by Lisa Harris
Meghan sat down beside Nathi on the couch and gathered the boy into her arms for a big hug. He might be twelve, but he didn’t look a day over eight. “Nathi, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve been sick,” he began with his thick South African accent.
He tugged at the bottom of his faded SpongeBob T-shirt, showing off a toothy smile that hadn’t faded despite the hint of pain in his eyes. Meghan settled in beside him, seemingly just at ease in a shanty as she was in the back of a four-wheel-drive Jeep filming a documentary that would be seen by thousands.
“Your auntie called me and told me you weren’t feeling well,” Meghan said. “Are you any better today?”
“Yes, but I did not go to school.”
“I brought you some fruit.” She nodded at the basket of fruit she’d set on the rickety coffee table in front of them. “Have you been taking your medicine?”
He nodded.
“Nathi, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. His name is Alex Markham.”
Nathi held out his hand as Alex sat down across from him on a wooden chair. “I am pleased to meet you.”
“I’m happy to meet you, as well. Meghan told me on our way here that you’re quite an artist.”
The boy’s smile broadened.
Alex pointed at the wall behind him to the drawings taped above the couch, black-and-white sketches of a dog, a colorful sunset and a chubby little boy.
“Is that your brother?”
“His name is Isaac. He’s four years old.”
“Miss Jordan was right. You’re good.”
“Mr. Markham’s mother was an artist,” Meghan added, “so he knows good art when he sees it.”
Nathi’s eyes lit up. “What did she like to draw?”
“Portraits and landscapes mainly. She was born in South Africa. Up in the north of the country. She died when I was twelve.”
“My mother died, too.”
“I understand how you feel.” Alex leaned forward, surprised at the bond he felt with the young boy. “What’s your favorite subject in school? Besides art.”
“Science.”
“Not girls?” Alex countered with a smile.
Nathi laughed and ducked his head.
They chatted over the next thirty minutes, about school, the puppy he was getting and the recent storm that had washed away part of the road near the river. Alex watched Meghan, enjoying the chance to see yet another side of her. The compassion in her voice, the interest in her eyes. And Nathi. The tragedies he’d already experienced in his short life had yet to put a damper on his outlook on life.
“Can we pray for you before we go?” she asked.
Nathi nodded as if it were something they were used to doing together.
Alex bowed his head, listening as Meghan prayed. Simple. Powerful. He believed there was a God, had committed his life to Him, but things had changed over the past year. He’d changed. He’d seen too much of the evil enveloping the world and at times wondered why God didn’t step in to stop it. He’d watched families lose everything they had because of man’s wickedness. Like when he’d lost Shannon.
He looked up at Nathi as Meghan finished her prayer, moved by the simple faith of a twelve-year-old boy suffering from the same disease that had taken his mother.
It reminded him that following God wasn’t about going to church and checking off a bunch of boxes. It was about making a difference in the world because of your love for Jesus.
Which was exactly what Meghan was doing.
Alex raised his head at the final amen. Nathi smiled as Meghan gave him another hug and stood up.
Nathi turned to Alex. “Will you come back?”
“Of course.” Alex nodded. “I’d like that.”
“You will come on Saturday?”
“What happens on Saturday?” Alex asked.
Nathi’s eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe Alex hadn’t heard about it. “It’s a party. We will play games and eat sweets.”
“Wow, that sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Will you come?” the boy asked again.
“I don’t know.” Alex turned to Meghan. “You’ll have to ask my boss.”
“She is a tough lady, isn’t she?”
“Nathi!”
The young boy smiled up at Meghan. “I am teasing. You are very nice.”
“We’re both coming.” She looked to Alex. “But everyone has to help. For example, last year I did face painting.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“What can you do?” Nathi asked.
What could he do?
Alex’s mind went blank. The only kids he was ever around were his nieces and nephews back in Texas that he saw three or four times a year. His sister Julia’s girls loved tea parties and dress up, while the boys preferred video games and hunting. Beyond that, his experience with children was severely limited.
“I can make balloon animals.” Alex spoke before he had time to process the question.
“Balloon animals!” Nathi clapped his hands together.
Alex frowned, worried about what he’d just gotten himself into. The last time he’d made balloon animals was when he was a sophomore in college. He’d thought it would be an easy way to impress a girl at a party for her little brother. The balloons had ended up being a huge hit. And so had Gregory Parker. Alex had spent hours practicing and still ended up losing the girl.
He cleared his throat. “The only problem is that it’s been a few years, so I’m probably pretty rusty. My sister’s girls always want to drag me into their playroom for a tea party.”
“Now, that is something I’d like to see.” Meghan laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “But the balloons will be perfect.”
“Seriously, it’s been a long time.”
“Please?”
Alex caught Nathi’s pleading expression. There was no way he could back out now. “I guess I’m in.”
