Standing Fast

by Maggie K. Black

  She turned back and was struck by his expression. It was a look that was silently asking her for something, like he was a desperately thirsty man and she had the only pitcher of cold water. And suddenly she realized what a foolish, narrow tightrope she was walking in her mind—not fully accepting he was innocent, but not believing he was guilty, either.

  His footsteps stopped again and he swallowed hard as if making a decision he didn’t want to make. “In light of everything that’s happened, I think it’s for the best if I keep Allie home, and she leaves your class and stops coming to Sunny Seeds.”

  * * *

  Her blue eyes widened with such acute pain that for a moment he was tempted to take back his words. Instead, he planted his feet beneath him. Maisy didn’t get what was happening here. How could she, when he barely got it himself? She seemed to have so much faith that Blackwood and the Security Forces would get to the bottom of everything. She’d trusted that her assistant teacher would keep a criminal from kidnapping his child.

  She had a good heart, a better heart than anyone he knew, and he could tell that all she wanted to do was help. And yes, something inside him craved that, in a deeper way than he knew how to express. He wanted to feel like there was someone on his side. He wanted someone to make Allie smile and to hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be okay. But as much as he wanted to rely on Maisy like that, he couldn’t. She was a sweet woman who meant well, but she deserved better than the mess and chaos he’d bring to her life.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. But this time her voice wasn’t soft. Instead, it was firm. It was what he thought of as her “teacher voice,” the one that demanded respect. “I’d obviously be sorry to see Allie leave my class, but you have to do what you feel is best for your child.”

  Lights danced ahead of them now, sirens blared loudly and Security Forces swarmed the preschool.

  “You should’ve told me about the prowler outside my home earlier,” he said, but even as the words left his mouth, he wasn’t sure why he was bringing it up again. All he knew was there’d been a certain joy in his heart earlier as he’d jogged to Sunny Seeds. That joy was now gone.

  Her chin rose. “I thought it was more important to ask why you had my dead father’s cross in your possession.”

  Her words struck him in the chest and knocked him back an inch.

  “Maisy!” a loud male voice called from within the chaos ahead. Preston was striding toward them.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said quickly. “If I don’t see you later, Esther can help you gather up Allie’s things.” Then, before he could answer, she quickened her step until she reached Allie, leaned over and ruffled Allie’s hair. “I’ll see you later, Buttercup.”

  Then she ran toward Preston. Chase was about to follow when he felt a tiny hand brush his. “Pick me up, Daddy?”

  “Of course, Sweet Pea.” He bent down, swept her up into his arms and watched as Maisy disappeared into a sea of uniformed Security Forces officers.

  * * *

  He took Allie and Queenie home after making his statement to Justin Blackwood. The captain took his statement so professionally it was hard to imagine he’d been the same man who’d stood in the doorway while Preston had hammered Chase earlier. Then Justin questioned Allie gently, caringly even, letting her sit on Chase’s lap while he softly tried to coax her side of the story from her stubborn lips. But all they’d gotten from Allie was a babbled mixture of words about “bad man” and “hurt man”—who Chase was beginning to think of as some character in a story he was never going to understand. They’d been left no closer to figuring out who had grabbed her or why the abductor had moved slowly enough that Chase had been able to catch up with them.

  He didn’t spot Maisy again before leaving, not that he didn’t search her out in the crowd. He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been harder on her than he’d meant to be. Liz had often accused him of being unfeeling. It hadn’t been true. It had been more like his feelings were locked somewhere inside a hidden heart, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  He took Allie home, where the afternoon dragged out, long and endless, as he tried to juggle setting his home back to rights and replacing both the front door and Allie’s window screen, while keeping her distracted and happy. To make matters worse, she was unusually fussy, wanting to stay close to him while he worked and bursting into tantrums whenever he tried to set up cartoons on his new laptop for her to watch.

  That evening fell hot and deep, with a sun that seemed to grow redder as it sank into the sky. Sweat clung to his skin. Grime streaked his clothes. He dropped onto the couch.

