Remember Tuesday Morning Part 9

When he was sure he wasn't being followed, he crossed the street, pushed his way through the bushes, back over the fence and climbed into his truck. The service road he'd driven in on led back to the freeway a different way, so that he could avoid crossing paths with any of them.

Alex was halfway to the freeway when he finally caught his breath. Stupid, Alex ... so stupid. A cop should never make himself that vulnerable. He grabbed a piece of gum from the center console and shoved it in his mouth. It was one thing to be driven to get the bad guys, to protect the citizens of the city in a way that would've made his father proud. But it was another to be so careless that he got himself killed. He'd have to keep his discussions with Owl to the phone. He could tape those conversations a lot easier.

It was just after ten o'clock when he pulled off the freeway and drove the last few miles home, and only then did he think once more about Jamie Michaels and the things she'd told him, the sad truth about her first husband and the bit about his journal. But more than that, something else she'd told him weighed heavily on his mind. The part about her praying for him. Not because he wanted to think about G.o.d or allow himself to believe again, but because if there had ever been a time when he could almost sense that someone had been praying for him, it was tonight.

FIFTEEN.

Jamie found the woman's phone number by contacting a few of her friends back in New York - Jake's former captain, Aaron Hisel, and her good friend, Sue Henning. As it turned out, Sue had spent time with Linda Brady at an FDNY wives' support group in the first few years after 9/11. Back when Jamie spent all her spare time at St. Paul's. She had dialed the number as she sat at the Lazy J Park and watched Sierra and CJ play on this early October afternoon. The conversation with Sue was long overdue, the way it was when best friends let half a year pa.s.s between h.e.l.los.

"I'm seeing someone." Sue's voice was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with the sort of hope and new life that hadn't been there since her husband Larry's death. "He's a police officer. We met at church." She paused. "We're talking about getting married."

Jamie listened as she sat on a bench close to where the kids were playing, enjoying the sun on her face. "Ah, Sue ... I'm so glad." She didn't need to comment on the fact that they'd both found police officers, or that G.o.d had a way of knowing which women could be married to men who put their lives on the line every time they went to work. That much was obvious. She pictured her friend, sitting near the front window of her house in Staten Island. "How are the kids?"

"Katy's eleven, same as Sierra. She still talks about her and has that BFF photo of the two of them on her dresser."

"Sierra has hers too." Jamie smiled. "What about little Larry?"

Sue's lighthearted laughter filled the phone lines. "He doesn't like the little part, anymore. He's eight now. Tallest kid in the second grade."

"We need to get back there, get everyone together." Jamie meant it. Sue and Larry had been her and Jake's best friends before 9/11. The couples spent their free time together and had everything in common. After their husbands were killed, Jamie wasn't sure she would've survived without Sue.

"How are you and Clay?"

"He's wonderful ... so patient with me." She took in a long breath and went into the story about Alex and his determination to keep people out of his life. "I feel like Alex is part of Jake's legacy, somehow. Like Clay and I are supposed to reach him and tell him about G.o.d, you know? Help him find the healing he's missing."

They talked for another ten minutes about Sue's new guy and Jamie's love for Clay, and about the kids.

"I think Katy's starting to forget." Sue's voice was tinged with a sorrow she'd long since made peace with. "She doesn't talk about Larry like she used to, and when we see a picture of our family back then, she squints at it, like she can't really place the details."

"It's that way with Sierra too. I noticed the changes a few years ago - the details aren't crisp like before."

"Still," Sue drew in an encouraging sigh, "G.o.d is good. He's taught us all how to live with our losses, and He's given us new people to love."

"Yes, He has." Jamie liked the way that sounded. New people to love. Healing was definitely happening when people could find their way out of the dark clouds of grief to love again. Further proof that Alex hadn't gone more than a few steps on the mile-long journey to healing.

The two made a plan to talk again, sooner this time, and Jamie made Sue promise to send an invitation if there was, indeed, a wedding in the works. Before they hung up, Jamie pulled a pen and piece of paper from her purse and jotted down Linda's number. When the call was over, Jamie spent a few minutes relieving Sierra, pushing CJ in his swing while Sierra took the swing beside them.

"Higher, Mommy! So high, okay?"

"Okay, buddy." Jamie grinned at Sierra. "He could swing for an hour and never get tired."

"Tell me about it." Sierra dropped her shoulders forward, as if she was already exhausted from pushing CJ for the past ten minutes. Then she straightened and her eyes began to dance. "Did I tell you the boys are chasing us at school again?" She made a face, but the sparkle in her eyes remained. She was in fifth grade, and already the talk between them turned to boys fairly often. "We four girls found a hiding place, though. On the other side of the school by the baseball field."

