Indelible (32 page)

She slumped. “I’m still looking.”

“What about a baby in a tree?” Her jaw fell slack.

From the office drawer, he took the rest of the photos. She tucked her chin to her shoulder, an instinctive recoil that proved she was human.

“Sorry.”

“Have you shown the chief?”

“I meant to.” Then Cody had come and Natalie needed him. “Now his hands are full with Michaela.”

“He has other officers.”

“Can you really see them doing something with this? I’ve sent the photos to the FBI. They know about this incident.” He pointed to the car accident. “If you can learn anything on the others …”

“You mean whether they lived?”

That, above and beyond anything else.

She frowned. “Why are
you
getting the pictures?”

“The six-million-dollar question.”

Pacing, Jaz tapped her chin. “The editor thought your photo in my article suggested a dark side. It’s why he chose it.”

“To match your eloquent tone.”

“But this guy made you an angel.”

“You think angels have no dark side? All that smiting? Don’t forget the fiery sword.”

She brightened. “Maybe he saw you on TV.”

“And what?”

“I have no idea.” She handed back the photos. “Make me copies. I can work on this if Chief Westfall won’t include me in Michaela.”

“Okay, Jaz.” Seeing the spark that had intrigued him, he allowed a faint smile. He hated her a little less today too.

Natalie watched Cody running the Matchbox car over the table and the objects she’d arranged to make roads and ramps. It was hard for him to play cars on the floor without another arm to brace as he moved it along. Kneeling at the table, he kept his balance pretty well, but she ached thinking of all the adjustments he’d have to make.

At least the robot arm would lend balance and support. She supposed it would grip. Maybe it would be the marvel they claimed. But right now, her little nephew was dealing with impairment.

Moving toward the dining room, Natalie called her brother, hoping for good news, but he sounded ragged.

“I’m in a walking cast and the physical therapy’s going great, but I can’t say that much for Paige. She’s separated emotionally from Cody and me.”

“What about the special clinic? Those highly qualified doctors?”

“I don’t know, Nat. The doctor calls it dissociation, but talking to her, she sounds like she’s on a spa getaway. I guess in a way she is.”

She tried not to say anything Cody might catch.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t loving my little boy for me. Until I’m freed up from rehab, I’d need to hire care.”

“I’ll do everything I can, Aaron.”

“I know. Should I … Does he want to talk to me?”

“Of course he does.” She looked over her shoulder.

“Does it help?”

She hesitated. “It’s hard to tell. I think it makes the separation immediate. He cried for more than an hour last time.”

“Then I won’t.” His voice choked. “But hug him for me.”

“Every day.”

“And, Nattie? Pray.”

Already, Cody had helped her pray for Michaela. Now she asked him to pray for his mommy. Pretending he didn’t think about her would be
silly, but he didn’t seem to miss her as he missed Aaron. At least this gave him some part to play. A plea to God for healing—especially from this precious child—had to be powerful stuff.

She’d keep him safe and happy even if they had to stay inside her little house—except he was too rambunctious. He wanted adventure. He wanted the rough and tumble fun Trevor provided. He wanted Trevor.

She sighed when he asked for the fourteenth time to go “clima wall.” Trevor wouldn’t be there, but others could harness and help him. She sighed. “Okay, we’ll go.”

The day had warmed considerably, the fall splendor bringing people out en masse. Traffic clogged the highway, but her mind felt clear. No nightmares last night, no recurring face. She’d been there for Trevor, not the other way around. It felt so good.

She unstrapped Cody and followed him into High Country Outfitters. Whit had a preteen girl on the climbing wall. She lifted Cody to watch.

“I wanna climb.”

“Have to wait your turn, honey.”

“Clima big wall.”

“You’ll climb the kiddie wall.”

He squeezed her neck, pressing his lips to her cheek. “Climb now.”

She laughed. “Oh, are you going to have your way. Come see something.” She walked him over to an oversize poster of Trevor at an impossible angle on an impossible ski run. Fleur was right about his form. Maybe he’d let Cody and her watch the recordings of his races.

“I wanna ski,” Cody said.

She laughed. “There’s no snow left.”

“Trevor will have him on a wakeboard in the river by next summer.” Whit came up beside her.

“No doubt.” Except she wouldn’t have Cody that long. She gave him a squeeze. “He wants to climb the kiddie wall.”

“We can do that.” Whit got him harnessed, let him pat his hand in the chalk, then got him started with a grip on his back and a taut rope.

When Cody was halfway up the wall, Sara came in with Braden curled against her chest—two perfect little knees drawn up, two
perfect little arms. Tearing up a little, Natalie said, “Cody thinks he’s a monkey.”

“Of course he does. With Whit and Trevor, Braden will be scaling this freestyle before he can walk.”

Trevor entered the store, looking better than she’d expected. He squeezed Sara’s shoulder and kissed Braden. Then he came to her and kissed her softly on the mouth, his hand warming the small of her back. “Sorry I kept you up last night.”

“I’m fine.”

“See me, Trevor,” called Cody, the subtle one.

“I see you, sport. Show us how it’s done.” His hand stayed on her back.

“I thought you’d get some rest.”

“Jaz spoiled that.”

“Jaz?”

They all turned.

“Someone told her Michaela was pushed.”

Working the rope, Whit frowned. “That woman’s a menace.”

Trevor shrugged. “She’s doing her best.”

Cody shouted, “I clima wall!” Sensing their shifted attention, his volume had increased each time he spoke.

