Hot Zone by Catherine Mann

Author:Catherine Mann [Mann, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781402244988
Google: IY3-tgAACAAJ
Amazon: 1402244983
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2011-12-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

The late-afternoon breeze curled over Amelia as she sat cross-legged on the porch floor, rolling a ball back and forth with Joshua. She could grow seriously addicted to staying out on this porch. Safe. Peaceful. And relatively clean, thanks to a quick sink rinse-off and change of clothes. Although God, she couldn’t wait for a shower after they all ate dinner, while there was still daylight to stream through the open floor plan.

A generator was being used to power the fridge and freezer. Windows, windows, windows and French doors were open to reveal the living room, dining area, and kitchen. The place was made to capture breezes blowing through, perfect architecture for the Bahamas. Someone had spent some serious dough building this place. But it appeared that money had stopped long ago.

The kitchen would have been top-of-the-line twenty years ago. High-end appliances, slate floors, and countertops were pristine clean but showing signs of age with scratches and dulled yellow.

She’d worried at first that the woman—Jocelyn—might be affiliated with the Guardian, perhaps his wife. But Jocelyn said she was a widow living with her two nieces. Jocelyn’s supply of baby gear had seemed strange, but she’d smoothly explained it away as leftover from frequent visits from her nephew’s family in Miami.

If she was lying, she was doing it so damn well, even Amelia couldn’t read a hint of deception in the woman’s calm hazel eyes. And this place certainly didn’t appear to be the affluent compound of someone trafficking in babies and women.

She’d seen that this was a working farm—Jocelyn stepping outside to give fertilizing instructions to a worker on a tractor, staking the trunk of a fledgling tamarind tree in a pot off the back step, tending a spice garden on the kitchen sill. She’d witnessed the evidence of time and effort put into the sugarcane plantation, and Jocelyn clearly knew how to keep the cogs in the machine running smoothly.

They were safe. For now. Her hand was barely even throbbing anymore, and she could move her fingers again.

Joshua pushed the soccer ball toward her, sweet baby laughter rolling free just as fast. He was such an adorable child, six teeth gleaming as he smiled. His joy just reached out and filled her right up.

“Beautiful boy,” Jocelyn Pearson-Stewart said from the open doorway. She’d ditched the hat on her gray-blonde hair. She was one of those women who aged with grace, comfortable in her own skin, free of implants or injections.

Amelia couldn’t help but think if she’d met this woman in everyday life, she would have liked her, respected her. She wanted to do that now, but this experience had made her a much more cautious person.

“Thank you, Jocelyn, for taking us in. Truly.” Amelia rolled the ball back to Joshua. “You’ve been so generous.”

“It’s nothing.” She sank into a wide rattan chair, a palm fan in her hand. “In a crisis, we all do what has to be done.”

“Once I’m back in the States”—she caught the ball as it rolled to her again—“I would like to reimburse you.

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