Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #1 (2 page)

Jesse and Brutus started for that area, the one where the second floor had crashed down on the first one. There was little to shore up, and it was probably where the bomb originated as well as where most of the casualties would be.

The thought of finding Lydia dead soured his stomach. He might be angry with her, but he prayed to the Lord she was alive somewhere in the rubble.

* * *

Lydia tried to drag deep breaths into her lungs, but the effort sent pain through her. Cracked or broken rib? She eased her eyes open to find debris all around her. Pinpoint streams of light filtered through the rubble.

A beam lay across her torso. Dust in the air caused her to sneeze and intensified the sharp constriction in her chest. The lack of oxygen and the pressure bearing down on her made her light-headed. Her eyelids slid close. She focused, as much as she could, on any sounds that indicated people were searching for survivors. Creaks and groans, as though the building were protesting its destruction, surrounded her, but she couldn't hear any voices.

She tried to move her legs. She couldn't do more than wiggle her toe, which meant she wasn't paralyzed. One arm was pinned against her side, the other free. She pushed on the beam, but it wouldn't budge. The effort drained what strength she had. She stopped and concentrated on filling her lungs with at least shallow breaths.

Then thoughts began to invade her mind. Who would take care of her seventeen-year-old sister? She came back to Anchorage for Kate. When their father died in a climbing accident, Lydia finally returned for the funeral, not intending to stay except to settle her dad's affairs and move her sister back to Oklahoma where Lydia lived. None of her plans had worked out. Kate refused to leave her friends, and Lydia discovered her father left her his practice and part of the animal hospital.

Then Bree showed up to help her deal with her father's death. They had been close friends in school, and suddenly she felt as though fifteen years had vanished, and their relationship took off where it had stopped when she'd left Anchorage to elope with Aaron.

Why did You bring me back, God, only to have this happen
?
I was beginning to settle in again and forget why I'd left all those years ago
. She'd even started to contemplate staying after Kate graduated from high school. She'd tried to hold on to her faith, but so many things happened. And now this. She didn't know what to do anymore.

Then there was Jesse, her first love. They had dated for over a year but broke up their senior year at Christmas. She'd started dating Aaron, which in retrospect was a rebound. She'd been trying to forget Jesse and made a big mistake that affected her even today. She and Aaron broke up after a few months and she and Jesse reunited—more in love than ever. But when she discovered she was pregnant with Aaron's baby, everything changed. Jesse had been devastated when she left without telling him why. Aaron's dad and her father had insisted they get married and keep the child a secret. Aaron's dad was a prominent citizen and her father was an elder in his church. She was to accompany Aaron to Stillwater where he was going to attend Oklahoma State University. As long as they did as they said, Aaron would have money to support them and his education paid for. The memories of those years married to Aaron chilled her. She'd never been so alone in her life.

What good was it to look back? It was too late to change anything. She didn't even know if the rescuers would find her.

Her head pounded like a jackhammer. With her free hand, she touched her hair and came away with bloody fingers. A darkness tugged at her. It offered comfort and peace.

Through the haze that clouded her mind, a noise penetrated her thoughts. A bark. Then another. The rescuers had found someone. Hope flared until another sound drowned out all others. A crash—something collapsing?

* * *

Brutus barked and wagged his tail. He found someone. As part of the second floor fell to the ground in the section not stabilized yet, Jesse headed for his Rottweiler. He reached the spot and caught a glimpse of something blue under the debris.

“Over here,” Jesse shouted, and several rescuers without dogs climbed through the remains of the structure.

Jesse knelt by Brutus and tried to see through the rubbish. He glimpsed some more blue and began removing bricks and wood, praying the person—maybe Lydia—was alive beneath them. Jesse knew that time was against the trapped people. If they were alive and injured, their wounds could eventually lead to their death if help didn't get to them.

“I'm here,” he heard faintly from below. Or was he imagining a voice that sounded like Lydia's?

“Lydia?” Jesse kept removing bricks.

“Yes. A beam is on me.” The familiar voice grew a little stronger.

“This is Jesse. We're going to get you out.”

“I need air, and it's getting dark.”

