Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #1

by Margaret Daley

  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 Force, but he’d leave Thomas to deal with Lydia.

  The waitress was hospitalized in another corridor on the same floor. When Jesse made his way there, a code blue was issued. Several staff members hurried past him. As he neared the room, a sinking feeling took hold of him. A nurse pushing a crash cart cut him off. The door swung wide to reveal a team of medical personnel fighting to keep the waitress alive.

  Jesse leaned against the wall, waiting to see if the woman made it. Only Lydia and this woman had been out in the dining room area and seen who the customers were. If she died, that only left Lydia.

  THREE

  “What do you mean I have to escort Lydia home from the hospital? Why don’t you?” Good thing Thomas was Jesse’s friend, or he’d never get away with challenging a superior’s order.

  Thomas started for his vehicle at the church bombing site. “Lydia requested you when I told her I wanted an officer to escort her home.”

  “Are we going to guard her or something?” He didn’t want to be on that detail.

  “Not at this time. The situation doesn’t warrant the drain on our manpower although I have authorized the police to drive by and periodically check on her and the two cooks who are still alive. I don’t think the cooks know much, but Lydia might. She was in the area that took the worst of the bombing. With the waitress dying, Lydia is our best chance. We’re focusing all we can on finding this maniac.”

  “Do you think she’s in danger?”

  “Not at the moment. Her name hasn’t been given to the press. If it gets out, we’ll reconsider what to do or if the autopsy findings on the waitress who died last night indicate murder. We reviewed the surveillance tapes of people going in and out of her room and only saw staff members. The doctor has no reason at the moment to think someone killed her. She was injured more severely than Lydia.” Thomas opened his car door. “I have a lead to follow up.”

  “Trade you?”

  Thomas shook his head. “You’re complaining because I asked you to make sure a beautiful woman gets home okay? I’m beginning to think you were the one who suffered a head trauma.”

  “Cute. You know Lydia and I have a history.”

  “Which is even more reason to put you with her. You know her. You know what to expect. I’m not asking you to be her new best friend.”

  “You owe me.”

  “You wanted in on this case.”

  “Because this was my church that was bombed.” Jesse waved his arm toward where the building used to be.

  “While you’re with her, help her to remember. Somewhere in her mind she might have seen the bomber and can ID him. Now, that would be a lead.”

  Jesse watched Thomas drive away, then stormed to his police cruiser with Brutus. Before opening the rear of his SUV, he knelt next to his Rottweiler and petted him. “At least you understand why I don’t want to see her. I’ve ranted to you enough this past year. This city of nearly three hundred thousand doesn’t seem to be big enough for the both of us.”

  Brutus barked, then licked Jesse on his cheek.

  He laughed. “I like your reply. I know I’ve got to do my best. Nothing less.” He rubbed his hand down Brutus’s back. “Load.” Jesse gave the command for his K-9 to hop into the rear and crawl into his crate. He fastened the door, although in an emergency Brutus could undo the latch.

  Yesterday when the other survivor had died, he’d interviewed the staff and reported it to Thomas. He’d asked the staff not to talk about the death. The police didn’t want rumors flying around. With Bree at the hospital, he’d keep tabs on anything being said.

  Now he’d return to take Lydia home and have the task of informing her about the waitress’s death and finding the older gentleman’s remains in the last area to
be searched at the bomb site. Since the young woman who had been the other missing person showed up at work, everyone was accounted for.

  When he arrived at Lydia’s room, after dropping Brutus off at home, she sat in a wheelchair looking out the window. She glanced back at him as he entered.

  “Thomas called and told me you were driving me home. I appreciate it.”

  He approached her and clasped the wheelchair handles to roll her out of the room. “Why did you request me?” His voice sounded even, belying his frustration.

  “Because I think we should talk, and you’ve been doing a good job of avoiding me. We were friends once—”

  “Yes, once. We aren’t now.”