  “Daddy, I’m hungry.” Allie crawled up onto his lap. “I need dinner.”

  He wasn’t surprised. He’d made Allie her favorite peanut butter and banana sandwiches hours ago and she’d barely touched them. His eyes glanced at the clock. It was after nine. He should’ve put Allie to bed well over an hour ago, but every time he’d tried, she’d whined and clung to him, and he’d been too thankful just to have her there, alive and real and in his arms, to fight her. After all, it wasn’t like either of them had anywhere to be in the morning. “What would you like for dinner, Sweet Pea?”

  She looked up at him, sleepy and hopeful. “Carmen’s pizza?”

  He smiled at the cheekiness of the question. Carmen’s Italian Restaurant was his favorite eatery on the base and somewhere he’d only taken Allie on very special occasions. They’d had someone there making balloon animals on her last birthday and they’d made Allie a hat with a bear on it. It seemed so very long ago. Would people stare at him now? Would they whisper among themselves as the man accused of helping Boyd Sullivan walked in the door? Would he ever feel comfortable sitting in a place like that again?

  His stomach rumbled. On the other hand, Carmen’s did a decent takeout. He could use a walk, and special pizza might help a terrible day end on a better note.

  “How about we go for a walk to Carmen’s and pick up pizza?” he suggested. “You could ride in the wagon? We could make it a special treat? Just for tonight?”

  Her eyes grew wide. She nodded. “Queenie comes too. Queenie likes pizza.”

  “Right.” He smiled. He wasn’t sure Queenie had ever tried pizza. As a K-9 dog, her diet was supposed to be strict and limited. But he wouldn’t have been surprised if Allie had been sneaking her all kinds of treats under the table when he hadn’t been looking. “Good idea. If we walk, then Queenie can come too.”

  He loaded Allie up in the wagon with extra blankets for cushioning. Then he slipped the leash on Queenie and they stepped out into the night.

  The evening surrounded them, warm and welcoming. Cicadas thrummed an invisible chorus from the trees. The thick scent of lavender and Texas lilacs filled the air, mingled with the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers from backyard barbecues. Laughter seemed to spill from behind every fence. It was like the whole base was out enjoying the July night. And he felt like an outcast or a phantom, moving through the shadows, with the rhythmic sound of the wagon wheels bumping over the evenly spaced cracks in the sidewalk like they were marching in lockstep with his feet.

  The questions he’d been asked about Maisy’s father filled his mind. He’d told Preston and Justin that Clint Lockwood was a hard man to train under. What he’d left out was that he’d appreciated that the Chief Master Sergeant was hard on him. There’d been something comforting about knowing there were standards and that those standards were high. When he’d marched in formation, he knew where he belonged and what needed to be done. He’d blended in, which was hard to do for someone of his height who’d gone through school as the tallest kid in his class. There’d been something about being in that uniform for the first time, and going through the same drills and exercises as every other new recruit, that made a person stop noticing the height, weight, age, gender or background of the person marching alongside him. Because they were a
unit. A family. They were in it together. And he’d been just another part of that whole, doing his part and doing what needed to be done.

  Liz had always questioned why he didn’t strive harder to stand out and get more prestigious assignments. She hadn’t understood. He’d always done the very best to serve his country, even on those days when all he was doing was directing traffic or guarding depots. But he’d never cared about being distinguished or important. He’d never minded less glamorous work. All that had mattered was being the best possible cog he could be, serving in whatever role he was assigned, in the amazing, glorious machine that was the United States Air Force.

  His grandfather, despite his faults, had instilled that much in him—that it was better to quietly do your part to serve others than to claim fame and attention for oneself the way that Boyd Sullivan had. When Chase had been first deployed overseas, his grandfather had sent him a postcard. On it was a poem entitled “When I Consider How My Light is Spent” by John Milton, which ended with the reminder that standing and waiting was also a form of serving. That line had kept him focused on many long patrol nights. But what was he now? A random cog that had busted loose from the machine and fallen to the floor? A cog that the larger glorious machine was apparently willing to run without?

