The Protector's Mission. Margaret Daley

you since before the bomb went off. If nothing else, I can take away from this situation how fragile life is. Don’t put off what you should do. In one second, a lot of people died at the hands of this madman. The more I think about what happened, the more I get the feeling I know something.”

      “Shh.” Jesse scanned the hallway leading out of the building. “We’ll talk when we arrive at your house. I don’t want anyone overhearing us. We haven’t released your name to the press. The bomber doesn’t know who the survivors are.” If that truly was the case, then the waitress died naturally.

      He waited until he brought the car around and assisted Lydia into the front passenger seat to tell her about the death of the waitress. He didn’t want a public reaction to the news.

      On the drive to her house, after a long silence, Jesse stopped at a red light and looked at Lydia. “I didn’t want to say anything until we were alone, but the waitress died last night. An autopsy is being performed to determine the cause of death.”

      “You don’t think her death is a result of the bomb explosion?”

      “Probably. She was in more critical condition than you were, but she had been responding to treatment and improving so I can’t say for sure.”

      “What does the press know?”

      “How many died in the blast and that there were four survivors. No names at this time because we were still identifying victims and notifying family. That will change now since everyone is accounted for.”

      Lydia stared out the windshield. “You think I might be in danger?”

      “I hope not, but it’s a possibility if the bomber thinks you can ID him. That’s why we won’t release your name, but the press have their ways of finding out.”

      “I can’t. Yet. But what if I did see him and I can’t remember?”

      “You suffered a head trauma. Not remembering, especially right away, isn’t uncommon. Don’t force yourself. If you have any information, it’ll come to you in time.”

      “Are you sure you work for the police? I’d think you should be pushing me to remember right now.”

      When the light turned green, he threw her a half grin and pressed on the accelerator. “I know you. Force won’t work.”

      “I’ve been trying, and I can remember a few bits like how Melinda looked when she heard the laugh track, how I felt when I did. After that nothing and not much else before other than remembering Bree thankfully left ten minutes before the bomb went off.”

      “Yes, I talked with Bree. She remembered some of the people we found in the rubble.”

      “Lunch was starting. The door opened and closed—four times after she was gone.” She shifted toward him. “I just thought of that.”

      He glanced at her smile, which lit her whole face. He’d always loved seeing her grin from deep inside her. “See. It will come.”

      “I feel like I need to remember right now because someone else might die if he strikes again.”

      “We’re interviewing a lot of people who were there earlier or on that street sometime that morning. You’re not our only hope.”

      Jesse pulled into her driveway, the same house he would pick her up at as a teenager. A memory flashed into his mind—of kissing her on the front porch. Eons ago when he was a different person. His chest tightened. He wouldn’t go down that path again.

      “I’ll see you to your door.”

      “Will you stay until Kate comes home from school?”

      “I—I...” He didn’t want to be with her any more than necessary, but one look into her pale face and he couldn’t say no. “Fine. When does she get home? I’ll need to let Thomas know what I’m doing.”

      Lydia checked the clock on the dashboard. “No more than an hour. She carpools with a few friends.”

      As they walked slowly toward the house, Jesse just thought of something. “How are you going to get in? Your purse was destroyed by the bomb.”

      She slipped her hand into her jean pocket and pulled out a key. “Bree had the locks changed and gave a key to me and Kate. Alex went grocery shopping for me, so I won’t have to do that right away. My friends have been so helpful, especially with Kate. Reconnecting with Bree and Alex when I came back to Anchorage has made my return home easier.” Lydia opened her front door and entered.

      Jesse followed, scanning the house. He was glad he’d taken Brutus home so he could run and play in his large fenced backyard. These past days, his K-9 had worked long hours and needed the break.

      Lydia dropped the small bag of clothes Bree had brought her in the hospital on a chair in the spacious living room and walked through the dining room toward the kitchen. “I’m fixing myself a good cup of tea. What they had at the hospital isn’t what I call tea. Do you want some?”

      “I’m a coffee drinker. No, thanks.”

      As he strolled through the house, snatches of his time spent here continued to bombard him. Lydia always had to come right home from school to babysit her little sister who stayed with a neighbor until Lydia arrived. Her dad didn’t get off work until six and sometimes didn’t come home right away. Lydia hated being alone and usually their friends would gather at her place.

      Jesse caught sight of a recent photo of Lydia with her younger sister. Picking up the framed picture, he realized he hadn’t seen much of Kate since those early years. She looked a lot like Lydia at the same age. Quickly he returned the photograph to the end table.

      Why had he agreed to stay until Kate got home? He didn’t want to be pulled into Lydia’s world again, and yet he had allowed himself to be persuaded to wait an hour.

      “I have some...” Lydia opened the refrigerator “...I guess only water. Kate likes soft drinks, but there are none in here.”

      “Water is fine.” He remained in the entrance of the dining room until the memory of sharing Thanksgiving dinner with Lydia and her family a few weeks before they broke up their senior year faded. He stood at the bay window that overlooked the unfenced backyard with woods a hundred yards from the house.

      “Do you still get moose around here?”

      “Yes, also caribous and occasionally a bear. That’s why I keep the garbage cans in the garage except on pickup day.”

      “Have you had any trouble with them?” He could do a generic conversation with Lydia. Nothing too personal.

      “Kate’s an animal lover and takes photos of all our visitors. Once she was at the window in her bedroom, snapping a picture when the bear came over and tried to get inside. He tore the screen, and we had to replace it. The way she screamed, I thought the bear was inside. I ran and got my dad’s gun, then went to rescue her.” She appeared behind him.

      Jesse pivoted from the window, and the familiar scent of apple floated to him. She held out the glass of water, and he took it.

      But she remained where she was—too close. When she looked up at him, for a few seconds the years apart fell away, and he was a teenager again and in love for the first time.

      Then she smiled, and no one else existed for that moment. It was as if fifteen years vanished along with all the hurts and words exchanged between them.

      The shrill whistle of the kettle pierced the air. Lydia gasped as though she’d been transfixed as much as he had.

      When she crossed to the stove to make her tea, he sat in a chair and took deep sips of his iced water, relishing the cold liquid. “What happened with the bear?”

      “I closed the blackout curtains and hoped he would forget that we were inside. He hit the screen a couple more times, then left. We both collapsed on the bed, laughing.”

      “Laughing?”