  “I realize that, but I owe you an apology. I’ve been meaning to talk to you since before the bomb went off. If nothing else, I can take away from this situation how fragile life is. Don’t put off what you should do. In one second, a lot of people died at the hands of this madman. The more I think about what happened, the more I get the feeling I know something.”

  “Shh.” Jesse scanned the hallway leading out of the building. “We’ll talk when we arrive at your house. I don’t want anyone overhearing us. We haven’t released your name to the press. The bomber doesn’t know who the survivors are.” If that truly was the case, then the waitress died naturally.

  He waited until he brought the car around and assisted Lydia into the front passenger seat to tell her about the death of the waitress. He didn’t want a public reaction to the news.

  On the drive to her house, after a long silence, Jesse stopped at a red light and looked at Lydia. “I didn’t want to say anything until we were alone, but the waitress died last night. An autopsy is being performed to determine the cause of death.”

  “You don’t think her death is a result of the bomb explosion?”

  “Probably. She was in more critical condition than you were, but she had been responding to treatment and improving so I can’t say for sure.”

  “What does the press know?”

  “How many died in the blast and that there were four survivors. No names at this time because we were still identifying victims and notifying family. That will change now since everyone is accounted for.”

  Lydia stared out the windshield. “You think I might be in danger?”

  “I hope not, but it’s a possibility if the bomber thinks you can ID him. That’s why we won’t release your name, but the press have their ways of finding out.”

  “I can’t. Yet. But what if I did see him and I can’t remember?”

  “You suffered a head trauma. Not remembering, especially right away, isn’t uncommon. Don’t force yourself. If you have any information, it’ll come to you in time.”

  “Are you sure you work for the police? I’d think you should be pushing me to remember right now.”

  When the light turned green, he threw her a half grin and pressed on the accelerator. “I know you. Force won’t work.”

  “I’ve been trying, and I can remember a few bits like how Melinda looked when she heard the laugh track, how I felt when I did. After that nothing and not much else before other than remembering Bree thankfully left ten minutes before the bomb went off.”

  “Yes, I talked with Bree. She remembered some of the people we found in the rubble.”

  “Lunch was starting. The door opened and closed—four times after she was gone.” She shifted toward him. “I just thought of that.”

  He glanced at her smile, which lit her whole face. He’d always loved seeing her grin from deep inside her. “See. It will come.”

  “I feel like I need to remember right now because someone else might die if he strikes again.”

  “We’re interviewing a lot of people who were there earlier or on that street sometime that morning. You’re not our only hope.”

  Jesse pulled into her driveway, the same house he would pick her up at as a teenager. A memory flashed into his mind—of kissing her on the front porch. Eons ago when he was a different person. His chest tightened. He wouldn’t go down that path again.

  “I’ll see you to your door.”

  “Will you stay until Kate comes home from school?”

  “I—I…” He didn’t want to be with her any more than necessary, but one look into her pale face and he couldn’t say no. “Fine. When does she get home? I’ll need to let Thomas know what I’m doing.”

  Lydia checked the clock on the dashboard. “No more than an hour. She carpools with a few friends.”

  As they walked slowly toward the house, Jesse just thought of something. “How are you going to get in? Your purse was destroyed by the bomb.”

  She slipped her hand into her jean pocket and pulled out a key. “Bree had the locks changed and gave a key to me and Kate. Alex went grocery shopping for me, so I won’t have to do that right away. My friends have been so helpful, especially with Kate. Reconnecting with Bree and Alex when I came back to Anchorage has made my return home easier.” Lydia opened her front door and entered.

  Jesse followed, scanning the house. He was glad he’d taken Brutus home so he could run and play in his large fenced backyard. These past days, his K-9 had worked long hours and needed the break.

  Lydia dropped the small bag of clothes Bree had brought her in the hospital on a chair in the spacious living room and walked through the dining room toward the kitchen. “I’m fixing myself a good cup of tea. What they had at the hospital isn’t what I call tea. Do you want some?”

