CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY SEVEN – THE PHANTOM STRNAGER RETURNS

Precisely sixty-three minutes later, Kayla settled onto a secluded bench in the small park courtyard, back ramrod straight and hands clasped tightly in her lap. A few meters away, a burbling stone fountain masked the clamor of the city streets beyond the low wrought-iron fences. Her gaze skittered furtively about, searching for any indication of her mysterious caller's arrival. Had this all been an elaborate ruse? Some twisted ploy to further undermine her credibility and standing? The faint crunch of boots on gravel drew her attention over her left shoulder. There he was - the man who had proved her guardian angel on that wretched island, his craggy features looking even more weathered and imposing in the filtered golden rays of late afternoon sunlight. As he approached, she couldn't help but drink in the details that had somehow eluded her in those panicked weeks of simply struggling to survive. His jaw was granite, perpetually clenched. A deep furrow carved brackets on each side