LITMIR.BIZ

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with the police. Dad’s case is linked to Pauline’s and the cop who’s in charge now that Officer Huffington’s been called away hates Brent Mitchell. I’m not sure he’s going to give the case his best.”

      Angela lifted an eyebrow. “Brent? The guy who was in the office when you were attacked?”

      She nodded.

      “If the police are hostile to Brent, and he was on the list in Dad’s file...” Angela said.

      “Then you need to stay away from him,” Candace finished.

      “Because you think I’m going to get involved with the wrong guy again, just like I did with Nate?”

      “No, Donna,” Angela said. “That was a mistake. You’ve paid for it, you’ve been forgiven for it. The only person who doesn’t believe that is you.”

      “It’s always been so easy for you to accept things.”

      Angela’s green eyes caught hers. “If you only knew,” she said quietly.

      Shame licked at Donna’s insides as she searched her sister’s face, grown so thin, so tired, since her return stateside. They suspected Angela was suffering from PTSD, but she refused to discuss it. Donna knew that for all her reluctance to talk, Angela had not left the horrors of war behind. She caught her sister’s fingers. “I’m sorry. It seems like I just apologize over and over now.”

      Angela clasped her hand tight. “It’s a tough time for the Gallaghers. We need to support each other.”

      “That means you shouldn’t go off on some sort of detective mission by yourself,” Candace put in. She tucked her small frame onto a chair, cross-legged. “You’ve got a veterinary practice to run—stick to that.”

      Candace was always the direct one; tactless, some might say, but since she’d lost Rick in Afghanistan five years before, she’d been softened and tempered. It shone on her face, through the bossiness. Inside, she was tender, fragile as spun glass. Still, they did their share of battling.

      “I’ve closed my practice for a week.”

      Candace frowned. “Maybe too much free time isn’t a good idea right now.”

      “Don’t tell me how to deal with this, Candace.”

      Her eyes flashed. “I’ve had some experience with loss that you haven’t.”

      “I understand that.” She resented her sister for telling her how she should grieve. “How’s Sarah?” she said to change the subject. “I didn’t get a text yet this morning. Any progress?”

      “Stable, but they’re keeping her in the coma for another few days until the brain swelling goes down,” Angela said.

      “How’s the blood pressure?”

      “Meds are holding it to an appropriate level.” Angela sighed. “Ironic.”

      It was ironic because Sarah, a surgical nurse, would not even take an aspirin unless she was in dire straits.

      There’s poison in every pill, she’d say.

      And their father’s death was the bitterest pill of all.

      “Don’t stray from the point,” Candace said before finishing her doughnut. “Please tell us that you’re done with the sleuthing. My nerves can’t take much more.”

      “I am going to visit Open Vistas today. That’s where Pauline Mitchell worked.”

      Candace stood and began to pace. “What do you hope to find out there?”

      “I don’t know.” Brent’s haggard face surfaced in her mind. Was she looking for a reason to see him? She could not be that ridiculous. “But I’ve got to do it.”

      “Can’t you wait until Marco’s back? If he heard about this...” Candace started.

      “Don’t tell him. The man needs to grieve. It isn’t fair to have him worrying about things back home.”

      “Agreed,” Angela said. “But you’ve got to promise that it ends after your visit to Open Vistas.”

      Candace gaped at Angela. “Don’t tell me you think it’s a good idea for her to get involved in this?”

      “It’s not, but I also don’t think she can get into too much trouble at an assisted living facility.” She offered a rueful glance over the top of her coffee cup as she sipped. “Besides, I think that when she arrives, the police are going to tell her to get lost in no uncertain terms.”

      “And she’s going to listen to them better than she does to us?”

      Angela shrugged. “They’ve got badges and guns. We’ve got doughnuts and coffee.”

      Donna laughed, grateful that God had blessed her with these nosy, maddening sisters. “I promise I’m going to stay out of trouble.”

      “Uh-huh.” Candace remained unconvinced. “When are you going? I’ll come along.”

      “Today. Soon as I can.”

      “Oh, man. I’ve got to get Tracy to school. Mom’s with her right now before she goes to the hospital.”

      Donna felt secretly relieved.

      “And I’m visiting a soldier’s family today.” A shadow darkened Angela’s face and Donna marveled again at her sister’s strength. How much sorrow had she taken on her slim shoulders, offering God’s comfort to families in their darkest hour when they’d learned their soldiers were not coming home? And how could she comfort when her own soul was torn in two?

      “I thought you were on leave for a while.”

      Angela shrugged. “They asked for me.”

      “No problem,” Donna said. “Let’s meet up this afternoon at the hospital and try to get Mom to eat something.”

      “Okay.” Candace fixed her with a mom look of her own. “But remember that you promised to stay out of trouble. Leave the investigating to the cops.”

      Donna nodded meekly and accepted hugs and kisses from her sisters.

      When the door closed behind them, she watched the two make their way to Candace’s beloved Volvo.

       Leave the investigating to the cops. You’re grieving. We are, too.

       You need to stay away from him.

      Good reasons, sound logic, common sense.

      And in spite of all of it, she grabbed her car keys and headed out.

      * * *

      Brent arrived at Open Vistas feeling thoroughly ashamed that he’d never visited Pauline’s place of work before. He’d heard her speak of the clients, her little band of special-needs adults whom she escorted on various excursions. She loved them, especially one by the name of Harvey.

      The driveway led to a tidy whitewashed building with neatly tended hibiscus shrubs flanking the path. Meandering walkways cut through the property, leading to three modern structures that appeared to be two-story apartment buildings. In his mind, he’d pictured a dormitory-style place crowded with residents. This was anything but.

      He let himself into the office and met a tall man with a lush mustache and a shining bald scalp. The space was decorated with pine garlands. Elvis crooned about being home for Christmas.

      Brent felt an emotional punch to the gut. Christmastime. He’d lost Carrie on December 23. Would he add his sister to the season of loss? He drove away the thought and accepted the manager’s handshake.

      “Welcome. I’m Kevin Carpenter. How can I help you?”

      “My name’s Brent Mitchell. My sister works here.”

      He gasped. “You’re

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