Fourth of July (18 page)

“Your attacker?” Brittany cried out, interrupting Alexis’s tale. “You never told me about being attacked.”

“I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to call you. I was going to call last night but I was tired, so I went to bed early.”

“Oh, Lexie, someone should be with you. I’m so grateful it was only an attempted rape. What happened? Are you okay?”

“I think I’m okay.” She shivered as she recounted the experiences.

“What a blessing Chris came along when he did.”

“Yeah.” Alexis thought of Chris and the comfort of his arms around her. “It was truly a blessing.”

“I can’t believe you were attacked. I’m so sorry. Oh, Lexie. No wonder you’re having nightmares. I wish I could be there for you like I used to be.”

“You’re with me in spirit.” Alexis sighed. “Why don’t you leave Steven and move to D.C.? I could take better care of you and Savannah than he does.” She thought of all the money she had socked away for that very reason, but she couldn’t force Brittany to come.

“That’s a great idea but if I take Savannah out of the state you know he’ll press kidnapping charges. I can’t risk losing Savannah, she’s the only good thing in my life.”

“Oh, Brit, I’m sorry you’re in such a mess.” Alexis hugged her knees to her chest.

“I don’t have anyone to blame but myself.”

“What kind of talk is that? The two-faced scum wooed you like he was Harry Connick Jr. before you were married.”

“Yes, but you knew the entire time something was off.”

“That’s true.”

“Enough about Steven. Tell me more about Chris. Is he just some guy who happened to save you or do you know him?”

“I know him. He works for the FBI also.” Alexis couldn’t help but smile. She relaxed into the pillows.

“There’s something in your voice, little sister.” A pregnant pause followed. “You’re interested in him. Tell me everything. Is he good-looking?”

“Oh, Britt, I wish you could see him.” Alexis warmed to the subject. “I can’t even describe how good-looking he is.” Alexis’ voice turned dreamy. “He isn’t too tall, probably about 5’10”, really fit, broad shoulders, muscular chest...”

“Ooh,” Brittany cut in.

“Yeah, you’d ooh and ahh if you saw him.” Alexis sighed. “Dark hair, amazing eyes, and the best-looking face I’ve ever seen.”

“He sounds perfect to look at, but is he nice?”

“Yes, he’s nice, but definitely not boring. I don’t know, though Brit. He has issues you wouldn’t believe.”

“Be careful of the ones with issues,” Brittany warned.

“I’m careful,” Alexis said. “I’m so careful I’m 28 and still single.”

“Good point.” Brittany laughed softly. “So are you and Chris dating seriously?”

“Not seriously,” Alexis admitted, reluctant to share the fact they had never gone on a date. “But we are going to a memorial service tonight at church.”

“That’s a start. So he’s a member?”

“Um, no.”

“Lexie,” Brittany sounded shocked. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know.”

“He must be something if you’re going to break your vow of only marrying someone who can share your faith.”

“He is something, but come on, Brit, I’m not even thinking about marriage right now.”

“You marry who you date. But, you know what,” Brittany’s voice turned spiteful. “I married a guy who claimed he was a fellow believer and he’s the biggest snake on the planet. I think the important thing is listening to the Lord and marrying someone who will treat you good.”

“Point taken.”

“Maybe Chris will have a change of heart.”

“I’m not crossing my fingers.” Alexis sighed.

“Okay, forget about the religion problems for a minute. Tell me everything else.” Brittany’s enthusiasm returned.

“It’s been kind of odd,” Alexis said. “We’ve worked together for a couple of years and I’ve always been interested in him. Lately, though, we’ve had some crazy interactions.” Alexis explained about the embrace at the party Friday night, the awful phone conversation, and then her chastising Chris after he saved her from being assaulted.

“You didn’t,” Brittany cried out.

“Oh yes, I did,” Alexis said, still wondering what she had been thinking.

Her sweet sister would never have reprimanded anyone, let alone the man who rescued her. She would have fallen into his amazing chest and then sent a thank you note accompanied by a batch of her famous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

“Oh, Lexie,” Brittany said. “When are you going to learn how to control your tongue?”

“I have no idea.” She sunk down lower in the pillows, suddenly exhausted.

“So, I’m stuck in my life of drudgery with the husband from you-know-where and you have Chris and that cop guy whose shoulder you cried on and probably a dozen other men hovering over you.”

“It’s not some romantic tale.”

“You’re right, but you’ll be okay now. I’ll pray for you.”

“Thanks,” Alexis said. She felt better already. Brittany’s prayers could bring down manna from heaven if only they could rescue her from her own husband.

Alexis could hear Steven screaming at Brittany in the background. “She’s your daughter. You take care of her!”

“Savannah is crying for me. I have to go, Lex. Love ya.”

The phone disconnected. Alexis wanted to cry for her sister. How could someone so beautiful, inside and out, end up with such a jerk? Alexis knew part of the reason she hadn’t married was because of Steven. He beguiled Brittany so completely while they were dating, and then turned into a different person the very day they wed. Brittany was caught in the cycle of abuse and Alexis had yet to convince her sister to go through with a divorce.

Sighing, she heaved her tired body out of bed. She pulled on her new running clothes but her limbs felt heavy and uncooperative. Smiling, she thought of Chris lecturing her about wearing modest running clothing. His lecture hit its mark. The next day she purchased a few medium t-shirts and shorts that brushed her kneecap.

The smile left her face. She was still terrified to run alone. She had to conquer that fear. She wouldn’t let that horrible man ruin her life and she wouldn’t give in to fear.