  “I’m a coffee drinker. No, thanks.”

  As he strolled through the house, snatches of his time spent here continued to bombard him. Lydia always had to come right home from school to babysit her little sister who stayed with a neighbor until Lydia arrived. Her dad didn’t get off work until six and sometimes didn’t come home right away. Lydia hated being alone and usually their friends would gather at her place.

  Jesse caught sight of a recent photo of Lydia with her younger sister. Picking up the framed picture, he realized he hadn’t seen much of Kate since those early years. She looked a lot like Lydia at the same age. Quickly he returned the photograph to the end table.

  Why had he agreed to stay until Kate got home? He didn’t want to be pulled into Lydia’s world again, and yet he had allowed himself to be persuaded to wait an hour.

  “I have some…” Lydia opened the refrigerator “…I guess only water. Kate likes soft drinks, but there are none in here.”

  “Water is fine.” He remained in the entrance of the dining room until the memory of sharing Thanksgiving dinner with Lydia and her family a few weeks before they broke up their senior year faded. He stood at the bay window that overlooked the unfenced backyard with woods a hundred yards from the house.

  “Do you still get moose around here?”

  “Yes, also caribous and occasionally a bear. That’s why I keep the garbage cans in the garage except on pickup day.”

  “Have you had any trouble with them?” He could do a generic conversation with Lydia. Nothing too personal.

  “Kate’s an animal lover and takes photos of all our visitors. Once she was at the window in her bedroom, snapping a picture when the bear came over and tried to get inside. He tore the screen, and we had to replace it. The way she screamed, I thought the bear was inside. I ran and got my dad’s gun, then went to rescue her.” She appeared behind him.

  Jesse pivoted from the window, and the familiar scent of apple floated to him. She held out the glass of water, and he took it.

  But she remained where she was—too close. When she looked up at him, for a few seconds the years apart fell away, and he was a teenager again and in love for the first time.

  Then she smiled, and no one else existed for that moment. It was as if fifteen years vanished along with all the hurts and words exchanged between them.

  The shrill whistle of the kettle pierced the air. Lydia gasped as though she’d been transfixed as much as he had.

  When she crossed to the stove to make her tea,
he sat in a chair and took deep sips of his iced water, relishing the cold liquid. “What happened with the bear?”

  “I closed the blackout curtains and hoped he would forget that we were inside. He hit the screen a couple more times, then left. We both collapsed on the bed, laughing.”

  “Laughing?”

  “In relief that we were still alive. I’d been checking out the bedroom door and wondering if that would stop a bear if he did get into the house through the window. I’d decided no.”

  Chuckling, Jesse relaxed, surprised by both actions.

  When Lydia returned to the kitchen table and sat across from him, she blew on her tea and took a sip, a habit she’d had since he’d first known her. What else did she still do? She used to chew on her thumbnail when she was nervous. He looked at her hand and saw each fingernail was cut short.

  “I’m glad you’re having a good laugh over my bear encounter. There is a downside to living a little ways out from the main part of the city. More wildlife.”

  “To me that’s what’s appealing about this place. I live in town with a fenced yard. Brutus needs to have a place to exercise when he isn’t working. I can’t risk him encountering a bear.”

  Lydia shifted in her chair and cringed. “I’m trying to ignore my bruised ribs, but they love reminding me they’ve been mistreated.”

  “Being in that hallway protected you some from the main blast.”

  She stared at her tea, tracing her finger around the rim. “I know. I…” She shook her head. “Can we not talk about the bombing?”

  “You need to remember, and talking sometimes helps.”

  Her mouth tightened. “Not right now. When I start trying to think about that day, my mind shuts down.”

  “That’s not an unusual reaction for a traumatic experience. So what do you want to talk about, if not the case?”

  “The way things ended for us. I never wanted to hurt you. If I could have done that over—”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t. We can’t change what happened and discussing it to death won’t help. What was done is done.”