"That's good." Jamie studied her daughter, the way her face still held a strong resemblance to Jake's. "Boys can wait awhile."

Sierra giggled. "That's what Daddy says."

Jamie smiled, because with Sierra's words, Sue's statement came rushing back. The part about G.o.d giving them new people to love. The fact that Sierra would have not one, but two wonderful fathers in her lifetime was more than Jamie could have asked for.

"Slide!" CJ pointed to the climbing structure and a couple of built-in slides across the sandy play area. "Out, Mommy! Peeeese!"

She lifted him from his swing. "Can you go with him, Sierra, sweetie? I have one more phone call, okay?"

"Sure." She stood up from the swing and took hold of CJ's hand. "I like the slides too, right, Ceej?"

"Yay!" He strained forward, pulling her along behind him. "Come on, Sissy ... come on!"

Jamie made her way back to the bench, all the while watching her kids as they walked toward the nearest slide. She found the phone number on the slip of paper and punched in the numbers on her cell phone. As the phone began to ring, she uttered a last-minute prayer, asking G.o.d to help her reach Linda Brady, and that, in the process, some sort of wisdom might come of the conversation, wisdom that might help her and Clay reach Alex.

The woman answered the phone almost on the first ring. "h.e.l.lo, this is Linda." She sounded upbeat and lighthearted.

Jamie leaned back against the hard park bench. "Linda, this is Jamie Michaels, formerly Jamie Bryan. I think our husbands used to work together for the FDNY."

"Who?" A short pause filled the phone lines. Then Linda sucked in a quick breath. "Oh, wait. Jamie Bryan ... Jake's wife. Sue Henning told me about you. Sue's Larry and your Jake were at the same station."

"Right." Sudden tears stung Jamie's eyes, and she dabbed at them with her wrist. When it came to losing Jake, there was an ocean of tears in her heart, and whether she liked it or not, she was never more than a few minutes from the beach. She sniffed silently and composed herself. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Not at all. I'm a nurse now, and I work later today, but not for a while."

Jamie felt herself relax. "Okay, good." She wasn't quite sure where to begin. "Did Sue tell you I remarried?"

"No." A smile filled Linda's voice. "I haven't been to a support group meeting for years now. I think a lot of us are remarried."

The news surprised Jamie for some reason. "You're remarried?"

"Three years ago." Some of the joy in her tone fell off. "Not that life is ever normal again."

"No." Jamie smiled at CJ, just about to go down the slide. "It's beautiful, but never really normal." She slid to the edge of the bench, willing herself to get to the point. "Anyway, I live in LA now, and my husband is a sergeant with the LA Sheriff's Department. His name is Clay Michaels. He works with your son, Alex."

It took a moment before Linda responded. "Your husband knows Alex?"

"We both do. Alex has been coming to our house for dinner once a month for the last year."

"I ... I had no idea." A hint of bitterness now colored her voice. "He doesn't tell me anything about his life in California."

Jamie kept her eyes on Sierra and CJ, still on the play structure. She didn't figure now was a great time to tell the woman about Alex's role in the hostage situation, or the fatally shot suspect. "He's still very hurt. Very closed off."

"Yes. He hasn't moved past the loss of his father. That's why he's out there fighting crime. Just him and his dog." She hesitated. "Is he ... is he seeing anyone? He never talks about that with me."

"Not that we can tell." Jamie told her about Jake's journal and how she'd found the entry about Ben. "I guess he and Jake were talking about Ben's favorite Bible verse."

"John 16:33." Linda didn't hesitate. "Did you tell Alex about the entry?"

"He wouldn't let me." The defeat was still there in Jamie's voice, but it was tempered by a new sense of hope. Certainly his mother would be able to shed some light on the young man. "He told me that getting past 9/11 was different for me because I have Clay, and that made me think ... was there someone for Alex ... a special girl? Before the terrorist attacks?"

Linda sighed. "There was. Her name was Holly Brooks. She and Alex dated from their freshman year on, right up until that awful day during their senior year of high school."

"And then?"

"I don't know. A part of Alex died that day. The part capable of trusting and loving."

The thought was so sad. Again, Jamie felt her eyes grow damp. "Do you still talk to her?"

"Actually, she moved to LA. Works for a developer, at least she used to. I have her information written down somewhere." Linda's cheerful tone was all but gone. "Alex loved that girl with his whole being. I always thought if someone could find the old Alex in the pile of debris left after the collapse of those towers, it would be Holly. She went to LA because of Alex."

The flicker of hope in Jamie burned a little brighter. "Then they've talked."

"Just once, as far as I know. Alex turned her away. Told her he could never give her the life or the love she deserved. His only purpose in life was his police work. Making his dad proud, doing his part to prevent the murder of other people's fathers."

