s head as a threat.”
Ace had vocalized the deep fear Jarrett harbored. Still, his gut warned it was something else the man wanted. “Kidnapping is too messy.”
“I’ll say. Two weeks ago the gangs kidnapped a local and held him for ransom, and his family paid the money, but it was no use. They found his head in the local garbage dump. These guys are slick, Ice. And someone is funding them. Augustin may have the money, but someone else is directing them. Someone very quiet, a real shadow.”
“Let me know what else you find out.” He