if that’s too personal, but that phrase you used is common with kids these days, and I noticed you watching the boys in the park.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m just keeping a close eye on the perimeter. The agents outside don’t have a view of this side of the property. I’m curious though. What’s it like? Working with kids all the time?”
“Challenging. You can have the best and worst moment in the same day.”
“How is that possible?”
Julia pulled two cups from the cupboard. “I’ve saved a child’s life and lost another in the same day.”
Ben placed his elbows on his knees. “What’s it like for you to lose a child? As a nurse?”
Julia’s pulled down one of the boxes of tea Eli had stocked. It touched her that he’d gathered these for her to try and make her feel more comfortable. There hadn’t been a man in her past who had even tried to be attuned to her needs. “I can’t speak as a mother about the loss of a child, because I’ve not been one, but I know as a nurse to lose a patient...particularly someone so young...” Julia pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Her gut clenched. There had been too many lost little ones in her eight years of nursing. “It’s devastating.”
Contemplating her statement, Ben shifted back and looked out the window.
There was something there. Something hidden she couldn’t quite figure out. Years of nursing instilled in Julia a wealth of intuition. Every day, she had to interpret the things patients could not say.
A child claiming her black eyes and swelling lips were the result of running into a door. The teenager with small, deliberate razor cuts on her forearms as the only means to experience the pain she could not speak of. It was her expertise to read the smallest impressions of verbal tone, the slightest shift of body language that would disclose a truth a patient didn’t want to confess.
She placed a tea bag in the brown mug.
Ben settled his eyes back to her. “I’ve lost victims in the line of fire. You’re right...it’s tough. But it’s not like losing a family member.”
Julia’s parents came to mind and how she didn’t have them anymore.
Ben was right—it wasn’t the same.
* * *
Eli slowly walked up the steps of the one-story redbrick structure of the facility where Hank Galloway, Julia’s grandfather, was a resident. His thoughts often wandered back to Julia, how seeing her in the flesh, so strong and healthy, made it difficult to keep his emotions in check.
In law enforcement, it was rare to see a good outcome to someone who had suffered from such a violent crime. Knowing that Hank was a retired law enforcement officer, Eli figured it would be hard for him to keep his nose out of Julia’s business—particularly if he felt her life was in danger.
Eli’s goal was to make it clear to Hank that that was exactly what he needed to do to help ensure Julia’s safety.
As he entered the facility, he spied the U.S. Marshal who was working undercover dressed as a volunteer to help keep an eye on things. They acknowledged each other only with the briefest glance as Eli approached the receptionist’s desk and inquired about Hank’s room.
She pointed down the hall. “Third door on the left.”
Eli inhaled deeply. He undid the top button of his dress shirt, loosened his tie and tried to dismiss the vexing nature that the fading imprint of holding Julia in his arms had on him. He knocked softly, semihoping that Hank might be napping.
“Enter.” The voice was strong—anything but weakened with age.
He stepped inside. On the wall hung several commendations and awards from Hank’s law enforcement career. They locked eyes, Hank’s brown eyes, so similar to Julia’s, clearly sizing Eli up.
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son.”
Hank, a few inches shorter than Eli, struggled to plant his cane and push himself up from the rocking chair.
Eli crossed the room quickly and grabbed his forearm to steady his tremors. Parkinson’s disease had ravaged his body and laid waste to his muscles. He was a hunched-over remnant of the man in the photos.
“Sir, please, you don’t have to get up.”
“I always like to meet a man eye-to-eye. Particularly one who took such an interest in my granddaughter.”
Holding tightly on to Eli, Hank struggled to a standing position and clasped Eli’s hand in his strong, chafed, leathery one. Even though his other muscles were weak, the ones in his hand were seemingly spared from the ravages of the disease.
“I know you were the detective on Julia’s case. Recognize your face from the newspaper stories but you’re also the one who helped with her rehab. Or am I just being presumptuous?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Nice to officially meet you, son. I’m Hank Galloway.”
“Eli Cayne, sir.”
“Now sit down,” Hank ordered.
Eli assisted Hank back to a sitting position and grabbed a folding chair that sat against the wall.
“I take it your visit has to do with Julia’s strange call earlier today.”
“It does, sir.”
Hank muted the game show he’d been watching and began to rock in his chair. “I noticed a new volunteer working today. Does that have to do with you, too?”
“It does, sir.”
“But you’re not going to tell me what’s going on?”
Eli sighed and settled his back against the cool metal of the chair. He eyed the door. The less Hank knew about Julia’s situation, the better off he was, but Eli also knew Hank’s bloodhound genes wouldn’t let him sit idle—Parkinson’s or not.
Maybe just letting him in on the secret was the best way to keep him from trouble.
“The U.S. Marshals’ office is concerned that a hit has been placed on Julia’s life. I’ve placed her in protective custody.”
The chair creaked as Hank pushed it back and forth for a good minute, his eyes never leaving Eli’s, the squeaking like voltage up Eli’s spine.
“So you’re with the U.S. Marshals now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t have much in the way of financial reserves, but I’d like to give you some money to offset the costs from all the help you gave Julia.”
Eli lifted his hands up. “It’s not necessary, sir. I was honored to be able to help.”
“Seems unusual for a man to take such interest in a girl and not want anything in return.”
