Just Enough Light

by AJ Quinn

  Everything that happened did so according to plan. But at some point during the exchange, Dana heard a discordant note in her head that had nothing to do with grief. It caught her by surprise and she looked around, trying to determine what was off, what was out of place and didn’t belong in the emotional tableau before her. And then she saw him.

  He was standing shadowed by the trees that crowded the clearing. Late forties, tall and heavyset, with a military haircut and a dark blue suit, he couldn’t have looked more out of place in a skier’s mecca.

  Her years working emergency departments in New York and Boston had her immediately pegging him as a cop, but not local or state. Something told her this was genus FBI. But it wasn’t just his unexplained appearance that was troubling. What made Dana increasingly uncomfortable was the way he was watching Kellen. Much too intently.

  She anticipated Kellen would make her escape shortly after her part of the script was complete. While attention was focused on the black body bag being transferred to the coroner’s wagon. But there was no time to bask in the correctness of how she’d assessed the situation. As Kellen silently backed away before slipping behind the main building, the cop made his move, appearing determined to follow her.

  That was when Dana made a move of her own, with no thought beyond intercepting the cop and giving Kellen the time she needed to disappear.

  *

  The only sounds Kellen could hear as she neared her cabin were her own harsh breathing and Bogart’s panting. But apprehension continued to prickle on her skin.

  Once safely inside, she immediately stripped off her clothes and crawled into the shower. But the heat from the water pounding down on her didn’t seem to help. No matter how long she stayed there, she was still cold. Still shaking.

  It didn’t help that her throat was sore, her head was aching, and her mind was struggling to focus. She was also damn tired. Too tired to face Calvin Grant and whatever news he might have brought to share. Or to answer whatever new questions he might want answered.

  So where did that leave her?

  The hot shower quickly became a distant memory, and despite the Navajo blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a roaring fire only three feet away, Kellen couldn’t stop shaking. The sound of her breathing was suddenly too loud in her ears, although her lungs seemed incapable of drawing in a deep breath.

  A moment later, inexplicably, her vision blurred and the room started to spin.

  She bit her bottom lip, fisted her hands, and held herself rigid until at last, the room stopped spinning and appeared to right itself. Until everything looked the same as it had.

  Solid.

  Safe.

  Except she felt anything but safe.

  She rubbed her hands over her face, over her dry burning eyes. There were times she wished she could cry, but crying helped nothing. She’d learned that the hard way, long ago. Crying only gave her a headache and she already had one of those.

  With a sigh, she stood, surprised at how unsteady her legs were. But there were things to do. Bogart, who’d been quietly keeping watch over her, needed to be fed. And before too long, the girls would appear. One by one or as a pair. Intent only on making sure she was all right.

  Emotions swamped her at the thought. But that was all right. It was part of the reason she loved them, she thought, as pride stirred in her chest. She and the girls looked after each other. They’d made a family here, not of blood but of choice.

  A family of misfits, sure, but they were her misfits as much as she was theirs.

  A chosen family.

  *

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you do what you’re planning,” Dana said, forcing the cop to take a step back or run over her.

  He gave her a single innocuous glance and moved to get past her, issuing a low, rumbled, “Excuse me.”

  “You’re following Kellen,” Dana persisted. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

  The cop stopped cold, his dark eyes squinting as he stared at her. “And who might you be?”

  “This is Dr. Kingston.” Annie’s voice came from behind her. “Dana, this is Special Agent Calvin Grant. We met last year during the investigation after Kellen was shot. What brings you back, Agent Grant? Business or pleasure?”

  Grant turned, what passed for a brief smile crossing his face. “Ms. Parker. Sadly, I’m here on business once again. But it’s always a pleasure to see you. I met with your father just a couple of days ago. Told him I was heading this way, and the senator sent along his best.”

  “Oh?” Annie raised an eyebrow. “And how is Dad?”

