Kaleidoscope Eyes (38 page)

Annie knew her brother was speaking English, so why didn’t the words make any sense? She caught a glimpse of Andy’s expression just before he turned toward Jed—and frowned. Why did Andy look so panicked?

Jed sauntered toward them, and Dan raised a hand in greeting. Annie almost slapped her brother’s hand down, then realized he didn’t know.

He still thought Jed was someone you could trust.

“Hey, Dan.” Jed extended his hand. “Good to see you.”

“You too. Wow,
Everyday Heroes
, huh? Great show.”

Annie broke up the little lovefest. “What commercials?” She eyed Jed as she asked the question. He stiffened, then shot a quick look at Andy

Something definitely was up.

She moved to stand toe to toe with Jed. “What. Commercials.”

He looked down at her, then sighed. “I had Andy shooting footage of you and Kodi when we were together.”

Dan’s features turned thunderous. “Are you telling me you didn’t know about this?”

Annie crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Not a thing.” She jumped when Dan stepped past her, toward Jed, an ugly gleam in his eyes. “Wait! Dan, hold on.” She grabbed his arm, felt how tense the muscles were.

Jed’s hand eased over hers, removing it from Dan’s arm. “It’s okay, Annie. Your brother has a right to be angry. What I did was
wrong. Morally, ethically, and probably legally. I was so determined to get Annie for the show that I made some bad decisions. I can only apologize and promise you I’ll do all I can to make it right.” He straightened his shoulders. “But if it will make you feel better, go ahead and take a punch. I deserve it.”

Dan’s hand closed into a fist, and Annie held her breath. He wouldn’t! He was in uniform. If he hit Jed while on duty, he’d be in serious trouble.

Not to mention what it would do to Jed.

A yelp escaped her when Dan’s fist shot out—and landed, with minimum impact—in the middle of Jed’s chest.

“It will take more than words to fix this, Jed.”

He didn’t flinch. “I know that.”

Dan’s hand dropped to his side, and he nodded. “Good enough. For now.”

Good enough?

Annie stared at her brother, speechless.
Good enough?
Oh, no it wasn’t. Not by a long shot! And the very idea that Dan would think it galled her.

Jed turned to her, but Annie halted anything he might have been about to say by spinning and stalking away.

“Annie, please, wait.”

She stopped but didn’t face him. Just spoke over her shoulder. “Kodi and I will be going out first thing in the morning. Be ready. And Jed?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t get in our way.”

Silence. Then, “We won’t. I promise.”

Well, that was something. She started toward the tent again, then realized she was alone. Kodi was nowhere to be seen. Annie scanned the near darkness, alarm prickling her—until she spotted the dog a few feet away.

Sitting there. At Jed’s side.

Annie’s eyes narrowed. “Kodi, come.”

The shepherd looked up at Jed, then back to Annie.

“Kodi!”

A piteous whine met Annie’s harsh call, but the dog did as she was bid. Pushing to her feet, she cast one more pining look back at Jed, then slunk toward her mistress, like a deathrow inmate taking that last, long walk.

When Kodi reached Annie’s side, she took hold of the dog’s collar and hustled her toward the tent. “Monster dog,” she muttered.

First Jed. Then Dan. And now her own dog.

Traitors, all.

Well, at least there was one good thing about this stupid situation.

There wasn’t anyone left to betray her.

Jed was cold.

So cold he was shaking.

The irony was that it had nothing to do with the weather. No, what had him trembling, inside and out, was the sound of Annie’s voice as she cried out to God. He’d gone into the tent he and Andy were given, but after nearly two hours of lying there, staring into the unforgiving darkness, he finally got up and came outside.

He’d been standing here for close to an hour. He told himself he’d chosen this spot beneath a tall evergreen because it gave him shelter if it started to rain or snow. But that was just blowing smoke.

He came here because it was close to Annie’s tent. And for now, that was enough. Just … being close to her.

He’d been staring up at the night sky, when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. His heart jumped when he saw who it was. He’d straightened, ready to go to Annie, beg her forgiveness, try to explain—but the sight of her slumping to the ground, then curling into a ball at the base of a tree stopped him in his tracks.

As she sat there, knees drawn to her chest, her agony palpable, Jed fell back against the tree, grateful for something solid to hold him up.

What had he done? How could he have used her the way he did? Lied? Deceived?

How could he ever think she’d forgive him?

“God … please … ”

Her ragged words were daggers in his chest. He closed his eyes against the grief in her voice. Emotions squeezed his heart until he didn’t think he could bear it a moment longer. Then, breaking through the regret suffocating him, came whispers of memory.

“I don’t know how anyone deals with pain without God
… ”

“That’s the business He’s in, you know. Helping and healing.”

Jed opened his eyes, looking to the heavens. Helping and healing. That’s what he needed. Not for himself. He deserved to hurt.

But for Annie.

For her, he’d do what he hadn’t done in years. Though he wasn’t worthy, didn’t deserve to be heard, he would try.

For Annie.

He bowed his head.
Jesus, I know this is my fault. And I don’t deserve Your help. But please, Lord, I’m so sorry. Please, help her. Touch her. Don’t let her hurt because of me. Please, Lord, give her Your peace—

“No more!”

Jed started at the low, furious words. Annie was on her feet, and determination hardened her features. For a moment, he thought she’d seen him, and he steeled himself for her fury. But she turned, making her way back toward her tent.

He stood there long after she’d stepped inside and zipped the door shut. Long after the dim light inside her tent went out.

Just stood there. Staring in the darkness. Pleading with God.