“You’re the champ,” Trevor called. “Lean back and rappel.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Sara watching—not Cody, but her. And Trevor.

As Whit lowered her nephew to the floor, Trevor unharnessed and lifted Cody into his arms. “Gimme five.” He and Cody slapped. Again tears burned. Her heart swelled. One hand to share a victory was still a blessing.

As Cody squirmed loose and took off down the aisles of camping gear, Trevor said, “I need to talk to you.”

Sounded serious. She called, “Cody, slow down.”

He kept running, jarring a stack of packaged duffel bags. They slipped down and spread across the floor. Cody rounded the corner and ran right into them. She watched him fall as though in slow motion, his one hand hitting the floor, then his opposite shoulder, then his face. She cried out.

“It’s all right, Nattie. He’s all right.”

He wasn’t all right. His mouth was bleeding. His nose was bleeding. She dropped to her knees and pulled him into her chest, the sight of his pain and injury imprinting as his crying pierced her.

Trevor crouched beside them. “Let me see.”

Cody raised his head, still wailing.

“Yeah, pretty good face plant. That’s the unfortunate result of not listening.”

Cody buried his face, but the crying diminished as he kept peeking at Trevor.

Sara came up from behind with a damp cloth. “Dab it with this.”

Natalie applied the cloth. There wasn’t as much blood as she’d thought. Why had it looked like so much?

Sara said, “Check his teeth.”

Cody shuddered with spent sobs.

“Let’s see your injuries.” Trevor peered closer. “Well, I’ve seen worse.” He winked. “He’ll be fine.”

She cradled him. “Okay, honey?”

Cody whimpered, but it was for effect. He pulled free.

“All right, but no running in here.”

“ ’Kay.” He sniffed.

She wiped the floor and held up the bloody cloth. “I should wash this out.”

“I’ll do it.” Sara squeezed Trevor’s shoulder. “Taking care of you and Whit, I’m so prepared for calamity, it’s not funny.” There seemed a thin desperation in the words, Sara reestablishing the status quo.

Natalie said, “Sorry about that,” as Trevor restacked the duffel bags.

“No harm, no foul.”

Cody reached for a hydration pack hanging in the end cap.

“I need to get him out of here.”

“He’s just curious. I showed him how those worked the last time.” Trevor crouched. “Listen up, Cody.”

Cody turned.

“You pay attention to Aunt Nattie. She knows what’s what.”

Cody nodded with mirrored sobriety.

Trevor rose. “I’ll walk you out.”

In the lot, she sighed. “It happened so fast.”

“One of thousands of falls he’s going to have.”

“But he can’t catch himself.”

“This was a step in realizing that.” He lifted Cody to the large hewn log with slots for bicycles. “Ride this bronc for a minute, okay?”

Cody grinned. “Broncosaurus.”

Trevor turned her away. “Before you sculpt Cody’s crash—”

She groaned.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“The girl that fell last night didn’t get on that ledge by herself. She was put there.”

She had to glance up. He was dead serious. “Why?”

“I don’t know. But you need to be careful.”

“Me? Why—”

He caught her face between his hands. “Just pay attention to anything unusual. And if you remember what you saw, call me.”

It hit her like a stone. “You think I saw the person who attacked Michaela.”

“You don’t just see a face. You see everything inside it.”

Her breath made a slow escape. Had she seen a sadistic predator?

A flash caught his eye as Natalie and Cody went inside. He turned, but couldn’t tell what the sun had glanced off.

Inside the store, Sara was waiting, Braden against her chest like a breastplate. She cornered him between the fingerboards and chalk bags. “You kissed her.”

“I did.”

Her brow puckered. “You said it was a rescue.”

“You said it.”

She clasped his arm. “Trevor, she’s falling in love with you.”

He watched reality dawn, wishing things could just be easy. In a perfect world, dads didn’t walk out, five-year-olds didn’t die, and friends could
be happy for friends. In this world, young girls fell when help was yards away and love could hurt as much as hate.

“Why Natalie?”

“Why not?”

“She’s—you’re—you don’t even know her.”

“Like I know you? You’re right. I didn’t grow up with her.”

She cupped Braden’s head for solidarity. “But you were with her last night. You kept her up.”

“In her kitchen. While she worked.”

“On what?”

“Sculpting, Sara. She’s a sculptor.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Is that different from Monopoly?” Only in the players, he realized. “Why are you being judgmental? That’s not the person I know.”

Hurt watered her eyes. “And I don’t even know you.” She took her baby to the office, all but slamming the door.

He turned to Whit with cocked jaw. “I thought you guys were taking time together.”

“What am I supposed to tell her? You can’t see Trevor anymore?”

“I haven’t done anything different or been anything but myself.”

“Exactly.” His eyes darkened.

“Look, I’m sorry. She’s obviously struggling with Natalie.”

“It wouldn’t matter who it is.”

Trevor gripped the back of his neck. This wouldn’t get them anywhere. He pushed out through both doors simultaneously. The daylight had a brittle quality as if it might shatter and reveal storms and darkness behind the peaceful calm.

His friendship with Whit and Sara was the brightness in his life, his warmth, his safety. They could be close because they were close before it all broke apart. Whit sat with him the day his dad left, when his boyhood bones turned to steel. Sara wept with him over Ellis. These were not lightweight friends.

He drove back to the city building.

Jonah turned from the computer. “Think of something else?”