Her bag. Her satellite phone. But she had no time. The voices were only a few houses away.
Violet slipped her arm around Hasana’s waist, ducking her head, and they made their way as quickly as they could between the houses. She had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she couldn’t head toward the truck.
A figure stepped out in front of them, causing her to gasp in alarm.
The dark-skinned Fulani man in traditional dress silently pointed his finger in one direction. She’d vaccinated his children earlier.
She nodded in acknowledgment and hurried in the direction he pointed. It only took a few seconds to realize he was sending them out of the village and into the nearby hardwood forest. Plenty of cover for both of them.
They stopped for a few minutes as Hasana was gripped by another labor pain. She held on to a nearby tree trunk until she’d breathed her way through it. The voices were coming nearer. Closing in on them.
It was the most terrified Violet had ever been. She didn’t know if she was more scared for Hasana or for herself. What would they do to Hasana if they caught her with the doctor? Would it actually be safer to leave Hasana behind?
No.
Hasana needed her right now. And she couldn’t imagine abandoning her—not even for a second.
They stumbled through the forest, moving away from the thinner trees on the outskirts and into the darker depths. She felt herself drop something again as she held on tightly to Hasana, helping support her, but didn’t dare look back to see what it was. They pressed on into the forest.
Violet kept glancing over her shoulder, praying that no one had noticed them and no one was following. She couldn’t hear the voices anymore or the gunfire. That had to be a good sign.
She urged Hasana on. What she really wanted right now was her satellite phone. If she’d had it she could have phoned Evan and he could have arranged to get them out of here and get some support for Hasana.
In her head she could see it lying on the floor of the birthing room. Going back for it might have cost them their lives. No phone was worth that.
Hasana crouched down, her labor obviously progressing. They were near a mound of dark moss. Violet spread a blanket across it and urged Hasana to sit down. She pulled some gloves from her pocket and checked her again.
But she didn’t need to. Hasana’s baby was almost crowning.
Violet raised her eyes skyward and started some silent prayers. Please don’t let them be found—they couldn’t move now.
Please don’t let there be any birth complications. It was too late to save the baby. But Hasana’s life could still be at stake here. Hemorrhage, abruption, there could be whole host of delivery complications that could risk Hasana’s life. And she was hardly equipped to deal with them.
She gestured at Hasana, signaling when to push and when to relax. Hasana’s sobs grew louder. She didn’t have her friend’s hand to hold any more. She didn’t have anyone other than Violet to support her. And they both knew what would happen next.
* * *
Evan was staring at the calendar, counting the number of days until they could head back to Atlanta.
What on earth would he say to the director once he got there? The polio program was likely to be a success. But his teamwork? His professionalism? His relationship with Violet?
Strike one. Strike two. Strike Three. Out.
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Violet had barely spoken to him for the past two weeks.
And he couldn’t blame her.
It didn’t matter that her last words had been about forgiving himself. She couldn’t really have meant that. Not after what he’d told her.
It was no wonder she didn’t want to be around him. He didn’t want to be around him either.
He knew that she’d spoken to her brother a few times in the past two weeks. Had she told Sawyer what had happened between them? Would her brother be waiting at Atlanta airport with a baseball bat? That was all he needed.
He’d told Violet that they had unresolved issues. And he was right. They did.
Violet had told him he needed to forgive himself. And he was sorting all that out in his head—truly, he was.
But in order to fully be at peace with himself, the one thing he was absolutely sure about was that he was going to have to speak to Sawyer.
He didn’t want to do it over the phone. He could have used the opportunity in the past few weeks when Sawyer had phoned to speak to Violet. But this was too big for Evan. Too important. He needed to do it face-to-face.
The way he should have done six years earlier, before Matt Sawyer had disappeared.
And he had to take whatever Sawyer dished out because Violet was right about one thing. He couldn’t live like this forever.
The phone next to him started ringing. He reached over and grabbed it. “Evan Hunter.”
It was a hysterical babble. Not a single word made sense. It took him a few seconds for his brain to recognize the voice. “Jaja? Jaja, is that you?”
He stood up, the tone of his voice causing everyone around the room to stop dead.
“What is it, Jaja? Slow down, I can’t make you out.”
He gestured to one of the other team members. “Pull up the GPS signal.”
He had six separate teams in different areas today, all working on the polio program. Where was Jaja working?
“What do you mean, gunfire? Who was firing? Where is the staff? Is any of the staff at risk? Are you safe?”
He was firing questions at Jaja and he knew he should take a deep breath and keep calm. The connection was terrible. He could hardly make out a single word. All he could gather was that there had been trouble in the village, shooting, and Jaja had barely made it to the truck in time to get out.
He started looking frantically at the papers on his desk, all describing the latest events in the ne
ighboring state. There had been nothing about Natumba state. Nothing at all. He’d been advised to continue working. Had he just put his staff at risk? Had he sent them to an area where they could have been kidnapped? Or worse?
The bounty on a healthcare worker’s head was huge.
The thought made him feel physically sick.
His brain was in overdrive. “What village, Jaja? Say it again. What village?”
He shouted the name across the room to the worker on the GPS system. “Who do we have there?”
Silence. The staff were waiting. Waiting to hear who was at risk.
The tension was almost palpable. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.
The man sitting at the screen pulled up a table, covering the intensive GPS tracking system they used. His face paled. He rattled off the names—four community workers, Jaja among them. Then he hesitated and turned to face Evan. “And Violet.” His voice was almost a whisper. Everyone knew about their relationship.
Evan could hear a roaring in his ears. His worst dream had just been realized. For a second time stood still. He felt as if he were in one of those slow-motion movie scenes. This couldn’t be happening.
His legs moved automatically over to the screen. “Do you have the signals?” Beside him a hand picked up the phone, reporting back to headquarters, while another voice started shouting about pulling a team together.
The screen operator nodded, focusing the map on the village. From an aerial view there were five signals. One was moving away rapidly—Jaja.
Three others were unmoving, one slightly outside the village limits.
One of the local staff moved up next to his elbow. “The workers will be hiding. The villagers will have taken them somewhere. Somewhere they won’t be recognized.”
“Where’s this? Where is this area?”
Evan’s finger was stabbing at the screen. This whole exercise was futile. Even though the workers all wore the GPS trackers, it only showed their positions. They didn’t show a heartbeat. Didn’t tell him if they were dead or alive. Didn’t tell him if they were injured. Didn’t tell him if they were safe or in danger.