“Okay. Let me see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Jesse. I knew I could count on you.” The last part of the sentence ended with a racking cough.

“Lydia, are you all right?”

“O—kay. So cold.”

“You'll be out in no time.” He worked as fast as he could. “Are you still all right?”

Nothing. His gut clenched.

“Get that air and camera over here,” he shouted while David and Thomas hurried with his request. “Lydia is alive.” He refused to acknowledge the possibility that she had died—just moments from being rescued.

He searched the debris until he found what he hoped was a hole that led to where Lydia was. He snatched the air tank and shoved the hose through the opening.
Please, God, keep her alive. We've already lost too many
. He said that over and over as he pushed the camera with a light down into another small crack. It was in moments like this that all he could do was believe the Lord was taking over.

TWO

L
ydia blinked her eyes open. In the dim light, she saw the hose to the left of her. The air seemed fresher, although she still couldn't breathe too deeply without a shooting pain knifing through her.

She went in and out of consciousness to the noise of people removing the building on top of her. The sound of voices fueled her hope. Memories of that time she'd gotten lost in a cave swamped her—the fear of the dark, of being alone. She shivered. Then she remembered when she'd first seen Jesse with a flashlight, coming to her rescue. She'd rushed into his arms and wouldn't let him go until he'd pulled back, stared at her for a long moment and then kissed her for the first time.

What happened to that puppy love? She'd only been seventeen—Kate's age—but she'd never felt so close to another as in that moment.

Her eyelids were so heavy, like the beam across her torso. She closed them again, trying to think of a warm place. Every part of her was cold, as though she'd been in a refrigerator for hours, dressed in her scrubs. She hadn't even changed out of them when she'd gone to meet Bree. At least she wasn't there with her.

But the others...what of them?

Again she began to drift off.

Hold on, Lydia
.

Did someone say that? Jesse?

A rush of cool air brushed over her. She looked up and saw Jesse's smiling face.

“She's alive.” His grin grew. “Don't move. We'll get you out of there.”

“I know,” she whispered, her throat so dry she doubted Jesse could hear her.

When the rescuers finally reached her, all she could do was peer at Jesse as though she were back in the cave and he alone had come to save her. His almost-black hair was covered with a helmet. Dust and dirt coated him. He was more muscular and taller than when they'd been teenagers. When he and Thomas hoisted the beam from her, it seemed so easy for him while she couldn't budge it an inch.

Jesse's golden-brown gaze fastened on hers. Lines at the sides of his eyes deepened. “We've almost got you out, then Bree will check you before we move you. Do you want some water?” His voice held a tender note, as though he cared.

But she knew better. Since she'd returned to Anchorage they had spoken few words, only when necessary because of a search and rescue or Brutus, who she treated as the department veterinarian. “Yes” squeaked out of her mouth.

He couldn't prop her up to drink until Bree said it was okay to move her, but he did squirt some cold water into her mouth.

Nothing tasted better. She swallowed. “Again.”

When Bree appeared next to her, she tried to hide the worry in her eyes, but Lydia knew Bree.

“I'm okay,” Lydia murmured, her voice stronger now. “Get me out of this hole, and I'll be good as new in no time.”

“I'll be the judge of that.” Bree ran her hands over Lydia, especially examining the wound on her head, then put a neck brace on her. “She's okay to be lifted but be careful. Slow and easy. No jarring.”

“Honey, stop telling us our job. We've done this before,” David said from above, ready to take Lydia when Thomas and Jesse hoisted her up.

Jesse positioned himself at her head while Thomas was at her feet. “On the count of three.”

Bree stabilized her midsection as Lydia was brought up out of the hole.

Sunlight bathed Lydia. She was put on a stretcher and carried from the rubble. The last sight she saw was Jesse's handsome face—but he wasn't smiling. Worry knitted his forehead.

Lydia gave in to the black swirling abyss beckoning her.

* * *

Lydia heard an annoying beep. Pain quickly followed, radiating from her head and chest. She moaned and lifted her eyelids halfway. A hospital room greeted her, and she remembered why she was here and hurting. She'd been in and out of consciousness since an emergency surgery to have her spleen repaired.