“Perfect.” Meghan grabbed her bag off the couch. “We’ll buy balloons in town today, and you’ll still have three days to practice.”
Three days? Right. And he’d been afraid he’d jumped in over his head when he’d agreed to be Meghan’s bodyguard and gofer.
“And you, young man.” Meghan turned to Nathi. “If you’re going to be better by Saturday, you’re going to have to eat lots of oranges, take your vitamins and rest.”
Nathi smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
Five minutes later they were headed down the windy dirt road leading to town.
“He’s a sweet boy,” Alex said.
“Yes, he is. He never stops smiling. Never gives up.”
“And the disease?”
“It seems to be under control for now. Relapses every now and then, but he’s actually doing amazingly well for all he’s been through.”
Meghan pulled up in front of the restaurant and shut off the engine, hesitatingly briefly before getting out. “I’m finding it hard to imagine leaving here in the next few weeks. It’s become more than just the documentary. I love my work, but the children have impacted my life in ways I never expected.”
“It doesn’t have to be the last time you visit.”
“I don’t plan for it to be.”
He caught her expression before they headed toward the restaurant. She’d relaxed since agreeing to let him come with her, but he was worried about what her reaction would be when he told her the truth about who he was. Because his heart had just taken another giant step toward the edge of the cliff.
ELEVEN
Alex placed their orders with the perky waitress—bacon, eggs and toast for him and a cheese omelet for Meghan—then nodded as Meghan excused herself to go to the restroom. He leaned back and took a sip of his coffee. Besides them, a family with two small children and three older gentlemen drinking coffee, the quaint restaurant was surprisingly quiet. The dozen or so tables on the outside balcony overlooked a well-manicured garden with a large fishpond, bordered by tall palms and leafy shade trees.
/> He glanced at his phone sitting on the edge of the table. He needed to hear from the ambassador, but there had been no missed calls or texts. He’d left voice mails and sent text messages, but so far had received no reply. Which had him worried. He redialed ambassador’s private line. If the phones were down in Equatorial Guinea’s capital, there was the possibility that the violence had escalated. He needed to know what was going on.
He was about to hang up when someone finally answered. “Ambassador Jordan?”
“Alex. Good morning.”
“How are you, sir? I’ve left messages and tried to call several times but haven’t been able to get through.”
“I’ve been trying to call you, as well. Is everything all right with Meghan?”
“Yes. She’s fine, but someone broke into her chalet last night. She’s convinced she left a window and baboons got in, but—”
“You don’t agree.” Megan’s father’s words came out more as a statement than a question.
“No. It’s possible, I suppose, but with the recent threats, I don’t think we should take anything for granted. What I am sure of is that I need to tell her who I am and why I’m really here.”
He grabbed his coffee and took a sip, waiting for the older man’s response. As far as he was concerned, they were out of other options. Meghan had to know the truth.
“I agree,” Ambassador Jordan finally said.
Alex let out his breath. “You do?”
“You sound surprised.”
“Surprised and relieved. You’ve been so adamant this whole time that she not know, but with her safety clearly at risk, I don’t believe we have a choice.”
“Maybe I’ve been playing the fool trying to keep her in the dark. Trying to shelter her enough that she’d be able to believe that the threats really couldn’t reach her. But you are right in that it wasn’t baboons that trashed her room. Are you in a place where you can access the internet?”
“Yes. I’m having breakfast with Meghan at a local restaurant. She’s gone to the restroom, but she left her computer with me.”
“Good. I need you to check your email. I’ve just sent you a link to a YouTube video.”
“Okay.” Alex logged in to his Gmail account and clicked on the link the ambassador had sent. “What is the situation there?”
“We’ve had some problems with the phones lines, which is probably why you weren’t able to get through. There have been some demonstrations on the streets but thankfully, it’s stayed fairly calm.”
Alex waited for the video to load, then felt his jaw tense as he watched the first few seconds play. If there had been any question as to who had trashed Meghan’s place, the evidence here meant there was no longer any doubt.
Someone stood inside Meghan’s room holding a video camera while someone else trashed the chalet.
The messages her father had received were no longer idle threats. They knew how to get to her, and they’d just proved it.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was sent to me about an hour ago anonymously.”
Cowards.
But cowards or not, they’d made their point. They were here. In South Africa. At the lodge. And they could get to her. The only other questions he had left to answer were which—if any—of Meghan’s recent slew of accidents hadn’t been accidents. And how far were they willing to take their threats?
“She needs to leave,” her father said.
“I agree, but even with this, I’m not sure she will. This documentary is important to her, and she’s almost finished.”
“I need you to convince her to leave. This isn’t worth her life. But if she does refuse, hire a couple more guards so she’s protected 24/7. Money isn’t an object at this point.”
Meghan wasn’t going to be happy about this, but her father was right.
Ambassador Jordon let out a deep sigh. “Let me know what she says and what you decide. And tell her…tell her that I love her.”
