New Year Heroes: The Sheriff's Secretary / Veiled Intentions / Juror No. 7. Delores Fossen

skills has nothing to do with when Jenny was younger. I’ll bet you were a loving caretaker for her when she was a kid. My only complaint is that you don’t seem to know that it’s time to let go.”

      “Point taken,” he replied. “You’re different than I thought you were.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Whenever I saw you at the mayor’s office, you seemed hard-edged and uptight. You’re softer than I thought.”

      “I take my job very seriously. Besides, anytime you came in to see Richard, he freaked out just a little bit. I think you scare him. You’re always so sure of yourself and what you’re doing. Richard cares so much about this town and the people, but he’s less sure about his path than you are.”

      “Did he know about your past? That you weren’t really a widow?”

      She nodded. “I had no references to give him and so I told him the truth, that I wanted a fresh start here and was willing to work hard to create a good life. Harrington isn’t my real name. I couldn’t use Landers nor could I use my maiden name because I was afraid Frank would find me. Harrington is a name I chose, and the shelter where I stayed for a while helped me get identification in my new name. Richard knew all that and hired me anyway. He gave me a chance and kept my secret, and for that I’ll always be grateful to him.”

      Lucas grinned. “Then I guess I’m going to have to ease up on Richard.”

      The next couple of hours passed in quiet conversation. The tension, the stress and anxiety of the past four days seemed to have momentarily ebbed, as if their minds and bodies could no longer sustain the heightened sense of fear.

      She told him a little bit more about her life with Frank, her lonely childhood with her mostly absent mother, and he regaled her with tales of his life in college with the friends he called his band of brothers, the men whom he still called his friends.

      It was almost midnight when the coffee was gone and the fear returned. He saw it swimming back into her eyes, in the slight shake of her hands as she removed the cups from the table.

      “You should try to get some sleep,” he said.

      “I know. But I’m afraid to close my eyes.” She placed the cups in the dishwasher then turned back to face him. “I’m afraid I’ll have bad dreams, but more than that, I’m afraid those dreams might come true.”

      Then the phone rang again.

       Chapter Eleven

      Electricity sizzled through Mariah. “You think he’s calling back?”

      “We won’t know unless we answer.” He punched the record and the speaker button. “Jamison,” he said.

      “Lucas, it’s me, Jackson.” It was obvious from the background noise that Jackson Burdeaux was in his car.

      “Yeah, what’s up?”

      “Listen, I was on my way home from a meeting and heading down Baker’s Street south of town when I saw a little boy walking along the street. I’ve got him in my car now, but he’s having trouble breathing so we’re on our way to the hospital. I’m just hoping I get him there in time.”

      “My God. It’s Billy,” she said. She pushed away from the dishwasher, and a wave of dizziness struck her. She drew a deep, steadying breath. Her heart beat so fast she thought she might be having a heart attack. Billy! He was having trouble breathing, but that meant he was alive!

      Lucas ended the call. “Let’s go.”

      He didn’t have to tell her twice.

      “It’s got to be him, right?” she asked a moment later when they were in Lucas’s car. “There can’t be another little boy walking along a street at midnight who has breathing problems.” Hope filled her and brought tears to her eyes, yet she was afraid to believe. She was afraid the hope that now rose inside her would be smashed, and she didn’t think she could survive that.

      “It sounds like it’s him,” Lucas replied. He cast her a sideways glance. “You might want to prepare yourself. We don’t know what’s happened to him, where he’s been. We know he’s obviously suffering an asthma attack, but we don’t know what else he might be suffering from.”

      “But surely if there’s been other injuries Jackson would have mentioned them,” she protested. He had to be all right. He just had to be.

      “I’m not talking about physical injuries. We don’t know what he’s been through mentally, emotionally. He may be very fragile.”

      “But he’s alive,” she replied. Surely with enough love and time they could heal whatever might be wrong. Her mind raced with possibilities. “You mentioned that one of your college buddies is a psychiatrist.”

      He nodded. “Clay Jefferson. Why?”

      “Does he see children? If Billy needs help, I’d want to take him to see somebody professionally.” She was a jittery mess, her brain shooting in a million different directions as she mentally urged him to go faster … faster.

      “One step at a time,” Lucas replied as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. She was out of the car and running toward the entrance before he’d brought the car to a full halt.

      Conja Creek Memorial Hospital was a small facility, mostly used for emergency situations. Most people with real health issues drove to Shreveport or were transported there.

      The first person she saw as she flew through the emergency-room door was a tall, dark-haired man with slate-gray eyes. She knew in an instant this was Lucas’s friend, Jackson Burdeaux. Although she wanted to thank him, her most urgent need was to see if Billy really existed behind the closed doors just ahead. She started toward the doors.

      “Wait! You can’t go back there.” A nurse stepped in front of her, blocking her forward progress.

      “Please, the little boy who was just brought in. He’s my son. You have to let me through.”

      The nurse’s implacable expression softened. “If you’re his mother then we need you to sign some forms.”

      “Gina,” Lucas’s voice rang from behind them. “Let her through. The forms can wait until later.”

      Nurse Gina stepped aside and Mariah flew through the doors. The first person she saw sitting up on an examining table was her son.

      He was being given a breathing treatment, but when he saw her he pulled the nozzle from his mouth. “Mommy,” he cried as she rushed to him.

      Never again would she feel the way she did at that moment, so filled with joy it nearly brought her to her knees. He was filthy and sweaty, but she wrapped her arms around him and wept with the joy of holding him.

      She cried only a moment, then aware of his labored breathing she let him go and guided the nozzle of the nebulizer back to his mouth. “Breathe, honey. Just breathe.”

      He did as she told him, and Mariah straightened and saw Dr. Ralph Dell standing nearby. Dr. Dell was Billy’s regular doctor and she hurried to where he stood.

      He placed a hand on her shoulder, his wrinkled face offering her a smile. “He’s going to be all right, Mariah. Other than the fact that he was scarcely breathing when Jackson brought him in, I don’t see any other physical issues.”

      “Thank God,” she replied.

      “I’d like to keep him here overnight for observation. Just to be on the safe side.”

      “Of course. As long as I can stay with him.”

      Dr. Dell smiled once again. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ll finish up his breathing treatment, then get him cleaned up and into a room.”

      “Did he say anything to you? About who took him?”

      “He