She wondered where her sister and Bree went. Earlier they'd been in here. Probably to grab something to eat. At least she wouldn't have to worry about Kate while she was in the hospital. She'd stay with Bree and David until Lydia was released, which she hoped was soon.

Lydia closed her eyes and tried to relax. But the second she did, visions of the bombing assailed her mind. The sound of hideous laughter right before the bomb went off. The expression on Melinda's face when she knew what was going to happen. Was she alive? The feeling of helplessness she experienced trapped under the building debris. Her heartbeat began to race. A cold clamminess blanketed her, much like when she'd been trapped.

The swish of her hospital room door opening pulled her away from the memories. Kate returning? She needed to have a few moments with her sister. When Lydia fastened her gaze on the person who entered, her pulse rate sped faster. Jesse Hunt. She wasn't prepared to see him.

He looked like he'd come straight from the crime scene. As a search and rescue worker for Northern Frontier, he'd probably work as long as he could function. The only time he'd rest was when Brutus needed to.

So why is he here?

He stopped at the end of the bed. “Bree told me you'd been awake earlier and coherent after your surgery, so I took a chance and came to talk to you.”

His stiff stance and white-knuckled hands on the railing betrayed his nervousness, but his tone told her he was here in his professional capacity. Saddened by that thought, Lydia said, “Thank you for finding me.”

“I was doing my job yesterday.”

“Knowing the people who would be searching kept my hope alive. Have you found everyone?”

“We don't know for sure. Names of missing people are still coming in. I was hoping you could tell me how many people were in the restaurant when the bomb exploded.”

“I'm not sure. Let me think.” As much as she didn't want to, she tried to visualize the moments before the explosion. “Melinda, and I remember seeing another waitress. I don't know how many cooks she had in the kitchen. They're always in the back.”

“How about customers?”

She had to think. She didn't want this person to get away with what he'd done. She fought the weariness that kept edging forward. “People were coming in and out. Some ordered takeout for lunch and didn't stay long. I came out of the restroom, saw Melinda seconds before the laugh track played. I'd estimate maybe nine besides me. Most of them were regulars.”

“Who?”

“I don't know their names. I just see them there a lot. I go get lunch there once or twice a week...” The thought that the bistro was totally gone inundated her. She dropped her gaze to her lap, her hands quivering. She balled them, but that didn't stop the trembling sweeping through her body.

“If I bring you photos, could you tell me if they were there?”

Emotions crammed her throat. She turned for her water on the bedside table, but it was too far away without leaning for it. She started to and winced from the movement.

Jesse was at her side, grabbing the plastic cup and offering it to her.

She took it, their fingers brushing, and she nearly splashed the water all over her with her shaking.

Jesse covered her hand and steadied her drink, then guided it to her mouth. The feel of his fingers against hers for more than a second jolted her. “I know this isn't something you want to talk about, but we want to recover all the bodies as quickly as possible.”

“Bodies? Did anyone else survive?”

“A waitress and two cooks. We found them in the kitchen area, the waitress just inside the entrance while the cooks were across the room.”

She didn't want to ask but she needed to know. “Did Melinda survive?”

“No, we ID'd her body. So far we've recovered eight bodies, including Melinda. Four people are missing, according to their families, but we haven't found them yet. The bomb squad thinks the bomb originated in the dining area where the customers were. They'll know more when the bomb fragments are all found.”

“Eight dead.” How did she survive when the others didn't? “I was in the hallway to the bathrooms when it went off, not in the main dining room. Do you think that protected me some?”

“Possibly. Do you know where the laughing sound came from?”

“Not sure.” She closed her eyes and tried to think back to that time. Nothing. She massaged her temple, forcing herself to dig deeper beyond the pain throbbing against her skull. “I don't think from behind me. When I heard the laughter—” she shuddered “—I took two steps back. Then everything went blank.”

Jesse put the cup on the bedside table. “I know this isn't easy, but anything you can remember could help us piece together what happened. We've got to stop this man.”

“Nobody wants that more than me. I... I...” Tears blurred her vision. She couldn't voice what she felt, not even to herself. She remembered coming to in recovery, and all she'd wanted to do was surrender to the darkness. Stay there. But that wouldn't help. She'd learned long ago she couldn't escape from the truth.

