now prominently displayed. A short lead-in, and then the screen switched to another feed, where a feature reporter faced Alex.
As Dylan listened in growing disbelief, Alex told how she’d linked the disappearance of a student four months previously to the attack on her friend Dawn Redbird just six weeks ago. She related how she first tracked down the identity of a girl whose mutilated body was left for dead on Highway 8, giving the girl’s parents closure on their daughter’s disappearance.
Her investigation led her to go undercover into the Patriots organization, where she learned enough to give police a tip that linked the Patriots to both the dead girl and the Native girl who was run off the road, resulting in the loss of her leg. There was something missing in the report, and that was what had conclusively pointed to the Patriots. Dylan recognized a standard police procedure. They were withholding something. Was that the tip Alex had been able to give them?
As much as he hated that Alex had put herself in danger not only from the Patriots but also from the legal system, Dylan couldn’t help being proud of her accomplishment. He saw pride in reflected on her face as well, but he also saw a shadow. The ordeal had affected her. It had been tough on her, whatever happened. He would have to be understanding as she healed.
When the interview was finally over, he began the task of returning the calls and messages. Yes, he was very proud of her. No, he didn’t know what she’d been up to. Yes, she deserved a nice vacation but school was starting in just a couple of weeks and he had a new job, so she probably wouldn’t get one. No, he didn’t know what the police were keeping private about the case.
Under all the excitement about Alex’s accomplishment, however, ran a chilling worry. Had they rounded up all the Patriots, or was one even now stalking Alex?
~~~
Alex stood still while the assistant took the microphone off her collar. Her thoughts were on her dad. She’d barely had time to call him and tell him something had happened before the interview aired. No time to elaborate, or prepare him for the shock he’d get if he watched it. She hoped he did, though. It would save her some words when she went to him later this afternoon.
Once freed of the microphone, she went to the ladies’ room to wipe off the excess makeup. This would be her career if she pursued her dream—except she’d be the interviewer instead of the interviewee. There had been a time when she would have been over the moon about being interviewed for a story. Today she felt a jumble of emotions that left her disoriented and anxious. This would be a good time for a Valium, except that she had the drive to Dodge ahead of her. She gave herself a mental shake to try to clear the cobwebs.
Before she headed for Dodge, she called her counselor for an emergency appointment. She wanted her head clear for her talk with her dad, and she wanted to get some things straight in her mind about Dylan. After inquiring about her state of mind during the raid on the Patriots’ safe house and discussing how and what she should say to her dad, he got around to the question that she’d have to answer before she could move to Tempe.
“Do you have any doubt that you love Dylan?” the counselor asked. Such a simple question, with a not-so-simple answer.
“I didn’t, until he told me to grow up. That made me mad, but now I’ve thought about it, I was acting like a spoiled, self-centered brat. What I learned about my mother shook me up.”
“And now you have that cleared up, don’t you?”
“Well, at least I know what happened, why she never came back. I mean, she couldn’t, right? Because she was dead. But what if she hadn’t died? Would she have come back, or would she have made a new life with this other man and her new baby? I don’t know that and I’ll never know.”
“No, you won’t. No amount of brooding about it will change that. What else could you do to move on?”
His challenge put the responsibility right back on her, and Alex knew in that moment that she could either continue to be a pain in the ass, or she could grow up. Handle her shit. Move on. To do that,