Love You Still

by Kat Bammer

  A loud knock on the car window penetrated Lisa’s stupor, and she straightened.

  Another uniformed officer opened the door. His hat cast a shadow over his face but behind him, the parking lot was lit up like a Christmas tree.

  When did this happen? Lisa looked through the windshield to the multitude of vehicles and people populating the small lot. The level of noise astounded her. How long had she been sitting here? She cast a glance toward the bushes on the side of the concrete where the light was densest but couldn’t see a thing. What did they find? Was there a body?

  7

  Peter had seen a lot of deceased people in his time with the teams, but this was the first one since he’d returned home. And they all had a strong feeling who it was. There had been search parties for the missing woman for the better part of last week. With zero result.

  His K9 Partner had lost her trace outside the bar. Nobody had seen her leave that night. She had just vanished.

  Well, only DNA would give them certainty.

  He looked down into the car. Lisa hid in darkness, but her face was white as a ghost, virtually glowing in the dark.

  Peter hesitated, then frowned. The professional in him battled with the protective feelings that surged to the surface.

  “Rough day?”

  He hunkered down, so he could have a better look at her.

  She looked back at him with unseeing eyes and her breathing was choppy.

  Peter wasn’t sure if she even recognized him.

  “Lisa?” He touched her hand.

  Her skin was cold and clammy. Maybe she needed to see a doctor.

  “Are you okay?”

  His protective instincts skyrocketed when her eyes lost the forlorn look that had concerned him just a moment ago and filled with tears. Her chin trembled, and he couldn’t keep his distance any longer.

  Long buried feelings for her surfaced as he stood up and picked her up out of the car seat.

  She couldn’t weigh more than a feather and when she pressed her face into his uniform, he witnessed uncontrollable sobs wracking her body.

  “Shh, I’m here. Everything will be okay. I promise.”

  Her skin was cold to the touch, and he pressed her a little tighter against his body to warm her up.

  Peter looked around, then he carried her over to his cruiser and squeezed behind the wheel, Lisa still on his lap.

  It was a tight fit, but she was pressed against him anyway.

  They sat there for quite some time. Peter absently caressing her hair, while he watched the procedures outside. His eyes connected with his chief, who just nodded at him before turning back to the crime scene again. They had driven here together, so his chief knew about his connections to the Reynolds family.

  The mobile crime lab had arrived a little earlier, and he saw the flashes of their cameras processing and documenting everything.

  Peter tapped his foot. He should get Lisa to a doctor. Or back to the sheriff’s office, to get her statement, and then take her home.

  But when he looked down at her, leaning against him, staring into the distance, tears still running down her cheeks, he sighed and tightened his embrace.

  The statement could wait. This was more important. In the back of his mind a little voice told him he wasn’t behaving professionally. But he wasn’t ready to let her go. And, when he felt her hand press against his side, and her body snuggling deeper into him, neither was she.

  * * *

  An hour later he stopped the cruiser in front of the sheriff’s office and looked at the passenger seat. Lisa hadn’t said a word on the drive here. She looked small, fragile, and introverted.

  He sighed.

  She was still processing. Your first dead body stayed with you. The images haunted him in his dreams and sometimes in pure daylight.

  Peter closed his eyes and leaned his head against the headrest. He recalled his first. A raid in Afghanistan. They were on a mission to flush out a high Taliban Officer. When they entered one house, they found a whole family.

  Slaughtered.

  Every single one. He would never forget the young boy whose life was cut short by those assholes.

  It was the first of many raids like that. Not pretty and it didn’t get easier.

  Peter brushed Lisa’s forearm.

  “I’m sorry, baby, but we’re here.”

  Lisa blinked like she’d just woken up from sleep.

  “Where are we?”

  Peter cleared his aching throat. “We’re at the office. We need your statement now, when everything is still fresh on your mind.”

  Lisa looked first at his hand, that still stroked her forearm, then back into his eyes. “Now?”

  He nodded and his heart flew out to her, when she straightened her spine, took a deep breath, and opened her door. Lisa was a fighter. She would be okay.

  He escorted her to the interrogation room. It wasn’t his favorite room, and he contemplated just asking her at a desk. But if this became a murder investigation, he’d better play it safe.

  She looked small and lost in the room. The neon light deepened the dark circles under her eyes.

  Peter could read all her feelings in her eyes. Pain, confusion, and utter exhaustion.

  “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to check some things first.”

  Lisa nodded and he left her alone in the room.

  He had a job to do.

  He checked in with Sheriff Travers then listened to her 911 call again. He was on top of the situation—information wise, before he reentered the interrogation room, two cups of coffee in hand and a file tucked under his left arm.

  “Lisa.”

  She was slow to look up. But when he placed her coffee in front of her, both her hands wrapped around it. She didn’t take a sip, just used it to warm her hands.

  “Can you walk me through your evening?” Peter took a seat on the opposite side of the table. The urge to get her back on his lap and into his arms was still strong. She had looked so small, helpless, and vulnerable when he found her sitting in the patrol car. Not at all like the sassy woman he had met at the airport earlier. And not at all like the girl he remembered.

