Page 69 of Luck Be Mine
“I love you.” Her voice broke on the words. “Hold on to that.”
“Copy. I’ll see you soon.” The line clicked off.
Cait’s eyes flew to Mackey and Quaid. Tears spilled down her cheeks, a sob tearing from her throat. Quaid slid an arm around her waist, holding her against his side. Mackey shifted closer on the other side.
“We have you, Doc.” Mackey’s steady voice soothed.
But this wasn’tDoc. This was the woman, the wife, who’d just talked her husband off a ledge. Her strong, capable, determined husband whose faith in himself felt broken.
“I’ve been where he is, Cait.” Mackey’s stared across the street, expression grim. “Sometimes, you need to touch base. He’ll settle. You gave him that. An anchor.”
“I hope so.” She wiped her face and eyes.
Quaid eased away. “Look at me, Cait.”
She pulled in a breath and gazed at him.
The serious Quaid – the version few people saw – looked back at her. “If there’s one thing I know about him, it is how much he loves you. He’ll get back to you, Cait. He always keeps his promises.”
“He always keeps his promises,” she repeated.
He was alive. He would come home.
Safe harbor would be waiting.
Part II
“A strong man stands up for himself.
A stronger man stands up for others.”
Sam Elliott
NOW
Chapter Eleven
August 2024
◊ Three Years, Safe Harbor Home ◊
Cait made a circuit around her bedroom, opening blinds for brighter morning light, and mourned not tripping over her husband. Gone ten days and dark the whole time. She swallowed against surging worry and straightened the white comforter and blue pillows. Folding the extra nubby blanket, she checked under the edges of the bed for her shoes.
“Where are they, dammit?” The same straightening process had happened in the spacious bathroom to no avail.
Glancing at the clock and swearing, she made a quick check under the divan in her messy art room, then proceeded on a more thorough check of the living room with its light, airy space, comfortable sofas, and side tables. The family room with the red sofa had been undisturbed lately. Back in the kitchen, she stopped by the large island, checking under the stools. The coffee pot had perked, its brew filling the kitchen with a rich aroma. The blueberry muffins, ones Doogie made inherkitchen, were calling ‘eat me’ from the freezer.
Last night’s kitchen clean-up reminded her why boots should be put away, not kicked off and abandoned. She’d also been in Hunt’s work room and the garage – hell, all over the house. The only place she left alone was the guest room. Jackie came for a visit two months ago. Cait hadn’t been in there since.
She dressed in black jeans and her red QM shirt for work today, but her boots were essential. Heels, flats, or flip flops would not keep the outfit professional. The black lace-up boots kept her in easy compliance with the operative dress code.
A big staff meeting was scheduled this morning to introduce seven new employees. She purposefully chose to wear clothing to blend in. With her hair pulled back and light makeup, shecould be one of many employees. Elizabeth was the only one who could pull off feminine and still ooze power which made everyone trip over themselves to comply with her directives.
A thought occurred and she snapped her fingers. “Inside the garage entrance.” She eased past her grandmother’s oak kitchen table and the coffee station. At the back entrance, she poked in the security code on the monitor and opened the door, checking the mat on the floor in the garage. Nope.
She shut the door, set the alarm again, and glanced through the bay window and across the front porch to the sparkling, dew-drenched grass and a flower bed filled with pink monkey flowers, white alyssum, and a colorful variety of cosmos.
Frank Walker, her neighbor, strode up the driveway, the sun flashing off his silver hair. She usually had a daily check-in with her cop friend by the mailbox. She was behind schedule.
