man’s body. And until the dead man collapsed to the ground, she didn’t know he’d been stabbed to death.
The uniformed man held a bloodied knife in his hand. After a stunned moment, he ventured a faint smile and stared at her. Another young man.
“Please, Sister, we must get you to safety,” he whispered in French, and waved for her to follow him.
She took a step toward him. It would have been easy to escape her ordeal—to run and not look back—yet something stopped her. The young officer didn’t understand, but when he turned to grab his rifle, a single shot rang out. He came to a dead stop. His body stiffened, and he never turned back. He crumpled to the ground at her feet, his face in the dirt. He was dead.
And for a split second, her eyes settled on his rifle. It was within her reach. So very close. She swallowed, hard. Her throat was parched, and she felt sick. She thought about running again, yet something made her turn.
A masked gunman, the leader of the terrorists, stood only yards from her. He was alone with a gun in his hand. He had killed the young officer. In another life, anger would have driven her to go for the rifle, but instead she took a deep breath and waited for what he would say.
“Get moving.” His voice was low. And although his words had been an order, he remained composed. She almost didn’t hear him.
Kate fell into step in front of him. A mix of emotions made her stomach churn, and tears coursed down her cheek, uncontrollable. She’d had a chance to make a difference, and she froze. Could she have pulled the trigger? If their roles had been reversed, she had no doubt he would have killed her. And yet something in his behavior and his unperturbed reaction to how close she had come to the rifle had confused her.
She didn’t have long to think about what had happened.
She was in the dark again, running with the man who held her against her will. And worse, Kate had lost track of the children. They were too little to be spotted in the cluster of hostages up ahead. She wanted to call out their names but was too afraid to draw attention to them. If the children didn’t keep up, she was afraid these men would kill them on the spot.
“Move faster…or you die,” the terrorist leader yelled to those in front of them.
His voice and the sound of his boots made her cringe. Every time he yelled, she thought he directed his abuse at her. Given the life-or-death extremes of their situation, the man had total control over her and the others.
Yet she needed to know one thing.
“You could have killed me back there,” she said, her voice cracking. “Why didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer at first. And she’d begun to think he hadn’t heard her until she looked over her shoulder.
“It would have been too easy.” He fixed his eyes ahead and shoved her shoulder, forcing her to face forward. “And I have plans for you now. When I could not take your wealthy American guest of honor hostage, I had to settle for you. An American nun. Now shut up and keep moving.”
Kate grimaced and fought a lump in her throat. Their lives were in his hands. And behind her, the steady skirmish between the terrorists left at the clinic and the Haitian police had stopped. Even with her muffled hearing, she’d noticed. The police must have overrun the facility and arrested or killed anyone who resisted.
With the deadly force used by the local law in response to the terrorists’ aggression, she wondered if any of them would have survived the final assault if their captors hadn’t escaped before the police reinforced their lines. Their abductors had used explosions as an element of surprise, but if the local law had known they were so well armed, they might have reciprocated with more firepower to put an end to the standoff. That thought left her feeling a strange gratitude toward the man who’d forced them to leave. And he’d sacrificed some of his men to ensure that they got away.
Why? What plans
The uniformed man held a bloodied knife in his hand. After a stunned moment, he ventured a faint smile and stared at her. Another young man.
“Please, Sister, we must get you to safety,” he whispered in French, and waved for her to follow him.
She took a step toward him. It would have been easy to escape her ordeal—to run and not look back—yet something stopped her. The young officer didn’t understand, but when he turned to grab his rifle, a single shot rang out. He came to a dead stop. His body stiffened, and he never turned back. He crumpled to the ground at her feet, his face in the dirt. He was dead.
And for a split second, her eyes settled on his rifle. It was within her reach. So very close. She swallowed, hard. Her throat was parched, and she felt sick. She thought about running again, yet something made her turn.
A masked gunman, the leader of the terrorists, stood only yards from her. He was alone with a gun in his hand. He had killed the young officer. In another life, anger would have driven her to go for the rifle, but instead she took a deep breath and waited for what he would say.
“Get moving.” His voice was low. And although his words had been an order, he remained composed. She almost didn’t hear him.
Kate fell into step in front of him. A mix of emotions made her stomach churn, and tears coursed down her cheek, uncontrollable. She’d had a chance to make a difference, and she froze. Could she have pulled the trigger? If their roles had been reversed, she had no doubt he would have killed her. And yet something in his behavior and his unperturbed reaction to how close she had come to the rifle had confused her.
She didn’t have long to think about what had happened.
She was in the dark again, running with the man who held her against her will. And worse, Kate had lost track of the children. They were too little to be spotted in the cluster of hostages up ahead. She wanted to call out their names but was too afraid to draw attention to them. If the children didn’t keep up, she was afraid these men would kill them on the spot.
“Move faster…or you die,” the terrorist leader yelled to those in front of them.
His voice and the sound of his boots made her cringe. Every time he yelled, she thought he directed his abuse at her. Given the life-or-death extremes of their situation, the man had total control over her and the others.
Yet she needed to know one thing.
“You could have killed me back there,” she said, her voice cracking. “Why didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer at first. And she’d begun to think he hadn’t heard her until she looked over her shoulder.
“It would have been too easy.” He fixed his eyes ahead and shoved her shoulder, forcing her to face forward. “And I have plans for you now. When I could not take your wealthy American guest of honor hostage, I had to settle for you. An American nun. Now shut up and keep moving.”
Kate grimaced and fought a lump in her throat. Their lives were in his hands. And behind her, the steady skirmish between the terrorists left at the clinic and the Haitian police had stopped. Even with her muffled hearing, she’d noticed. The police must have overrun the facility and arrested or killed anyone who resisted.
With the deadly force used by the local law in response to the terrorists’ aggression, she wondered if any of them would have survived the final assault if their captors hadn’t escaped before the police reinforced their lines. Their abductors had used explosions as an element of surprise, but if the local law had known they were so well armed, they might have reciprocated with more firepower to put an end to the standoff. That thought left her feeling a strange gratitude toward the man who’d forced them to leave. And he’d sacrificed some of his men to ensure that they got away.
Why? What plans
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