Robert Walker - Cuba blue

As Qui continued toward the airport, her thoughts focused on how much she’d gained and how much she’d lost, and how much she’d changed since that first day on the Sanabela, staring at the netted bodies. She’d gained untold experience, knowledge, and street smarts. She’d lost Montoya and Tino, but she’d found JZ, and she must admit to herself if to no one else she’d found love. This case had changed her- seasoned her. In this regard, Qui would never again doubt her own instincts and intuition. She understood that her relentless determination and her commitment to truth and law had won out against all odds-including the Cuban underworld.

But all these concerns were obliterated when Qui pulled alongside the private jet that JZ would board for Miami. She didn’t see him but he must be here, somewhere.

Returning to America, JZ carried a written apology to the families of the American and Canadian victims. While the letter was sealed, Qui had learned the gist of it: a proviso that all those responsible for this miscarriage of justice in Cuba would pay as only Fidel could arrange.

“Quiana!” she heard his voice from behind. JZ approached from a nearby hangar. Qui dropped all pretense and rushed into his arms.

“I wish you didn’t have to go? When will you come back?”

“I’ll be back…one way or another. Don’t worry.” He ran his fingers through her thick mane of hair and lifted her chin to his lips and passionately kissed her under the sound of the jet revving up. “You’ll be in heart from now until I see you again.”

Her eyes glistened with tears held in abeyance. “If I had any guts, I’d get on that plane with you.”

“No…no, it’ll take guts to go to work for Jorge Pena.”

She laughed at this.

“Besides, Havana and Cuba need you, and it’s where you belong. You love her.”

“I could be happy anywhere so long as we were together,” she countered.

“Now you’re sounding like Luis, the romantic.”

“Luis is happy. Is that so much to ask?”

“No…of course not, but Qui, we both know how much you love Cuba.”

She buried her face in his chest, tears coming.

“Like I said, Cuba needs you…in fact, Cuba needs more like you.”

They embraced a last time. He whispered in her ear, “I’ll be back Quiana. I’ll be back. I promise you.”

Parting, Qui feared her heart would literally break as she watched him board. The plane backed off, taxied to the runway, and idled there a moment. The entire time she watched and waved at his image in the small portal, she half expected some kind of Hollywood, feel good, fantasy-ending: the one that left him in her arms. This notion evaporated when the plane suddenly roared, raced down the runway, and lifted smoothly curving away from her toward Miami. She watched the silvery blue jet until it disappeared behind billowy clouds fearing she’d never again see the man she loved.

She became aware that her cell phone was ringing. She answered it, foolishly hoping to hear JZ’s voice calling from the plane. Instead, it was Pena.

“There’s been a horrible murder, the likes of which I’ve never seen, Quiana.”

“Another murder?”

“Worse than murder.”

“Tell me, Pena, what’s worse than murder?”