One Final Breath

by Lynn H. Blackburn

  When had he started stroking her hair? And when had he rested his cheek on her head? He’d like to believe he would do the same thing for any friend who needed comforting, but . . .

  Anissa shifted in his arms. Was it his imagination, or had she snuggled closer? Head in the game, Chavez. “I’m so very sorry about Carly. And Jillian.”

  “I had to identify her body.”

  A fresh wave of horror washed over him.

  “Her family was in Ukraine. She was an MK, a missionary kid too.”

  Gabe had seen his share of dead bodies. A four-day-old dead body in a Dumpster would be nightmare inducing even if you didn’t know the victim.

  “The cops questioned me for hours, but I didn’t know anything. Carly didn’t have any enemies. She was a saint. And she wasn’t supposed to be there. It was random. It had been raining all week and Jillian had been cooped up in the house, so her parents, the Davidsons, had told Carly she might want to take Jillian to the park to swing. My car was found at the park, but Jillian and Carly were gone.”

  He could hear the confusion and frustration in Anissa’s voice. “I’m assuming your parents were in Yap when this happened.”

  “Yes. My mom flew home to be with me, but it took her three days to get here. By the time she arrived, the police had determined that it was a random abduction. There were two main theories. Either the killer was after Carly and Jillian got in the way, or they were after Jillian and Carly got in the way.”

  “Which one had the most traction?”

  “It depended on who you talked to. The local police had been leaning toward the idea that Jillian had gotten in the way. The FBI got involved because of the suspicion of kidnapping. Once the medical examiner was finished and all the toxicology results and tests had come back, it was determined that Carly—”

  Anissa paused so long, Gabe wasn’t sure if she was going to finish her thought.

  “Carly’s neck was broken. Her hands, knees, and elbows were scraped, like she’d either fallen or been thrown to the ground. But there was no evidence of sexual assault or any form of drugs in her system. Once that information came in, the consensus was that Jillian most likely had been the intended target.”

  Gabe was afraid to ask, but he had to. “Did they find out who did it?”

  “No. Carly’s killer is still out there.”

  Gabe now saw all the times Anissa had worried over the way a family member was being questioned, or commented on how fast a case could go cold, or hassled the forensics team to find every possible scrap of evidence in a whole new light.

  Anissa wasn’t being a pain. She was trying to prevent pain. To keep anyone else from going through what she’d been through.

  “I’ve studied all the case files.” Her words were muffled against his shirt. “But there’s nothing. Carly had been stripped before she was put in the Dumpster. There was no DNA evidence on her anywhere. Nothing under her fingernails or on her skin. And she’d been dead for four days when she was found. The medical examiner concluded Carly’s time of death was between eleven a.m. and three p.m. on Saturday. A traffic cam showed that Carly had gone to the park around twelve thirty. Probably right after she’d fed Jillian lunch.”

  A quick tremor shook Anissa and Gabe tightened his hold. This time he was sure he hadn’t imagined it. She didn’t stiffen or pull back.

  She leaned in.

  He was not complaining. But this was not the time or place to make a move. Anissa was marriage material, but he was not. And whatever this was that had been going on between them couldn’t be allowed to go any further.

  But for the first time in a very long while, he wished it could.

  As if she sensed his thoughts, Anissa stiffened and pulled away. He let her go but immediately regretted the decision. Her eyes, which had been open to him, were now flat, shuttered. She had laid herself bare to him and was now in a full-on retreat.

  He reached for her arm, but she pulled it away. “I’m sorry for the drama.” She cleared her throat and wiped her cheeks, never making eye contact. “Now you know. And you can hate me for it. I understand. But I would appreciate it if you’d keep this between us.”

  Hate her? What was she going on about?

  “First off, there’s no way I would ever share this with anyone. You know that.” A quick bob of her head confirmed that she did. “But what in our entire history would make you think I would hate you for something that happened to you in college?”

  “It didn’t happen to me, Gabe. I caused it. I was so worried about being accepted and liked that I got my best friend killed and a three-year-old kidnapped. And who knows what happened to Jillian after that.”

  “I’m sorry, but did you leave out a major portion of this story? Because you just told me the target was Jillian, not Carly, and you had nothing to do with her kidnapping. If you’d been there, you’d be dead. But you aren’t responsible for this.”

  Anissa’s mouth twisted. “Semantics.”

  Gabe sat on the edge of the sofa. “Not to make this all about me, but why would you think I would hate you for this?”

  “I made a mistake. Someone died because of my mistake. I know how you feel about that kind of stuff. You despise Paisley Wilson for doing the same thing I did.”

  How could she think that? “Paisley was an adult—”

  “So was I.”

  “Doing something she’d already been warned could result in unintended consequences.”

  Anissa pointed to her chest. “Same.”

  “Which she proceeded to do without regard for how her actions would impact others.”

  “Again, I did the same thing.”

  “No!” Was she crazy? “It’s not the same at all. There was no way you could have predicted that outcome. When you got home that night, the worst thing you could possibly have been expecting was a hangover. Which you got. But you could not have known what would happen when you agreed to babysit that child, or when you allowed your friend to take your place.”

