Race Against Time (4 page)

I closed my eyes.

BANG . . . Three men turned to me . . .

My spine stiffened.
Was this my fault?

No, how could it be? It wasn’t like I had done the murdering. But I should have done someth—

No. It wasn’t my fault.

Yes. It was.

Mom glanced over. “Girls, we’re going to get some coffee, we’ll be right back, okay? If you need anything, the officer is outside the door.”

“Okay, Mom.” Andie nodded and turned back to me.

Our gazes locked. She looked down and fiddled with the edge of the sheets.

What’s going on, God?
My eyes closed. I turned my head away from her. No sense in letting her see my tears.
Why didn’t You stop those men? Where are You, God?

I stared up at the ceiling, avoiding the gun-shaped pattern—

Whatever.

My head hurt. Neck hurt. Heart hurt. Like the ember of my will to live was dying. Did I want it to? How was I supposed to light the ashes and turn them back to flames?

No energy . . .

My body relaxed.

Just think about happy things.

Nothing but the drab colors.

Nothing but the darkness.

CHAPTER THREE

ANESIA

January 2

Fairbanks Memorial Hospital

Fairbanks, Alaska

6:35 p.m.

Anesia couldn’t breathe. Her tight chest ached, and the fog wouldn’t clear from her brain. Standing in the hospital room, seeing her daughter in that bed, hearing her heartbeat on the monitor . . .

Air. She needed air. Why was it so thick and dense in here? Pushing toward the door, she sought release from the nightmare.

She closed her eyes. She’d almost lost it in there. Barely made it out to the hallway before the shaking set in.
God . . . please . . .

“Anesia.” Jenna’s voice penetrated the cloud swirling through her mind. Her friend’s small hand closed on her arm. “Anesia.”

A hard blink. Another. She swiped a hand across her bleary eyes. She had to focus. Had to. For Zoya. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re probably in shock.” Jenna hooked arms with her as she pulled her the last few steps toward the coffee machine and a few chairs. “Now. Sit. Talk.”

Anesia glanced down at her hands. Rough and calloused from years of work with her kennel of dogs. Strong. She’d always prided herself on her strength. Her ability to take care of herself and her daughter. How had she let this happen? Why couldn’t she protect her own daughter from the horror she witnessed today?

“Spit it out, girl.” Jenna reached over and rubbed her arm. “I can see those wheels turning.”

“I don’t know what to do next.” Helpless. That’s how she sounded.

And how she felt.

“I know. It’s an uncomfortable feeling to be out of control.”

Anesia drew a breath. Yes. Jenna understood. Probably better than anyone else. With Andie’s disorder, Jenna had to do everything she could to control every environment her daughter was ever in. Or Andie could die.

But this? How was she supposed to protect her daughter from something like this? “I should have been there. How could I let this happen? And there’s not anything I can do to take those horrible images away.”

Jenna gripped her hand and nodded. Understanding. Sorrow. Compassion. It was all conveyed in that simple gesture.

Anesia looked away. What right did she have to wallow in self-pity? Jenna was the one who’d gone through so much. Her daughter fought a rare nerve disorder every day of her life . . . her husband had been murdered and their home destroyed by men out to steal the military technology her husband developed . . .

No, she didn’t have any right to wallow. She’d only faced this kind of thing for a few hours. Jenna had spent a lifetime trying to protect her daughter.

Anesia straightened. She needed to be strong. Like Jenna. But how? When all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry herself to sleep?

“Anesia Naltsiine.” Jenna tugged on her hand. “Don’t you
dare
start comparing.”

Anesia met her friend’s eyes—and felt the tension melt away. Jenna knew her too well.

Her friend’s tone was low, soothing. “Zoya will be all right. Physically she will heal fast, and we’ll have to rally around her for emotional healing. She’s a tough kid. You’ve raised her well.”

Had she? What if she’d messed things up along the way? What if—?

No. She wouldn’t allow herself to finish that train of thought. “I had no idea I could fall apart like this.”

