The Protector's Mission. Margaret Daley
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.
“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