She laughed.
He laughed.
And then they were staring at each other again. Anissa was the first one to break the tension. “You must be exhausted.”
“I’ve slept most of the day.”
“That probably just got you past the sleep deficit you were in.”
He wasn’t tired, but she had to be dead on her feet. Maybe if he pretended he was ready for bed, she would go to bed. “You’re probably right,” he said. “I can crash whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m not the one with stitches,” she said. “You decide.”
“Well, let’s call it a night, then.”
“Sounds good.”
Ten minutes later, Anissa’s breathing had found a steady rhythm as she settled into a deep sleep. Gabe stared at her slumbering form. She was on her side, with her back to him, and in the darkness all he could see was the outline her body made.
It was the last thing he saw before his own eyes closed.
12
The buzzing woke her.
Where was she?
Anissa blinked a few times. Her phone buzzed again. She’d fallen asleep with it in her hand. The screen glowed and Ryan Parker’s name shone in the night.
“What?” It was the best she could manage.
“There’s been a bomb threat at the hospital.”
“What?” She was fully awake and on her feet.
“What’s going on?” Gabe asked from across the room. Anissa didn’t answer, but she did put her phone on speaker so he could hear.
“Have they ordered evacuations?”
“Not yet. Still assessing. Leigh called me. I’ll keep you informed. Can you hear the codes they call out in the hospital?”
“I can if I’m awake. Which I am now,” she said.
“Okay. Code Green is the bomb threat. Someone will probably be in your room soon to look around. If they find something suspicious, they may go to a Code Red and evacuate. Or they may wait until the bomb unit knows what they are dealing with. Here’s the thing though. The bomb threat was specific to your floor. And that makes me wonder—”
“If someone’s trying to smoke us out.” Anissa finished his thought.
“Exactly.” Ryan confirmed her suspicion. “It’s entirely possible that there’s nothing at all dangerous and they just wanted to force you to leave.”
“Or there’s a bomb about to go off and blow us to bits.” Anissa appreciated Ryan’s obvious attempt at minimizing the risk, but she didn’t feel the need to sugarcoat the situation.
“Yes, there is that. Just don’t leave the hospital. If they evacuate, then go down to the ground floor but don’t leave the building. Not until we have a better idea of what’s going on.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll be in touch.” With that, Ryan disconnected the call.
“We have to figure out who you ticked off.” Gabe raised the head of the bed so he was sitting up.
Anissa couldn’t stop herself from snorting. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve ticked off a lot of people. The list is going to be long.”
“You’re intense. That’s not the kind of thing that creates enemies who want to kill you.”
Anissa wasn’t buying it. “Please.”
Anissa’s phone buzzed in her hand again. Paisley? At 4:30 a.m.? “Anissa Bell.”
“Oh, thank goodness. There’s been a bomb threat made to the floor Investigator Chavez is on.” Paisley sounded frantic.
“We know.” The words were clipped. Not out of frustration at Paisley for calling, but out of general frustration.
“Oh. Sorry for bothering you.”
Anissa could almost hear the air deflating out of Paisley’s balloon. “Thank you for calling to tell me. That was very kind.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. Are you in the hospital?”
Anissa considered her answer. She wanted to believe Paisley had changed. But . . . what if she hadn’t? What if the story Paisley had told her was a lie? What if it was all a ruse to get into their good graces while she planned to . . . what? Have them killed? That was a drastic move. Even for Paisley Wilson.
“Gabe will probably be released later today. I stayed . . .” She ran out of words. She wasn’t about to tell any reporter that there was a possibility someone was out to kill her, and she also wasn’t sure why she’d stayed to begin with. “Listen, since I have you on the phone, I need to ask you something. Would you mind letting me have the original files about me that were sent to you?”
“Why?” Paisley drew out the word.
“Are you familiar with Dr. Sabrina Fleming?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“She’s a professor at the university—computer forensics and cybersecurity.”
