by Tara Randel
A scratchy squawk came from the lapel mic on the chief’s collar. “Duty calls.” He stood. “It don’t really matter who asked. I’m here for you if you need anything, Mitch.”
“I appreciate it.”
The chief nodded, pressed a button to speak into the mic as he strode away.
The conversation with the chief had at least taken his mind off his physical limitations. His head only mildly ached and the dizziness had subsided. Now would be a good time to head back to Wyatt’s.
With his destination in mind, Mitch rose. A car blew by, swerving to miss a pedestrian crossing the road. The movement caught Mitch’s eye and suddenly he was thrust back to the day of the accident.
He closed his eyes, feeling the sense of fear and urgency. Wishing he’d called Zoe before leaving the camp to let her know he wanted to compromise—that he would cut back on his schedule to be home more, that this would be his last overseas trip for a while until they worked things out.
Whoa. Mitch opened his eyes and staggered. That trip had been his last?
Closing his eyes again, he pushed the limits of his memory.
The truck behind him drew closer, no matter that Mitch was standing on the gas pedal. He had a death grip on the steering wheel as they lurched over a rocky road. Voices cried out from the bed of the truck, urging him to go faster.
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
“They’re gaining,” came a shout.
A gunshot rang out, shattering the rearview mirror on the driver’s side. Mitch ducked instinctively. Glanced back in the mirror. “Everyone okay?”
“Keep driving!”
Another shot sounded. Then another. The third striking the tire. Mitch lost control of the truck, first fishtailing, then picking up momentum on a downward incline.
“Hold on,” he yelled.
The steering wheel jerked, throwing Mitch off balance. Another shot. The truck hit something hard, went airborne for a long, terrible moment before crashing to the ground. Mitch tried to correct the wheel, but suddenly the truck leaned and flipped before landing on the roof, sliding to a stop.
Mitch shook his head. The sound of steam escaping the engine sputtered, then went silent. The radiator must have blown, evidenced by the pungent smell invading the cab. In the distance, a car door slammed. Low voices carried.
Mitch tried to move, pinned in place. A sickly metallic taste coated his tongue. His head pounded and when he looked down, he saw blood spattered about him. Groaning, he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
“Mitch,” a shaky voice called from behind him.
“I can’t move.”
“I’ll be—”
The sentence abruptly stopped.
“Jack! Answer me.”
A shadow loomed beside Mitch and a blurry face filled his vision. “Jack can’t talk right now.”
Then a massive blow to the head and everything went dark.
Mitch’s eyes flew open and he gasped for air.
Someone had deliberately caused the accident. Shot at him. But who? Why?
Rattled, he lowered himself back down to the bench. He’d wanted to remember, but now the memories caused more questions. Who else had been with him? What had been their fate?
He froze.
Jack.
He remembered. Jack Parsons. Had he worked with another refugee aid group? Mitch had met up with him when he’d offered to help find Hassan’s father—the reason they’d ventured away from the larger camp to begin with.
A car horn honked, startling Mitch from his revelation. He had a name to go with the face now. Tangible information as he pieced together that day. As soon as he got back to Wyatt’s place, he would start his search.
With his mind only on his mission, he nearly careened into a man standing a few feet from the bench.
“Sorry. I’m in...”
The words died on his lips. His father, deep lines in his pale face, eyes sunken, stared back at him.
“Mitch.”
“How... What are you doing here?”
“I was running an errand for your mother. I noticed you on the bench.”
His wits returned to him. “And decided to walk by?”
“No. I was trying to think of a way to approach you.”
“You’re my father. Do you need a reason?”
“You haven’t returned my calls.”
Uncomfortable now, Mitch wanted to run, but his father’s expression stopped him. And then he recognized the brightness shimmering in his gruff father’s eyes.
“Dad?”
“My son is alive,” Todd Simmons whispered. “I never thought I’d get a chance to talk to you again.”
Great. Another lecture on the horizon? Mitch wasn’t inclined to defend his life or his decisions to his father right now. Not when the puzzle pieces were falling into place.
“Your mother has encouraged me to come visit you.”
“Yet, I haven’t seen you.”
The older man swiped at his eyes. Color returned to his cheeks. The man who had always seemed so much bigger than life looked beat-up and weary.
“We have a lot to catch up on.”
“Really? Because I only recall you wanting to run my life. And when that didn’t work, putting me down.”
His father looked away. Swallowed before returning his gaze. “I was wrong. It took losing you to make me see how wrong I’d been.”
Doubt coursed through him. His dying had gotten his father to see that all his hard-nosed ways hadn’t worked? Convenient, mocked Mitch’s inner cynic.
“Dad, I have to get moving.”
“Oh, right.” Uncertainty, an emotion he’d never associated with his father, dimmed the older man’s eyes. “We’ll catch up later.”
Indecision clawed at him. Why? Was it that hard to believe his father might have been affected by Mitch’s accident? After all, he thought he’d lost a son. Could it be that complicated, yet at the same time, so simple?
He saw the hope written on his father’s face. It was like looking in a mirror. Didn’t he want to prove much the same to Zoe? That he had changed?