“Hey, you’ve been there with me every time I’ve fallen apart.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” Anesia attempted a smile at her friend. “It’s easy for me to be the stoic, strong friend. I’m good at that. The proverbial sidekick. Your backup. I like being there for you and being your support. But I haven’t had to deal with anything like this myself since . . .” Tears pricked her eyes. No, she would not give way to them. She couldn’t cry. Wouldn’t. Not now.

“Since Dan died?”

All she could do was nod.

Jenna walked around the table and wrapped her arms around Anesia. “Girl, you are the strongest person I know. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you all these years. God blessed us with each other.” Jenna pulled back and wiped tears from her eyes. “Now it’s time you let me be there for you. Let us help carry this load. It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

Anesia allowed herself the comfort of her friend’s arms. Let herself lean on Jenna. Just for a moment. But then she needed to stand. Be strong. For Zoya—

Her gut clenched. Zoya was all she had left. If anything had happened to her—“I can’t let Zoya race.”

“Well, of course you can’t.” Jenna smiled and dragged her back toward the coffee machine. “The doctors aren’t going to let her race for a while. Not until she heals.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” She fidgeted with her hands. “I can’t protect her while she’s out there. What if somebody comes after her while she’s on the trail, while she’s racing? What if—”

“Stop it. You really think you’re gonna hide from all this? That you’ll be able to stop racing? That you’ll be doing the best thing for Zoya by keeping
her
from racing?”

Anesia opened her mouth to argue, but words were useless against Jenna’s truth.

Cole appeared in the entryway to the lounge. “Hey. Sorry to barge in, but the police are waiting to ask some more questions. They’d like to talk to Zoya.”

Anesia felt Jenna’s grip tighten. She straightened her shoulders, set her teeth. She could do this. She had good friends. Zoya was a strong kid and they would make it through. The police would catch the shooter, and they could relax.

All they needed to do was catch the shooter and everything would be fine.

With a glance to Cole, she nodded and stood. “Let’s go.”

When they reached Zoya’s room, two officers stood outside the door. They nodded toward her. One stepped forward. “Mrs. Naltseen.”

Steady. One breath at a time. “It’s Naltsiine—
nall-chee-neh.
And it’s Miss.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Naltsiine. We need to ask your daughter a few more questions.”

Cole’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her friend’s husband oozed with strength. If only some of that would rub off on her right now.

“Of course.” The sooner they caught the shooter, the better. She pushed the door open and steeled herself. “Andie, the officers need to ask Zoya some questions.”

“Okay, Auntie.” Nervous blue eyes looked up at her. “Can I stay?”

Anesia shot a look at the officers.

The one clearly in charge shook his head. “I’m Detective Sheldon, this is Sergeant Roberts. I’m afraid that’s not allowed. Not in a murder investigation.”

Anesia watched Zoya retreat into herself and shrink into the mattress. Andie shot up from Zoya’s side, hands on her hips. “Sir, I don’t mean any disrespect, but Zoya is my best friend. She already told me everything she saw, she needs me—”

“Andie.” Jenna’s soft voice silenced her daughter.

The detective glanced at Zoya. “I know this is really difficult for you. But could we ask you a few questions with only your mom present? Are you okay with that?”

Anesia watched a tear slide down Zoya’s too-pale face. Andie leaned down and wrapped her arms around her friend while Zoya clung to Andie in return.

“It’ll only take a few minutes, I promise.”

Andie pulled back and gave the detective a look. Had the situation not been so serious, Anesia would’ve laughed at the protectiveness and spunk of her
syats’ae.

The door closing behind her precious friends sounded like a vault. Its thud resounded in her heart.

Zoya needed her to be strong. Anesia reached for her hand.

Sergeant Roberts smiled at her daughter. “How are you feeling?”

Zoya reached a hand up to push the hair out of her eyes. “Okay, I guess.” Her voice sounded so small. So childlike. “The doctors said I’m really lucky the bullet just grazed me.”

The reminder sent prickles through Anesia’s mind. She couldn’t even fathom the pain of losing her precious daughter.

“We are glad of that as well. You’ll be better in no time.” The officer turned serious. “Zoya, we have your preliminary eyewitness account, but we’re wondering if you can remember anything else?”

Anesia sat on the bed next to her daughter. Why did Zoya have to be the one to witness the murder?
Why not me, Lord? Why her? She’s just a child!

