Lone Star Christmas Witness

by Margaret Daley

  Please, Lord, save Taylor.

  Sierra was aware people were around her. Lifting her onto something soft. The sense of moving inundated her. Faint noises penetrated the buzzing in her ears. A siren?

  She wanted to open her eyes, but the effort seemed too much. She surrendered to the void.

  * * *

  The glaring lights hurt Sierra’s eyes, but at least the room didn’t spin anymore, and she could hear better—a faint beeping sound. The throbbing pain in her arm had dulled, no doubt from the meds the nurse had given her. She glanced to the right and saw part of the bandage they had wrapped around her arm after removing the piece of glass and stitching her up.

  The clock on the wall in front of her read twelve o’clock. She was thankful it was noon, not midnight. The nurse promised to find out how Taylor was doing, but she hadn’t returned yet. Sierra nibbled her bottom lip, trying to remain calm. Her last memory had been of Taylor lying on the pavement, still, his eyes closed.

  A police officer standing guard outside her room opened the door.

  Sierra tensed.

  The nurse entered, followed by Robert, his expression somber. Was he coming to tell her bad news about Taylor? Please let him be alive. Her pulse rate kicked up a notch—then another.

  “Mr. Blackburn wanted to tell you about his son. Are you okay?” the ER nurse asked.

  When Sierra nodded, the woman left the room. Sierra switched her attention to Robert.

  He smiled. “I’m so glad to see you’re all right. I told Taylor I would come back and report how you’re doing. The staff isn’t forthcoming since we aren’t family, but at least they let me see for myself.”

  So Taylor was alive. The realization lifted her spirits and calmed her racing pulse. “The doctor is going to release me. I hope soon. How’s Taylor?”

  “He has a concussion, scrapes and cuts, but otherwise he’s okay. He wants to leave as soon as possible. He hates hospitals. I’m surprised the paramedics got him in the ambulance.”

  Relief fluttered through her. “How are Nash and the officer at the clinic?”

  “From what I understand they were about five or six feet farther away from the clinic and managed to shield themselves behind a vehicle. The paramedics treated them at the scene. Taylor called Nash. He’s still there, and that’s where Taylor wants to go.”

  Her first response was no, but she wanted to know what exactly happened earlier. “That doesn’t surprise me. How’s Ben? What does he know? Is Dallas with him?”

  “Yes. When I left, John was there, too. Ben doesn’t know anything.”

  “Oh, good. I don’t want him to know a bomb went off at the clinic. He doesn’t need anything else to worry about.” How many times would she have to say this in regard to Ben?

  “I agree, but what are you going to say to him?”

  “That we were in an accident. I’m going to keep it vague. He’s been traumatized enough.”

  “Okay. I’ll go see how much longer Taylor will be and tell him you’ll be fine. He’s been worrying about you.”

  When Robert left, Sierra closed her eyes and tried to relax. She had to appear calm when she saw Ben. He didn’t need to know the danger they were in. And now she knew for certain they were in grave danger. The police guard outside her room only emphasized that to her.

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, Taylor climbed from his dad’s Jeep to assess the damage to the clinic. Nash was talking to a member of the bomb squad. He started toward him, but the sound of a door opening behind Taylor stopped him. He turned toward Sierra exiting the back seat.

  He was glad she hadn’t been hurt worse, but angry that she was injured at all. “I’m not going to be long.”

  “I’m coming with you. I want to see the damage. I’ll need to call Sue and tell her about it.” She lifted one corner of her mouth. “Besides, I need to know what and how it happened.”

  He closed the space between them, needing to remain professional when all he really wanted to do was hold her and tell her he wouldn’t stop looking for the killer until he found him. She looked toward the building, then back at him, fear darkening her brown eyes.

  “Did the shooter leave the bomb?”

  Taylor nodded his head once. “Nash has left a police guard on the building since the shooting and no one has come near the clinic.”

  “Why did the shooter do this?”

  “Probably there was something in one of those files he didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Then why didn’t he take the whole file?”

  “If you knew a file wasn’t there, that would call attention to it. This way we won’t ever know which one he didn’t want us to know about. It’s destroyed as well as all of the others and your computer.” And whoever opened the drawer would be killed or at very least injured—which probably meant Sierra, one of the employees not there that day. He gestured toward the clinic. “As you can see, a good part of the clinic is damaged. He made the bomb powerful enough to wipe his existence from your records. I can’t say for sure that was his reason, but it is the most likely.”

  “Then the killer has to be a patient. Those files were for patients. The employees and contract workers were in a cabinet at the other end.”

  He looked down at his hand. “I wish I still had the list of names you ran off. In the mad dash to get out of there in time, I must have dropped it.” All he’d been thinking about was getting Sierra to safety.

  A slow smile transformed her face. “I have a copy of everything in the cloud. I can recreate that list, and we’ll at least have a narrowed down list of possible suspects.”

  “Fantastic! It’s nice to get good news. Dad has a computer at the house and a printer.” He took her hand. “Let’s go see what Nash can tell us. It looks like the bomb squad has finished with the site.”