“Oh,” Paisley said, “you want to see if she can figure out where they came from by, well, doing whatever it is she does?”
“Pretty much.” Anissa appreciated that Paisley didn’t try to pretend she had a clue what Sabrina did.
“I’m sure I can get them for you. It’s all in my desk at work. I have copies of everything, so I’m happy to share it.”
“Great. When will you be back at work?”
“My grandma is coming this morning, so I can run over to the station for a few hours—assuming they let her in with the bomb threat going on. I’m planning to be back by ten a.m.”
“Excellent. Maybe Gabe and I could pay Brooke a short visit around eleven?”
“Perfect.”
Anissa almost disconnected the call, but she stopped herself. “Paisley?”
“Yes?”
“If we hear anything further about the bomb, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you. Same here.”
Anissa disconnected the call and went back to staring at the door.
“Well, aren’t you two chummy.” Gabe’s observation dripped with sarcasm, and maybe a little bit of hurt.
“My instincts are still warning me about her. I’m analyzing every word she says and every word I say to her.” Anissa turned so she could see Gabe’s face. “But her little sister is here. If my little sister was here . . .”
Gabe ran his right hand through his hair. “You’re right. I’m being petty.”
“I’d say you’re allowed.”
“Why? Because I got stabbed?” Gabe pointed to his left shoulder. “That excuse will only go so far.”
“Not because you were stabbed. Because she betrayed you. That’s a fact. And not one you can—or should—ignore. It’s not easy to trust someone who’s let you down. Or thought the worst of you.”
Gabe didn’t respond.
“I’m still not sure if I want to believe her or smack her. I think it’s a bit of both,” Anissa went on. “I want to believe her because I want to believe people can change. I want to believe that one mistake doesn’t define them forever. I need to believe that.”
What had gotten into her? Why was she compelled to drop her deepest fears and ugliest truths right into his lap? Was she trying to push him away? Give him reasons to hate her so he would reject her and she wouldn’t have to deal with the roiling emotions she didn’t want but couldn’t stop?
She’d been pushing him away since . . . well . . . since that first dive. She’d never met anyone like him. She knew his type. So confident. So sure. So . . . dangerous to her heart. He showed up and the training exercise became a party. He had everything she didn’t. Charisma. Charm. He took the last dive of the day, waiting until everyone else went, even though he had to have been itching to get in—or under—the water.
She tried to hide it, but she was thrilled to get to dive with him and she wasn’t disappointed. He was the best kind of dive partner. Attentive, calm. For all his antics in the boat—the jokes and carefree manner—he was all business on the dive.
She respected that.
She never forgot it.
She should explain. She owed him that much. Especially given the way he’d been there for her. And got stabbed for her. And
now he might get blown up because of her. “Gabe, when I kicked you off the team—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You need to know. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. It wasn’t because I didn’t think you were a great diver. It wasn’t even because I thought you were bad for the team. But . . . I couldn’t have lived with myself if anything had happened to you. You were diving what? Once, twice a year? It wasn’t enough. I couldn’t risk being responsible for someone else’s death.”
“Anissa—”
“I know I should have explained then, but it was just awkward. Not like this isn’t awkward.” She was rambling again.
“You think too much.” His teasing but gentle reproach caught her off guard. He should be angry with her. She deserved it.
Why did he insist on being such a gentleman?
A knock on the door. Not soft. Not gentle. Purposeful. She was relieved to have a reason to turn away from Gabe. “Investigator Bell, these people want to come in and inspect the room for explosives.” It was the officer who’d been outside the door. “Can I let them in?”
“One person. And you come too.” She waved the officer in. They flipped on the overhead lights as they entered. She stepped back until the bed hit the back of her legs. She didn’t try to hide the weapon now in her hand. She angled her body so no one entering had a direct line to Gabe.
The bed shifted behind her. Then a warm hand at her waist. A low chuckle. A quiet breath at her ear. “Slide over so I can see.”
