Shirlee McCoy - Protective Instincts

All she wanted to do was step out of it again.

And not with Jackson’s hand around her arm, his fingers a warm reminder of what she’d lost when Matt and Joseph had been taken away from her.

“Ready to get out of here, buddy?” Jackson asked, releasing her elbow as he took Samuel’s hand and helped him to his feet.

Samuel nodded, but he seemed too tired to speak, his eyes glassy from fever.

“We’ll go to the house, get some medicine in you. Maybe a little something to eat,” Raina told him, her voice tighter than she wanted it to be.

“I’m not hungry,” he protested weakly, but she still planned to make him some soup, maybe a piece of toast.

“You’ll be hungry once that fever goes down,” Jackson commented, holding the door open so they could walk outside. “You’ll probably eat half the house.”

“I can’t eat a house,” Samuel sounded more confused than amused, but he edged away from Raina and moved closer to Jackson.

She felt like a third wheel as the two discussed how much a healthy kid could eat. She tried not to let it bother her.

Rays of sunlight streamed over distant mountains and gleamed on the hood of Andrew’s squad car. He waved, motioning them over. “I’m about done here. Anything else you want to add to what you told me?”

He eyed Jackson, looking as if he thought there might be more information to be had. That was the way Andrew had been for as long as Raina had known him—driven, serious and devoted to the law.

“Actually,” Jackson replied, “there was someone in the church who might have seen the Jeep and its driver.”

He explained briefly while Raina and Stella helped Samuel back into the SUV. Raina was about to slide in beside him when Andrew touched her shoulder.

“Hold on a second, Rain,” he said quietly, and she paused, her hand on the hood of the vehicle, her back to Andrew. “I found something in the woods. I think you need to see it.”

A crisp breeze blew dead leaves across the pavement. She watched as they skittered toward the SUV, refusing to turn, because she was afraid of what she’d see in Andrew’s eyes.

“Rain?” he said again, and she knew she couldn’t avoid it.

She turned, cold air bathing cheeks that suddenly felt too hot and too tight. “What is it?”

He hesitated. A sure sign that whatever he had to show her was as horrible as she’d thought it would be. She knew Andrew well, knew him enough to know that hesitation meant worry and worry meant things were bad.

Destiny’s brother had spent most of the time Raina was growing up teasing her. After she’d married Matt, he’d stayed close, forming as strong a bond with him as he had with Raina. He’d responded to the accident that killed Matt and Joseph, and he’d been the one to tell Raina that Matt had died at the scene. He’d been at her side when the doctors declared Joseph brain-dead. He knew what she’d been through, and he’d never have wanted to add to it.

She had a feeling he was going to.

“Whatever it is, just show me,” she demanded, her voice hoarse with fear.

She hated that, hated that Stella was standing on the other side of the SUV, watching with curiosity. Hated that Jackson’s eyes were filled with pity.

“I left it where it was until I could bring in an evidence team, but I have a picture. I want to get your take on it.” He was all business, his tone brusque just the way it usually was when he was working.

But he watched her with that steady gaze, that sorrowful look that she’d only ever seen one other time.

She didn’t want to see the picture.

She didn’t want to know what he’d found.

Because she was afraid that whatever it was would change everything, that it would turn her life upside down, make her question everything she believed, make her want to turn the hands of time back.

Just like four years ago.

Just like the day she’d lost everything.

Andrew reached into his pocket and pulled out a camera. He scrolled through a couple of photos and frowned. “Here it is.”

She took the camera, her hands steady despite the fact that her entire body seemed to be shaking. The image on the screen was clear. Wet ground, bright-colored leaves strewn around. That wasn’t the focus of the picture, though. A stuffed dog was. Fluffy and blue. About twelve inches high. Muddy and wet, but obviously well loved by a child, its ears ratty, its fur threadbare in a few places. She knew that if she could lift the dog out of the camera and study it closely, she’d be able to see that one eye was missing and that its tail had almost no fur. She thought that if she could hold it close to her nose, she’d still be able to smell baby powder and shampoo on it.

Her eyes burned, her chest so tight and heavy she didn’t think she’d ever breathe again.

“It looks like the dog I gave Joseph that day we all went to the county fair together. Remember?” Andrew prodded.

Remember?

She couldn’t forget. Not any second of any minute of the short time she’d had with her son. If she let herself, she’d lie in bed at night, remembering his laughter, his chubby toddler belly and happy blue eyes.

She never let herself.

And she didn’t want this...reminder.

She thrust the camera back into Andrew’s hands and turned on her heels, walking away from him and from Jackson. Walking past the SUV and Stella, leaving Samuel right where he was. Walking faster and faster until her feet were flying and her breath was heaving, and she was running so fast her legs ached and her lungs hurt, and the tears were streaming down her face.

And still, she couldn’t outrun her sorrow.

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