Page 36 of Finding Amanda

He was going to have to find Alan Morris and kill him.

One of the mothers inched closer. He could feel her looking up at him but pretended not to notice. The last thing he needed was to get sucked into some banal conversation with another woman while his wife was deeply involved in one with another man.

Apparently, Amanda wasn't far enough away. A whoosh of cold air filled the small room as she took her call outside. Tension gripped his neck and forced its way down his back. A twinge of pain stabbed his shoulder, reminding him of the injury he'd brought home from Afghanistan. The doctor had told him he'd gotten lucky the knife didn’t hit any major arteries. Lucky, maybe, but it still hurt sometimes, especially when he tensed.

He was definitely tense.

The door opened again, and he turned her way. Stepping into the room, Amanda had lost her blush. In fact, she'd lost all the color in her face. She looked deathly pale.

He slipped past the woman beside him and met her inside the door. "What's wrong?"

She took an unnaturally deep breath, then blew it out.

"Are you okay?"

"Blowing up balloons." She gasped.

The chairs nearest the door were empty. He grabbed her elbow and urged her to sit. Kneeling on the floor in front of her, he asked, "You're hyperventilating?"

"No." She took a deep breath, in and out. "I'm blowing up balloons."

"Okay. You're doing great. Look at me, okay?"

Still panicked, she did as he directed.

"You're safe here. You're safe with me. You know that, right?"

She nodded.

He found himself inhaling and exhaling with her. Seconds, minutes, hours it felt like passed before her breathing returned to normal and she could talk.

"What happened?" He resisted the urge to yell. "Is he outside? Did you see Sheppard?"

"Someone sent me flowers today."

Red hot fury poured over him. He sat beside her, gripped the arms of the chair, and let the words process. This was not a normal reaction for someone who'd been sent flowers. "Okay . . . ?"

She reached into her jacket pocket and removed a small white card. "Here."

He read the note.It was lovely to see you. Until next time . . .

Until next time . . .

"So what are you saying? You think they were from Sheppard?"

"I think so." She sucked in more air.

He stared at the card in his hands. He could hear her exhale, but he couldn't look away from the note.Until next time.

With a whoosh of frigid wind, the door opened, and a mother with two children entered, one girl dressed in a pink leotard, one rambunctious boy of about three who'd already spotted a pile of toys. He ran past Mark and Amanda and knelt in the corner, where he pounded a plastic hammer against a giant plastic nail. Bam, bam, bam.

The noise punctuated Mark's thumping heart.

The boy's mother scooted past them. "Stop that pounding, Jeremy."

Mark glanced up to see everyone else in the room watching the boy now. Mark turned back to stare at Amanda, who was studying her wringing hands.

"It's going to be okay."

---