  “Still tough as nails on some of the old blowhards on the Hill,” Grant responded with a grin that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

  “He’ll be pleased to know you said so,” Annie said, her stance softening. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind telling me, why were you about to follow Kellen before my colleague stopped you?”

  Dana looked from Grant to Annie, trying to assimilate all the information she’d just learned in a brief amount of time. If Annie’s father was a senator, it would explain the presence of an FBI agent during the investigation of what would have been an isolated Colorado shooting.

  Putting two and two together, Dana realized she knew Annie’s father. She’d met Senator Parker once at a fundraiser she’d attended in Boston. Left of center, outspoken, and quite charismatic. And she had no doubt he would have wanted to ensure his daughter was in no way a possible target.

  “I was about to follow Ms. Ryan because I need to speak with her,” Grant said. “It’s rather urgent.”

  “Have you found her shooter?” Annie asked.

  Grant shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that.”

  “Then simplify it, Agent Grant,” Dana said sharply. “I’m responsible for the well-being of everyone at Alpine. Both physical and emotional. And as you saw, Kellen has already had a pretty tough day. There was a thirteen-year-old boy in that body bag, and I’m not sure she should have to handle more right now.”

  “It’s never easy and I’m sorry for the poor timing of my arrival, but it can’t be helped,” Grant responded quietly. “We have every reason to believe the person who shot Ms. Ryan is also responsible for the deaths of several search-and-rescue personnel over the past year. From what we’ve been able to figure out, he’s been hunting. We’ve tracked him to Oregon, Wisconsin, New York, and most recently to Kentucky.”

  Annie’s mouth opened, but all that came out was a hiss of breath.

  Dana shook her head, denying things she didn’t yet fully understand. But then denial ceased to work. “He’s cycling back? That’s what you think, isn’t it? You think he’ll come back, try again for Kellen.”

  Grant’s solemn expression never changed. “There are no guarantees in my business, Dr. Kingston. But it’s something we need to seriously consider, which is why I’m here and why I need to speak with Ms. Ryan.”

  Dana forced herself to distance her emotions and look at the situation from Grant’s perspective. “I understand. But I’d like to check on Kellen first, to make sure she’s all right. And if, in my opinion, she’s not, I’m going to strongly recommend you postpone meeting with her until tomorrow. Give her a chance to get past today.”

  She felt Annie squeeze her hand, obviously concurring with what she’d just suggested.

  Grant, on the other hand, looked less than pleased. His lips flattened into a hard, straight line and he appeared about to argue. But then he surprised them all, possibly even himself, as he conceded to her terms. “Agreed.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kellen rubbed her legs where they continued to ache, felt a ridge left behind by too many surgeries to count, and thought of the other scars on her body. On her back, on her legs, on her arm. Her hand automatically sought out the scar on her shoulder, left behind by a bullet out of nowhere. It was now covered by ink. A phoenix rising from the ashes. But she could still feel the scar.

  Time had tau
ght her that scars weren’t true healing. They were simply an end to the bleeding. As time passed, wounds scarred over. Some eventually became faint silver lines, faded with age and alive more in memory than reality. Like the thin scars crisscrossing her back which raised questions she refused to answer. Others—like the ones from the incident at Devil’s Tower—were much more recent and still quite visible.

  They were all physical reminders of the paths her life had taken. But sometimes, when she reached out and touched them, she was surprised not to find her wounds still bleeding.

  Bogart whimpered and nudged her hand.

  Grateful, as always, she patted the space beside her, a rare invitation for Bogart to get up on the sofa. She didn’t have to ask twice. Bogart jumped up and instantly crowded her. She laughed briefly when he licked her face, while he responded by wagging his tail as she stroked him.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked him softly.

  She’d been here in Haven for ten years. Somehow, she’d built a business and a home. She’d made friends for the first time in her life. People in town knew her by name. And when an old acquaintance contacted her about a pair of homeless girls, running scared and living on the streets in Seattle four years ago, she hadn’t thought twice about bringing them here where they would all be safe.