  Anissa didn’t look convinced.

  “Paisley . . .” Words failed him as he recalled the frantic message he’d sent to his boss to warn her off. The horror of the moment he saw her in that stupid helicopter, cameras rolling. The realization that his cover was blown forever. The despair when the seventeen-year-old boy who’d been with him at the time was found two days later. Beaten to a pulp, then shot. A life brimming with potential over far too soon. “She had visions of big awards dancing in her head. She thought she’d uncovered corruption in the sheriff’s office when what she’d really done was stumble into an undercover op. She was asked to wait. She was told that moving forward could result in loss of life. But she didn’t believe them, and she flew in knowing full well what might happen.”

  Anissa bit her lip.

  “So, unless someone called you and told you that if you went to that party your best friend would die the next day, then you cannot—and, frankly, you never, ever should—compare yourself to Paisley.”

  Anissa shook her head. “How would you feel if your decisions got someone killed and a little girl kidnapped? You can’t blame me for taking responsibility.”

  “I know exactly how it feels. I befriended that boy. He had no idea I was a cop, but I knew there was a chance he would be in danger if my cover was blown. And then it was and he paid for it. So, I know. And I still say you can’t take on this responsibility. You didn’t kill Carly. You didn’t kidnap Jillian. And for what it’s worth, I don’t hate Paisley. I think she’s an idiot. But I don’t hate her. And I certainly don’t hate you. I—”

  He what? How could he describe his feelings about Anissa? They were complex and confusing. “I think you are the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met.”

  Anissa turned away from him. She seemed relieved but also upset again. This was making no sense.

  She laughed a little. “You certainly haven’t always felt that way. About Paisley or me.”

  She might have him on that one. “True. My o
verall thoughts about Paisley have mellowed with time.” His feelings about Anissa had done the exact opposite. Not that he could tell her that. “As for you . . .”

  She looked at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and he swallowed back the joke he’d been about to make. “I’ve always admired you. Even when you kicked me off the dive team.” He almost mentioned the night they never spoke of, but he jumped forward in time. “And even when you made me earn back my place on the team. And even when you gave me the worst assignments.”

  “I did not.” There was no heat behind her defense.

  “Sure you did. But the more I get to know you, the more amazing you are to me. You’re kind and compassionate and tough and smart, and I’ve never met anyone quite like you. And what you just told me, what just happened, only confirms what I already knew to be true about you.”

  Her eyes widened. He’d been more honest than he’d intended, but at least he’d stopped himself from saying the stuff he rarely gave himself permission to think. If he told her that he could stare at her for hours and never get bored, she’d probably slap him.

  “I’m not sure what to say to that,” she said.

  The space between them crinkled with a new kind of energy. Somehow he thought the tentative friendship they’d been building for months now had solidified and also maybe had taken a dive to a deeper place than he’d ever thought they’d reach. Time to swim them back up to a safer spot.

  “No need to say anything.” He pasted his usual grin on his face. “Just remember this next time someone needs to clean the boat.”

  Something that looked like disappointment, or maybe even hurt, flashed through her eyes but disappeared almost before he caught it. She gave him a smile, but it was a bit forced. “I’ll do that.”

  Anissa’s phone buzzed and she grabbed it like it was a lifeline. She looked at it and smiled. “It’s Leigh. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. Go ahead.”

  Anissa answered, listened for a moment, and then said, “Sure. I have it. Hang on a second.” She held up one finger to Gabe and walked toward her bedroom.

  When she disappeared from view, Gabe slid onto the sofa. His eyes closed without his permission, but there was nothing he could do about it. As soon as Anissa got off the phone with Leigh, he would say goodbye and go home. Or maybe he would ask Anissa to drive him home. He probably shouldn’t get behind the wheel.

  7

  Anissa found the swatch of fabric on her dresser. “I have it right here. Do you need it today?”

  “No,” Leigh said. “Can you send it home with Ryan tomorrow? Keri is an amazing artist and she’s going to paint something for me with Sabrina and Adam’s wedding colors. I told her I’d get her the swatch for the bridesmaid dresses because she didn’t appreciate my attempts to describe that shade of blue.”

  Anissa could imagine. “That’s a great gift idea,” she said.

  “I hope it will be.”

  Leigh paused and the lull in the conversation set off some warning bells in Anissa’s mind. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes,” Leigh said. “I’m just wondering if it would be wildly inappropriate of me to ask if you went to the hospital?”

  Anissa should have expected Leigh to be curious. “We did, but Brooke is unresponsive. We told Paisley to call us if anything changes. Her grandmother is there, so she’s not alone.”

  “Oh, good. I’m on tonight, so I’ll check in on them if you want.”

  “That would be great,” Anissa said. “Thanks.”

  “Anissa?”

  Oh boy. Leigh’s tone spoke volumes.

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you okay?”

  It was impossible to hide stuff from Leigh. She had a sixth sense about people that would have made her a great cop if she hadn’t gone into nursing. And Leigh knew all about Carly. Over the past year, Anissa had told Leigh almost all her secrets. Except the one about that night and Gabe. “I’m hanging in there.”

  “Are you sure? I can come over if you want some company.”

