They were deep in the jungle now, not a sign of civilization in sight. Emily couldn’t help wondering where they were being taken…until their ransom was paid.
If their ransom was paid.
Don’t think like that, she told herself, but she was alone in the world. She swallowed her despair; she’d dealt with her parents’ car accident years ago, but Peter was another matter.
She’d lost touch with her ex-husband. It had been a long time. If he’d discovered she was gone, would he come looking for her?
FAITH ON THE LINE:
Two powerful families wage war on evil…and find love
ADAM’S PROMISE—
Gail Gaymer Martin (LI #259)
FINDING AMY—
Carol Steward (LI #263)
GABRIEL’S DISCOVERY—
Felicia Mason (LI #267)
REDEEMING TRAVIS—
Kate Welsh (LI #271)
PETER’S RETURN—
Cynthia Cooke (LI #275)
PROTECTING HOLLY—
Lynn Bulock (LI #279)
Books by Cynthia Cooke
Love Inspired
Luck and a Prayer #238
Peter’s Return #275
CYNTHIA COOKE
Ten years ago, Cynthia Cooke lived a quiet, idyllic life, caring for her beautiful eighteen-month-old daughter. Then peace gave way to chaos with the birth of her boy/girl twins. Hip-deep in diapers and baby food and living in a world of sleep deprivation, she kept her sanity by reading romance novels and dreaming of someday writing one. She counts her blessings every day as she fulfills her dreams with the love and support of good friends, her very own hunky hero and three boisterous children who constantly keep her laughing and her world spinning. Cynthia loves to hear from her readers. Visit her online at http://www.cynthiacooke.com.
PETER’S RETURN
CYNTHIA COOKE
This book is dedicated to my special friends,
Rosanne Falcone and Margaret Dear, for all your help and support on
this story and to my family for rearranging their summer to fit into
Mommy’s writing schedule. You are the best! I love you!
Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean
not on your own understanding; in all
your ways acknowledge Him, and He
will make your paths straight.
—Proverbs 3:5-6
Cast of Characters
Peter Vance—His dangerous CIA job and the almost-fatal explosion destroyed his marriage and sent him deep underground for the past three years. But running into Emily at Baltasar Escalante’s estate can blow his cover…and get them both killed.
Dr. Emily Armstrong—Peter’s ex-wife is not the adventurous type…so why is the lovely doctor in Venezuela working for Doctors Without Borders?
Baltasar Escalante—The drug lord will do anything to comfort his dying son, including kidnap doctors to ease the boy’s suffering.
Snake—Escalante’s henchman helps Emily—but for what reason?
Dr. Robert Fletcher—The other doctor from Vance Memorial abducted with Emily. Will he live to see his wife and sons once more?
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Caracas, Venezuela
Dr. Emily Armstrong grabbed onto Dr. Robert Fletcher’s shoulder. “We’ve been kidnapped!”
Robert’s lips twisted in amusement as he patted her fingers. “Let’s not be dramatic, Doctor.”
Emily withdrew her hand and leaned back against the seat. “I should have known the moment I saw this black monstrosity of a vehicle with its leather seats and tinted windows that we were in trouble. Only bad guys and government agents drive these things. I know—I was married to one.”
“Really?” he said dryly. “I always find it amazing that before the marriage we’re Mr. Perfect, Mr. Wonderful, yet after—”
“Not a bad guy,” she corrected. “A government type.” She screwed her lips into a don’t-you-know-anything expression, leaned in closer, and lowered her voice. “CIA, if you must know.”
“I’ve heard,” Robert replied. “The illustrious missing Peter Vance. Heard he gave it all up and headed for the woods to find himself. What was that, three years ago? You must have done quite a number on him.”
Emily snorted, though a pang shot through her. “Peter loved his work, loved the danger. I couldn’t see him giving it up for anyone, not even me.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and watched the South American city pass by.
“Why give it up? You seem like a girl who likes a little danger in her life.”
Emily turned from the tinted window as high-rise apartments gave way to ramshackle shacks, and brushed her long blond hair behind her ear. “Who, me? I don’t do danger.”
It was Robert’s turn to snort.
“What?” she demanded, not sure how he could possibly get the impression from her boring, nothing-ever-happens-to-me life that she could be the type of woman who liked danger.
“If I believed that, even for a second, then you’d be home right now in your safe little apartment, in your idyllic American town and not on your way to a primitive Venezuelan clinic.”
Emily lifted her chin in indignation. “I said I don’t like danger, I didn’t say I don’t like helping people. When Kate Montgomery told me about the condition of the poor children living in the barrios, how could I not agree to come down here and help?”
“Even after what had happened to Adam?”