  His eyes shot to the red-and-pink jet contrails crossing the sky and prayed for help without even knowing how to find the words.

  “Look, it’s Maisy!” Allie’s voice made him stop. “Look, Daddy! It’s Maisy! Hi, Maisy!”

  He turned back. Allie was sitting up in her wagon, waving happily, but for a moment he couldn’t figure out where she was looking. He crouched down to her level. “Where?”

  “There! It’s Maisy!” Her little hand pointed toward a fence to his right, with that odd laser-sharp focus that toddlers and K-9 dogs seemed to share. His eyes followed her gaze. At first he saw nothing but indistinct figures in fatigues. Then the scene shifted and he caught a glimpse of a smiling blonde with a pixie haircut and peach sundress.

  “See, Daddy?” Allie asked, her eyes serious with the clarity of innocence. “Can we go say hi?”

  “No, honey, Miss Maisy is busy with friends,” he said as the glimpse of Maisy’s smile sent unexpected feelings through his chest. He looked away. One of his shoelaces was hanging long. He knelt and tied it sharply, pulling on the laces so tightly he could feel the pinch at the top of his foot. He’d been curt with Maisy and had brought danger to the door of her preschool. Regret washed over him with a million words he wished that he could say.

  He wondered what his life would’ve been like if he’d had the courage to speak to her when he was a much younger man. If he hadn’t become romantically involved with Liz. If he’d waited instead to earn Clint Lockwood’s approval to date his daughter. He wondered what it would be like to be the man standing beside Maisy, protecting her from harm, instead of being suspected of aiding the man who’d ripped her father from her life.

  A hand landed heavily on his shoulder, its grasp firm. A low and deep warning growl sounded to his right. Then he heard a voice, male and with unrelenting authority. “Stop right there. Don’t move.”

  FIVE

  Chase turned slowly and looked up at the tall and muscular form of dark-haired Technical Sergeant Linc Colson. His huge attack-trained rottweiler, Star, stood alert by Linc’s side. Instinctively, Chase felt his body stand to attention. He saluted. “Evening, Sergeant.”

  “Evening, Airman.” Linc returned the salute. Suspicious eyes glanced down at Allie and Queenie, and then scanned Chase’s face. Chase found himself oddly impressed that the sergeant didn’t drop his guard because Chase was with his daughter. “Care to tell me what you’re doing crouching behind the fence outside my new home?”

  “It wasn’t intentional,” he said. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I was out walking with Allie and she was excited to spot her preschool teacher, Maisy Lockwood, through the fence. I stopped and laced up my boot.”

  It was the truth and he said it without a flicker of a muscle on his face. But that didn’t seem to damper the wary look in Linc’s eyes. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Would he never be able to so much as stop and tie his boot without rousing suspicion? Chase met his gaze and held it firm like a man who had nothing to hide.

  “Hi, Star!” Allie chirped. He looked down. Despite the fact that his presence lurking at the other side of the fence had set Star growling protectively, the dog’s tail was now wagging. Allie waved her hand happily at the huge dog, keeping her fingers just far enough away from the canine’s fur to let Chase know that his instruction to never touch a dog without permission had sunk in. “Daddy, Star is Freddy’s new dog!” Allie said cheerfully. Then she pointed at Linc. “That’s Freddy’s new daddy.”

  The two men paused. Allie’s bright eyes looked from Linc to Chase. She pointed to each man in turn with that tone of voice he knew meant she was trying to be helpful. “You’re Freddy’s daddy and you’re my daddy! You’re both daddies!”

  She said the word daddy with both a force and an innocence that made an emotion catch in his throat. She said it like daddy was a special word and like she expected everything should be all right between him and Linc because they were both daddies. And the fact that the word meant something so important to her small, innocent mind filled his heart with thanksgiving.

  He prayed he’d never give her any reason to think any other way.