  “I’m good. Gabe’s here at the moment.” She regretted that last sentence as soon as it left her mouth.

  “Excuse me?” Leigh’s tone had gone from concerned to curious in a microsecond. “Did you say Gabe is at your house? On a Sunday afternoon?”

  Anissa closed her bedroom door. “It’s not like . . . that.” The memory of the way Gabe had stroked her hair as she cried caused her to stumble over the words.

  “Really? Because you sound a little guilty. I have no idea why, given that Gabe is single, gorgeous, and most definitely available.”

  A voice in the background said something that Anissa couldn’t catch. “Of course he isn’t as good-looking as you, babe.”

  Great. So Ryan was hearing Leigh’s side of the conversation. He said something else and Leigh responded, “Here, you talk to her, then.”

  “Hey.” Ryan’s voice came on the line.

  “Hey.” She braced herself for whatever Ryan would want to know.

  “Is Gabe okay?”

  She should have realized Ryan wouldn’t be interested in playing matchmaker, but he would be worried about his friend. “He’s exhausted. I don’t know when he slept last. I’m thinking about taking his keys and driving him home.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  She could hear the frustration in Ryan’s voice, but there was no malice behind it. They knew, the three of them, how hard it was to have a case like this.

  “How about you? You holding up okay?”

  “Eh.” She wouldn’t lie to him, but she didn’t want to get into it. There was no way she was going to tell him she’d broken down in Gabe’s arms. Or that somehow having Gabe know about her failures, and not hating her for them, had lifted a weight she hadn’t realized she’d been burdened with. Or that now she was confused about her relationship with Gabe in a completely different way.

  “Yeah. Okay.” Ryan didn’t push. Thank goodness. “Let me know if he goes back to work instead of going home, okay? I may grab Adam and the two of us will forcibly remove Gabe from his desk, but I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

  She knew he was joking. Sort of. “I will.”

  “Okay. I’m going to go ahead and hang up so Leigh doesn’t grill you about why Gabe’s at your house. But that is, um, interesting.” He chuckled. “See you in the morning.”

  The phone disconnected and Anissa stared at it for a moment. At least Ryan didn’t push the subject. Because right now she’d break under the slightest bit of interrogation. Investigator Bell, can you explain to me what exactly you were doing snuggled up with Investigator Chavez on Sunday afternoon when you claim to be friends . . . and barely that?

  She shook off the image, returned to the living room, and found Gabe sound asleep on the sofa.

  She stared at him for a moment, rather enjoying the opportunity to do so without having to worry about him catching her eye. His face was relaxed, his breathing deep and even.

  She could wake him up and drive him home. Or she could let him sleep right where he was.

  As she stood there debating, he shifted in his sleep and slid farther down on the sofa. That decided it for her. She propped a throw pillow against the arm of the sofa, then put her hands on his shoulders. He didn’t flinch. She eased him to the side until his head was on the pillow. She then moved to his feet. He’d left his shoes by her door, so it was just a matter of lifting his legs up to the sofa. As soon as she got him completely horizontal, he stretched out.

  She half expected him to open his eyes and grumble about her handling of him. But rather than waking him, the move seemed to have helped him settle even deeper into sleep. She pulled a throw blanket from the basket in the corner and draped it over him. “Sleep tight, Gabe.”

  She wandered into her room and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. That drove her to the bathroom, where she grabbed a washcloth, ran it under the water, and attempted to fix her face. Her eyes were red, eyelids puffy, makeup com
pletely gone.

  Her skin flushed at the thought of the breakdown she’d had. It then flushed deeper at the way she hadn’t been able to stop herself from snuggling into Gabe’s arms. He was just being nice. She knew that. There was nothing between them but air.

  It would be great if she could convince her heart of that.

  Even better if she could somehow forget that one kiss. It hadn’t meant anything to Gabe. She was sure of that. And she had been prepared for it. She’d been prepared for more kissing than there had been. He’d been far more gentlemanly than she’d expected him to be. When they sent her in that night, his handlers had told her to be prepared for almost anything.

  She hadn’t been prepared for Gabe to apologize right before kissing her in a way that left her dazed. She tried to tell herself that they had been two people doing their jobs and nothing more. But if that was Gabe faking it, she had to admit she wondered what it would be like to experience a real kiss.

  Not that that would ever happen.

  Gabe had made it clear, more than once and to anyone who would listen, that he would never marry. Which used to make her happy. She didn’t have to worry about things getting weird—well, weirder—with Gabe.

  But things had just gotten weirder.

  She tried to shake off the memory as she pressed the cool cloth to her eyes. All she could do was make the best of the situation—and pretend it hadn’t happened. She had plenty of practice with that.

  She would be able to pretend more easily if he wasn’t sleeping on her sofa.

  She skirted past him and grabbed her water bottle and a protein bar from the kitchen before curling up in her recliner with her laptop. She checked email, responded to some messages from family in Yap, and set the laptop to the side. Gabe continued to sleep, so she pulled her book off the end table and tried to lose herself in pre–Revolutionary War America.

  She woke up three hours later.

  The book was in her lap and her phone was buzzing on the arm of the chair. “Hello?”