A Plea for Help

Steve was not usually a man of many words, and his excitement at the thought of a breakthrough made Lynn cringe.

She feared his reaction if she told him what she “saw” in her head. The hollow feeling in her gut increased, and her stomach churned with dread. However, she could not deny that he was as handsome as ever.

His pristine dark blue suit screamed expensive. His white silk shirt was open at the neck, as it always was. His curly dark brown hair, short at the sides and longer on top, looked salon-styled. His dark brown beard and mustache were perfectly trimmed.

He looked ruggedly handsome in a sleek fashion. Tall, dark, and dangerous. Edible if she had to be honest. The idea made her frown. His greenish-brown eyes still reminded her of a mountain lion.

She almost adjusted her clothes, realizing how she would appear to him. These comfortable old things and jacket helped her blend in to speak with her contacts in the less savory part of the city, but they gave the wrong impression in a police station, she realized too late.

It was nearly impossible to look at him, yet she watched him open his notebook from under her lashes and took a moment to gather her thoughts.

She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and looked him in the eye. There had to be no doubt in his mind as to her sincerity.

“I have lived here for three years, Steve and I knew you worked at this precinct the entire time.” Her admission visibly made his excitement ebb away, and he frowned at her calm correction of his earlier assumption.

She caught his glance and forced him to consider her words with care.

“It’s a small world, and we’re both a long way from New York,” she soldiered on, even when his expression closed off.

Her heart ached. She often passed his house and even noticed him around town but shied away from contact with her past, unwilling to dredge up old memories.

Steve seated himself on the edge of the table, carefully controlling his anger and hurt. She had not wanted to see him and had actively avoided him, but he did not want to focus on himself. He needed privacy to work through his pain, and he would not get that now.

His psychic rant clearly did not amuse Lynn, and his words made her cringe. He studied her with more attention, noting the pale, haunted cast of her face, the circles under her eyes, and the loose fit of her clothes.

She had not slept well in a while, and it reminded him of the way she looked after that gangster shot Tommy.

Lynn spent ten days beside her husband’s bed, waiting for him to wake from his coma. She barely ate or slept, and they were all so busy dealing with the fallout, no one noticed her condition until she collapsed.

The doctor committed her to the hospital, put her on a drip, and gave her a sedative, but an aneurysm claimed Tommy’s life while Lynn slept.

Steve sat beside her bed until she woke. Her eyes opened, and when she saw his face, she turned her head from him. Sobs escaped her and wrenched his gut. He would never forget the desolation in her eyes.

He tried to comfort her, but Lynn fought his touch, and despite her resistance, he pulled her against him until she grew still. A nurse appeared with another sedative, and within moments, Lynn had lost consciousness.

Steve disapproved. He always thought they should have allowed Sierra-Lynn to experience her grief and let her mourn, but instead, they kept her sedated.

He returned the next day, and her all-consuming sorrow crushed him.

Steve had never experienced such intense loss in another person before that day, and nothing he said, or did, comforted her or broke through the impenetrable walls she had erected around the shattered remains of her heart.

It did not take him long to realize he had lost both his best friends in one day. Lynn could not look at him without seeing Tommy or listen to him without hearing Tommy. His presence caused her pain, which prompted him to give her some space, but he never expected Sierra-Lynn to quit the job she loved and leave without saying goodbye to anyone.

“So, why are you here?” The words sounded cold even to him.

She picked at her nails—something she had not done since childhood. Back then, she convinced herself her father had left because of her, but she would never tell him why she thought he did.

Lynn frowned when she realized what she was doing, and hid her hands below the table, knowing the gesture betrayed her nervousness to his sharp gaze. The walls were closing in on her again, and despite the heat in the room, she shivered.

If she wanted to persuade Steve, she had to take control of the situation.

She took a deep, steadying breath and pictured herself in a field of flowers with the sun shining down on her while the sweet fragrance of grass, heat, and summer filled her nose. Even though warm, calm, and serene in her safe place, a chill broke through her mental picture, but she did not tolerate the invasion.

“I told your man I saw the Boy Brunswick murder in a vision.” Lynn’s voice carried the same emphatic tone that once swayed juries and annoyed her counterparts.

To give himself a moment to evaluate the facts, Steve pretended to make an entry in his notebook.

Is this why she had left? He heard rumors about her mother when they were younger and put no stock in them. Did she suffer from the same ailment? Would it also push her over the edge to take her own life?How was this his Sierra-Lynn?

“Steve!” Her voice broke through the barrier he created between them, and when he trusted himself to face her, his expression almost made her courage desert her.

“Your deputy Roberts heard right,” Lynn clarified, ignoring the denial in his eyes.

“Did someone approach you that cannot be a credible witness? Why come to me with this cockamamy story? Have we not been friends for long enough that you can trust me?” Steve demanded. She could clearly see that her betrayal and fury had caught him off guard.

Whatever friendship they shared was over. It would no longer exist after she said what she had to say. Their past will be concluded in the last chapter of a book written about the lives of strangers. Weariness dragged at her soul, and she no longer cared what he thought. For the sake of the boy, she would tell this man what she observed and believed.

She barely noticed as Barry left to give them some privacy.

Barry understood every nuance of the situation as he silently watched the two of them from the next room. Steve and Lynn’s shared past created an insurmountable obstacle between them.

As her uncle, it pained him to see her suffer. His half-brother left when she was young, turning his back on Lynn and Angela, but Barry never deserted her. He was there for her when her life fell apart, just like she once cared for him.

He had seen no way to support her with Steve without seeming to interfere. This was not a battle he could win for her–not that Lynn was a damsel in distress–she did not need his help.

Steve and Lynn had to sort this out, and yes, seeing her former friend had temporarily unsettled her, but Lynn would soon recover her stride.

Although his presence soothed her at first, calming her until she found control of herself, it would not have been wise to speak for her. She would not have appreciated it, and Steve might have gained the wrong impression if he did; Lynn best expressed herself in her own words.

He wondered if his boss would get past his prejudices and doubted the possibility—Steve might be a standup guy, but sometimes his stubborn streak showed.