Anissa wouldn’t budge.
“Scoot.” Gabe whispered the word right at Anissa’s ear. When she didn’t move, he shifted his hand and squeezed her waist. Not hard. More a flex of his fingers.
She jumped but settled back against the bed a mere three inches from where she’d been.
That was interesting. “Are you ticklish, Investigator Bell?”
No response.
“If you don’t move, I’ll tickle you again.”
A low sound came from Anissa’s throat.
“Did you just growl at me?”
Anissa shifted another inch. “It wasn’t a growl, it was a . . . um—”
“A growl.” Gabe had to bite down on his cheek to keep from laughing.
“I am trying to concentrate.” Anissa enunciated each word.
“Sorry.” He wasn’t though.
The officer and hospital security guard moved through the room efficiently and then with a low “Sorry to bother you,” they left the room.
“Well, that was fun,” Gabe said.
Anissa whirled around. “Fun? That was not fun. What if one of them had tried something? Did you think about that? You wouldn’t hold up well in a fight right now. And I only have one gun.” She slid the gun into the waist of her pants. “A gun I was trying to keep between them and you, and you tickling me didn’t help.” She poked him in the chest, eyes flashing with fury, and maybe fear. He had never seen anything more beautiful in all his life.
He caught her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “Gracias.” He kissed her fingers once more and released her hand. Her eyes, which had shot bolts of frustration moments earlier, filled with a new, no less terrifying emotion.
Hope.
She blinked, and the window to her heart shuttered. “De nada.” She stepped away from the bed and flipped off the overhead lights. “You should try to get some sleep.”
“That’s not going to happen. But you go ahead.”
“Not likely.” He could almost hear her eyes rolling in her head.
“Then turn the lights back on.”
“It’s five thirty a.m. What else are we going to do?”
Anything that would keep him from spilling his guts. From begging her to consider throwing her life away and spending it with a guy like him. “If we weren’t in our current condition, I would say we could go for a run. That’s what I’m usually doing at this time of day. What about you?”
“I go to the gym.”
“Well, that’s not going to work. We need a Plan B.”
“Technically we’re on Plan C. Sleep was Plan A. Exercise Plan B.”
She was fighting a smile. He could see it flirting with the edges of her lips. “Fine, Plan C. We could talk about the case.”
She scowled.
“Fine. Plan D. Tell me about Yap.”
“I’ve told you about Yap before. How about Plan E? You tell me how you wound up in Carrington. I know you were born in Florida. I know you still have some family there. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard what brought you to North Carolina.”
“It’s a boring story.”
She didn’t offer a Plan F.
“Fine. Plan E it is. I was running away from something. Looking for possible job openings pretty much anywhere on the East Coast. I thought about Texas and the Gulf Coast states—better diving. But Carrington seemed nice. And the sheriff’s office was specifically looking for Spanish-speaking officers. I got a bonus for being bilingual.” He winked at her.
She studied the floor. “What were you running from?”
He could blow off the question. Change the subject. Run away. Again.
Or . . .
“Forget it,” she said. “It’s none of my business.” She turned to the window, her back to him.
Another tap on the door. “Investigator Bell? They’re dropping the Code Green. Nothing was found.”
“Thank you.” Her tone was brisk. Formal. Official. She picked up the pillow she’d been using.
The door closed. He could let the whole thing drop . . . “I had to get out of there.”
She didn’t turn her body, but her head tilted to the side. He knew that look. That was her “I’m listening and thinking about what you’re saying” look.
“My dad took off when I was a kid. My mom worked three jobs to keep food on the table and clothes—at least shorts and T-shirts—on three kids. She tried. I know she did her best. But she was always dating. Always trying to find the guy who would solve all our problems. Not that any of them ever did. They’d show up, take her to dinner—sometimes they’d even take us—and then three months or three years later, they were gone. So, I had plenty of male role models. All of them brilliant examples of how to screw up kids and mistreat women.”