Because what he’d seen as Annie walked away told him, more clearly than any words could, that his deception had carried a far higher price than he’d ever dreamed. But he wasn’t the one paying it.

Annie was.

THIRTY-NINE        

O
CTOBER
24—A R
ED
C
LOVER
D
AY
(G
REEN AND
R
OSE
)

6:30 a.m.

“Whoever invented oatmeal was a genius.”

Jim, one of the members of Annie’s K-9 unit, looked over her shoulder at the bowl she cupped in her hand. “You trying to tell us there’s oatmeal in there, under all that brown sugar and raisins and milk?”

“It’s in there.” This from Karen, another SAR member, peering across the table at them. “Look at the lumps. Nothing forms lumps like oatmeal.”

Annie sniffed her disdain. “You people are trogolytes.”

Jim’s lips twitched. “I think you mean troglodytes.”

“Either way works for me.”

He patted Annie on the top of her head. “Sure, Justice. Whatever you say.”

Annie realized anyone overhearing their foolish exchange
might think them calloused. To joke over oatmeal when Amberly was still lost? But humor brought relief. Pulled your perspective away for a moment, allowing you to regroup, refocus. It brought you together, where anger and frustration tore apart. Humor was as necessary to the unit as any piece of equipment or element of training. Even in the face of searches as unproductive and frustrating as this one.

Especially then.

Of course, the laughter wasn’t as much a relief as usual. Because mixed in with the voices of her SAR compatriots, Annie heard another voice. A deep, rich voice that used to make her heart trip.

Now it just made it ache.

But she refused to look Jed’s way. To acknowledge that either he or Andy were there. Of course, she knew they were. Was painfully aware of them sitting there, watching her. Of Jed’s eyes fixed on her, as they had been since that awful day she discovered who he really was.

He’d tried to talk with her a number of times, but she just turned and walked way. He was not going to talk his way out of this. Not now.

Not ever.

Nor was he going to know how much she still hurt. Which was why she made sure her laughter was as full and light as she could make it.

“Good to hear you laughing, sis.”

Annie turned to find Dan walking toward them. She shifted over on the bench of the picnic table. “You’re out early today.”

He yawned, holding his hands around the heavy ceramic coffee mug that accompanied him wherever he went. “I stayed here last night.”

She turned back to her oatmeal. As much as she loved the stuff when it was hot, even she couldn’t stomach it when it cooled and congealed. “Shelby must’ve loved that.”

“She understands.”

“What a control freak you are?”

“I’m sorry, I think you’re confusing me with our other sibling.”

Annie grinned. “Oh, right you are. That’s Kylie’s domain, isn’t it?” She scraped the last of her oatmeal from the bowl, then set it aside and lifted her coffee. “So you stayed because of me.”

His silence confirmed the suspicion. She lowered her voice so only he could hear. “Look, I admit it. This whole situation—the notes, Jed, the search—it’s stressful. Maybe enough so that I’m not at the top of my game.” She set her suddenly tasteless coffee down and pinned her brother with a hard look. “But I do not—repeat, do not—need a babysitter.”

“I’m not doing this because you need me to, sis. I’m doing it because I need to. For me.”

It was there, plain for her to see, in his eyes. The concern. The apprehension. And suddenly Annie understood.

Dan was afraid of another loss.

She drew in a breath of awareness, then laid her hand over his on the table. “Okay, big brother. No more arguments about it.”

He turned his hand up to grip hers tight. “Thanks.”

“Present for you, Annie.”

She glanced up just in time to see one of the California SAR members drop an envelope on the table in front of her. “What’s this?”

He shrugged. “No clue. It was on my truck this morning, under the windshield wiper.”

Annie and Dan looked first at each other, then down at the envelope. She picked it up.
Annie Justice
was printed on the outside.

“You want me to open it?”

She shook her head, tore the envelope open, and let the note slide out. She bit her lip, then smoothed out the note so they could read it.

Dan’s hand on her shoulder helped still the shaking that gripped Annie.

“What’s going on?”

She jumped, grabbing the note as she surged to her feet. Oh,
no. you don’t. No way this is going to end up on TV
She faced Jed. “Nothing.”

He wasn’t buying it. “That wasn’t nothing. I’ve seen notes like that before. Plenty of them. None of them good.” He directed a look at Dan. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Dan stood as well. “Annie, Jed’s going to be your backup while you’re searching. He needs to know what’s going on.”

“No.” She turned imploring eyes to her brother. “It’s none of his business.”

Dan’s hand closed over hers, where she had the note crumpled into a ball. He eased her fingers open. “Yes, it is. If something happens, he needs to know To protect you.”

“I can take care of myself!”

“And to protect himself and Andy.”

She resisted a moment longer, then let go of the note. Dan handed it to Jed, whose features darkened as he read. When he looked up, rage glittered in his eyes. “I take it this isn’t the first note?”

Dan sat on the table. “No. There are several. And there were e-mails before that.”

“So you’re taking it seriously.”

Dan’s eyes were glittering now. “Definitely.”

Annie took the note again. “What does he mean, he knows where the girl is? Amberly? How can he know?”

Dan rolled his clearly tense shoulders. “I’m not sure he does. He may just be pulling your chain. Saying what he knows will cause you the most stress.”

It was working.

Jed’s brow creased. “Dan, you got this just now?”

He nodded. “It was on one of the searcher’s cars this morning. When he found it, he brought it to Annie.”

Though Annie hadn’t thought it possible, the anger in Jed’s eyes deepened. “You know what that means.”

Annie frowned, both at the fierce question and at Dan’s nod. “What? What does it mean?”

Dan didn’t answer right away.