“Adam’s shooting was an extraordinary circumstance. Dr. Valenti was a desperate man who got himself addicted to painkillers. Otherwise, I don’t believe he ever would have tried to steal drugs from the clinic. But you’re right, whatever he got himself into, he got in too deep. Thank the Lord he’s a bad shot and Adam survived. In any case, Dr. Valenti was caught and extra security measures at the clinic have been put into place. We shouldn’t have to worry about anything like that happening again.”
Robert looked grim. “Unfortunately, Valenti was killed in jail so we’ll never know the truth of what was behind it all, or who.”
“You’re looking for conspiracies where they don’t exist,” Emily said matter-of-factly. “Nothing else could possibly go wrong.” But even as she said the words, she realized she was worried. Something didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what was bothering her. The town? The car? The driver? “Unless of course we’ve been kidnapped. You know kidnappings are very popular in this region.”
Robert’s shoulders shook with an unsuppressed chuckle.
“I’m glad you find me so amusing,” she said and leaned forward to speak to the driver. “How much longer to the clinic? I thought it was just outside Caracas.” She glanced out the window. “We’ve been outside of Caracas for a while now.”
The man didn’t respond, just continued driving as if she weren’t even there. She couldn’t say she liked his looks much, all dark and swarthy with a large coiling red-and-black snake tattooed on his arm.
“Relax,” Robert said, nudging her. “We have nothing to worry about. It’s a good thing you don’t ‘do’ danger. I have a feeling you wouldn’t do it very well.” His smile grew wide and generous.
Emily gave him a serious pout. “And what about you? It’s not like I’m leaving a family
behind. What’s your story? Why would you leave Pamela and those two precious sons of yours to come down here?”
“No story, just doing what I do best.”
“Ha!” Emily blurted. “Just a small dose of arrogance to go with that cup of ego, Doctor?”
He laughed a hearty sound that reached deep inside his chest. “All right, I confess. This stint on my résumé will do wonders for my career. I’ll only be gone three months, not long enough for my family to even miss me.”
“Don’t count on that.”
He nodded, suddenly serious. “I know. I miss them already.”
She gave his shoulder a pat, then looked past him out the window and saw a sign for Santa Maria de Flores. “I think we’re here.”
They continued through the small primitive town, passing run-down houses and barefoot, half-clad children playing in the street. Emily frowned as the driver turned onto a small dirt road on the outskirts of town that led up into the hills. “Is this right? Shouldn’t the clinic be back in the town?” Robert looked as nonplussed as she felt. She turned back to the driver. “Excuse me?” she said loudly.
“He probably doesn’t understand English,” Robert said.
“Con permiso?” she amended. Something was wrong with this driver. Joking aside, something really had been nagging her ever since she saw him in the airport holding up a Doctors Without Borders sign. Without question, they’d followed him like little lambs to the slaughter. “Con permiso,” she said a little more forcefully, and this time tapped the driver’s shoulder.
Ignoring her, the driver leaned forward and pushed a button. Before she could take another breath, a clear partition rose between them. Emily looked into Robert’s widened eyes. The shocked disbelief on his face would have been comical if it weren’t for the sick feeling of dread growing in her stomach. “What are we going to do?” she whispered.
Robert tried to open his door, but it wouldn’t budge. Then he tried the window. It, too, was immovable.
“Oh, Lord, protect us,” Emily said between breaths that were suddenly coming too fast and too short.
“It’s okay, don’t panic. I’ve heard about these guys. If we pay them, they’ll let us go. In fact, some are even desperate enough to take a check. Did you bring your checkbook?”
“Checkbook?” she blurted. “That’s absurd. Who would I make it out to, Mr. Kidnapper?”
“It’s true. I saw it on 20/20.”
“You’re not serious?” Her eyes searched his. He was. “Let’s pray it will be as simple as that,” she muttered.
They didn’t say another word as the driver took them deeper into the Venezuelan countryside.
Emily closed her eyes. She wanted to pray, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It had been so long since she’d been able to connect with the Lord. She’d made a promise, not any ordinary promise, but a deathbed promise to God and she’d broken it. She’d lived with the shame for so long it was almost automatic, almost comfortable. She couldn’t go asking for more favors now.
Robert took her hand in his and she held it, thankful for his warmth and friendship. She didn’t know what she’d do if she were alone.
“We’re going to be okay,” he whispered. “You have to believe that.”
She nodded. “I know. We have to. We’re doctors, we’re the good guys. Not only that, we’re Americans.”
Robert smiled and squeezed her hand before turning back toward the window as the driver veered off onto a gravel road. They were deep in the jungle now, not a sign of civilization in sight. Emily couldn’t help wondering where they were being taken and under what kind of conditions they would be forced to live until their ransom was paid. If their ransom would be paid.
Don’t think like that, she told herself, but the sad fact was she was alone in the world—no husband, no siblings, no family to come to her rescue. She swallowed her despair; she’d dealt with her parents’ car accident years ago, but Peter was another matter.
