Barefoot with a Stranger (Barefoot Bay Undercover #2)(56)

Rosalia gave a sigh. “Cuba might let more tourists and businesses in,” she said. “But that will not change our government. The only thing that will ever change that is education for our youngest citizens.” She sounded like she was reciting something she’d heard someone—likely her father—say many times. “It is our hope that when the Western culture infiltrates, children like this one…” She patted her baby’s head. “Like my little Miguel…will seek the truth, and justice, and fight the oppression.”

“Many people think that will happen,” Chessie told her.

“Only if we educate them,” Rosalia said. “Schools like this…” She made a sweeping gesture with her free hand. “They are the most important, and secretive, places in all of Cuba.”

Was that why little Gabriel Winter had been here? If his mother was American…but his mother had died and the child might be considered an orphan.


The little girl squirmed on Chessie’s lap and looked up with adoring eyes. “Mamá?” she whispered.

For a second, Chessie could barely breathe. She kissed Gabriella’s head, closing her eyes to memorize her sweet scent, suddenly overwhelmed by an emotion that felt awfully like love. And protection. And, yeah, love.

But she’d hadn’t come here looking for a girl, and she couldn’t let one wide-eyed orphan with a similar name derail her from her real mission.

“Rosalia,” Chessie said softly. “Was there ever a boy at this school named Gabriel? He would be the same age, around four.”

The other woman looked up from her baby, meeting Chessie’s eyes, frowning, but not answering. Maybe she didn’t understand.

“It would have been in the last few years, maybe recently.” Chessie knew there was a note of desperation in her voice, but this was the only lead they had, the only address.

The database she’d seen hadn’t listed a date that the mother had passed away, Chessie thought. It could have been anytime in the last four years. She could have died in childbirth, which might explain why she’d been silent all these years.

For a long moment, Rosalia was still, so, so still, it was as though she’d been frozen. “I will ask my father.” She stood quickly, walking away, leaving Chessie with her arms around Gabrielita.

If there was no boy named Gabriel, then…

“Let me brush your pretty hair,” Chessie whispered.

Gabriella just looked up and gave a warm smile. “Mamá?”

Chessie’s heart folded over itself, leaving her speechless. “I have a nice hairbrush I can use.”

Getting one of the brushes she’d brought for this express purpose, Chessie ran the rough bristles through Gabriella’s curls, easily picking up a dozen strands that could be tested for DNA. After a few moments, she surreptitiously dropped the brush back into her handbag. As she did, she looked up and found Se?or Ramos looking down at her.

“Come,” he ordered, surprising her with English and gesturing for her to get up and follow him.

Chessie stood, easing the child to the ground, but Gabriella was having none of it. She wrapped her arms around Chessie’s leg and squeezed.

“I’ll be back,” she promised the little girl, but Gabrielita just clung tighter.

Se?or Ramos bent over and spoke softly, putting a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. After a moment, she let go of Chessie, but still gazed up lovingly.

Chessie smiled and patted her back with a silent promise to return, then glanced around for Mal. “My friend?” she asked, not seeing him in the schoolhouse barn.

He muttered something in Spanish and pointed outside, then made a gesture that she interpreted as bouncing a basketball. She hadn’t even realized he’d left.

Chessie followed the man outside, around the back to another structure, much smaller, wooden, unpainted. He opened the door and gestured for her to go through a crooked opening into a dimly lit room with a bed, a cardboard dresser, and a toilet and sink. The floor was broken concrete, and the windows were open.

He faced her, a frown pulling thick black brows together. “Why are you here?”

His accented but perfect English threw her, almost as much as the accusation in his voice. Damn it. She shouldn’t have gone with him. Mal was outside, and she was…on her own. “I’m a teacher, like—”

“Who are you looking for?”

Chessie felt the blood drain from her face, realizing how vulnerable she was. Not that she thought this man would hurt her, but they were here on a lie. A lie that…might be keeping her from truth.

But she’d already asked Rosalia about a four-year-old boy named Gabriel, and she wasn’t going to leave the farm without knowing for certain if he’d been here.

“A child named Gabriel, about four years old. His mother is dead. I have reason to believe he was brought here.”

Very slowly, Se?or Ramos shook his head, nothing but honesty in his eyes. “No one named Gabriel.”

She closed her eyes as the finality of that hit. Maybe the child she was looking for was a girl. Maybe that little—

“I would like to give you something, se?orita,” he said, holding up a hand to make her stay where she was. Wordlessly, he crossed the room to the simple cardboard dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a chain, like a heavy necklace or…no, it was a rosary.