  She’d been so confident then that it was the right thing to do. This place had become her sanctuary. It would be theirs as well.

  Now she was not so sure. Memories pushed in, images she didn’t want to see. Numbly, she balled her hands into fists.

  Had she stayed in one place too long?

  She thought again of the backpack in the front closet. It would be so simple. Grab it, take Bogart, and disappear. With enough cash and different ID’s at her disposal, she could slip away and nobody would ever find her. Not unless she wanted them to.

  It would be so easy.

  Easy for her, maybe, she corrected herself unhappily. But not so easy for the ones she’d leave behind this time. The girls, who had come to mean so much to her, would be devastated. Then there was Annie, her friend and business partner, and by extension Annie’s father, the senator. They’d accepted Kellen, believed in her at a time when no one else ever had, and had backed the notion that became a first-class search-and-rescue operation without hesitation.

  And there was the team she and Annie were building together. Kellen wasn’t surprised when her thoughts drifted to the newest member of the team. Dana. She indulged herself for a moment while a different set of images flashed in her mind. Silky blond hair, a dash of freckles, warm eyes, a full bottom lip. And not just attractive. Intelligent. That was Kellen’s greatest weakness when it came to women.

  The fact she was the first woman in far too long who had caught her interest made her wonder why. Why Dana intrigued her so much. And why now, when she would most likely not have a chance to see where it could go.

  There it was. That was what was new, what was different, she realized.

  She’d never had anything or anyone important to leave behind before. Now she did, and for possibly the first time in her life, she wasn’t certain she could just walk away. Especially when she wasn’t prepared to say good-bye forever. Because she knew from experience that was what walking away meant. The knowledge left her feeling sad and off balance and tired.

  “So what are we going to do?” she asked Bogart again. But she still had no answer.

  She continued to sit there, for minutes or maybe hours. Hugging her knees to her chest. Staring into the fire, unseeing. Stroking Bogart. Wondering how much time she’d have before a decision was forced upon her.

  Even as she fought it, exhaustion took its toll. Her eyes lost their sharp focus and all thoughts faded as her eyelids grew heavy and sleep pulled her under.

  *

  Dana remained with Annie and Grant, standing in silence until the county coroner’s vehicle pulled out onto the main road, with the Donaldson’s car following close behind. Once the rest of the team slowly scattered in twos and threes, Dana turned and, without saying a word, led the way to Kellen’s cabin. The air was still and cold, the path quiet except for the thin cry of the snow being compressed beneath their boots.

  Kellen’s Jeep was still parked near the front of her cabin and there was smoke rising from the chimney. But as they climbed the steps toward the door, there was no sound, no visible movement or other indication anyone was inside.

  Maybe she hadn’t returned?

  The silence pushed in from all directions while Dana deliberated what to do. Then she heard a scream. Hoarse and tortured.

  Deliberation shattered and fear clutched her heart in a tight fist. Before Dana could react, Grant had his gun out and was pushing the front door open. An instant later, they all froze, staring at Bogart who stood on the other side of the door. The hair on the dog’s back was raised in a silent flag, while he bared his teeth and growled a low and threatening warning.

  “Bogart. It’s okay, boy. Friend,” Annie called out urgently, trying to draw the dog’s attention before adding in a whispered hiss, “Agent Grant, put your damn gun down.”

  Bogart ceased his growling but held his ground. With the taste of fear still lingering, Dana looked around for Kellen. Wondered why she hadn’t told Bogart to stand down.

  A heartbeat later she saw her, sitting on the sofa. Her hair was damp, her eyes were wide and unfocused, her face pale. With her arms wrapped around herself, she was slowly rocking back and forth, and she was clearly struggling to breathe.

  Not willing to wait a moment longer, the doctor in her had Dana pushing past Annie and Grant in her rush to get to Kellen. Half expecting the bite that never came as Bogart allowed her to pass.