  Nash met Taylor and Sierra halfway. “I’m glad y’all are all right.”

  “What did the bomb squad say?” Taylor asked.

  “It looks like it was homemade but had a punch, as y’all know. The timer was triggered to start the countdown when someone opened that particular file drawer. The bomb squad collected the bomb fragments and will be able to tell us more later. What they’ve discovered so far doesn’t sound like any bomber they know of.”

  “The building will have to be demolished.” Sierra sighed. “In the long run that might be for the best.”

  “Yeah.” Nash pointed at the far end of the building. “At least there might be some items still intact there. Isn’t that where your sister had her office?”

  Sierra’s expression brightened. “Yes. Can I check the rubbish now? I’m afraid to wait. With this killer we don’t know what he’s going to do or if he left anything else behind.”

  “The bomb squad went over every inch of the clinic to make sure there wasn’t a second one,” Nash said.

  Sierra slanted a glance at Taylor. “I’m going to see what I can find.”

  “I’m coming with you. Nash, give me a call if anything new develops.”

  “I will. And the same goes with you. Did you get any useful information before the bomb went off?”

  “The files in the drawer where the bomb was were patients with last names starting with Q and R. That might be helpful.” He nodded toward Sierra. “All I can say is if she hadn’t pulled the drawer out all the way, she and I wouldn’t have made it out of there in one piece.” Which only meant he needed to stay close to Sierra, because like Colin Brewer she was a target. For all he knew the bomber was watching them right now.

  As Sierra and he strolled to the other end of the building, he surveyed his surroundings, looking for possible places from which a person could watch them. That was when he noticed a crowd gathered across the street, staring at what was going on at the clinic. His cell phone had survived the bombing and now he pulled it from his pocket and cal
led his dad, who was with the parked Jeep.

  When his father answered, Taylor said, “Take pictures of the people across the street. Try not to call attention to what you’re doing.”

  “I’ll do my best. Do you want me to call to have your car towed away? It’s going to be in the shop for a while.”

  “Yes, and I’ll need to rent something to drive.” Taylor ended the call as they reached the area where Sierra’s sister’s office was. Flashes of finding the woman shot on the floor and Ben hiding in a cupboard flitted through his thoughts. The memory of the fright on the little boy’s face twisted his stomach again.

  As Sierra stepped over rubbish, Taylor helped her. She made her way to her sister’s desk, which remained relatively intact, but all the things on the top had been blown onto the floor. “Do you remember yesterday seeing a box on the desk?” She indicated the size with her hands.

  “No. What was in it?”

  “The day of the shootings Ben had brought with him a few ornaments he’d made for the Christmas tree in the reception area.”

  “Wait. I remember seeing one about that size in the cupboard with him when I found him. It was by his feet.” Taylor headed for the cabinet where Ben had hidden.

  Sierra followed. As he opened the door, she peered around him. “That’s it.” After he gave her the box, she lifted the lid. “I can’t believe they are intact. At least we have a few to start our collection.”

  “I hope Ben will put them on our tree.”

  “Me, too. I want to keep him engaged. He sits, lost in his thoughts too much. John encouraged me to talk to him as much as possible. Ask questions. All Ben has done is remain silent, even when I talk about things he loves, like soccer.”

  “I played soccer as a kid. My son and I used to kick the ball around before he became too sick. Dad has it somewhere in the storage shed out back.” The second he said that he tensed. He rarely talked about TJ. It always brought back memories he’d never share with his son again.

  Sierra bent over and picked up a picture frame. The glass was shattered, but the photo remained intact. She showed him Ben with his soccer uniform. “He was on a team in the fall and said he wanted to play this spring.” She pointed to another one. “This was taken last Christmas.”

  In the photo Ben held the handles of a black bicycle with his mom on one side and Sierra on the other and a Christmas tree behind them. TJ never had a chance to ride a bike without training wheels. Taylor had planned on getting him one until his son’s health rapidly weakened. He could remember his dad helping him to ride without training wheels. He’d wanted to share that with TJ.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just thinking about TJ when he rode his bike.”

  Sierra’s eyes softened. “Anytime you want to talk about your son, you can with me. Ben isn’t my child, but I’ve always thought of myself as his second mom.”

  She put the picture frame back. “We’d better go. The longer we’re gone, the more Ben will worry about us. I’ll let Sue know why I didn’t come by today.”

  Again, Taylor held her hand as they weaved their way through the debris and out of the clinic. They walked across the parking lot and into the Jeep with him in the front seat and Sierra in the back.

  He looked toward his father behind the wheel. “Dad, did you get any pictures of the crowd?”

  “Yep. Quite a few. Take a look.” His father passed him his phone, then started the SUV and pulled away from the clinic.

  Taylor twisted around and held the phone out for Sierra. “I’m going to keep an eye on the traffic. See if you recognize anyone in the pictures of the crowd. If you do, I’ll call Nash. He might be able to talk to him.”

  Sierra studied each photo, then looked up. “I recognize a few people who work in businesses near the clinic. One at the copy shop. Two at the café. One I see when I go in there for lunch. She’s a loyal customer. There could be more from places along the street, but the only businesses I’ve been in are the copy shop and café.”