“I'm sorry, Jesse. I'm tired. I'm sure I'll remember more later.” She hoped she could. She needed to. If no one in the dining area survived the bombing except her, she might know something that could help find the culprit. But at the moment her head felt as if it would explode.

“I understand. I'll come back later.”

Was that sympathy in his voice? She looked up. His expression was neutral. When she'd first returned home last year, she'd tried to talk to him about what happened all those years ago. He'd shut her down. He never acted angry or upset around her although she'd wronged him. Instead, he'd been more like a stranger. Even as a teenager, he'd kept his feelings to himself. That was part of the reason they broke up that first time at Christmas, and she began dating Aaron.

She watched him leave. But hadn't she done the same as him? When her mother left their family she'd shut off her emotions entirely. Even now she wouldn't think about the woman who had abandoned her family. She couldn't deal with that on top of everything else.

The emotions she'd kept checked while he was there gushed to the surface. Tears ran down her cheeks for the people who'd died, for her foolishness as a teenager, for the rift between her and her father and for the times she'd missed her mother so much it had hurt deeply. And now, she couldn't even remember anything to help the police.

* * *

Later that day, Jesse loaded Brutus into his crate in the back of his SUV and left the bombing scene. His dog needed a lengthy break if he was going to work late into August's twilight hours for the third straight day, searching the rubble for victims or clues to identify the type of bomb used. There were still two people unaccounted for, and he was going to pay another visit to both Lydia and the waitress who survived. Maybe one or both of them could tell him if the two missing people were at the restaurant. Thomas talked with the cooks, but they didn't know anything because they always stayed in the kitchen.

He drove toward the hospital, the bright yellow sun splashed across the sky in all God's glory. Life went on in spite of the tragedy that occurred yesterday. The death count with the bombings was climbing and so was the fear sweeping through the city. The mayor was demanding answers, and he'd gladly give him some if he had any.

The closest surveillance camera had been disabled before the bombing. The others didn't have a good angle on the entrance to the restaurant. Even if they had there were two other ways for a person to leave Melinda's Bistro—the back door where the kitchen was and the emergency exit down the hallway to the bathrooms. There were no cameras on those two places. In fact, each building targeted didn't have a lot of security. The police were urging businesses to increase their security.

When he rode the elevator up to Lydia's floor, he tried to prepare himself for seeing her again. He didn't want to think about their past, but as he neared her hospital room, he experienced relief and...joy all over again, like when he heard her through the rubble. She'd been alive. After finding several dead bodies, he'd started to think no one would be alive.

He'd thanked God he found her. He'd never felt that kind of relief. And yet, he had to keep his distance. Too much happened between them when they were teenagers. He'd grown up in a good foster home, but early on when he bounced from one family to another, he learned to keep himself apart from others. He would have to rely on that ability now.

He couldn't afford to be hurt by her again.

Pausing at the door, he lifted his hand to knock and froze. He couldn't go inside.
I've got a job to do. Get in. Get out
.

He rapped his knuckles against the wood, heard Lydia respond and pushed the door open. He'd prefer to stay at the end of the bed, but he had to show her the photos. He'd have to stand next to her, only a couple of feet away.

When he entered, a neutral expression fell over her features. Her brown eyes held a guarded look. She'd been pretty as a teenager, a little gangly, but now fifteen years later, she was a tall beauty, nothing awkward as she moved. What he'd observed at search and rescues was a self-assured woman who was aware of herself at all times. That had changed over the years. What else?

“Is this a good time to talk?” Jesse asked, almost wishing she would say no.

“Yes. Bree and Kate went to lunch. They should be back soon.” Her voice, husky laden, was the same, and its sound renewed memories best forgotten. “I haven't remembered anything new. I wish I could. Everything is fuzzy. Maybe it's the meds they have me on.”

“That could be. But it also may be the trauma. The waitress doesn't remember anything, either, but I wanted to show both of you the photos of the two people still missing and see if you can place them at the restaurant when the bomb went off.”

“I'll try to help any way I can. I want this madman caught before others die.”