  “It’s all right, Kellen. You’re all right.” Moving closer until she was less than arm’s length away, she kept her voice soft, but it shook with repressed energy as she continued to speak. Whispering a litany of reassurances, saying anything that came to mind, while she gently picked up Kellen’s wrist and checked her pulse.

  For an endless moment, she could hear Kellen’s breathing, harsh and ragged. Watched her continue to gasp for air. Over and over again. But then slowly, so very slowly, her breathing began to steady.

  “That’s it. Just relax,” Dana murmured. “Annie and I are here and nothing’s going to hurt you. It was just a dream.”

  “Just a d-dream,” Kellen repeated as she managed another breath. “Just a bloody dream. I know. I’m all right now.” She snapped her fingers and Bogart immediately went to her side, nuzzling her hand with his nose.

  A moment later, Annie walked over behind Dana, holding out a glass of water. Dana took the glass and put it in Kellen’s hand, wrapping her fingers around it and guiding the glass to her lips. “Drink it, Kellen. You’re running a fever and can’t afford to get dehydrated.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. It was just a dream and it’s over now, so drink the water.” Crouching, Dana watched her steadily until Kellen nodded. She then watched her slowly empty the contents of the glass, sip by painful sip, while Annie came and sat beside her.

  Kellen looked up when she finished, appeared as if she was about to say something. Maybe thanks. But then her eyes widened and the empty glass slipped from her fingers. Dana knew she’d just caught sight of Calvin Grant. And as she bent to retrieve the glass, Kellen’s expression—one that had been so filled with emotion only an instant before—closed down.

  *

  “Special Agent Grant.” The words burned in her sore throat and she worked at maintaining her composure, at least on the outside. She could keep her expression blank. Knew how to shut things out. How to separate. How to survive. “I saw you at the landing pad and guessed you were waiting to see me. And now it seems you’ve found me with a little help from my colleagues, so we might as well get this over with. What can I do for you?”

  “Ms. Ryan, we need to talk.”

  “Obviously. Why else would you be here?” Kellen struggled t
o concentrate while feeling hot and cold simultaneously. “It’s clearly not to tell me you’ve caught the man who shot me. If that was the case, you would have already told me. And since I’ve already told you what I know, which is nothing, why is it we need to talk?”

  There was an infinitesimal tensing of Grant’s big body. Bogart evidently didn’t like it any more than she did and immediately issued a low warning growl. Even after a soft word from Kellen, the dog held his ground and his ruff remained spiked as they both watched Grant and waited.

  “The man who shot you—he’s been busy. As near as we can tell, he’s killed at least four SAR personnel, in Oregon, Wisconsin, New York, and most recently in Kentucky. We still don’t have any idea who he is and haven’t come close to catching him. But we believe he’s working his way back to Colorado. Back to you, Ms. Ryan.”

  As Kellen’s heart rate increased, Bogart whimpered, pressed closer, and licked her hand. “It’s okay, boy,” she murmured, but the words rang hollow in her own ears.

  Beside her, Annie placed a hand on her leg and squeezed gently, which she took for a silent show of support. Dana caught her gaze. She continued to hold it until Kellen began to feel uncomfortable. Dana saw too much, Kellen realized and was the first to break the connection.

  With no choice remaining, she turned back to face Grant, hesitated, then asked, “Me specifically or anyone on my team?”

  “You. Specifically.”

  Kellen’s mind raced with questions and insane possibilities she had to consider. “Why me?”

  “It’s what the experts back in Quantico believe. I can give you all the psychobabble if you want me to, Ms. Ryan, or I can keep it simple.”

  “Simple, please. And if we’re actually going to have a conversation about someone who wants to kill me, can you at least call me Kellen?”

  Grant nodded. “Kellen, the experts believe after he failed to kill you, he went out and practiced. Perfected his craft, if you will. And now he’s ready to come back and remove the only failure from his record.”