  “Linc, is everything okay?” An unfamiliar woman’s voice dragged his attention to the fence. While he didn’t know the voice, he definitely recognized the face of the woman now opening the side gate and stepping through. Zoe Sullivan, a petite woman with flowing brown hair, was a flight instructor and Boyd Sullivan’s estranged half sister. She was also the single mother of a three-year-old boy named Freddy from Allie’s school. As Zoe reached for Linc, he saw a tasteful gold band on her left hand, and the final pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Looked like she was Zoe Colson now. He’d vaguely heard the single mother had recently gotten married and moved into a new house with her husband. But he’d never been much for standing around gossiping, let alone reading the anonymous blog that some mysterious person at Canyon had set up to spread rumors about the Red Rose Killer’s crimes, his possible accomplices and the state of the investigation. At least now he understood better why Linc was so protective of his home and wary of anyone lurking outside. He wondered how it was for them, always wondering where her half brother was, who he’d target next and how soon he’d be caught.

  “Hello, Sergeant.” Chase saluted her. “Sorry to cause a disruption to your evening. I was just passing by. Congratulations on your recent nuptials.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled and returned the salute, but she also looked slightly confused. He suddenly wondered if anyone said nuptials anymore. “It’s Chase, right? You’re Allie’s dad?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Through the open gate now he could see the small audience walking toward them, men and women he knew, at least to say hi to, and who now no doubt wondered if he was guilty of the crimes he’d been accused of. There was Westley and Felicity James, and Westley’s canine partner, a German shepherd named Dakota. Also, a red-haired search-and-rescue dog handler he vaguely recognized as Ava Esposito with her Labrador retriever, Roscoe. And his friend Isaac Goddard, who he’d done basic training with, with his own golden retriever named Tango. Only Maisy stood alone on the porch with a plate of food in her hand, and her friends standing between them like a shield.

  “Allie!” Freddy tore across the yard like an enthusiastic missile. “Hi, Allie! I have hot dogs! You want hot dogs too?”

  “Actually, we should get going,” Chase said. He reached for the handle of the wagon. “I promised Allie pizza tonight. I’m sorry to interrupt you. I hope you have a wonderful evening.”

  “Daddy,” Allie whimpered softly. “Don’t want pizza. Want hot dogs
with Freddy.”

  “Actually, Chase, can we talk? If you have a moment?” Maisy called out to him. She started down the porch steps, crossed the backyard and looked around at her friends. “If it’s okay with you guys, there’s something I need to talk to Chase about and I’d like to do it tonight, if that’s possible.”

  In other words, she wanted to talk to him, somewhere where they weren’t alone and she had her trusted friends close.

  Zoe and Linc exchanged a look that spoke the kind of volumes that only couples who’d been through a lot and understood each other deeply shared. Then Zoe said, “We do have plenty of food, if you’d like to stay for a hot dog.”

  “Absolutely.” Linc stretched out his hand toward the backyard. “Freddy has been really eager to show somebody his new tent.”

  “Thank you,” Chase said, once again finding the words inadequate for everything going through his mind. He reached his hand toward Allie to help her out of the wagon, but she was already scrambling toward Zoe’s outstretched hand. Taking Allie in one hand and Freddy in the other, Zoe walked the little children over to where a long table sat overflowing with hot dogs, burgers, veggies and salad. Felicity pulled Maisy aside and the two women exchanged a quiet word. A warning, perhaps? He wouldn’t blame Maisy’s friends for telling her to be cautious around him. If anything, he was thankful to know she had people watching her back.

  Westley stepped forward. Chase saluted. “Sergeant.”

  Westley returned the salute. “Good to see you and Queenie. How has training been going?”

  Chase searched the master sergeant’s face. The look in his eyes was cautious, much as Chase would have expected in his position, but not hostile. He appreciated that. If he were in Westley’s shoes, he’d have felt the same. Just a few short weeks ago, these people had been his new colleagues in a team he’d just begun to feel like he was a part of. Now, he was just thankful they were still giving him the time of day and hadn’t already decided on his guilt, like Preston had.