Not Without The Truth

Okay, so he was old—at least twenty, maybe even twenty-five—and he worked for her mom, but he was so cool! Lauren had had a major crush on Daniel from the minute they’d arrived.

Normally her mom would have had a cow over Lauren’s thing for Daniel but she’d overheard her parents talking, and her mom had admitted she was giving Lauren a pass because Daniel had managed to distract her. Lauren had bawled for days when she’d found out she was going to have to leave all her friends. Knowing there was no chance, she’d even begged to stay with her grandparents instead of moving. “We’re a family,” her mother had said. “And that means we stick together.” Lauren had been really, really bummed. Until she’d spotted Daniel.

Daniel liked her, too. He treated her like she was a real person, not just some stupid kid who’d didn’t have a choice about where she lived. He’d even taken the time to explain to her why it was important she and her dad be there. Her mother was an important person, Daniel had said solemnly, one of only three consuls who worked directly for the ambassador. The people of Peru saw the entire family as representatives of the United States. Daniel made her think she counted, something her mother never had the time to do.

Her mother came into view. She’d let Lauren pick out her dress for tonight, and it’d been no surprise which one she’d selected. The red beaded gown was Lauren’s favorite and it fit her mom perfectly, the crystals shimmering and shining as she walked among her guests. She looked like a movie star. They didn’t always get along, but her mom was really pretty neat and she was definitely awesome-looking.

In contrast, her father bobbed behind her like the little boat Lauren had played with in the bathtub when she was younger. He had on a tux like the other men, but the similarities stopped there. He wasn’t elegant or even handsome and he sure didn’t seem to be having a good time. Maybe his glasses made him look that way. More likely, it was his frown. Her father was a child psychiatrist and, back home, he’d taught other doctors at a fancy medical center how to treat crazy kids. He hadn’t ever been a fun kind of dad, but since they’d come to South America, he’d stopped smiling completely. She’d even heard him yell at her mom once, something he’d never done in Dallas. Tonight he looked more uptight than usual.

He pretended he didn’t see Lauren. He was angry at her, too, because she’d been such a toot about moving.

Her eyes searched the mob again. Daniel had moved closer to the dining room and another man, dressed in black, was standing beside him. She looked at Daniel but her gaze kept returning to the man with him. He was shorter than Daniel and Latin, his jacket filled out with muscles that Daniel could only dream of having. His black hair was long and slicked back and as she watched, he smoothed it, a gleam of gold on his wrist catching her attention. He looked kinda rough—like those drug lords on TV—and out of place next to the blond attaché.

Lauren edged closer to the wrought iron so she could see better and when she did so, Daniel looked up, the white flash of her nightgown obviously drawing his notice. He smiled at her and lifted his glass as if in a salute. She wagged her fingers back at him, her heart doing a funny skipping thing inside her chest.

The man at Daniel’s side raised his eyes, too. Lauren glanced in his direction, then something weird seemed to happen and she couldn’t look away.

He was younger than she’d first thought, but his eyes didn’t match the rest of him. Instead, they were like the old man’s on the corner, the one who sold newspapers. He was about a hundred and he never seemed happy, not even when Lauren’s dad gave him twice as big a tip as he should. Lauren’s delight in being acknowledged by Daniel changed into confusion. The man scared her. Speaking to Daniel but keeping his eyes on hers, the stranger gestured. She had no idea who he was since she’d never seen him before, but she knew one thing: she didn’t think she’d ever forget him.

Suddenly it seemed like a good time for Lauren to go.

She jumped up, her gown billowing around her legs as she ran, laughter and music from downstairs chasing her back to the private living quarters of the embassy. Her pulse racing as fast as her feet, she found herself in her mother’s closet, the familiar scent of her perfume reassuring. Lauren sat down on the floor behind the louvered doors and prayed for the jittery feeling to leave.

She kept telling herself she wasn’t afraid, until she fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams full of men with golden eyes. When she woke up to loud voices, it took her a moment to remember where she was. The conversation came to her in snatches.

“Dammit, Margaret, you don’t understand…. Big mistake if you think… Lots of money to be made….”

Lauren started to call out but the argument held her back. Peeking through the slats in the door, she could see a pair of men’s shoes and the hem of her mother’s red gown. The man kinda sounded like Daniel but not really. Daniel never used bad words like dammit and his voice was higher than this man’s.

“…not in the foreign service for money. I love my country….”

Lauren teased her mom sometimes and called her General Mother. No matter what, she stayed the same, strong, brave, no-nonsense. She was acting that way now. Taking a step toward the closet door, her mother spoke without hesitation.

“You aren’t going to get away with this. I found out and others will, too.”

“They won’t if you aren’t talking.”

The man had come nearer, too, but Lauren still couldn’t tell if it was Daniel or not. He sounded really scary and she thought about the stranger she’d seen beside Daniel. The man with the bracelet. Lauren heard him pull something from his pocket.