Jamie's heart hurt listening to the details. No wonder Alex's eyes were full of so much pain. He'd lost more than his father; he'd put aside his girl and his future ... everything that had mattered for the first eighteen years of his life. "How did Holly take it?"

"I haven't talked to her in a year or so. She left me a message a few months ago that she's seeing someone, trying to move on. The whole thing's so sad."

Jamie's mind raced. "You said you had her information somewhere? Do you think you could give it to me? Maybe she could help Clay and me understand him better, the way he used to be?"

The slight chuckle that came from Linda was more hopeless than humorous. "It's too late for that, but ... well, I don't think she'd mind if you had her information. At least her work number."

This was what Jamie had prayed for, a breakthrough, some new way she could reach Alex. She silently prayed while Linda looked for the details.

"Here we go." Linda sounded doubtful. "She works for a developer named Dave Jacobs." Linda rattled off the girl's work number. "I'll say this ... if you and Clay care enough about my son to do this, then my husband and I will be praying. That's all I can do for him anymore." A crack in her voice betrayed the depth of her heartache. "Seven years ago, I lost my husband and my son, all on the same day. Since then I've prayed for a breakthrough and maybe ... maybe somehow this is it."

The phone call ended with Jamie promising to keep in touch with Linda, and to pa.s.s along updates about how Alex was doing or if he was making any progress. When Jamie slipped her phone back into her purse, she thought about this Holly Brooks, a girl so in love with Alex she had moved across the country to follow him. Suddenly, in the warmth of the afternoon sun, Jamie was convinced of two things: First, G.o.d was indeed leading her to work on behalf of Alex's healing, as a part of Jake's legacy and her own. And second, she needed to make a call to Holly Brooks, to see if she could help them understand Alex a little better. At the same time, maybe Jamie could determine whether Holly had moved on and found love elsewhere. Because maybe, Jamie suspected, just maybe, she was still longing for the striking young deputy who had captured her heart when she was just a girl.

SIXTEEN.

Holly was having trouble focusing. She'd given three tours that day and closed the deal on the sale of the largest home in the current phase - the one at the end of the street. It was early afternoon, and she still had two more appointments, but not for another hour. The break gave her the chance to grab a cup of coffee and settle in at her desk for some paperwork.

But her heart wasn't interested in numbers and spreadsheets. She pushed the pile of papers back and leaned on her elbows, her eyes on the brown hills adjacent to the development. The sky was bluer up here above the valley, and today especially so. The Santa Ana winds hadn't materialized into anything too strong yet, and it had been a week since anyone had mentioned the fire danger posed by the phoned-in threat.

Life should be wonderful, but there was a heaviness in Holly's soul that made every breath a struggle. Something caught her attention, and she looked across the street and over one homesite to see Dave and Ron examining the framing of a spec home that they'd just broken ground on. Ron's confidence was like a force around him, something she could feel without seeing his face or hearing his voice. It was what had attracted her to him the first time they met.

So what was the problem? Holly released a heavy breath and covered her face with her hands. She and Ron had gone out twice now, two Sat.u.r.days in a row. The first night he'd taken her to LAX where they boarded a plane and flew to Vegas for dinner at Andre's in the Monte Carlo hotel. They sat near a grand fireplace and ate exquisite French food by candlelight. After dinner a limo met them out front and whisked them to the Hilton where they had stage seats for Barry Manilow.

Holly had never been on a date like that in her life, never even dreamed of such a thing. The whole time, Ron was attentive and proud of himself for coming up with something so creative. They caught a red-eye back, and he dropped her off at her townhouse just before three in the morning. Holly dropped her hands back to the desk and looked up at the pair of champagne gla.s.ses sitting on the top shelf of her office bookcase. They were souvenirs from the concert. Their seats were so close they had the chance to shake Barry's hand during one of the songs.

Once she realized how extravagant a date he'd planned for her, Holly worried about his expectations. When Ron wanted something, he got it. But on the flight home he simply took her hand and looked into her eyes. "I hope you don't mind getting home so late."

"No," Holly's answer was quick. How could she mind? He'd just given her a night fit for a princess. "I'm fine ... the night was," no other word seemed to fit, "it was lovely, Ron."

"Good." He gave her hand a squeeze. His palms were dry this time. "I wanted to get you home before morning. So you wouldn't question my intentions."

With that he launched into a dissertation about faith and his moral compa.s.s and maintaining integrity in every area of life, including his relationships. Holly agreed with everything he said, but he never asked for her input, and for some reason the whole bit came across like a lecture or a speech - impersonal and more about Ron than something intimate and special the two of them might've shared.

When he drove her home, he hopped out of his BMW, walked around the front of the car, and opened her door. She'd been curious about whether he'd kiss her, but before she had time to think about it, he moved in close and pressed his lips to hers. It was quick and to the point, then he took a step back and patted her arm. "Thank you, Holly. I had a wonderful evening."

