The door to the bungalow opened and Anna appeared. She stopped short of the threshold, contemplating him intensely in her Powerpuff Girls pajamas. Rapp found himself similarly frozen. What did she see? The man who had done what was necessary to keep her safe? Or a butcher who had calmly executed ten men while she watched in high definition?
Finally, she started toward him. The relief he felt when she climbed into his lap was surprisingly intense. Strange that not long ago, he’d have been doing everything in his power to hand her back to her mother.
She leaned her head against his chest but remained silent. Unquestionably, as the adult, it was his responsibility to say something comforting. Maybe even profound. But what? Should he explain how the world worked and his unique part in it to a seven-year-old? Or was it better to just pretend none of it had ever happened? Kids had short attention spans, right? And home invasions weren’t exactly unheard-of in South Africa. Even at her age, she’d have heard stories from classmates. In a few days, this would already be a hundred miles in her rearview mirror. Right?
“You want me to make you some breakfast?” he said, missing profound by a fair margin, but perhaps grazing comforting.
“No. Mom’s doing it. She said she’s going to bring it out.”
“What’s she making?”
“Not, like, eggs and ham or anything. Like yogurt and fruit.”
She fell silent and he let it stretch out for almost a minute before speaking.
“I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t want to hurt those men. But I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to protect you and your mom.”
“You didn’t protect Aisha and Jambo.”
The dogs. It wasn’t a response he was prepared for. She didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he’d killed those men. She was bothered by the fact that he hadn’t killed them fast enough.
“I couldn’t get to them in time. But they got their shots in before they went down.”
“Mitch!” came the cautioning voice of Claudia from inside the bungalow. Apparently, she was eavesdropping.
It was too late, though. Anna looked up at him with a slightly curled upper lip and a gleam in her eye that made him a little queasy. He remembered her father having the same expression when he thought he’d had Stan Hurley dead to rights. Just a few moments before Hurley ripped his throat out.
Footsteps became audible on the path behind him and he craned his neck to see Scott Coleman approaching. The former SEAL gave the top of Anna’s head a quick rub before dropping into a chair.
“How you doing, kiddo?”
“They killed Aisha and Jambo.”
“Yeah, I heard. I’m really sorry. But they loved you and wanted to protect you. They were happy to die doing it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Mitch and I would have been.”
Rapp felt a pang of jealousy. Coleman was a natural. He never got nervous around her. Never felt the need to calculate every word that came out of his mouth. Back home in Virginia, they’d go out and work in the subdivision’s makeshift farm for hours, chatting away about nothing. No awkward silences. No misunderstandings or uncomfortable blank stares.
Rapp treated his relationship with her like a minefield that, with enough calm forethought, could be safely navigated. Coleman had no such bias. He knew that sometimes an explosion was necessary.
She stared at the man for a moment and then suddenly burst into tears. Rapp felt his teeth clench as she pressed tighter against him, but Coleman just commandeered his coffee and watched impassively.
She normally calmed down pretty quickly but it wasn’t the case this time. When her sobs turned into convulsive wails, Rapp tried holding her tighter. Then patting her back. But nothing worked. Finally, Claudia came out with breakfast and a rescue.
She managed to peel the girl off Rapp and led her into the house while the two men watched. When the door closed behind them, Coleman began slowly shaking his head.
“Gustavo Marroqui. You lucky bastard. I can’t believe you’re off the hook.”
“Are you done?”
“I am,” Irene Kennedy said. “Thank you. Everything was delicious as usual.”
Claudia moved everyone’s plates to a table next to the outdoor sofa. They’d eaten in silence, but now it was time to talk business—something she didn’t seem anxious to do. It wasn’t surprising. While she never made excuses about her previous life, she only discussed it when absolutely necessary. And even then, she spoke as if she were telling half-remembered stories about an acquaintance.