Fourth of July (15 page)

Chris hung his head. A week had passed since the bombings and there were absolutely no leads. He couldn’t believe how professionally the terrorists had executed these attacks. He and Dylan, along with countless other FBI anti-terrorism agents, local and national law enforcement, and the best forensic teams available had been working tirelessly, all to no avail. The terrorists were apparitions, leaving behind no clues as to their identity.

“Let’s check out the crime scene again,” Dylan suggested, already exiting Chris’s office door. “Maybe we’ll receive some kind of inspiration from the Lord.”

“Good luck with the inspiration.” Chris laughed under his breath. Picking up his cell phone, he stood.

“What was that?” Dylan stopped in his tracks and whipped around to face Chris.

Chris took a step back. He arched an eyebrow. “I doubt the Lord cares if we crack this case. If He cared, why didn’t He prevent the whole thing from happening?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Chris’ voice escalated right along with his anger. “If your God cared about us, how could He have let something like this occur?”

“Let me get this straight.” Dylan shook his head. “You blame God for this tragedy?”

“No, I don’t blame Him,” Chris retorted. “I know he didn’t
cause
the bombings, but I don’t understand why he couldn’t have
prevented
them! He could have given us some sort of tip beforehand.”

“Oh, Chris,” Dylan exhaled with the words. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Haven’t you ever heard of free agency?”

“Of course I’ve heard of free agency. What does that have to do with anything?”

“The Lord doesn’t force us to do anything. He gives us all the chance to make our own choices.”

“He still could have stopped this.” Chris clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Sometimes He does prevent tragedies. Maybe someday we’ll understand why the bombings happened.”

Chris rolled his eyes at his partner.

Dylan blew out his breath. “I wish you could understand. The Lord loves you and is there for you. Can’t you believe that?”

Chris shook his head, no, of course he couldn’t believe something like that.

“Sometimes crap happens,” Dylan said.

“Sounds like as good an explanation as anything I’ve heard.” Chris moved to walk around Dylan.

Dylan grabbed his arm. Chris stopped.

“Let me give you an analogy.” Dylan stared at him, waiting for Chris to give him his attention.

Chris grimaced. He just wanted to end this conversation and find the terrorists. After several seconds, he locked eyes with his partner. “I’m listening.”

“Imagine I’m walking down the street with Tyler. I’m holding his hand but he trips on a branch and falls. He scrapes up his knee.”

Chris half-listened to Dylan’s story, but only out of respect for his friend.

“Did I make Tyler fall? No. Could I have prevented the fall? Maybe. But that’s kind of how the Lord works. He doesn’t prevent every accident but He loves us through them. He feels our pain and He’ll help us if we ask.”

Chris stifled a yawn. Dylan sighed.

“Sorry,” Chris said. “It wasn’t your story. I’m just tired.”

“I wish you could see the Lord’s hand,” Dylan tried again. “I wish you could turn to him like you used to. When bad things like this happen, it’s my faith that helps me through. You can’t let what happened with your parents forever cloud your...”

“Enough!” Chris held up his hand.

Dylan jerked back.

“Sorry,” Chris muttered. He blocked out Dylan’s words, not wanting to remember. “Please, Dylan. I don’t need a sermon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t do this.” Chris looked away, something clouding his vision. He hated remembering and any talk of religion always brought it back.

Dylan clicked his teeth together. “I try not to say anything but sometimes it’s necessary.”

Chris exhaled. “Not now.”

Dylan studied him.

Chris swallowed, looking at the doorframe. “Don’t ask me to believe in something just because you do. You know I can’t anymore.”

“Not can’t, won’t.” Dylan’s blue eyes held too much compassion. “I won’t ask you to believe but I won’t stop praying for you, either.”

“Fair enough,” Chris said to end the argument. He forced a grin he didn’t feel and thumped his partner on the shoulder. “Let’s head to the scene.”

“All right.”

ALEXIS PERUSED A STACK of sticky notes before her first appointment Wednesday morning. Flipping through the large pile, she stopped abruptly on the fourth one. Her fingers trembled. She read and then reread the brief message.

“Officer Luke Johnson would like you to call him ASAP. He had hoped to see you Monday.”

Alexis appreciated Officer Johnson not sharing the details of why he wanted to meet with her. The last thing she wanted was anyone knowing about her near-rape experience Monday morning. It was bad enough Chris knew. She tried to quell her quivering fingers as she dialed the number and extension.

“Johnson,” a deep male voice resonated through the line.

“Hi, Officer Johnson, this is Alexis Osborne.” She picked at her fingernail polish.

“Ms. Osborne. Thanks for returning my call. I hoped you would come in Monday. Is there some reason you haven’t been able to stop by?”

“Well, I’ve been busy with work,” Alexis hedged. “I’ll try and come during my lunch break.”

“I’ll expect you then,” he said. “I’ll have the lineup ready about, what, noon?”

“Fine.” Alexis fought to hide the tremor in her voice. Obviously, he wasn’t going to let her out of this. “I’ll see you at noon.”

