Page 95 of Canyon of Deceit

“Less than three weeks later, they both died within a few hours of each other. Dad had a stroke while milking the cows. Mom found him and collapsed beside him. I guess she couldn’t live without Kate or my dad. I went into foster care until I was eighteen. The rest is history.”

“Your family will always live in your memories,” Blane said. “Kate suffered from leukemia, and there was nothing you could have done to save her. Sounds like your parents died of broken hearts.”

“I blamed myself for years.”

“Did Kate have a reaction?”

“No.” Why had I caved to this horrid memory?

“You are a gifted woman with more skills in your little finger than most people will ever possess. You’ve risked your life and savedcountless lives. Someday I want to hear you play and sing. Music is part of who you are.”

“I broke my guitar the night Kate died. Nothing creative since. Seems wrong.”

“I believe one day you’ll pick up a guitar and sing again. Like not giving up on rescuing Alina, your secrets are safe with me.”

God, have You placed this man in my life for something I’m not prepared for?“There is more to Blane Gardner than a handsome face and expert negotiation skills.”

“Ah, the lady thinks I’m handsome. That’s worth heading back to Dog Canyon and sleeping on the hard ground in the cold with a battered body.”

“Watch out for the scorpions and centipedes.”

He chuckled. “Anything crawls on me, and I’m screaming like a girl.”

“The agents in the other room would be here with their guns drawn.”

Please, Alina, fight for strength to live.

I never intended to tell anyone about my guilt over Kate’s death. Had to be a God-thing that Blane allowed me to clear my conscience. Kate’s death had no bearing on what I said and did during our last time together.

How comforting the spoken words freed me to attempt to forgive myself. How odd this man had approached me at just the right time to cleanse my soul. He nurtured my grieving heart in unexplainable ways. I sensed a kinship with Blane like no other man.Please, God, don’t take him from me too.

FIFTY-FIVE

BLANE

Waiting on Rurik’s call nearly made me crazy. Nearly. The only box I checked was Sergio had my truck delivered. I wanted my own vehicle and no one else in the line of fire. Therese perceived my angst, and we talked while I kept both ears and one eye on my phone.

“We need a diversion,” she said. “Time is creeping by, and I see your impatience.”

“Right. Tell me about your years in foster care,” I said. “If it’s hard, your story can wait until another time.” I leaned across the small kitchen table where we shared coffee and grasped her scraped hand. “Negotiators are supposed to be patient.”

“Depends on how you define patience. Waiting on a spark to burst into a flame takes patience unless you’re about to die in an explosion. Waiting for a special occasion takes patience, and that’s fine. Then we appreciate it more. Waiting for sunrise to hike takes patience, but I treasure the rhythm of a new day bursting across the sky.” She gestured around us. “This is the pits. We both feel like caged animals, and we are action people.”

“Injured action people.”

“True. About my foster parents. They were amazing. StrongChristians. They had grown children and grandchildren but weren’t ready to relinquish parenting... and loving. They instilled strong values like my own mom and dad. Their counseling came at a desperate time in my life. They encouraged me to pursue a career that utilized my love of outdoors with helping others. I truly loved them when confusion and grief threatened to consume me.”

“Are they living?”

She nodded. “They retired to Florida and work with shut-ins—ministering, transporting them, and delivering meals.”

“How old are they?”

“Late eighties.”

We laughed and the tension in my bones released.

An hour later, Rurik called from a number I recognized as belonging to one of the agents assigned to protect him.