  “I was on my way home.” Lisa’s voice was a little hoarse.

  “Home from where?”

  “From the hospital. Mom wanted to stay there, but Cookie is home alone, and someone needs to take her out.”

  Peter made a mental note to call Julie Brooks to take care of the dog.

  “Okay, when did you leave the hospital?”

  “I don’t know. Late afternoon, early evening maybe?” She looked unsure and twisted the rim of the paper cup.

  “What happened next?”

  “I was so tired. I hadn’t slept since I got the call about my dad.”

  “Not even on the plane?”

  Lisa shook her head.

  “So, you haven’t slept in what? Two, three days?” No wonder she looked like death warmed over.

  “Yes, something like that, I don’t know. The time difference. The airports. I had a lot on my mind.”

  He knew what sleep deprivation did to your body and found a new respect for Lisa. She’d had a little breakdown. But she was stronger than she looked. The girl had grit.

  “So, you were on the way home…”

  “I got tired, opened the window first, but it didn’t help. Then I made a short stop. To get moving. I wasn’t that far from Moon Lake. All I wanted was to make it home and sleep. When I got out at the scenic overlook, I smelled it.”

  “What did you smell?”

  “Like dead deer, left to rot in the sun.”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Nobody there and nobody on the road either.”

  “What did you do after discovering the smell?”

  Peter knew what smell she referred to. Another thing that haunted him in his dreams. His unit once passed a mass grave in Iraq. The smell had been unbearable. As had been the sights.

&nbs
p; “I went to look, but it was getting too dark to see. Then I thought I saw a hand.”

  Her voice became monotonous, and she had showed no emotion in the last five minutes. She was distancing herself from the incident. Good for her.

  “What did you do, after you saw the hand?”

  “I went to get my cell phone and a flashlight.”

  “Were you afraid?” It was more a rhetorical question. He knew she was—she’d showed signs of severe stress when he found her in the car hours later. White as a blanket and shaking all over.

  “Scared shitless.”

  “Did you see more than the hand?”

  Lisa’s hands were shaking again, and she turned and kneaded the cup in her hands. “No, I didn’t dare look too close.”

  “I called 911 and talked to the operator, but I fumbled with the cell phone and it fell right next to it into the bushes.”

  “So, your cell phone is on scene?” Peter made a note on his file to check where the cell phone was.

  “Yes, well. I don’t know if there was another cell phone. Mine was still connected to the 911 operator. I could hear her talk.”

  “What did you do then?” Peter took a sip from his coffee.

  “I don’t know. I think I wanted to pick it up, help, but I was too scared.”

  “Did you go back to your car?” Peter looked in his file, to see who the first officer on scene was.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want to add anything?”

  Her breath caught in her chest. And she swayed on her chair. “No, I don’t think so.”

  He nodded once and closed the file.

  “Can I go home now?”

  “Yes, I’ll get someone to drive you home.” Peter wanted to be that someone. But he needed to finish this.

  “Can I get my phone back? What if there’s something with Dad?”

  “I will look into it.”

  “Thanks.”

  He thought she wanted to say more than that. He wanted to say more than that. But these weren’t the right circumstances for them to talk. Plus, she needed to get some sleep; everything else had to wait until tomorrow.

  Everything case-related and everything personal between them, as well.

  Peter helped Lisa up and led her through the office, then to his cruiser. He would drive her home himself. To hell with work. He didn’t trust anyone to take care of her and he could always pull an all-nighter.

  The drive home was like the drive to the sheriff’s office. Either Lisa was too tired to talk or too caught up in her head. They passed the crime scene, but she just looked out of her window into the dark wood.

  The reunion with Cookie caused his breath to bottle up in his chest. So much time lost.

  The pictures of Lisa on the ground, petting her dog, stayed with him. He thought back to the crime scene, and the pictures shifted to how he had held her and how she had finally relaxed in his arms.

  His reaction had been personal, and Peter wanted there to be something personal in their future. He had lost her when they were still kids. Not lost. Discarded. He’d had something beautiful in his hands and had fucked it up. Royally.

  Maybe this was his second chance. Seeing her today. Seeing her at her worst made all the old feelings reappear.

  Longing and a deep sense of connection.

  During the last thirteen years he had chased this connection with women. Had even married one.

  But the connection he had with his ex-wife had never even come close to the connection he had with Lisa. In their only night together Peter had experienced magic. A whole other level of connectedness. No wonder his marriage was doomed to fail. But now he had a new chance. A chance to make things right. The only problem—how would he get Lisa on board with his plans?

  Would she dare open up again and give him a chance? Tonight didn’t count. Tonight she hadn’t been her usual self.

  But he had to try.

  This time he would do better. He wasn’t the cocky nineteen-year-old boy anymore who had dismissed their connection so easily.

  This time he would make an effort to really get to know her. This time he would find out if there was more than his insane attraction. And he would not quit!

  8

  The next morning Lisa woke up to blinding sunshine.

  Life was strange. A few days ago her only worry was being dumped but since then, so much had happened.