Dylan and Chris had been in Dylan’s office since five a.m., studying parade rosters, case files on terrorist cells that might be involved and reports from various law enforcement and FBI research teams. Chris raked his fingers through his hair, heaving a sigh of frustration.

“We aren’t getting anywhere. No one has claimed responsibility for the bombings. It’s got me worried.”

“What are you thinking?” Dylan asked.

“Maybe no one has claimed responsibility because this is just the tip of the iceberg. What if they’re planning more comprehensive strikes? This was some sort of warning, a, ‘You can’t catch me’.”

Dylan cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t like your theory, not at all, but you may be onto something.” Dylan paused.

Chris didn’t move, thinking through the awful possibility of another attack. They couldn’t allow that to happen. “Hopefully, I’m wrong.”

“I hope so.” Dylan drummed a pencil against his forehead. “But even more reason to catch them.”

“Yeah.” Chris studied the files on his computer more earnestly than before.

After several long hours Chris excused himself to get some fresh air. He needed time to think and to allow Dylan the chance to ponder the information. Chris’ thoughts didn’t stay on the bombing like they were supposed to. They turned to Alexis as they often had the past few days.

He hadn’t seen her since their fateful meeting on the running path Monday morning. He had been busy and Dylan was his constant shadow. He wanted to talk to Alexis alone but he didn’t know how she would respond to him.

He battled himself, pacing the hallway for several minutes. Finally, he decided to walk past her office and see if she was warm and gushing or cool and distant. His excuse was all planned out. He needed to make sure she was obeying his orders and wearing the shirts he left.

Smoothing her tan pantsuit, Alexis stood. It was time to face her perpetrator. Exiting her office, she bumped into Chris. Putting out her hands to steady herself, she grabbed his muscular arm and glanced into his face. How could one man feel, smell, and look this good?

“Oh, Chris. Excuse me.” She took a step back, attempting to appear unruffled by the contact.

“Alexis.”

She noticed immediately that he didn’t use his standard greeting of “Hey, Half-pint.” She cursed herself for even saying hello to him.

He has a girlfriend. He has a girlfriend
, she kept repeating to herself.
But I want to talk to him
, she argued right back.

“How was your weekend?” she asked.

What a stupid question, since it was now Wednesday and she’d seen him Monday. It was the only thing she could come up with at the moment. Almost against her own will, she wanted to keep him near and somehow recreate the mood of their interchange Friday night. Maybe he would forget how she had acted during their more recent meetings.

Where’s your pride, girl?

Her mind would not allow her to forget the picture of him and Danielle kissing in his office. The thought of them together sickened her.

“It was okay,” Chris said. “How about yours?”

“It was nice, thank you for asking.” Alexis hated this stilted, awkward exchange. The only thing warm about the conversation was the look in his eyes. “My meetings on Sunday were wonderful, very comforting.”

“Meetings? You have meetings on Sunday?”

“Church,” she supplied.

“Oh, your church meetings.” He nodded, studying her. “Maybe I could come with you sometime. Religion might be comforting at a time like this.”

Alexis hardly dared believe what her ears were processing. Had he said he wanted to go to church, and with her? All semblance of pride flew out the window.

“I would love to have you come with me,” she gushed. “There’s a memorial being held at my church tomorrow night at seven. We’re gathering to share hope and inspiration and pray for comfort and peace for the victims’ families. Would you come?” Alexis hoped he wouldn’t be overwhelmed by her enthusiasm.

Chris cracked a slight grin. “Sure, I could come. Can I pick you up?”

“Wonderful!” Alexis couldn’t contain her excitement. Not only was she going to be with Chris, but he was also going to attend a church meeting with her. What could possibly be better? She started writing down her address and phone number on a scrap of paper. Danielle was flung to the remote reaches of her memory. Her fingers trembled and the paper fluttered from her grasp and onto the floor. Alexis reached for it, her silky shirt slid up, revealing the mass of scars on her abdomen and back.

Chris’ quick inhalation of breath assured her he’d seen. Alexis jerked her shirt down and straightened slowly. She searched his eyes. If he was disgusted by her deformity she had to know. He looked at her with sympathy but not revulsion.

“Half-pint,” he whispered. “What happened to you?”

She licked her lips and played with the paper in her hands. “Fire.” She forced a smile. “My brothers were pyromaniacs and when they burned the barn down I didn’t get out in time.”

He blew all his breath out. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” She tossed her hair. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago. It doesn’t bother me at all.” She studied his dark gaze. “But sometimes it bothers other people.”

He gently lifted her shirt and touched the malformed skin of her back. The warmth of his touch sent tremors through her body. What was he doing? His eyes lifted to meet hers. “You are so beautiful. Nothing could change that.” He straightened her shirt into place and touched her hand. “Knowing that you’ve been through something this painful just makes you more beautiful.”

Alexis could only stare at him as her entire body melted from his words and his touch. Her eyes brimmed and then one lone tear fell down her cheek. Chris lifted the tear and nodded at her. “You’re one of the few who can understand what the bombing victims are going through.”