She resisted the temptation to say the word lovely. Instead she smiled and thanked him, and that was that. When she went inside, she walked around her empty townhouse trying to understand why she felt so let down, so alone.

Holly stood and walked to the bookcase. She took one of the champagne gla.s.ses and held it by the stem. The date should've been a dream come true, but instead it reminded her of something she'd read in a magazine once about a certain pop star's wedding. The couple had spent more than a million dollars on everything from a dress handmade in Vienna to a cake whose price tag was in the five figures. Holly read the article, and rather than longing for something similar, she caught herself feeling sorry for the couple. Could love ever find its way into a ceremony so lavishly wasteful, so grossly materialistic?

She set the gla.s.s down again. This past Sat.u.r.day had been simpler. A drive to the beach and dinner at Gladstone's. But by the time he'd brought her home and efficiently kissed her goodnight, she finally figured out the problem. Both times they went out, Ron had the entire evening scripted. There seemed to be a schedule to keep, an agenda. Though in some ways he seemed the most spontaneous guy she'd ever met, the spirit of spontaneity was completely missing on their dates. It was like he was in a hurry to check things off the list.

Dinner ... conversation ... even the kiss.

She wandered back to her desk and sat down again. Or maybe that wasn't it at all. Maybe it was all about the newspaper article, about seeing Alex after so much time. Holly couldn't stop thinking about him. She breathed in deeply and checked her watch. She still had half an hour before her next appointment. She rolled her chair a few feet to the computer and placed her hands over the keyboard. Without really meaning to, she typed his name into the Google search line. Alex Brady. Then she added the keywords she already knew would work. LA Sheriff's Department ... award ... K9. The story with his picture was the first thing that popped up.

And there he was, the stern-faced deputy who had once been the boy she loved. The photo showed him accepting an award, but it might as well have been a cry for help. His expression was so closed off. The phone began to ring, and in a rush Holly closed the Internet site. But before she could reach for the receiver, Ron and Dave stormed through the front door. Ron stuck his head in her office. "We need you out here." His expression was all business. "It's urgent." He continued into the house after his father.

She glanced at the Caller ID, in case the call was from one of her appointments. But the window read Michaels - a name she wasn't familiar with. She would have to let the machine take the call. She hurried past the computer, where the image of Alex's face remained. "Coming," she announced. She found them sitting at the dining room table, poring over a piece of paper. Whatever the problem, they both looked stricken. She hesitated as she reached them. "What's going on?"

Ron's face was several shades paler than usual. "Remember the phone threat we got the other day? The one that said we would be targeted for a fire up here?"

"Of course." Holly's heartbeat doubled. She sat slowly in the chair opposite them and looked at the paper on the table. "What about it?"

Dave handed the paper to her. "One of the framers found this tacked to the back of the house across the street."

"I didn't think the threat was serious before." Ron wasn't panicked, but he was definitely concerned.

Holly took the paper and studied it. The person had typed the brief letter, and Holly scanned it quickly, wanting to get to the point.

Developer: Since you have chosen to violate the natural resources of our canyons and hillsides, and since you persist in creating homes that meet the gluttonous needs of the over-indulgent in our society, we are hereby giving you notice. Tear down your homes, or they will be burned to the ground. Don't think your gate can keep us out. We're everywhere.

The letter was signed only, "The REA."

Holly felt sick to her stomach. There were often nights when she worked later than the others, up here alone. Day or night, she was terrified at the thought of being here when a fire might be set. "Have you called the police?"

"Of course." Ron took the letter from her. "They've promised increased security, but still ..."

"They found a way to get up here and tack that threat onto one of our homes." Dave's forehead glistened with a faint layer of perspiration. He'd never looked this upset in all the time Holly had known him. "That could just as easily have been a match, and - "

"And there's no telling how much we would've lost." Ron stood and walked to the window at the back of the room. For a while he stared out at the hills behind the development. Then he turned back to them. "We're surrounded by dry brush."

"Which we've known about from the beginning." Dave sounded as if he were trying to calm himself down. "Every hillside home stands in the line of fire danger. Same as homes in the Midwest stand in the line of tornado danger. People buy these houses knowing that. But an arsonist?" He stared at his son. "We never planned for this."

Holly was grateful they'd included her in the meeting. The danger was as much hers as theirs, but neither of them was looking to her for comments or thoughts on the matter. She sat back in her chair and listened, trying not to give way to the anxiety building up inside her. "We have the gate, don't forget. And the security fence." Dave stood and paced to the nearest window and back. "That's gotta be worth some sort of protection."

Ron waved the paper at the front door. "Neither one did us any good last night, or whenever this was left here."