The Searchers. Kay David

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on her arm, pulling her around to face him. In another time and place she would have protested the touch, but it hardly seemed important at this juncture. His grip was strong and unequivocal. She looked down at his fingers, and then up, into his eyes. “Go away,” she said. “Leave me alone.”

      “I can’t do that. Not until you tell me the truth.”

      “I could call the police, Mr. Reyes. In case you don’t know, things work differently in the States. Your name means nothing here. The authorities would be happy to help me.”

      “I’m sure they would,” he said quietly. “As happy as the press would be to hear the reason I came to you in the first place.”

      “No doubt you’re right, but there are other avenues I could take. I have friends, too. And I don’t think they would appreciate your harassment of me.”

      “Are they the ones who will help you become a judge? If they are, you’d best watch them yourself. Friends like that flee when they find out they’ve been lied to.”

      “I’ve lied to no one.”

      “Your lies are lies of omission. You’ve built your reputation on strong ethics and a solid stance. You are known for being a woman who always does the right thing, the proper thing. If your supporters knew you’d been hiding a violent past, how do you think they’d feel?”

      “What do you want from me, Mr. Reyes?”

      His black eyes pinned her. “I want the truth.” He paused. “Did you have my brother’s child or not?”

      His gaze held her fast, forcing her to realize she had no way out. She had to comply…or lose everything she’d worked for—which was probably going to happen regardless, she realized with a sinking heart. “Yes,” she said finally. “I did.”

      Something flickered across his face—surprise or disbelief, she couldn’t tell which—then he dropped her arm and went to a nearby bench to stand motionless, his hand gripping the back of it as if he needed the support. Ironically, the sun had come out and chased away the clouds. It was cool and quiet as she came to where he stood.

      They stayed that way, still and silent, until he turned to her. She immediately lifted a hand to stave off his questions. “I’ll tell you everything,” she said, “but I want something in return.”

      “What?”

      “I want you to leave me alone. I never want to see you or anyone in your family near me ever again.”

      He inclined his head slightly. “If that is what you want, you have my promise.”

      She wasn’t sure why, but she believed him. She sat down abruptly and her heart tightened, preparing her for the fresh pain she knew her words would bring.

      “The child died.” She looked across the park at a bed of antique roses. Strangely enough, one held a single bloom. “At birth. I almost followed.”

      Shepard’s features shifted into an expression Maya couldn’t read. “When did this happen?”

      “The day he was born—the same day Renaldo was captured.”

      “You lived with your aunt…and uncle, right?”

      “Until they threw me out of their house the day I gave birth.” Remembering Renita’s fierce fight with Segundo, Maya felt ill, the angry words and sounds as penetrating now as they had been then, piercing her consciousness with fresh pain. She closed her eyes, unable to imagine what circumstance could have forced Renita to come to the Reyes family with her secrets. Praying her aunt was all right, Maya opened her eyes when she felt movement beside her. Shepard had sat down.

      “They were unhappy with you for being pregnant?”

      “My uncle was, but in reality I had to leave. It would have been dangerous for them if I had stayed. As long as Renaldo was there, the regular Colombian Army left the family alone. The soldiers were scared of him and the rebel cadre he commanded. But he’d already gone into hiding when my labor started. Rumors of his pending capture had been circulating and he’d been worried.”

      Shepard frowned as she spoke, but he didn’t interrupt her and she continued.

      “With Renaldo gone, Segundo and I both knew the whole family might be killed, either by FARC or the Army, the first because I knew too much and the latter because they could… My uncle was a cruel and stupid man, but at the same time he understood how things worked.”

      “You didn’t care for him?”

      She hesitated. “He wasn’t a good person.”

      Falling silent, Shepard seemed to consider her answer. After a bit, he spoke again, his unexpected words a bombshell in the stillness of the park. “Your aunt told me that your child survived.”

      Maya jerked her head up, her breath catching in her throat. “What?”

      “She said the child didn’t die.”

      “No, that’s not true.” Maya shook her head. “I— I don’t know why she would lie about that.”

      “Are you sure it’s me she is lying to? You were young, you were scared, you had to have been in pain. You could have been confused…”

      “The baby died.”

      “You are positive?”

      Her throat ached but she’d choke before she’d let him see her cry. She waited until she could control herself, then she answered. “You came for the truth and that’s what I’m giving you. I have nothing to hide because you know it all.” She drew a breath then let it out slowly. “The child died, Mr. Reyes. Believe me… I saw the body and there was no life left in it. That baby did not survive.”

      THE BREAK IN HER COMPOSURE affected Shepard unexpectedly. He raised a finger to her face and drew a line down her cheek with the back of one knuckle. Her skin was the color of marble but it felt like velvet, warm and soft. She didn’t move and he dropped his hand, the whole incident over so quickly, he wondered for a second if he’d lost his mind and actually touched her or just thought about it.

      “Are you absolutely certain?” he asked once more. “It’s very important.”

      “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

      “All right then,” he said quietly. “I will leave.” He stood up and started down the sidewalk. But two steps away from Maya, he stopped and turned. She hadn’t moved and for some reason, Shepard knew he would never forget the sight of her sitting there in the pale winter sun.

      “I’m sorry.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

      She lifted her gaze, the rest of her as still as a statue. “It was for the best.” Her words had the hollow ring of something she’d told herself many times but had yet to believe.

      “I’m not talking about your loss.”

      She waited.

      “I’m sorry you loved my brother,” he said. “He wasn’t worth what

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