Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,33

already discussed my plans with an army recruiting officer in Minneapolis.”

Abigail’s eyes were wide. “You were a soldier?”

“I was,” Liza said soberly.

“Did you kill people?” Abigail whispered.

“Abigail!” Mercy hissed.

Abigail stiffened. “I’m sorry.”

But Liza could see that she didn’t understand why she’d been scolded. “It’s a fair question, Mercy,” Liza said, giving Abigail a hug. “It’s all right, Abs. Yes. I did. And . . . well, that’s hard to talk about.”

“Why?” It was asked with such innocence that Liza’s heart hurt. She remembered being that innocent, so many years ago. Before her mother died. Before Lindsay was taken.

Before she’d made decisions that still haunted her.

“Because my job was taking care of people, not shooting. But one day we were attacked and I had to jump in and help.” Changing the subject, she gave the child what she hoped was a warm smile. “I was a medic. Do you know that is?”

Abigail mouthed the word, testing it. “Like a doctor?”

“A little like that. I’m not a doctor, though. Someday I’ll be a nurse, but medics do . . .” She faltered, trying to figure out how to explain it to a seven-year-old. “We took care of soldiers who got hurt on the battlefield. Emergency fixes, until they could get to a surgeon.”

Abigail looked doubtful. “Emergency fixes?”

Liza hesitated. “Soldiers get hurt sometimes.”

“Like Papa did.” Abigail lifted her chin. “He got hurt saving Mercy, because Brother DJ wanted to shoot her. Because he’s bad.”

“You’re right,” Liza agreed. “DJ is—”

“Evil,” Abigail interrupted angrily, her jaw clenched. “He is going to hell.”

Mercy blinked, taken aback at the little girl’s vehemence. “That sounds about right.”

Abigail seemed to relax at Mercy’s confirmation. “Gideon’s girlfriend took care of Papa until the para—” She pursed her lips. “What are they called again?”

“The paramedics?” Liza asked.

“Yes. Daisy made his bleeding stop until the paramedics came. That’s what Miss Irina told me. Then they put bandages on Papa and took him to the hospital. In a helicopter. Is that what you did when you were a medic?”

“Pretty much. Lots of bandaging.”

“Did you go in helicopters?”

“Sometimes. It depended on where we were and how close the enemy was.”

“Who was your enemy?”

Liza blew out a breath. “I’ll get a map and show you, okay? I’m not ignoring your question,” she said when Abigail frowned. “It will be easier to explain with a book and a map.”

“And a miracle, maybe,” Mercy muttered.

Liza had to agree. After years in the army, she knew who they’d been fighting, but that knowledge was clouded with memories of the civilians who’d been caught in the cross fire.

Women, children. Little girls who’d been Abigail’s age. Until they died. In her arms.

She swallowed hard, pushing that memory back as well. She was not going there now.

Or ever, if she had her way. Unfortunately, her subconscious didn’t play by the rules. She’d probably dream of the children tonight.

Mercy was watching her, concern in her eyes. “Are you all right, Liza?”

No, not really. “Yeah.” She turned back to Abigail. “Is that okay? Waiting till later?”

“Yes. Thank you.” The child went silent and Liza wished she’d start talking again. It was unnerving, hunkering down on the floor of an FBI SUV as a grim-faced agent drove them back to Granite Bay, where Karl and Irina lived.

In fact, they should have arrived by now.

“Agent Rodriguez?” Liza said quietly. “ETA?”

“Ten,” Rodriguez said, tone clipped. “Thought we had a tail, so I took the next exit.”

“The tail is gone?” Mercy asked.

Abigail went still on Liza’s lap, hearing the tension in their voices.

“Yes. They exited already. Just being careful, Miss Callahan.”

“Thank you,” Mercy said sincerely.

A grunt was her answer and Liza’s lips twitched unexpectedly when Abigail piped up. “You should say ‘You’re welcome,’ Agent Rodriguez. It’s not polite to say—” She imitated Rodriguez’s grunt.

Agent Rodriguez coughed, probably hiding a laugh. “You’re right, Abigail. You’re welcome, Miss Callahan.”

Liza hugged Abigail hard. “Nice job,” she whispered loudly, tickling Abigail’s ribs.

Abigail giggled and wriggled, then froze, staring at the vee of Liza’s blouse. A button had come loose, revealing more cleavage than Liza normally did.

“You have a tattoo,” Abigail said with a mix of awe and horror.

“Yes,” Liza said slowly. “I do. Is that bad?”

“They made Papa get a tattoo. They made all of the boys get one when they turned thirteen. Even the grown-up men had to get one if they joined the congregation.”

“Oh.” Liza sighed. Abigail sounded too grown-up herself as she parroted the words she’d undoubtedly heard from Eden’s adults. She’d known that Eden marked the males