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Prado bouncing Isabel on his knee, a sight Kelly captured earlier with her camera. Cal sighed and shook his head. No matter what was about to happen, it would be the last joyful moments Prado would spend with his daughter—if not forever, most certainly in that precious stage of life. Cal didn’t want to believe the reality of the aspiring player’s life, but he couldn’t deny it. The moment they left Cuba was the moment Prado would likely disappear forever.

A few minutes later, Cal noticed another man walked up to Prado and started yelling at him. Prado stood up but was pulled back down by Campos. Then the man slapped Prado in the face and spit at him.

Kelly saw it happen, too. “What do you think that’s all about?”

Cal shook his head. “Not sure. But I remember Prado telling me that he stole money from his uncle, who’s somewhat of a drug lord here. Maybe it’s one of his henchmen.”

“I thought drugs were prosecuted harshly here,” Kelly said.

“They are, but there are always allowances to be made if you grease enough palms.” He shrugged. “Just like American politics.”

After the inning ended, Kelly stood up. “I need a snack. You want something?”

“I’m too nervous too eat,” Cal said.

She patted him on the knee. “Relax. Everything is going to be all right.”

He shook his head, his gaze remaining on the field as a new relief pitcher was announced for the Grapefruit Cutters, the fourth one since the second inning. “I hope you’re right,” he said through his teeth.

He looked over his right shoulder and watched her disappear around the corner. He felt a tap on his left shoulder and started to turn around.

“Don’t turn around,” a man’s voice said. The voice seemed familiar, but disguised. Cal was trying to place it. He heard what sounded like the man cracking open a roasted peanut and then dropping the hull onto the ground.

Cal kept his eyes on the field. “What do you want?”

“I want to give you something,” he said, casually dropping the bag of peanuts next to Cal.

Cal picked up the bag. “A bag of peanuts?”

“There’s more than peanuts in that bag.”

“Such as?”

“Don’t look now, but look for it later. There’s a flash drive in there. Don’t even think about opening it—it’s encrypted.” He paused. “Find someone in federal law enforcement and give it to them. I think you know a few of them.”

Cal furrowed his brow as he stared at the field. “How do you know who I am?” He turned around.

The man was gone.

A few minutes later, Kelly returned with a bag of peanuts. She stared at the bag in Cal’s hands. “I thought you said you couldn’t eat.”

“It’s a long story, but I’ll tell you about it on the way tonight. We’ll have plenty of time.”

She cocked her head to one side and sat down slowly. “Okaaay.”

Once the ninth inning arrived, Kelly got up again. “Are you ready to do this?”

Cal nodded.

She collected her camera and patted Cal on the back. “Well, get movin’. Time is a wastin’.”

Cal headed toward the restrooms down the right field line. He glanced over his shoulder to see Kelly kneeling near Prado while she took pictures of him playing with his daughter. She was supposed to tell Campos the pictures were for the paper, but that was only partially true—they would also be pictures to help Prado maintain sanity. It would be a gift to have those last few moments with Isabel captured in still photography. But he’d never see them if Cal didn’t execute the next portion of their plan.

Kelly had created a disguise for Prado that Cal was to insert behind the toilet in the last stall. Cal wore the pants and shirt as a layer beneath his. A pair of sunglasses and a hat along with a fake mustache and a wig with long dark hair completed what she believed would be enough to get Prado out before officials noticed he was missing.

Cal quickly stripped down then redressed, tucking the clothes in a bag and out of sight. He exited the bathroom and headed toward Kelly, who was still with Campos. Once he reached Campos, he thanked him for everything.

Prado stood up and announced that he needed to use the restroom before saying his farewells. Another man dressed in military garb—Prado’s escort—also stood up and followed him.

After Prado and his escort left, Cal announced they were leaving.

“So soon? Don’t you know it’s bad luck to leave a baseball game in the ninth inning,” Campos said.

Kelly laughed. “It’s bad luck for me if this man doesn’t get a good night of sleep—and we have a ferry to catch.”

Campos stood up and shook Cal’s hand before kissing Kelly on both sides of her cheek. “Very well, then. I look forward to reading your in-depth look at Cuban baseball, one I trust will be very favorable.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” Cal said, forcing a smile.

They spun and headed toward the exit to wait for Prado.

CHAPTER 40

PRADO SLID THE LATCH to lock his stall and located the clothes Cal had stashed behind the toilet. In the bag were directions for where he was to meet them, all handwritten in Spanish. He undressed and redressed hurriedly, trying not to think about what he was doing—abandoning his daughter again.

Not that it mattered this time. He’d already made that life-altering decision the first time he decided to leave. If he returned to custody now, his life would be over. He now held out hope on his second escape attempt that he could remain in the U.S. while he figured out a way to sneak Isabel and Liliana out of the country. For the moment, it was all he had—and he needed something to drive him from the dark place he’d nearly gone.

He gathered all his clothes and tucked them back in the bag and tried to hide them from plain sight. He slid the latch again, unlocking the door, and exited the restroom.

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