.

came up behind her and glanced over Lydia’s shoulder. She flinched at her little sister’s quiet approach and stepped back.

      Kate pushed past her into the closet and began picking up the shirts and pants.

      “Leave it. It could be evidence.”

      Clenching a blouse in her hand still on its hanger, Kate glared at her. “I did this. I was upset and hurrying to get back to the hospital. I was looking for the green shirt you like to wear because it’s so comfortable. I thought you could wear it home.”

      Her tension deflated, Lydia sagged against the door, holding herself upright. “I’ll take care of it later. Right now I just want to lie down.” She made her way to her bed and sank back against the pillows. “I’m sorry I accused you of going through my desk.”

      “Yeah, right.” Kate huffed and stomped into the hallway.

      I should get up and go after her. But exhaustion swamped Lydia. She closed her eyes and decided she would in a little while after Kate calmed down. After Lydia rested...

      * * *

      As Jesse drove toward the bistro bomb site after being at Lydia’s, he couldn’t shake from his mind the brief conversation about that last year before she eloped with Aaron and didn’t return to Anchorage. All he wanted to do was forget it. Why did women always want to discuss things to death? The past was just that.

      And as far as he and Lydia being friends, he didn’t see that as an option. He didn’t want her to hurt him again. It was like when he was a young boy and touched the hot stove. He never did it again. Once was enough to teach him to stay away.

      Thomas wanted Jesse to follow up with the appliance store’s owner today. The black Chevy with the partial license plate number Jesse had written down hadn’t been found yet.

      Not long after the bombing, Thomas had sent two police officers to interview each store owner on the street. Yesterday Officer Williams hadn’t been able to get much from Mr. Pickens, the man who owned the appliance store. He’d been so shaken up that he could barely remember anything about that morning. This was the first day the police had allowed people back on the street after another thorough search for a follow-up bomb or any evidence. Besides Mr. Pickens, Jesse would also interview the manager at the clothing store and drugstore next door.

      Jesse parked in front of Pickens Appliance, and after retrieving Brutus from the back, entered the shop. He immediately homed in on the tall, overweight man watching two men measure the area where the plate glass window used to be.

      Jesse approached Mr. Pickens, recognizing him from his driver’s license photo. “Mr. Pickens, I’m Sergeant Hunt, and I need to have a few words with you about the day of the bombing.”

      “I was in the back when the bomb went off. Shook the whole building. By the time I came out of the office, everyone was fleeing, screaming, scared.”

      “When did you leave that day?” Jesse gave Brutus a short leash and signaled for him to sit next to him.

      “When you guys asked us to evacuate the area. I wasn’t gonna wait for another bomb to go off.”

      “I checked your store not long after noon and found someone in here. He fled out the back. Do you have any idea who it could have been? An employee? A customer who didn’t leave?”

      “Everyone was gone when I locked up. Don’t know why I bothered because all any person had to do was climb through the window.” Mr. Pickens waved his hand toward the large gap at the front of the building. “We spent all morning picking up the glass. It shattered everywhere.”

      “Do you have a surveillance camera in here?”

      The man pointed to two mounted cameras. “They don’t work. It’s not like someone is going to shoplift a stove. What did the person look like that you saw?”

      “I got a brief glimpse of a dark hoodie before the door shut. When I looked out back, all I saw was a black Chevy driving away. Couldn’t tell you the year. Do you remember seeing anyone park there that morning?”

      “No, but it was here when I came to work at ten. I thought it belonged to an employee of the stores next to me. Like I said, I was in my office most of the time on the phone to the bank.”

      “Who were the employees working the floor that day?”

      “Bill Campbell and myself.”

      “So Bill is here?”

      Mr. Pickens nodded. “He’s the one with the broom.”

      Jesse approached Bill Campbell, a medium-sized lanky guy, with a sour expression on his face. After introducing himself, Jesse asked, “I understand you were on the floor the morning the bomb went off across the street. Did you see anything strange? Someone hanging around watching the building?”

      He stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom. “It wasn’t busy that morning. We usually get more customers in the afternoon or evening. There was a woman in here looking, but she wasn’t here when the bomb went off. Don’t know her name. Then there was a young man, maybe twenty-five in here. He wandered around looking at all kinds of appliances.” Campbell stared at the hole where the window used to be. “You know he kept looking out front as if he was waiting for someone.”

      “Do you know his name?”

      “Nope but he was here when the bomb went off.”

      “Did he leave right away?”

      “I don’t know. I was hiding behind the counter. When I finally stood up, all I focused on was the bistro.”

      “Would you be able to describe the man to a police artist?”

      Campbell’s eyes grew round. “You think he had something to do with the bombing?”

      “I’m looking into everything.”

      “I’ll do what I can. We’ve got to catch this guy before another bomb goes off. Business was slow before this last bomb. I don’t expect much now.”

      “Will you be here tomorrow?”

      “Yes.”

      “I’ll send the police artist then.” Jesse shook Campbell’s hand, then left with Brutus.

      Jesse visited the clothing shop then the drugstore, flanking Pickens Appliance. Neither place had any promising leads. The few employees in those establishments were scared and jumpy. Phillip Keats, the pharmacist and manager, even told him one longtime woman employee called in sick and hadn’t returned since the bombing.

      As he strolled to his SUV his phone rang. It was Lydia’s house number. He quickly answered, praying nothing was wrong. “Lydia?”

      “No, this is Kate.”

      “Has something happened?”

      “Lydia thought someone had been in her bedroom. I’m scared.”

      Jesse turned on his engine. “Is anyone there now?”

      “No, but—”

      “I’ll be there as soon as possible.” After disconnecting, Jesse pulled out of his parking space. Why didn’t Lydia call him? Because you told her to contact Thomas. He realized the foolhardiness of that. They might not be friends now, but they were close once. He couldn’t walk away because she hurt him in the past—not if her life was in jeopardy.

      * * *

      A sea of black surrounded her, but Lydia couldn’t move. Something held her down. Her heartbeat began to race. She couldn’t breathe.

      Lydia’s eyes flew open. Darkness blanketed her. A band felt as though it constricted her chest. Panic drove her off the bed. But when she stood, she began to see shapes and glimpsed the clock. It was 9:30—obviously at night. She wasn’t trapped any longer. She was safe and at home.

      Just