  She looked around. The room and the bed weren’t hers anymore. Just another guest room. But the night before she’d dived headfirst into the bed. Not that she’d gotten much sleep. Disturbing pictures and panic attacks interspersed with rough sleep.

  Lisa groaned. Back to the hospital. That was the plan. But instead of getting up, she threw the blanket over her head and curled her body into a fetal position. Even this small movement exhausted her. This day would be a bitch.

  After another five minutes, she knocked her blanket back and got up. First Cookie, then a cup of coffee, or better yet a whole pot.

  She passed the squeaky step between the first floor and the ground floor, when she heard noises from the kitchen. Someone was down there.

  Her heart leapt, and she rummaged around in her purse for her cell phone. She wracked her brain, but she couldn’t remember her mother mentioning whether there were guests staying at the Inn or not…and where the hell was her damn phone?

  The mental image of her phone casting a glow on the hand next to it caused realization to hit, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. Couldn’t she catch a break? She really needed a break.

  Lisa turned on the stairs and took a few steps up. She could go back up and hide inside her room. She could just turn the key and pretend she wasn’t there. But what if they had guests and nobody took care of them?

  Lisa listened until she could distinguish a female and a male voice. The clatter of a pan on the old gas stove was deeply ingrained in her memory. She turned back down and mentally prepared herself for hostess mode.

  Suddenly the timbre of the male voice infused her limbs with a tingling warmth. His soft voice, whispering in her ear while playing with her hair, which had soothed her anxiety in between her fitful sleep episodes, replayed back to her.

  Lisa got up and crossed the lobby toward the door to the kitchen.

  “No, Mom, I told you, there’s nothing I have to say to him. Just tell him to leave us the fuck alone and stay away.”

  “Peter!”

  Lisa could hear the conversation clearer, now that the voices got heated. It didn’t feel right to stand there and eavesdrop any longer.

  The heavenly aroma of bacon mixed with the scent of fresh-baked bread assaulted her when she opened the door to the kitchen.

  Lisa’s stomach growled. Maybe she shouldn’t have skipped dinner the night before. Then again eating had been out of the question.

  “Hello,” Lisa said.

  An older woman turned from the stove and faced her. Lisa recognized the rounded face immediately. Mrs. Fisher’s hair hadn’t been gray five years ago, and there had been fewer wrinkles around her eyes, but other than that she looked unchanged.

  Peter’s mother came toward her with her arms open, grinning from ear to ear. “Lisa, my dear, how good to have you finally back.”

  Lisa took a deep breath and stiffened in the embrace but relaxed as a well-known perfume engulfed her and brought back fond memories.

  “Oh, how we missed you, young lady. How heartbreaking the circumstances. But we’re so happy to have you back.”

  As long as Lisa could remember, Mary Fisher had always been like this—affectionate. The polar opposite to her best friend, Lisa’s mother.

  Even after the death of Peter’s sister, his mother never lost her ingrained kindness to the surrounding people. Kindness mixed with sadness. So much sadness.

  “I took over cooking for the guests, after your dad had his accident,” Mary said and pushed Lisa at arm’s length.

  “How many guests?” Lisa held her breath.

&n
bsp; “There’s a family in the cottage by the small forest. An older gentleman in Room 2 and of course the woman who’d booked Room 4—” Mary paused, released Lisa, and turned back to the stove. “I talked to your mom already this morning—no change so far.”

  She took the pan from the stove and turned around. “Come sit. I’ll prepare you some breakfast.”

  “Mom.”

  Lisa looked at Peter who sat in the small breakfast nook. With her focus on Mary, she had completely blended out his presence. She really needed coffee to jumpstart her sluggish mind.

  “Yes, my dear.” Mary raised her left eyebrow before turning back to the stove and her cooking.

  “Don’t overwhelm her. She looks flustered.” Peter smirked before he dug into his huge serving of bacon and eggs.

  “She isn’t flustered—just not fully awake yet, and understandably a little stressed.” Mary turned toward Lisa and patted her forearm. “But who wouldn’t be? At least you’re home now.”

  Lisa took a step back. She wasn’t used to people getting close up and personal anymore.

  “She looks confused about you, Mom, standing in her kitchen and acting like it was your place,” Peter said.

  Mary’s face fell and Lisa felt bad about her standoffishness. “No, really. It’s okay. Mrs. Fisher. I just expected no one to be here.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, and he grinned before he dove back into his breakfast. “Thanks a lot for the breakfast offer, Mrs. Fisher, but I’ll just grab some coffee, walk Cookie, and then go back to the hospital, anyway.” No way was she having breakfast with Peter Fisher in front of his mother.

  “I already took Cookie for a walk; we can leave right now, if you want.” Peter finished his coffee and the last of his bacon. He stood up, shrugged into his coat, and grabbed his dishes. On the way to the dishwasher he kissed his mom on the head. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom.”

  Mrs. Fisher smiled, before she turned back to the stove.

  Peter put his dishes away and stopped at the back door. “You coming?”

  Lisa’s mind raced but her feet didn’t move. “Well, no.” What made him think she wanted to ride with him to the hospital? “I mean, thanks for the offer, but I think I can get there.”