The Protector's Mission

Her eyelids were so heavy, like the beam across her torso. She closed them again, trying to think of a warm place. Every part of her was cold, as though she’d been in a refrigerator for hours, dressed in her scrubs. She hadn’t even changed out of them when she’d gone to meet Bree. At least she wasn’t there with her.

But the others...what of them?

Again she began to drift off.

Hold on, Lydia.

Did someone say that? Jesse?

A rush of cool air brushed over her. She looked up and saw Jesse’s smiling face.

“She’s alive.” His grin grew. “Don’t move. We’ll get you out of there.”

“I know,” she whispered, her throat so dry she doubted Jesse could hear her.

When the rescuers finally reached her, all she could do was peer at Jesse as though she were back in the cave and he alone had come to save her. His almost-black hair was covered with a helmet. Dust and dirt coated him. He was more muscular and taller than when they’d been teenagers. When he and Thomas hoisted the beam from her, it seemed so easy for him while she couldn’t budge it an inch.

Jesse’s golden-brown gaze fastened on hers. Lines at the sides of his eyes deepened. “We’ve almost got you out, then Bree will check you before we move you. Do you want some water?” His voice held a tender note, as though he cared.

But she knew better. Since she’d returned to Anchorage they had spoken few words, only when necessary because of a search and rescue or Brutus, who she treated as the department veterinarian. “Yes” squeaked out of her mouth.

He couldn’t prop her up to drink until Bree said it was okay to move her, but he did squirt some cold water into her mouth.

Nothing tasted better. She swallowed. “Again.”

When Bree appeared next to her, she tried to hide the worry in her eyes, but Lydia knew Bree.

“I’m okay,” Lydia murmured, her voice stronger now. “Get me out of this hole, and I’ll be good as new in no time.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Bree ran her hands over Lydia, especially examining the wound on her head, then put a neck brace on her. “She’s okay to be lifted but be careful. Slow and easy. No jarring.”

“Honey, stop telling us our job. We’ve done this before,” David said from above, ready to take Lydia when Thomas and Jesse hoisted her up.

Jesse positioned himself at her head while Thomas was at her feet. “On the count of three.”

Bree stabilized her midsection as Lydia was brought up out of the hole.

Sunlight bathed Lydia. She was put on a stretcher and carried from the rubble. The last sight she saw was Jesse’s handsome face—but he wasn’t smiling. Worry knitted his forehead.

Lydia gave in to the black swirling abyss beckoning her.

* * *

Lydia heard an annoying beep. Pain quickly followed, radiating from her head and chest. She moaned and lifted her eyelids halfway. A hospital room greeted her, and she remembered why she was here and hurting. She’d been in and out of consciousness since an emergency surgery to have her spleen repaired.

She wondered where her sister and Bree went. Earlier they’d been in here. Probably to grab something to eat. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Kate while she was in the hospital. She’d stay with Bree and David until Lydia was released, which she hoped was soon.

Lydia closed her eyes and tried to relax. But the second she did, visions of the bombing assailed her mind. The sound of hideous laughter right before the bomb went off. The expression on Melinda’s face when she knew what was going to happen. Was she alive? The feeling of helplessness she experienced trapped under the building debris. Her heartbeat began to race. A cold clamminess blanketed her, much like when she’d been trapped.

The swish of her hospital room door opening pulled her away from the memories. Kate returning? She needed to have a few moments with her sister. When Lydia fastened her gaze on the person who entered, her pulse rate sped faster. Jesse Hunt. She wasn’t prepared to see him.

He looked like he’d come straight from the crime scene. As a search and rescue worker for Northern Frontier, he’d probably work as long as he could function. The only time he’d rest was when Brutus needed to.

So why is he here?

He stopped at the end of the bed. “Bree told me you’d been awake earlier and coherent after your surgery, so I took a chance and came to talk to you.”

His stiff stance and white-knuckled hands on the railing betrayed his nervousness, but his tone told her he was here in his professional capacity. Saddened by that thought, Lydia said, “Thank you for finding me.”

“I was doing my job yesterday.”

“Knowing the people who would be searching kept my hope alive. Have you found everyone?”

“We don’t know for sure. Names of missing people are still coming in. I was hoping you could tell me how many people were in the restaurant when the bomb exploded.”

“I’m not sure. Let me think.” As much as she didn’t want to, she tried to visualize the moments before the explosion. “Melinda, and I remember seeing another waitress. I don’t know how many cooks she had in the kitchen. They’re always in the back.”

“How about customers?”

She had to think. She didn’t want this person to get away with what he’d done. She fought the weariness that kept edging forward. “People were coming in and out. Some ordered takeout for lunch and didn’t stay long. I came out of the restroom, saw Melinda seconds before the laugh track played. I’d estimate maybe nine besides me. Most of them were regulars.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know their names. I just see them there a lot. I go get lunch there once or twice a week...” The thought that the bistro was totally gone inundated her. She dropped her gaze to her lap, her hands quivering. She balled them, but that didn’t stop the trembling sweeping through her body.