  “Anyone else?”

  Sierra’s forehead scrunched, and she took another look at the picture she’d been staring at. “Maybe. There’s something familiar about this man, but I don’t know from where.” She leaned forward and pointed to a guy about six feet tall with blond hair, dressed in jeans and a bomber jacket.

  “He doesn’t work at those places?”

  “No. I frequent both of them enough that I know the staff that works there. One of the waitresses at the café is also a patient.”

  “Okay. I’ll call Nash and see if that guy is still there.” He took the cell phone from Sierra and punched in the lieutenant’s number. When he answered, Taylor explained why he called and described the man, then asked Nash to check out if the guy was still there.

  “Yes.”

  “Great. See if you can find out who he is and talk to him.”

  “Okay. I’ll let you know what happens.”

  Taylor disconnected the call and stared at the man in question in the picture, memorizing his features.

  “Son, your SUV will be towed later today. I’ll take you to a car rental place when your head is better. There’s one not fifteen minutes from my house, but you shouldn’t be driving right now.”

  “You won’t get an argument from me. I’ll have enough to do on the computer once Sierra tracks down the names on the folders we didn’t get to check. Sierra?” He glanced over his shoulder and saw her reclining back with her eyes closed.

  She didn’t move.

  “She’s asleep.” Taylor faced forward.

  As much as he wanted to rest, he kept his focus on the cars behind them. He was thankful nothing suspicious caught his attention. He wasn’t at his best with his head throbbing, his stomach rumbling.

  When his father pulled into the garage, Taylor’s cell phone rang. He noticed it was Nash and answered right away. “Did you ID the man?”

  “No. He ran away. We couldn’t catch him. What took me so long to get back to you was I interviewed everyone in the group to see if anyone knew the man. No one knew him.”

  “Thanks for trying. I’ll work on the photos I have with facial recognition software. I might be able to ID him if he’s in a database.”

  “Good. I’ll keep you up to date.”

  After his dad exited the vehicle, Sierra spoke up from the back. “Do you think the killer was in the crowd?”

  Taylor twisted around to look at her. Her features and posture shouted exhaustion. She’d hoped the identity of the killer would be found at the clinic. Instead there were more questions. “It’s definitely a possibility. The guy you pointed out who seemed familiar to you ran from Nash. That doesn’t sound like an innocent man.”

  “It’s possible he was a customer at the café or the copy shop. I remember people’s faces but not their names all the time, even when I’ve only seen them a couple of times.”

  “Yes, but I’ll investigate every lead I can, no matter how small. I never know where a clue will lead me. I’ve had farfetched ones help me break a case wide open.”

  “How’s your head?”

  “Probably about what your upper arm feels like.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “What are you going to tell Ben when we get inside?”

  “Nothing. I don’t want him to know about the bomb.”

  Taylor shook his head, and she asked, “What would you have me tell him?”

  “The truth. I’m afraid if we don’t he’ll find out another way. He’s bright, and even if he’s not talking, he’s listening to what’s being said.”

  “Then we won’t talk about it where he can overhear. Knowing about the bomb will just scare him even more. He’s so fragile, he might not talk ever.”

  Taylor slid from the vehicle, opened the back door and held out his hand to her. “We need him to talk. To share with us. So I’ll go along with what y
ou want.” He started for the door into the house. “We’ll go about our day as though nothing like a near-death experience happened to us today.”

  “Agreed,” Sierra said as she walked beside him. “My bandage is under my shirtsleeve and so are my other scrapes and cuts, so he won’t see anything.”

  Taylor reached to open the kitchen door, but before he could, it swung wide. Ben looked from him to Sierra, then flung his arms around her and hugged her tight. She winced but covered it quickly.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” she said, kissing the top of Ben’s head.

  The young boy stared up at her, his forehead wrinkled.

  Sierra glanced at Taylor, who held the box of ornaments.

  Ben’s gaze lit on the container, recognition brightening his eyes. The child threw his arms around Taylor, gave him a quick hug and took the box. He spun around and headed into the house.

  “We might be able to keep this from him after all,” Sierra whispered.

  “I’ll let John know, though. He should be on the lookout for any reaction from Ben. Just in case.”

  “You’re right. The important thing is that Ben has seen us returning from our errands and we are alive. At this time, that’s all he needs to deal with.”

  Taylor waved his arm through the open doorway. “After you. I want to see what he’s going to do with his decorations, and I need to talk to Dallas. When I’m not out looking for leads, he will be for me.”

  Taylor followed Sierra into the living room, where Ben was carefully considering where he would put each ornament. He already had put one on the tree with three to go. Oscar stuck to Ben’s side as he surveyed the perfect places to display his works of art.

  “He’s very artistic,” Taylor said. “Not only does he draw well, but his 3-D ornaments are beautiful and well crafted. I love the one where the boy is getting ready to kick the ball into the goal. Maybe I should go look for the soccer ball and kick it around with him.” The last sentence slipped out before he realized doing that with Ben would renew memories of him and TJ doing the same thing. He needed to face his son’s death and deal with it.