shifted to Wade’s right to see who shouted at them to stop. One look, and she saw a security guard headed their way. But one glance from Wade, and she knew he was about to blow his top.
“Get back behind me until I know it’s safe,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Just because I’m Jeff’s little sister, you don’t have to protect me. I’m tough, and he taught me everything I need to know to ward off danger.”
“This isn’t your little racetrack. The moment you left home to come see me, you put yourself on a much more dangerous course. One that puts me in a position to protect you. Now get behind me.” His blues blazed like ice.
Lacey slunk back behind him as the guard stepped up. “That dog can’t be in here.”
“She’s a service animal,” Wade replied, his voice monotone. “Where I go, she goes.”
“You don’t look disabled to me,” the guard said, and Lacey dropped her mouth in astonishment at the guy’s callous remark.
With every second of being kept hidden, Lacey felt her blood boil. A look to her feet and she could see the toe of her boot tapping. The next second, Promise nudged her clenched fist and grabbed her attention. Slowly, Lacey released her fingers to dig them into the dog’s soft golden-red fur. She watched her fuzzy eyebrows bounce, first one then the other. It reminded Lacey of a dancing caterpillar, and made her giggle. So quick, her anger simmered to a slow boil, then to nothing. There was just no getting angry around this animal. Promise offered so much love and made a person redirect their negativity into a positive response to return her love back to her.
“No, I don’t suppose I do,” Wade replied to the guard. He reached into his back blue-jeans pocket under his army coat and removed his wallet. Lacey could hear him flap out a folded piece of paper she could only assume he handed over to the guard to read.
Lacey thought he would say more about his PTSD injury, but he didn’t.
“We’re very strict about animals on the trains. Service animals only,” the guard said.
“As you can see by the document, she’s certified.”
That was all Wade planned to say? Lacey risked a glance from behind the patch on his upper right arm. The guard pored over the paper, obviously hoping for some falsification. She couldn’t stand here and allow this unfairness to go on. She had to speak her mind.
“This man is a captain in the US Army. He fought for you to keep your freedom. He has a right to have this dog to help him now.”
“Lacey,” Wade warned. “Not every battle is worth the fight.”
“Promise is worth it. And so are—” She stopped abruptly. The false words of affirmation stuck on her tongue. However indirectly, this man was responsible for her brother’s death.
“Not to worry. I know I’m not worth it.”
The guard handed the paper back. “Where’s the dog’s vest and leash?”
Wade reached into one of the many pockets of his coat and traded the paper for something red. “I have the vest here, but we had to leave in a hurry and the leash was forgotten.”
An excruciating amount of discretion time punctuated the conversation. Finally the guard said, “The dog should be on a leash...but since it’s Christmas, I’ll let it go. Just put the vest on her.”
Wade snapped the red service cape to Promise’s collar, then grabbed Lacey’s arm to move her forward, but the guard halted them again with “Hey, buddy.”
Wade turned back. “Yes?”
“Just so you know, I am thankful for your service.” The guard nodded and went back to his post.
Wade didn’t wait for any more interruptions. “We’ve got to move,” he said, hustling her forward.
He led the way down some stairs to a row of lockers against a wall. After a quick look around the near-empty station, he put out his hand for the key.
Lacey lifted it over her head and gave it to him. Locker number 726 accepted the key, and a quick turn later, the metal door swung wide with a creak and clatter.
“Any particular reason why you chose 726?” Lacey asked as Wade reached in for the sole contents.
Another envelope.
“It’s the month and date of the accident.”
“Your accident? The one that left you an orphan and your sister burned and your baby brother dead?”
His mouth dropped at all the information she already knew. “July 26. At 4:20 p.m., if you want all the details, Questions.”
“So you were investigating your accident and asked Jeff to help. Is he the one who told you your mother was a spy?”
“Shh.” He scanned around them and whispered, “No. I figured that out when I was eighteen. I found some information that told me my mom was not the person I thought she was. I found a collection of her aliases in one of her secret rooms. It was her Russian identities that had me leaving for the army the next day, needing to get away. But then one day I had this need to know what happened, who she really was. I thought if I did some investigating, it might make the images go away.”
“What kind of images?”
“Images you won’t understand, and shouldn’t. Anyway, that’s how I met your brother. He caught me snooping. When I told him why, he said he might be able to help. We set this locker up as a place to pass information without anyone knowing. Or thought we had anyway.”
Wade read the name written on the envelope. He lifted his head and showed it to her. “Except this is to you. Not me.”
“Me? But how would I know to come here for it? He left me the key and a piece of paper with your name on it. But there were no directions for the locker. If I hadn’t gone to find you, I wouldn’t have ever known it was here.”
“Acting first must be a pattern of yours he knows well.”
Lacey snatched the envelope. “So what? I’m driven. Some would say that’s a good quality to have.”
“If you have a death wish, sure.”
Lacey barely heard his remark because seeing her name scrawled on the front of the envelope written in Jeff’s handwriting nearly undid her. Tears sprang to her eyes as she realized this was the last letter Jeff wrote to her and would ever write again.
“Would you mind if I read this in private?” She looked at Wade over the paper, the feeling of moisture in her eyes.
Wade gave a quick nod. “I’ll be over by the stairs. Don’t take too long.” Promise followed her soldier, and as soon as Lacey heard the tap of his boots and the click of Promise’s claws fade away, she ripped open the envelope and withdrew the single-page letter.
The first words brought more tears to her eyes and clouded her vision so much she could barely read on. Her hands shook as Jeff stated that if she was reading this then he was dead.
