Omaha, Nebraska

Father Michael Keller wished his vision would return to normal. He had almost changed his mind in Chicago during a two-hour layover. Not because of fear or regret, but because his insides felt as though they would explode. He spent most of those two hours in the bathroom, vomiting until there was nothing left but the urge. As soon as his insides had settled down, his eyesight had started playing tricks on him.

It was the worst when he first arrived in Omaha, making him see double and triple. There had been one uniformed officer and a detective to meet him and suddenly there seemed to be three uniformed officers and then almost a dozen. He had walked through the airport with them, trying to ignore the feeling of walking through a fun house with mirrors alongside, distorting, elongating and multiplying images all around him. That was when he told them he wanted to go to his hotel. That if they wanted to get the information from him they’d need to come to his hotel room. And what a hotel room it was, bigger than his shack, with a sitting area and a counter with minifridge and microwave.

He’d been in the rain forest for too long. He reveled in everything, from the tiny shampoo bottles and the bright white cotton towels to the king-size bed and carpeting so soft it felt like walking on feathers. He hadn’t realized how much he missed, how much he had sacrificed. Like air-conditioning! He’d forgotten how glorious air-conditioning felt except that it had given him such a chill during the ride from the airport that when the hotel desk clerk asked if there was anything they could bring to his room for him he immediately asked for some hot tea. Yes, some hot tea would ease his frayed nerves and settle his stomach. Some tea that wasn’t laced with monkshood, that would restore the comforting memory of his mother and not let him dwell on the poison.

The young detective asked if everything was to his liking, if there was anything else he needed. He told him the others would be coming soon. Just as a hotel person brought in a tray with all the makings for his hot tea, the detective left in search of the meeting room they were to use downstairs off the lobby.

Keller stood back and admired the contents on the tray: a porcelain carafe of hot water, a delicate bone-china teacup and saucer, a matching plate with an assortment of teas in colorful packages, a small stainless-steel pitcher with milk and a small dish with miniature sugar cubes. If that wasn’t enough of a treat, they had included a small basket, and he peeked under the linen napkin to find a treasure of biscuits and muffins still warm.

He rubbed his hands together, content, sitting and staring at the surprise feast. Finally, he chose a package of tea and poured a cup, relishing the aroma. Yes, this would make it all better. He could feel a warmth start to fill him even with the first sip.

He had been wrong to think he should have to do without these simple pleasures. It had been almost four years, four long years of punishment he didn’t deserve. He had tried to make his time as productive as possible. But there were so many who needed him. So many who were miserable and starving, neglected and abused. At times it was overwhelming. He knew he couldn’t be expected to save them all. But Arturo was different, special. Those sad, dark eyes were like a window into his own childhood, a constant reminder of what it was like to have no one who cared. He had been lucky to have his mother, though only for twelve short years. But Arturo had no one except those who knew only how to punish and abuse him. No, he could never have left without saving Arturo. It was the least he could do.

A knock at the door rudely interrupted him. He wished he could ignore it. Perhaps it was simply the hotel person, coming back for the tray. Did they come back this quickly? Or it could be someone else checking to make sure he was comfortable.

He opened the door just a crack. The detective had already returned.

“We’re ready for you,” he said, and suddenly all the therapeutic magic of the tea seemed to dissipate.