Her mother’s gasp turned Lauren’s stomach inside out. She gripped a handful of carpet, her mouth going dry.

Her mother spoke slowly and calmly, just like she did when she was trying to explain something to Lauren. “Don’t be stupid. That’s not going to help things.”

“I can see how you’d feel that way,” the man said. “But I disagree.”

A muffled pop followed.

Lauren scrambled backward so fast she almost hit the wall. Squeezing her eyes shut, she curled into a tiny ball and wedged herself as far as she could into the darkness where she tried not to think about what that noise meant. Part of her understood but a desperate sense of survival kept her silent. Over the ringing in her ears, she thought she heard the bedroom door open and close but she couldn’t tell for sure, especially when she heard the sound again a few minutes later. Rocking back and forth, she moaned softly.

Five minutes passed. Maybe five hours.

Her mother always preached that procrastination only made things worse but something told Lauren “worse” was already on the other side of the closet door. She waited for as long as she dared, then she forced herself to move. She had to find out what had happened. Crawling on all fours like the baby she wished she still was, she reached the front of the closet and pushed the doors open.

Her mother lay on the floor, a red stain the color of her dress soaking the rug by her head.

A man bent over her, two fingers pressed to her throat. He wore black from head to toe, including a mask that completely covered his face.

Through the eye holes, the man’s startled gaze met Lauren’s. He jerked his hand away from her mother’s neck, a gold glint at his wrist catching Lauren’s attention.

For one long second, she was frozen. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t talk, she couldn’t even breathe. The man went still, too.

Lauren didn’t understand what happened next but she knew the moment would never leave her. She could hear his heartbeat, she realized with shock, and the quick intake of breath that he took filled her lungs. He sensed the connection as well and his gaze came alive.

They stared at each other another two seconds, then he pivoted and dashed to the nearest window. Lauren closed her eyes and began to scream.

CHAPTER ONE

Summer 2005

Near Machu Picchu

THE ROPE BRIDGE SWUNG LAZILY in the bright Peruvian sun. Every so often, a loose strand of hemp would free itself and float on the warm breeze before drifting away. Most of the strings fell to the river thirty feet below where the water rolled over the rocks in an easy rhythm. No hurry, the gentle rippling sound seemed to say, no rush.

On either side of the precarious walkway, scarlet macaws preened in the warmth, their iridescent feathers flashing against the thick green foliage like priceless jewels. The birds’ exotic calls filled the air, along with the perfume from the nearby balsam trees.

Pausing on the edge of the gorge, Lauren Stanley studied the tranquil scene spread out before her. For as far as she could see, serenity and beauty lay. Breathing deeply, she tried to trap the essence of the moment and transfer its peace to a spot inside herself.

She failed.

All Lauren could feel was the fright that had her nailed to one spot. Big spiders and heights, tight spots and snakes. Lauren’s list of fears was a long one and there were some things on it she couldn’t even name. Despite their numbers, she’d managed to face most of them because she was too stubborn to give up on something just because it was difficult. The perfect example of that was right ahead of her. Seeing the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu would have been a straight-forward journey, but she’d had to come to the lesser ruins first, even though it had meant hacking a path through the jungle and crossing remote bridges like the one she was staring at now.

A second passed and then another one. Finally, she managed to break her paralysis. Opening her eyes, she lifted her hands and stared at them. They trembled violently, as did her body.

Behind her, Joaquin, the guide she’d hired, said something encouraging. At least, that’s how she interpreted it. He spoke almost no Spanish and they’d had to make do between his Quechuan and sign language. She looked over her shoulder and the young man made a go-ahead motion with his hand. She faced forward once more and eased her right foot out.

The bridge was made of three ropes, two that acted as handrails and one Lauren would have to balance on as she walked across. They were lashed together with extra fibers at gaping intervals. The woven strand beneath her boot was probably two inches in diameter, maybe three at the most. She had forty feet to go and there was no other way to get to the other side.

She knew she shouldn’t, but Lauren glanced down. The space beneath her seemed to widen and the green cliffs on either side shifted accordingly. A sickening dizziness swamped her.

I can’t do this. She shut her eyes again. I can’t do this. What was I thinking? Why did I come here? Am I crazy or what?

The questions were rhetorical because she knew the answer to each. She’d come back to Peru because she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life living in fear. She refused to. She’d spent enough time there and she was ready to move on. She had a great career ahead of her and nothing but opportunity. All she had to do was conquer the final frontier—her past. And she probably was nuts, but that had never stopped her.

Enough thinking, it was time to go. Lifting her left foot, Lauren carefully placed it in front of her right. She was near enough to the metal rings that held the ropes steady that the bridge stayed immobile under her shifting weight and her confidence took a step forward as well.

She continued, blanking her mind to anything but reaching the other side. Measure by measure. Heartbeat by heartbeat. Breath by breath.

She was halfway across when the rope’s tension seemed to change. Gripping the side ropes tightly, she told herself she was imagining things. Then the birds became quiet.