A minute later Alex hung up the call. He had just pushed Replay when Meghan slid into her seat across from him, an excited smile on her face. He paused the video.
“Do you know what a genet is?” she asked.
“A what?” He tried to shift his focus from the video to her question.
“A genet. It’s like a type of cat, but found in the wild. Covered with black spots and white patches, and it has a long, ringed black-and-white tail.”
Alex glanced down at the frozen frame of her room being damaged and struggled to follow her train of thought. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”
“They have one here. I just saw her. She’s so tame, she steals people’s food, and—” Meghan paused midsentence. “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying. You okay? You look…upset.”
“I’m sorry.” He looked up and caught her gaze. “We need to talk.”
She leaned forward, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”
Alex tried to assemble his thoughts. Chasing down killers and bad guys was one thing. He had no problem with that part of his job. But the emotional side wasn’t his strong point. He was going to have to give her the facts, state his case for her leaving, then listen to her response. Which wasn’t going to be easy.
Please give me the words to say, Lord Jesus.
“I just got off the phone with your father,” he began.
“My father?” Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know my father?”
“I’ll explain everything, but first…first I need you to watch this.”
He turned his computer so they could both see the screen and waited for the video to buffer again. She was still looking at him funny.
She stared at the screen, clearly puzzled, until the reality of what she was looking at dawned on her. “That’s my chalet.”
*
The footage of her room being trashed made Meghan sick to her stomach. Someone had been in her chalet. There were no excuses that could be made or assumptions that this was just another coincidence.
“I don’t understand.” She pushed Replay to watch it again, but even seeing it for the second time didn’t alleviate the horror she felt. “I was sure I’d left a window open. That a baboon snuck in. But this…”
This terrified her. Two people ripping apart her chalet, one holding the camera, the other digging through her desk, her closet, pulling sheets and blankets off the bed.
“It wasn’t baboons, Meghan. Two people took this video. They were there. The video doesn’t really show enough to be able to identify them, but there’s a chance they’re staying at the lodge. Or maybe they just showed up on the property. Either way, they were there last night.”
Which meant she had to question all the other things that had happened over the past couple weeks. Had they actually been more than just coincidences? She shook her head. None of this made any sense. “Why would someone do this? And my father…how’s he involved?”
The waitress placed the hot food on the table in front of them, all smiles, and asked them if they wanted anything else. Alex thanked her and told her they were fine for now.
Except she wasn’t fine. At all.
She stared at the yellow omelet with flakes of red and green peppers and felt her stomach turn. The photo of the omelet on the menu had made her mouth water. Now she didn’t care. Any appetite she’d had walking into the restaurant had vanished.
“They sent the video,” Alex continued, once the waitress had left, “to prove to your father that they could get to you.”
“He sent this link to you?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know my father?” Her mouth felt dry, like cotton. She reached for her glass of orange juice, accidently knocking it over with her shaky hand. She caught the glass as the sticky drink ran across the table, barely missing the laptop.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re fine.” He reached out to squeeze her hand. “This can be cleaned up. And we’ll deal with the other issue, as well.”
She set the glass back on the table. The waitress swooped in and began clearing up the mess. But just like the shooting last night, the implications of the video couldn’t be easily mopped up. Her room had been destroyed. The video had been sent to her father as proof. And Alex knew her father.
She rubbed her temples with her fingers, then shook her head. A thousand questions swam through her mind. Why hadn’t Alex told her he knew her father? Why hadn’t her father told her there had been threats against her life? What would have happened if she’d been in that room when they’d come?
She looked up at him, unsure if she should be angry or afraid. “I need you to start from the beginning. Tell me what is going on. Why would someone do this, and how do you know my father?”
“I’ll start with your father.” Alex closed the lid on the computer. “We’ve never met in person, but we’ve spoken on the phone a number of times. I came here as a favor to him.”
A favor? Meghan blinked, trying to absorb what he was saying. Her father had called in a favor to get Mr. Cowboy to…to what? To protect her? Be her personal bodyguard? Without telling her?
“Why?”
“He was concerned that your life was in danger.”
Her mind flashed back to the fallen hide, the blown-out brakes on the Jeep, the trashing of her room. “And you are…”
“I’m a Texas Ranger—”
“A Texas Ranger?”
Meghan sat back, wanting to laugh. Sure that everything that was happening was nothing more than a very bad dream and she was going to wake up any minute. She’d joked about Mr. Cowboy watching too many cop shows—was she supposed to believe that he actually was one?
But as much as she wanted to laugh it off, his confession did answer some of her questions. Why Mr. Cowboy always seemed overprotective. And why he’d wanted the job with her team when he knew so little about making a documentary.
She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Why did he hire you?”
“To keep you safe.”
“From what?”
“Your father received threats related to the upcoming election in Equatorial Guinea. Threats that specifically mentioned you.”
