Page 15 of Heart of a Hero

Kissing Olivia good night, she stood and walked out of the room with Laura. They walked into Laura’s room, and before she could say good night, Laura turned and asked, “Is Mark a friend of yours?”

“I’m just getting to know him. Why?”

“I really want to be in the running group and thought maybe you could put in a good word.”

Karen recognized her eldest’s worrying nature. “Honey, it’s open to anyone. You won’t need any special help from me.”

Laura sighed and smiled. “Oh. Okay. Good.” She climbed into bed and opened her arms as Karen bent to kiss her good night. Just before Karen turned out the light, Laura said, “You know, Mom… Olivia and I were telling you the truth when we said we wanted you to find romance. You deserve that.”

“I know, baby,” she whispered and flipped off the light.

Walking across the hall, she entered her own bedroom and looked around. When they’d moved in a year ago, she’d spent so much time making sure the girls’ rooms were just as they wanted and the communal living spaces warm and comfortable. But this room was simple and almost bare. Other than the same pictures on the nightstand that were in both girls’ rooms. She sat on the bed and picked up the frame, her gaze running lovingly over their expressions of holiday joy all those years ago. Sighing, she placed it back on the nightstand.

Moving to the bathroom, she stared at her reflection. She didn’t look the same as Jeffrey’s bride fifteen years before. She didn’t look like the same young mother she’d been when she left the Army. She noticed the lines emanating from her eyes and scoffed.They sure as hell weren’t all laugh lines.Grief had a way of etching itself into the very cells of her body.

She tried to think of what Mark saw when he looked at her tonight. She was thirty-nine yet sometimes looked in her early thirties.And sometimes I feel like a hundred and thirty!Standing straight, she refocused. Good genes had given her smooth skin, and her blond hair was styled for ease but also looked healthy. She had baby weight that had never left her hips or tummy, but that was life.

The idea of dating someone at this stage of her life was daunting. She was no longer the young, starry-eyed lieutenant nurse who’d fallen for the dashing Army captain. She was older. Wiser. But still able to have her breath taken away by looking into the intense gaze of Mark Robbins. A smile spread over her face, and the butterflies in her stomach took flight.

6

The thief moved through the night like a shadow, dressed in dark clothing that blended seamlessly into the quiet neighborhood. With the barest of sounds, they unlocked the back door, courtesy of a cousin with reliable information. A slight smirk tugged at their lips—breaking into a home had never been so effortless.

Slipping inside, the thief paused in the kitchen, where only the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silvery beams on the countertops. The still atmosphere felt almost eerily peaceful. They reached into their pocket and switched on a penlight, the narrow beam piercing the darkness just enough to move through the room without hesitation.

It was easy to predict the routine of the elderly couple. The purse sat right where they expected it—on the counter, waiting to be plundered. The thief’s gloved fingers deftly opened the billfold, extracting the credit cards and cash with the precision of someone who had done this countless times before. No rush, no fumbling—just smooth, calculated movements.

Their gaze flicked over the counter, where a small tray held an assortment of prescription bottles. Most were useless, but the familiar labels of oxycodone and Xanax caught their attention.Without a second thought, the thief pocketed the valuable pills, knowing these would fetch a decent price on the streets.

A small thrill ran down their spine as they stood there, the couple still sound asleep upstairs, blissfully unaware that a stranger had slipped into their home and was now walking away with their possessions. But the thief wasn’t foolish enough to risk more.

As silently as they’d entered, the thief slipped out the way they came. The door closing behind them despite the broken lock was barely audible. They moved quickly through the backyard, hugging the shadows of the fence until they reached the street, where their car waited. Once inside the vehicle, they allowed themselves a moment of satisfaction, the weight of the small pack on their lap a satisfying reminder of their night's work.

They grinned, glancing at the pack before setting it on the passenger seat. This had gone off without a hitch. The thief drove through the quiet streets with their senses sharp, as though every shadow could hold some hidden threat. But they were practiced at this, meticulous and vigilant, and the thrill of their success only made them more focused.

The house was silent as they stepped inside, the stillness a welcome comfort. Sitting at the kitchen table, they opened the pack and spread out the contents—cash, cards, and those precious pills. Their lips curled into a satisfied grin as they leaned back, admiring their haul.

7

“Mrs. Delgato, I’m Detective Mark Robbins, and this is Detective Brad Stowe. We’re here to ask some questions about the break-in?—”

“They came right through the back door! They were in my kitchen while we were upstairs sleeping. We could have been murdered in our beds!”

“We know the deputies have talked to you, and they’ve looked at the door. We want the forensic team to look at the back door. They will also look around the yard and then come in through the back if that’s okay?—”

“Yes, yes! Whatever you need!”

“If we can come in, we’d like to ask you and your husband a few questions?—”

“Come on in! My husband is right here in the living room. We didn’t hear a thing! I came down and found the door slightly open?—”

“Ma’am, let’s sit down with your husband, and we can go through everything?—”

“Yes, yes!” She finally stepped back, allowing Mark and Brad to walk inside the small living room.

Mr. Delgato sat in a recliner next to the sofa. A walker was in front of him with a cane leaning against the table beside him. After the introductions, they sat on the sofa, and Mrs. Delgato took the other chair. She opened her mouth, but Mr. Delgato got there first. “Donna, let these men ask their questions. They’re the professionals and know what they need from us.”

She blinked, and for a moment, Mark thought she would burst into tears. Finally, she offered her husband a watery smile and nodded. This part of his job made the victims' emotions real. As difficult as it was, even as a detective, Mark never wanted to take emotions out of the crimes. He glanced at Brad and, receiving his nod, turned to the couple.

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