As Alexis ran in the warm D.C. morning air, Dylan and Chris were pacing the air-conditioned interrogation room in New York, nearly begging their suspect to talk. Their frustration mounted as morning slipped into afternoon with no hope of the man breaking his silence. Chris fought against every impulse telling him to strike the man. Finally, he reached his boiling point.

“Who planted those bombs?” Chris yelled into the suspect’s face. “What’s the plan? Where are they striking next?”

The suspect remained infuriatingly mute. Chris couldn’t control himself. He grabbed hold of the man’s rumpled suit and shoved him against a wall.

“I’m running out of patience.” He shook the man. “Talk, now!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” the young terrorist exploded. “You will never find him and you will never stop him. Your nation will regret the day you hunted down Al-Qaeda. We will always return stronger than before. We will strike until the American government and your pampered way of life is obsolete!”

Chris released the man. The terrorist slunk over to a straight-backed chair, clamped his mouth shut, and refused to formulate another word.

An hour later, Chris and Dylan exited the room. They conferred with Officer Brady O’Neil, their contact from the department.

“What did you make of that impassioned speech?” Officer O’Neil asked Dylan.

“It terrifies me. Chris thinks they have a more comprehensive plan than what we’ve already seen. What do you think now, Chris?”

“I’m more convinced than ever. July Fourth won’t be the last attack. We have to find who’s responsible, and that criminal in there is our only hope.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Makes me sick.”

“Yeah,” Officer O’Neil agreed quietly.

“Keep on him,” Dylan instructed as they prepared to leave. “Charge him with double homicide without bail. You’re welcome to toss out any threats you want. Maybe the threat of the electric chair or a firing squad will loosen his tongue.”

Officer O’Neil cracked a smile. “Worth a try.”

The detective shook their hands. Dylan and Chris ducked into a waiting patrol car. They would be lucky to make their flight.

MADISON’S FRIENDS ARRIVED for the birthday party. Rachel pasted on a smile. Excited squeals filled their formerly peaceful home. Rachel was relieved Tyler played at a neighbor’s house. These little darlings were maniacs. Tyler would have been trampled underfoot.

How had Rachel ever thought caring for two children was difficult? Compared to the ten six- and seven-year old girls terrorizing her home, her son and daughter were easier than devouring a piece of cheesecake.

Each girl seemed intent upon raising her high-pitched vocal cords above her friends. Every one of the angels was decked out in princess’ attire of flowing dresses, tiaras, slippers and hair piled in curls.

Dylan was noticeably absent. Rachel wanted to call his cell phone and demand to know where he was, but she knew she would release all her pent-up emotions. The last thing he or their relationship needed was more stress.

She went through the motions, orchestrating the various games Madison had dreamt up for the party. She painfully noted each minute tick by without Dylan materializing.

6:00 p.m., serve the royal feast. The pizza disappeared in minutes, while the fruit and veggie trays gathered dust.

6:17 p.m., pin the train onto the princesses’ gowns. The partygoers basically chased each other around screaming as they tried to tape flowing pieces of material on each other’s dresses. The last one with a train in her hand lost.

6:28 p.m., decorate princess slippers and crowns with gold and silver paint, faux jewels, and glitter. Rachel tried not to cringe as the decorators trashed her house.

6:41 p.m., turn on Madison’s Disney Princess compact disk and observe the beauties floating gracefully around the room. At least it was entertaining to watch them dance. Rachel even joined in the fun for a while. The girls loved her moves recalled from many childhood ballet classes.

7:02 p.m., the young guests grew weary of the dancing. Proving their attention spans were shorter than Rachel had planned.

“Cake, cake, cake!” They began a thunderous chant. The dancing must have burned a lot of calories. These small people were ravenous. Rachel offered the fruit and veggie platters to satiate them. The girls turned up their noses and screamed, “cake” louder.

Where on earth is Dylan?
Rachel thought about what she would do to him when he did finally appear.
Was it wrong to want to murder the love of your life?
Grandma had always said she’d never considered divorce, but poisoning Grandpa had been mighty tempting. Rachel smiled to herself.

Madison tugged on her sleeve. “Mommy, this isn’t funny!”

Rachel straightened her face. “I know, sweetie.”

“We can’t have cake without Daddy. Please, Mom, we have to wait. I know he’ll be here soon.”

Her large eyes bore into Rachel as if she could make Dylan appear.

“I’m sorry, Maddie.” Rachel sighed. “I don’t know what else to do. Maybe we could get the cake ready, and hopefully Daddy...”

A strong arm encircled her waist, an unshaven face brushed hers, and her heart leapt. He was here.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Dylan reached down to scoop up Madison. “How’s my best girl?”

“Daddy.” She threw her thin arms around his neck.

“You look so pretty.” Dylan grinned at her.

“Thanks, Daddy. I know I look pretty.” Madison glowed from the compliment. “
Now
we can have cake.”

“I think there’s something else you might want to do first,” Dylan said.

“What is it, Daddy?” Her eyes beamed with anticipation, voice dripping with sweetness.

Dylan set Madison on the floor, reaching behind him to extract a princess pinata from a large bag on the table.

“Oh, Daddy. A pinata. It’s almost too pretty to break open.” Madison clapped her hands together. “Hang it up, hang it up. Look, look, my daddy brought me a pinata.”

Dylan took a moment to brush his lips against Rachel’s. “Sorry I was late, our plane was—”