“I don’t think so, sir.” Zoya wouldn’t look at any of them. Her small hands fidgeted with the blanket. “There were three of them. All in dark heavy coats, dark hats, dark boots . . .” Zoya sucked in a breath. “Wait a minute. The one with the gun. The one who shot him? He had a hunter’s orange skull cap underneath his baseball hat. I remember seeing the bright orange.”

The detective took over. “Good job, Zoya. Very good. That will help. Anything else? Do you remember any birthmarks, tattoos, jewelry?” The detective scribbled on his pad.

“No. Just the orange sticking out.”

“What about the kind of gun? Do you remember the size or shape? Any distinguishing characteristics?”

Anesia watched as her daughter leaned over and eyed the holster on the man.

“It looked a lot like the one you have. But we were moving pretty fast, so I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” He scribbled some more. “What about after the shot? Do you remember anything else?”

“Like I said before, they spotted me, grabbed something out of the guy’s coat, and then shot at me. I ran for my life. I thought they would kill me.” Tears streaked down her cheeks.

Anesia closed her eyes.
No. Stop.
She opened her eyes. Willed her mouth to say the words.

“Understandable.” He finished writing and looked at Anesia before speaking to her daughter again. “Would you be able to identify the shooter—or any of the men—if you saw them again?”

Her daughter ducked her head and began to shake. Anesia couldn’t bear it any longer. “Stop! Please. This is too much.”

The detective nodded. “I understand your concern, Miss Naltsiine, but we need to know if your daughter can identify them.”

“No.” Zoya squeaked between sniffs. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t think I could.”

“Thank you, Zoya. I’m sorry for all this. But I’m going to leave you and your mom my cell phone number. If you think of anything else, anything at all, you let me know, okay?”

Zoya wiped tears from her face with the back of her hand then took the extended card. “Yes, sir.”

The other officer extended his hand toward her daughter. “You’ve done well, young lady. Now you get better, all right?”

Zoya nodded and buried her face in Anesia’s shoulder.

“Miss Naltsiine?” The two men were by the door. “Can we speak with you outside?”

Anesia kissed the top of her daughter’s head and held her close for several seconds. She whispered into her hair. “I’ll get Jenna and Andie to come back in.”

Zoya’s soft sobs tore her heart to pieces as Anesia headed out with the officers. Jenna spotted her, rushed over, and wrapped her in a hug.

“Could you guys stay with Zoya a few minutes? I don’t think she wants to be alone.” Her words came out stronger than she’d thought she could muster, but her heart was a jumble of emotions. The intensity of them scared her. The desire to melt into a puddle and cry warred with the intense urge to hunt down the shooter and kill him with her bare hands.

The door clicked shut behind her. She wrapped her arms around herself. “What do you need?”

“The evidence at this time is pointing to the fact that the man your daughter saw murdered was a homeless man.” The two men’s expressions confused her already scattered mind. She couldn’t read either one. She needed answers. Not more questions.

“But?”

“We’re not convinced. The fact that they fired at your daughter and pulled something from the man’s coat tells us there is more to the story. We will be digging deeper.”

Chills skittered through her limbs. She swallowed and nodded at them to continue.

“And in light of that, we suggest you be careful. We’ll be posting an officer here at the hospital. Until we finish checking it out, we ask that you don’t return home. We’ll bring you anything you need. We may be a small town, but we won’t let the shooter get away.”

She blinked at them. Was this really happening? Banned from her own home? “Wait a minute. What about my kennel? My dogs? They need to be fed and cared for—”

“Our men are there right now, checking it out. It shouldn’t take long.”

“But—”

“We’re taking a precaution, ma’am. Making sure no one is there that shouldn’t be. It’s not every day that a minor witnesses a murder like this.” The detective’s eyes held compassion. Concern.

“As soon as we’re done, we’ll let you know.” The sergeant handed her two cards. “Please don’t hesitate to call if Zoya remembers anything else, or if you need anything.”

The men nodded and walked away. The walls around her seemed to shrink before her very eyes. Sergeant Robert’s words rang in her ears.

If you need anything
. . .

What she needed was to protect her daughter.