She’d lost touch with him and hadn’t seen him—no one had—in a very long time. But if by some miracle of God he’d discovered she was gone, would he come looking for her? Would he care? The realization that she couldn’t be sure brought little comfort, only the familiar squeeze of regret. His job, his mission, whatever it was he was working on always came before she did.
“Look!” Robert whispered, interrupting the well-worn path her thoughts were taking.
Emily sat up straighter as glimpses of a large stucco wall came into view. They turned at a bend in the road then stopped before a tall iron gate. The driver nodded to the guard sitting in a booth and the gate swung open. Emily couldn’t help but be riveted by the grounds inside the gates.
The parklike setting of benches and statues placed strategically beneath cascading trees surrounding a large duck-laden pond caught her breath. Tucked among the trees were several shrubs trimmed in various animal shapes. Flowers in every shape and size greeted them in a riot of color.
Here and there, she spotted the clay tile roofs of several small out-buildings. She tried to focus through the thick foliage, to get her bearings on the bungalows and see what their use was, but she could only catch scattered glimpses before they disappeared into the jungle. A golf cart passed, but instead of laughing tourists enjoying the eighteenth hole, two guards in tan uniforms with rifles slung over their shoulders watched the Suburban, giving their driver a slight nod as they passed.
They turned right onto a cobblestone road and slowly approached a breathtaking Spanish colonial mansion. Emily leaned into Robert and whispered, “I don’t think my checkbook is going to get us out of this one.”
“Neither do I,” he agreed, and a grim look of futility filled his face. She squeezed his hand as they followed the drive around back and parked in front of a garage larger than the elementary school on the corner of Emily’s block back in Colorado Springs. In front of the garage, a series of golf carts were parked next to a bright red Porsche.
“Pinch me, Robert. I think we’ve just been transported into a Fantasy Island rerun,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Shh, be serious and be quiet. Let me do all the talking.”
“Gladly,” she whispered. “And as soon as you get us out of this, I’ll try not to remind you how sexist you are being.”
“Deal,” he grumbled. They watched the driver get out and open their door. “Just where are we?” Robert demanded with more bravado than Emily knew he felt.
“You are the guests of Mr. Escalante,” the driver said, then stepped back and waited for them to get out of the car.
Robert stood, but didn’t move out of the doorway, effectively blocking her exit. She pushed up on her knees and peeked around him. “I demand you take us to the Doctors Without Borders clinic,” he insisted.
The driver tilted his chin down and gave Robert a bone-chilling stare. He gestured toward the mansion. “I suggest you cooperate. It will make your stay here a little more pleasant for all of us, if you do.” He stepped around Robert and held out his hand. “Dr. Armstrong.”
Robert stepped aside. Without taking the driver’s hand, Emily got out of the car. There was something dark and dangerous and almost slithering in the man’s eyes. He looked like a man who wouldn’t give a second’s hesitation to killing them right there on the spot. This was not someone she wanted to touch.
The driver nodded, seeming to accept her slight and said, “Follow me.”
Robert started forward and Emily followed close behind. “What do you think they want from us?” she said, leaning forward and whispering in his ear.
“I don’t know,” he said over his shoulder, “but whatever it is, cooperate.”
“Of course I’ll cooperate,” she muttered. What made him think she wouldn’t cooperate? As they walked through the lush grounds, Emily wondered if they could make a run for it. And if they did, how far would they get?
“Mr. Escalante’s compound encompasses over two hundred acres,” the driver said as they walked
. “At all times, there are guards patrolling every inch of the estate in case you should ever need help.”
That answered her question.
He gestured beyond the garages. “Through those trees is the tennis court and swimming pool. There is also a hot tub should you feel the desire to relax your muscles after your long journey.”
Somehow she didn’t think a hot tub would do the trick. As they walked, Emily tried not to be awed by the beauty of the plants, the orchids and the blooming vines hanging from trees. She sucked in a breath as she caught a glimpse of a red, blue and green macaw unlike any she’d ever seen. “It’s the Garden of Eden,” she muttered.
“Yeah,” Robert agreed. “But watch out for snakes.”
The driver turned back and looked at them. The dead emptiness in his eyes curled her toes. “I hate snakes,” she whispered, and tried to smother the prickling sensation moving through her.
The man led them into a walled-in, shaded courtyard complete with a mosaic of Spanish tiles and a large fountain. Robert stopped next to an intricate wrought-iron table. “Why have you brought us here?” he demanded, and refused to take another step.
The driver kept walking.
Emily threw Robert a pointed look. “What should we call you?” she asked in her most pleasant and professional voice that barely hid the anxiety squeezing her throat.
The man halted and turned back, his cold, predatory gaze stopping her in her tracks. “Snake.”
Emily swallowed. She should have known. She tried to speak, but couldn’t. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.
He turned away, breaking the contact. Emily was so relieved she followed him without hesitation through the French doors and into a room filled with plush leather sofas and chairs facing a big-screen TV.
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