The Protector's Mission. Margaret Daley

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СКАЧАТЬ His expression was neutral. When she’d first returned home last year, she’d tried to talk to him about what happened all those years ago. He’d shut her down. He never acted angry or upset around her although she’d wronged him. Instead, he’d been more like a stranger. Even as a teenager, he’d kept his feelings to himself. That was part of the reason they broke up that first time at Christmas, and she began dating Aaron.

      She watched him leave. But hadn’t she done the same as him? When her mother left their family she’d shut off her emotions entirely. Even now she wouldn’t think about the woman who had abandoned her family. She couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else.

      The emotions she’d kept checked while he was there gushed to the surface. Tears ran down her cheeks for the people who’d died, for her foolishness as a teenager, for the rift between her and her father and for the times she’d missed her mother so much it had hurt deeply. And now, she couldn’t even remember anything to help the police.

      * * *

      Later that day, Jesse loaded Brutus into his crate in the back of his SUV and left the bombing scene. His dog needed a lengthy break if he was going to work late into August’s twilight hours for the third straight day, searching the rubble for victims or clues to identify the type of bomb used. There were still two people unaccounted for, and he was going to pay another visit to both Lydia and the waitress who survived. Maybe one or both of them could tell him if the two missing people were at the restaurant. Thomas talked with the cooks, but they didn’t know anything because they always stayed in the kitchen.

      He drove toward the hospital, the bright yellow sun splashed across the sky in all God’s glory. Life went on in spite of the tragedy that occurred yesterday. The death count with the bombings was climbing and so was the fear sweeping through the city. The mayor was demanding answers, and he’d gladly give him some if he had any.

      The closest surveillance camera had been disabled before the bombing. The others didn’t have a good angle on the entrance to the restaurant. Even if they had there were two other ways for a person to leave Melinda’s Bistro—the back door where the kitchen was and the emergency exit down the hallway to the bathrooms. There were no cameras on those two places. In fact, each building targeted didn’t have a lot of security. The police were urging businesses to increase their security.

      When he rode the elevator up to Lydia’s floor, he tried to prepare himself for seeing her again. He didn’t want to think about their past, but as he neared her hospital room, he experienced relief and...joy all over again, like when he heard her through the rubble. She’d been alive. After finding several dead bodies, he’d started to think no one would be alive.

      He’d thanked God he found her. He’d never felt that kind of relief. And yet, he had to keep his distance. Too much happened between them when they were teenagers. He’d grown up in a good foster home, but early on when he bounced from one family to another, he learned to keep himself apart from others. He would have to rely on that ability now.

      He couldn’t afford to be hurt by her again.

      Pausing at the door, he lifted his hand to knock and froze. He couldn’t go inside. I’ve got a job to do. Get in. Get out.

      He rapped his knuckles against the wood, heard Lydia respond and pushed the door open. He’d prefer to stay at the end of the bed, but he had to show her the photos. He’d have to stand next to her, only a couple of feet away.

      When he entered, a neutral expression fell over her features. Her brown eyes held a guarded look. She’d been pretty as a teenager, a little gangly, but now fifteen years later, she was a tall beauty, nothing awkward as she moved. What he’d observed at search and rescues was a self-assured woman who was aware of herself at all times. That had changed over the years. What else?

      “Is this a good time to talk?” Jesse asked, almost wishing she would say no.

      “Yes. Bree and Kate went to lunch. They should be back soon.” Her voice, husky laden, was the same, and its sound renewed memories best forgotten. “I haven’t remembered anything new. I wish I could. Everything is fuzzy. Maybe it’s the meds they have me on.”

      “That could be. But it also may be the trauma. The waitress doesn’t remember anything, either, but I wanted to show both of you the photos of the two people still missing and see if you can place them at the restaurant when the bomb went off.”

      “I’ll try to help any way I can. I want this madman caught before others die.”

      “On that, we agree.” But on so many other things, they hadn’t agreed on. Aaron had been a good friend, but Jesse had known Aaron wouldn’t be good for Lydia. Obviously she hadn’t felt that way. Even after they got back together in April, out of nowhere she left Anchorage with Aaron in June.

      Jesse removed the two pictures from his shirt pocket. One was of a young woman and the other an older gentleman. He laid them on the tray table. “Does either one seem familiar to you?”

      “Maybe the older gentleman. There was one that came into the bistro when I was there. The woman I didn’t see at all. I’d remember that red hair.”

      A smile tugged at his mouth. He thought back to a time Lydia had dyed her long brown hair that color and it turned out more a neon orange than red, especially toward the ends. She’d fixed it the best she could by cutting her hair short, which was the way she wore it now.

      She stared at him. “I know what you’re thinking. It turned out to be a good thing although I hated the stares I received those few days before I cut my hair. It’s easier to keep this way.” She combed her fingers through her strands.

      “I tried to warn you.”

      “That’s because you didn’t like redheads.”

      “I liked you the way you were.” But she never understood that. She’d wanted to be constantly reassured how he felt, and feelings had never been easy for him to express.

      She handed him the photos. “I wasn’t much help. I hope the waitress knows for sure. I’d hate for families not to know what happened to a loved one.”

      “Like what happened to your father?”

      “Yes, not knowing one way or another when he disappeared in the wilderness was nerve-racking. Kate and I felt in limbo. I understand you were one of the K-9 teams that went out searching.”

      “Alex Witherspoon found your father at the bottom of the ravine.” Ten days after he went missing. “That’s one of the things David does. If we don’t find the person right away, we don’t give up. We keep going out until every possibility is covered.”

      “Thankfully he died instantly and didn’t linger, injured and without food and water. But he shouldn’t have gone in the first place. It was stupid to go by himself, especially with Kate living at home.” Anger laced each word. “But then he never changed, even after Mom left us. He always did daredevil stunts, testing his limits with no regard for the family left behind.”

      Jesse stuck the pictures in his uniform shirt pocket. Things were getting too personal. He didn’t want to go there. “Thanks for your help. I’ve got to show these to the waitress. If you do remember anything else, call Thomas. He’s lead detective on the case.”

      Jesse left as quickly as he could. He’d almost told her to call him. That wouldn’t have been a wise decision on his part. He was on the Laughing Bomber Task СКАЧАТЬ