Her Stolen Past. Lynette Eason

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      He was waiting—and planning—for the next moment to strike.

FIVE

      Monday morning Brandon glanced at the clock on his desk at the police station and rubbed his chin. He’d snagged only a few hours of sleep last night, yet they’d been enough to refresh him.

      Knowing Sonya was at work and under the watchful eye of Frankie, Brandon had felt comfortable enough to come in and work on his cases without worrying himself to death about her safety.

      Brandon knew Frankie would call him if something came up. He hoped nothing did, of course. And now, in an hour, he’d pick up Sonya at the hospital and take her to meet Heather Bradley’s family. Time had slowed to a crawl and he had to force himself to focus. However, excitement stirred inside him, distracting him.

      He wasn’t sure if it was the thought of seeing Sonya again or the possibility of discovering she was a missing child from twenty-eight years ago.

      He stopped to consider that. Wariness rose as he realized seeing Sonya rated higher on his excitement meter than finding out if she was a Bradley. He’d have to add another layer to the crumbling wall around his heart.

      His phone rang as he kept up the internal dialogue about why he couldn’t allow a romantic interest in Sonya to grow. “Yeah?”

      “Tough day?”

      Holt Granger, his buddy at the lab. Finally. “Not especially. Why?”

      “You sound grumpy.”

      “I’m not grumpy.”

      “You sure? Because you sound grumpy.”

      Brandon sighed. “I’m sure.”

      “Whatever.”

      “And no, my day has not been especially hard. I was just thinking about something.”

      “Something that put you in a bad mood obviously.”

      Brandon felt his lips twitch. Holt never had a bad day. Or if he did, he didn’t let on. “Do you have something that’s going to improve my mood?”

      “Thought you weren’t in a bad mood.”

      “I said I wasn’t grumpy. I didn’t say anything about my mood.”

      Holt laughed and Brandon’s small smile curved higher. “Well?”

      “I got a print off the letter.”

      “You’re right. My mood just got better. Any matches?”

      “No, sorry. Whoever the print belongs to isn’t in the system.”

      “You just tanked my mood.”

      Holt chuckled then turned serious again. “Nothing from your condo, either. Your intruder had on gloves.”

      “Yeah. I know.”

      “I’ll stay in touch and let you know if anything else comes up.”

      “Thanks.”

      Brandon hung up and looked at the clock again, realized what he was doing and rolled his eyes. His uncharacteristic impatience had him cranky and irritable in spite of his denials to Holt.

      But he finally admitted his impatience stemmed from his desire to see Sonya again. He grabbed his keys and his phone and headed out the door. He’d be early, but at least he’d be moving instead of staring like a lovesick schoolboy at the clock on his desk.

      * * *

      At 4:55 in the afternoon, Sonya waved to Frankie Lee, her subtle bodyguard who leaned against the wall and pretended to read a magazine. He returned her wave with a nod and she gathered her things. He sauntered over and pushed the door to the locker room open. “Anyone in here?”

      “Just me.” Gerri Aimes exited the locker room and gave Frankie the once-over. He seemed to meet her approval because she winked at Sonya. “It’s all yours.”

      “Thanks.” Sonya didn’t bother to correct her coworker’s misunderstanding about who Frankie was. Instead, she stepped into the empty room where she’d change into her street clothes and freshen up a bit before heading down to meet Brandon. Just the thought made her smile. In spite of Brandon’s observation that she didn’t smile much. She’d noticed lately that when she thought of him, her lips automatically curved upward. She had to admit, too, that while on the job, she occasionally used the smile Brandon called fake. Even that was better than a frown. Or an expressionless facade.

      Hospice could be such a heavy place. No one who came to hospice left alive, and families were grieving—some openly, some hiding it well. Others were angry that the medical staff couldn’t miraculously heal the dying loved one.

      Sonya didn’t take it personally, but dealing with them didn’t make it any less emotionally draining. And while smiling usually came naturally to her, lately, it had been hard to find something to smile about. She was glad to let her lips relax in the privacy of the locker room.

      Not everyone could do her job. She knew that and took comfort in the fact that she was needed even if being needed did come with a high emotional price tag. But she loved what she did and the families she worked with. So she coped with prayer and offered comforting embraces and empathetic tears.

      Watching her parents die had given Sonya the desire to reach out to others, to let them know she knew exactly what they were going through. And offer genuine smiles when she could find them.

      Some days she saw the results of her efforts. Other days she just prayed she’d made a difference.

      Today was one of those days, so she prayed while she changed.

      She would see Brandon in five minutes. Give or take a minute or two. She’d gotten permission to leave early, stating she had a personal issue to take care of.

      Her nerves hummed and her brain whirled. Who were the Bradleys? What if she was Heather? Her throat tightened at the thought. No way. There just had to be a reasonable explanation for everything. Didn’t there?

      She finished changing and closed the locker door. Another locker door shut with a click.

      Footsteps to her left.

      The lights went out.

      In the dark, Sonya froze and listened. The inky blackness pressed in on her. “Hello?” She thought she was the sole occupant of the locker room since she was the only one leaving two hours before the shift ended.

      Had the entire hospital lost power? But why hadn’t the generator kicked in?

      She moved with shuffling steps toward the door, not wanting to bang her knees on the benches.

      Another footfall landed somewhere in front of her, between her and the door. She stopped, her heart picking up speed. “Who’s there?”

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