Bree started to rise but sat back down. “Jesse Hunt’s Brutus?”
The mention of Jesse made Lydia’s breath catch. She tried to avoid seeing him as much as possible, which was hard since she worked with Northern Frontier Search and Rescue and went to SAR sites to be there if a dog needed medical help. Jesse was often there with his Rottweiler. “No, Officer Nichols with the Anchorage K-9 Unit. He sometimes works with your husband at search and rescue sites.”
“Yes, Nichols was brought into the ER last Friday. David was upset. He came to the hospital as soon as he could to see how he was.”
“How’s he doing?” Lydia shook the image of Jesse Hunt, once a friend, from her mind. When she returned to Anchorage last year, she renewed several friendships, but not with Jesse, whom she’d betrayed right after she’d graduated from high school.
“He’s still on the critical list. His accident shows me how dangerous my husband’s job is, but David wouldn’t do anything else.” Bree rose. “I wish I could stay. But I have to be in early because the other doctor is sick.”
“We’ll catch up later.” Lydia rolled her shoulders and released a long breath.
Bree smiled. “When we both slow down. Tell Kate hi for me. She’s been asking me about being a doctor.”
“She has?” She should know that, but she and her seventeen-year-old sister had clashed a lot since she’d become her guardian last year.
“Yes, she doesn’t think she can work with animals like you and your dad, but she’s interested in the medical field. See you.”
Lydia watched Bree weave through the tables starting to fill up with people coming in for an early lunch. She scanned the bistro, trying to decide whether to stay and eat or order and take it back to the Aurora Animal Hospital down the street, the veterinary practice she inherited from her father when he died last year. They treated large and small animals as well as the Northern Frontier SAR dogs and the K-9s that worked with the police.
Her gaze settled on Melinda, the owner of the restaurant, talking to a man with dark brown hair sticking out of a black ball cap. The guy took Melinda’s hand and moved closer. Was this Todd, the boyfriend she’d been telling Lydia about this past month?
Lydia started to look away to give them some privacy when she spied the man lean toward Melinda, a furious expression on his face. Melinda jerked her hand from his grasp, and the guy pivoted and stormed away, passing Lydia’s table.
She averted her look toward a man and a young woman sitting at the table next to her. She knew the guy. He worked at the drugstore—
“Sorry you saw that, Lydia.”
She looked up at Melinda. “I’m the one sorry for staring. Are you all right?”
The bistro owner waved her hand. “Boyfriend problems. He isn’t too happy with me at the moment.” Melinda slipped into the chair next to Lydia. “How have you been?”
“Tired. I had to operate on one of the K-9 dogs that was hurt at the church bomb site. It’s been all over the news.”
“That’s what everyone’s been talking about. Two bombings close together.”
Lydia shivered when she thought about the pictures she’d seen on the news. “I know some police officers, and they’re working overtime.”
“Yeah, I heard there’s no connection between the hardware store and the church, but they were only ten days apart. Do you think it’s the same person? Have you heard if it’s the same MO?”
“It sounds like it. Both times there was a laugh track that sounded seconds before the bomb went off.”
“What a sick person!” Melinda rose. “Are you going to eat lunch here or order takeout since Bree left?”
“Takeout. The veggie wrap.”
“It shouldn’t take too long.” Melinda headed for the kitchen in the back.
Glad to be sitting for a few minutes, Lydia glanced at the different people coming into the bistro. Some she recognized because they were regulars, like herself, but a couple were new to her—a young, petite woman with an older gentleman, a young man with long brown hair and a bald man about thirty-five or forty. She loved to people watch. She’d once considered being a writer, but her love of animals clinched her decision to be a vet and follow in her father’s footsteps. She’d hoped that decision would reconcile them. It hadn’t.
Before Melinda brought her takeout, she made her way down a long hallway to the restroom. A man slipped out the exit door at the end of the corridor. Odd, it wasn’t used much.
A few minutes later as she came out of the woman’s bathroom and paused, she panned the dining area, pleased to see the restaurant doing so well. But one of the new customers had left. Maybe the bistro didn’t serve what he wanted. She noticed Melinda carrying a takeout bag toward the table where she’d been sitting.
But before Lydia moved forward, a blast of maniacal-sounding laughter resonated through the restaurant. Melinda dropped the sack, a look of horror on her face. Lydia took only two steps back into the hallway before her world exploded.
* * *
Sergeant Jesse Hunt took Brutus out of the back of his SUV, secured his leash and walked toward the rubble of the church he attended. One person still remained missing and two were found dead in the bombing last Wednesday. He was on duty and had only stopped by to see David Stone, the head of Northern Frontier SAR, at the bombing site to assess it after the two people were hurt searching it Friday.
“Have they stabilized the structure?” Jesse asked as he approached David.
His friend turned toward him, a grim expression on his face. “Yes, this morning. At least this time I hope nothing else happens. I don’t want any more people hurt, but we need to check thoroughly for the one missing.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen people found days later and I heard of someone who lasted a week in the wreckage. That’s why I’m here. I can help later after my shift.”
“Good. It’s nice that late August still gives us long days.”
“Is Pastor Paul around?”
“No, he went to a parishioner’s house. They’re making plans for holding a church service here on Sunday.”
“That sounds like him. Someone bombing his church isn’t going to stop him from having worship services.” Jesse surveyed the large mounds of debris, noting some were marked already searched. His church had been large and thriving. At first the authorities wondered if it had been a crime associated with religion, but as they investigated they discovered too many links to the hardware store destroyed a week and a half before the church. The establishments weren’t connected, but the way the bombings were carried out indicated the same person or persons did both, down to the type of bomb, detonated with a timer and the sound of a laugh track.
“At the hardware store there weren’t any deaths or injuries, but you and I know the two who died here.”
“And the one missing.” Jesse’s cell phone rang. As he answered
