Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,32

heard her say so,” Amos said thickly. “I’m proud of you, Abi-girl. I’m always proud of you, though. You’re a good girl and very brave. Remember that.”

Abigail sniffled. “I will, Papa.”

“That’s all I can ask. Can I talk to Liza for a minute?”

“Yes.” But Abigail hesitated. “Agent Rodriguez is taking us to Miss Irina’s house. Will you be there soon?”

“I will. We’re on our way now, but we’re stuck in traffic. Mr. Rafe is saying it might take us an hour to get there. Give the phone to Miss Liza now.”

Liza took the phone and kissed Abigail on the top of her head. “Very brave,” she murmured, then spoke to Amos. “She’s okay, Amos. Really okay.”

“I know. I wanted to thank you. You likely saved my baby’s life.”

Liza’s cheeks heated. “No need. I did what anyone would do.”

Amos made an impatient noise. “Stop it. I heard Mercy tell Rafe what happened. How many people would have seen a flash of light and acted so quickly? Not many. So let me thank you, then tell me ‘You’re welcome.’ ”

Liza laughed softly. She’d come to care for and respect the older man during his convalescence. He exuded a paternal steadiness that calmed her. “You’re welcome.”

“That’s better. Now put Abigail back on. I want to tell her I love her before I hang up.”

Abigail told her papa that she loved him, too, then squinted at the screen. “I push the red circle to hang up, right?”

“Right,” Liza said, then handed the phone to Mercy. “Your papa is a nice man.”

“I know,” Abigail said. “He loves us. Me and Mercy. And Gideon, too,” she added, then pulled away enough to stare up at Liza. “Do you have a papa?”

“Abigail,” Mercy chided gently. “Liza may not be comfortable talking about her family.”

Abigail frowned. “Why not? What’s wrong with your family? Are they . . .” Her frown deepened. “Are they mean to you?”

Liza tapped the end of the little girl’s nose, charmed by the protective look in Abigail’s eyes. “No, they weren’t mean to me. Mercy is concerned because my family is all gone. It was always just me and my mother and my sister. My father wasn’t in our lives. He . . . well, he left when I was a baby. We heard later that he died.”

Abigail’s eyes widened. “He just left? On purpose?”

“On purpose,” Liza confirmed. “He wasn’t a nice man like your papa. He sometimes hit, so I think my mother was happier once he left. But my mother died. She got sick with cancer.”

“And your sister?” Abigail asked.

“She died, too.” Liza glanced at Mercy, who looked sad but gave her a nod of approval. “She was killed. A very bad man killed her.”

Abigail sucked in a startled breath. “Oh no. I’m sorry.”

Liza smiled down at her. “Thank you. I miss her, every day.”

Abigail’s eyes filled with tears and they spilled down her cheeks. “Then you were all alone?”

Her sorrow was like a punch to the gut. This child saw, heard, and felt too much. “Yes and no.” Taking the tissue Mercy offered, Liza dabbed at Abigail’s wet face. “I met Agent Tom about that time and he introduced me to his family. I was only seventeen then, so I went to live with a friend of his mother. Her name is Dana and she’s like my new big sister.”

“Like Mercy is to me?”

“Very much like that. She let me live with her and her husband. They had a lot of kids, so I wasn’t alone anymore, and that was nice. Some of the kids were hers, and—Well, that’s not true. All of the kids were hers. Some were permanently hers and some were temporary. They lived with her while their own families fixed the problems they were having. That’s called foster care. But Dana loved every child that came through her house.”

“How long did you live with them?” Mercy asked. “I’ve been curious, but didn’t want to pry. Don’t answer if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” And it was true. That phase of her life was one she didn’t mind remembering. “I stayed with them until I was eighteen. I’d already decided—even before my sister Lindsay died—that I’d go into the military. Lindsay and I didn’t have any money, and, at the time, I thought Lindsay was cleaning office buildings at night to put food on the table. I didn’t want to be a burden to her when I was old enough to carry my own weight. I’d