He had her attention now. She’d turned halfway around and he could see it in the set of her shoulders. The way her hands strangled the pillow. He could even hear her swallow—hard—in the silence of the dimly lit room.
“I was the youngest. The only boy. My sisters doted on me. Tried to protect me from the worst things. But somewhere along the way, I learned the best way to survive was to make a joke out of everything. Keep people laughing and keep things light and you don’t have to think about the hard stuff. So that’s what I became. The class clown. The crazy kid. The one who could make the meanest guy laugh and leave me alone. Or more importantly, leave my mom or my sisters alone.”
Anissa turned and sat on the edge of the little bench seat. She hugged the pillow in front of her.
“Anyway, despite it all, Mom eventually picked the wrongest of wrong guys. He put her in the hospital. And we wound up in foster care. Foster care for teenagers is—tough. My oldest sister got pregnant at seventeen. She had an abortion, aged out of the system fast, and followed in our mom’s footsteps. She died at twenty-three.”
“And your other sister?”
He could hear the hesitation in Anissa’s question.
“Group home. No one wanted us at first. She ran away before I was placed. I’ve never been able to find her, not that I didn’t try. Still try. Sabrina keeps an eye out for me.” He barked a mirthless laugh. “I guess Sabrina knows all our dirt, doesn’t she? She’s amazing at keeping secrets, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah.” Anissa rocked back and forth on the bench.
He could hear her inhale and exhale, slow, like she was trying to keep herself under control. “Anyway, a few weeks after she bolted, this family shows up. Takes me home. I couldn’t
believe it. Older couple. Their kids were all in college and they even had a few grandchildren at that point. They claimed they didn’t like having an empty nest. I didn’t really believe them, but I wasn’t going to argue. I was a fourteen-year-old boy in the system. Families that wanted kids like me didn’t come along often.”
He couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face as he thought of them. “They were nice. Their house was clean. I called them Papa and Mama. Papa was Asian. Short, black hair, killer laugh. Mama was Scandinavian. Tall, blonde, the kindest blue eyes I’d ever seen. She looked like a queen to me. They had two biological kids and four adopted kids. All different ethnicities. My brown skin and accented English fit right in to the mix.”
He closed his eyes. He could picture the house. His room. The smell of tacos and chocolate chip cookies that Mama had fixed for dinner that first night. That was probably why he loved Leigh’s chocolate chip cookies so much. He would forever associate them with home and family.
“I owe them for—everything. I came to Christ while I was living there. They got me tutors to help me get back on grade level. Sent me to community college for a couple of years—and I lived with them during that time. They asked me if I wanted my own place, but I told them I was making up for lost time having a real home. And they were fine with that. They couldn’t adopt me. Legal stuff prevented it. But I knew I was one of the family. And I wasn’t the only one. They brought in another teenage boy when I was sixteen. Then another when I was nineteen. They had a real heart for the kids who still stood a chance if someone would just give it to them.”
“What happened?” Anissa asked.
“I had transferred to the university. It was my senior year. I’d moved out, had a job, was living in an apartment, keeping up my grades, keeping my nose clean. And Papa died. Brain aneurysm. Totally out of the blue. The man was the specimen of health when he died. About six months later, a group of kids broke into the house. Stole everything of value. Beat up Mama. It was awful. The buddies of the last foster kid Mama and Papa had taken into their home were the ones who did it.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah. His name was Mikey and he hadn’t made a clean break from his old buddies. I tried to tell him to walk away from it all, but he wouldn’t listen. Kept hanging out with the old gang from time to time. They got wind of the fact that Papa was gone. That there was some money, a little jewelry, and they decided it was an easy score. It would have been, but Mikey, well, Mikey testified against them. They went to jail, but not before the gang got their vengeance on Mikey. Mama wasn’t able to go to his funeral, but the rest of us did.”
One Final Breath Page 14