“Ah, yeah, we will.”
His father smiled. “Thank you, son.”
Confused and feeling awkward, Mitch quickened his stride as he hurried down the sidewalk. Since the accident, he’d felt like he was residing in an alternate universe: He’d never thought he would come back home to his life; never thought he would have a son; could try to make things right with his wife; never, ever, thought he would have a decent conversation with his father. Yet in the span of a month, all these things had taken place.
Had the accident been fate compelling him to take a hard long look at his life?
The headache that had eased returned, but Mitch powered through it. He had too much to do. Wouldn’t let the pain keep him from his task. Not if it meant getting to the bottom of the mystery that had hounded him since the day he’d woken up in a hospital bed weak, broken and lacking memories of how he had gotten there.
By the time he reached Wyatt’s house, he’d come to two conclusions.
One, he’d walked to town and back without any incidents. No falling. No stumbling. Yeah, he was dizzy, but he could function.
And two, maybe the studio job was just what he needed. Work had always cleared his mind and he had a lot of decisions to consider. He didn’t want to get Zoe’s hopes up that he would totally walk away from photojournalism to be a portrait photographer. He wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted to do long term. For now, it would keep him busy. Give him purpose each day and help him sort out the memories, which he was visualizing in more clarity each time he remembered.
He needed to figure out who had shot at him and why. There was more at stake than he’d initially considered. The chance to win his wife back and prov
e he was a man worthy of Zoe’s trust. Watch his son grow up. Protect them both from danger.
He wouldn’t let anyone take that away from him.
Chapter Eleven
“YOU’RE AWFULLY QUIET. It’s not like you.”
Zoe glanced over at Nealy, lounging on her right, not able to read her friend’s expression under the thick moisturizer slathered on her face and the cucumber slices hiding her eyes. They’d met up to take advantage of the spa day Mitch had won in the silent action at the fundraiser.
On the other side, Jenna rose to lean on her elbow, lifting one cucumber slice to view Zoe while the other slipped to her lap. Lilli, on the far side, cocked her head, waiting for Zoe’s answer.
“This is supposed to be a fun girl’s day,” Jenna said. “What’s up?”
Zoe sighed. Did she want to rehash her last conversation with Mitch? He was right. Her actions didn’t exactly place her in an altruistic light. For the past couple days, she’d been searching her soul, wondering if indeed she was trying to boss Mitch. So far, she hadn’t come up with a sure answer. She liked to think she was more evolved than that, but the guilt niggling her made her question her motives. Maybe some girl talk would help straighten her out.
“I think I made a mistake with Mitch.”
Nealy, reclining comfortably on her back, snorted. Lilli emitted a loud sigh.
Jenna angled on the soft leather lounger to face Zoe, confusion crossing her features. “I thought things were good between you guys.”
“Good is a relative term.”
“Didn’t we talk about you cutting the guy some slack?” Nealy asked.
The sad thing was, she thought she had been.
After a bone-melting massage, including a hot-stone treatment, Zoe’s muscles were so relaxed she could hardly move. The girls had then been cleansed, exfoliated and soothed with an aromatic body scrub. Now, wrapped in fluffy robes and reclining in very comfortable lounge chairs, lulled by scented candles and rhythmic New Age music, they were waiting for the deep moisturizing facial mask to do its magic before finishing up the visit with a manicure.
Zoe snuggled into the robe, secretly glad her friends had called her out. Mitch had paid a pretty penny for this spa day, plus, he was watching Leo while she enjoyed being pampered, making her feel even more guilty over her actions.
“Mr. Haynes is retiring. I talked him into letting Mitch take over his studio.”
At this revelation, Nealy removed the green slice and peered at her with one judging eye. “Without asking him first, I assume?”
She cringed. “Yes.”
With a scoff, Nealy replaced the cucumber. “I’m thinking he didn’t take it well?”
“No. I guess I don’t blame him, but when I got the brain wave, it just made sense.”
“To you.”
Zoe sank into her chair a little farther.
While Lilli sat up, Jenna swung her bare feet over the foot of the lounger. “What was your thinking process?”
Grateful to be able to voice her motivation, she took a quick sip from the tall glass of herbal tea on the table beside her.
“There’s no way Mitch can travel right now, but he needs something to pour his energy into. I get that being stuck inside a building all day might not be his thing, but I felt he needed purpose. A steady job gives him that.”
“And keeps him in Cypress Pointe,” Lilli added.
“Well, yes.” Zoe paused. Might as well spill the rest. “So I made the arrangements and had Mitch meet me at the studio where I told him the good news.”
“Without Mr. Haynes there so Mitch couldn’t tell him no?” Nealy asked, questioning the brilliance in Zoe’s plan.
Zoe frowned. “When you put it that way...”
“There is no other way,” Nealy harrumphed, crossing her arms over her chest.
Jenna shot Nealy a stern look, the move lost by the vegetables covering Nealy’s eyes, then softened her features when she looked back at Zoe. “I understand your desire to help him, but the delivery...”