“If I bring you photos, could you tell me if they were there?”

Emotions crammed her throat. She turned for her water on the bedside table, but it was too far away without leaning for it. She started to and winced from the movement.

Jesse was at her side, grabbing the plastic cup and offering it to her.

She took it, their fingers brushing, and she nearly splashed the water all over her with her shaking.

Jesse covered her hand and steadied her drink, then guided it to her mouth. The feel of his fingers against hers for more than a second jolted her. “I know this isn’t something you want to talk about, but we want to recover all the bodies as quickly as possible.”

“Bodies? Did anyone else survive?”

“A waitress and two cooks. We found them in the kitchen area, the waitress just inside the entrance while the cooks were across the room.”

She didn’t want to ask but she needed to know. “Did Melinda survive?”

“No, we ID’d her body. So far we’ve recovered eight bodies, including Melinda. Four people are missing, according to their families, but we haven’t found them yet. The bomb squad thinks the bomb originated in the dining area where the customers were. They’ll know more when the bomb fragments are all found.”

“Eight dead.” How did she survive when the others didn’t? “I was in the hallway to the bathrooms when it went off, not in the main dining room. Do you think that protected me some?”

“Possibly. Do you know where the laughing sound came from?”

“Not sure.” She closed her eyes and tried to think back to that time. Nothing. She massaged her temple, forcing herself to dig deeper beyond the pain throbbing against her skull. “I don’t think from behind me. When I heard the laughter—” she shuddered “—I took two steps back. Then everything went blank.”

Jesse put the cup on the bedside table. “I know this isn’t easy, but anything you can remember could help us piece together what happened. We’ve got to stop this man.”

“Nobody wants that more than me. I... I...” Tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t voice what she felt, not even to herself. She remembered coming to in recovery, and all she’d wanted to do was surrender to the darkness. Stay there. But that wouldn’t help. She’d learned long ago she couldn’t escape from the truth.

“I’m sorry, Jesse. I’m tired. I’m sure I’ll remember more later.” She hoped she could. She needed to. If no one in the dining area survived the bombing except her, she might know something that could help find the culprit. But at the moment her head felt as if it would explode.

“I understand. I’ll come back later.”

Was that sympathy in his voice? She looked up. His expression was neutral. When she’d first returned home last year, she’d tried to talk to him about what happened all those years ago. He’d shut her down. He never acted angry or upset around her although she’d wronged him. Instead, he’d been more like a stranger. Even as a teenager, he’d kept his feelings to himself. That was part of the reason they broke up that first time at Christmas, and she began dating Aaron.

She watched him leave. But hadn’t she done the same as him? When her mother left their family she’d shut off her emotions entirely. Even now she wouldn’t think about the woman who had abandoned her family. She couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else.

The emotions she’d kept checked while he was there gushed to the surface. Tears ran down her cheeks for the people who’d died, for her foolishness as a teenager, for the rift between her and her father and for the times she’d missed her mother so much it had hurt deeply. And now, she couldn’t even remember anything to help the police.

* * *

Later that day, Jesse loaded Brutus into his crate in the back of his SUV and left the bombing scene. His dog needed a lengthy break if he was going to work late into August’s twilight hours for the third straight day, searching the rubble for victims or clues to identify the type of bomb used. There were still two people unaccounted for, and he was going to pay another visit to both Lydia and the waitress who survived. Maybe one or both of them could tell him if the two missing people were at the restaurant. Thomas talked with the cooks, but they didn’t know anything because they always stayed in the kitchen.

He drove toward the hospital, the bright yellow sun splashed across the sky in all God’s glory. Life went on in spite of the tragedy that occurred yesterday. The death count with the bombings was climbing and so was the fear sweeping through the city. The mayor was demanding answers, and he’d gladly give him some if he had any.

The closest surveillance camera had been disabled before the bombing. The others didn’t have a good angle on the entrance to the restaurant. Even if they had there were two other ways for a person to leave Melinda’s Bistro—the back door where the kitchen was and the emergency exit down the hallway to the bathrooms. There were no cameras on those two places. In fact, each building targeted didn’t have a lot of security. The police were urging businesses to increase their security.

When he rode the elevator up to Lydia’s floor, he tried to prepare himself for seeing her again. He didn’t want to think about their past, but as he neared her hospital room, he experienced relief and...joy all over again, like when he heard her through the rubble. She’d been alive. After finding several dead bodies, he’d started to think no one would be alive.

He’d thanked God he found her. He’d never felt that kind of relief. And yet, he had to keep his distance. Too much happened between them when they were teenagers. He’d grown up in a good foster home, but early on when he bounced from one family to another, he learned to keep himself apart from others. He would have to rely on that ability now.

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.”