“Granted. Not my best moment.”
Nealy brushed off the cucumber slices and propped herself up. “Let’s cut to the chase. Now what?”
Good question. Mitch was obviously still miffed with her, if his chilly greeting this morning when he came to babysit Leo was any indication. She’d wanted to explain, but his body language made her take pause. Plus, she was running late. Leo had been up half the night, fussy over the eruption of a new tooth, tugging at his ear and causing her to fall seriously behind.
“I’m sort of between a rock and a hard place. I told Mr. Haynes that Mitch would take over right away and he’s made plans to go on a cruise. In the meantime, I have no idea if Mitch will honor my word. If he doesn’t show up at the studio, who will I find to fill in?”
“Then you should have—”
Zoe held up a hand to cut Nealy off midsentence. “The worst part is Mitch told me I need to decide what I want, and he’s right. Do I want my family intact even if Mitch is unhappy about my interference? Or does he travel again and I go ahead with the divorce? There’s no easy choice here.”
A spa attendant poked her head into the room to check on the women. After assuring the attendant they were fine, they all sat in silence for a few moments.
“Why do you need to rush things?” Lilli asked in her quiet, subdued tone. “Just be thankful Mitch is back, alive. It gives you both a chance to fix your marriage. If that’s what you want.” She paused. “That is what you want?”
Zoe’s eyes teared. “Mitch has really changed. He’s said things, done things that show me he realizes how bad our relationship had become. Acknowledges the issues between us. Why can’t I seem to find the grace to accept these changes and work with him?”
Nealy took her hand. “You don’t want to be disappointed again.”
Jenna took her other. “You don’t want to lose him again.”
Her gaze went back and forth between her friends. “Wow. I’m pretty pathetic, aren’t I?”
“No. Rightfully conflicted.” Nealy straightened the neckline of her robe. “Mitch’s return was as much of a shock as was the word of his dying. You’ve been on an emotional merry-go-round for a long time now.” Her lips curved into a rueful frown. “I can’t imagine the confusion muddling that busy head of yours.”
“I have to agree with Nealy,” Jenna added. “You’re borrowing trouble by forcing events and some kind of normalcy in your lives. Yes, it goes against the nature of Zoe, but you can’t control this, my friend. Let time work out the answers.”
Could it be that way? Did she have the patience to wait out what would become of their marriage? Their family? Did she have a choice?
The attendant returned to inform them that it was time to remove the masks and move on to the next pampering phase. Before they left the room, Zoe stopped her friends.
“I appreciate your honesty. All of you. And I will let time take its course. I promise to work on that area of my life.”
Her friends beamed at her.
“Starting tomorrow.”
Nealy’s smiled faded. “What did you do?”
“I might have asked your significant others to stop by and check on Mitch and Leo while we were out. My mom has an art show and I didn’t think the boys should be home alone.”
Nealy let out a low whistle.
“Why didn’t we know?” Jenna asked.
“Because I swore them to secrecy. Asked them to make it look like a spur of the moment idea to stop by the house.”
Lilli closed her eyes and shook her head. “Mitch is not going to like this.”
“And I’m betting he’ll figure out it was my doing.”
“Good grief,” Jenna puffed. “You don’t know when you have a good thing.”
“What do you say after the manicure we g
o have lunch?” Zoe suggested in a bright tone.
“And let you off the hook?” Nealy’s eyes narrowed. “No way.”
“Nealy’s right on the money today,” Lilli said. “However unpleasant, you need to go home and face the music.”
“I was afraid one of you would say that.”
“And so do our guys.” Lilli shook her head. “What were they thinking?”
“They all kinda owe me.”
All three women stared blankly at her.
“Dane needed a building permit expedited and I spoke to the right people. Max needed information for a certain case he’s working on and I steered him in the right direction.”
“And Wyatt?” Jenna piped up.
“He owes me for keeping Mitch’s return a secret. I’m still not over the fact that the two of them didn’t include me in the news.”
Lilli tilted her head and considered Zoe. “You’re downright scary.”
“Maybe, but I get the job done.”
The attendant entered the room again, her voice urgent. “Ladies, we need to get the masks off your skin now.”
Lilli and Jenna followed the woman dressed in white. Before Zoe could join them, Nealy took hold of her arm and pulled her aside.
“You do understand the message you sent Mitch, right?”
“I do.”
“You won’t be able to talk or steamroll your way out of this one.”
“I know that, too.”
“What were you thinking?”
“That I’m a mother who has to watch out for her son.”
“From his own father?”
“From a father who is not one hundred percent healthy.”
Nealy dropped her hand. “You crossed the line this time.”
Zoe knew it. Knew she’d have to face up to her actions. Hoped Mitch was a bigger person than she apparently was turning out to be.
* * *
THE FOUR MEN were poised in various locations around the living room. All eyes were on the little guy sitting in the middle of the floor, staring back at them, his cheeks flaming red and wet, a thumb stuck defiantly in his mouth. Leo had been fussy and fretful since Mitch had arrived earlier that morning. Having the other guys show up had done nothing to ease Leo’s mood.
