sister trumped everything else in Riley’s life. Including Thayne. She owed Madison that much.
“Don’t go around me on this,” Tom warned. “I can be your biggest supporter. I’ll go to the mat for you. Cross me and I’ll become your worst enemy if it’s in the best interest of you and Unit 6.”
He ended the call.
Riley tossed the phone onto the table.
Her computer beeped.
A message in bold yellow letters popped up on a red screen.
A CCESS D ENIED .
Tom had done it. He’d really done it. He’d cut her off.
She leaned back in her chair and tucked her knees to her chest. Her mind whirled. The computer was silent. The mantel clock’s second hand ticked, the click growing louder with each strike. The muffled sound of a siren echoed below. Ambulance this time.
Riley laid her head on her knees. Everything she’d worked so hard to achieve was slipping away. She couldn’t stop looking for Madison. She’d promised herself. She’d promised her parents. Her mother.
That horrible darkness that had enveloped her the first year after Madison had vanished clutched at Riley’s throat. She grabbed the phone back and stared at the lit screen.
Thayne. She needed to hear his voice. He’d butted heads with his SEAL team commander more than once over the rules of engagement. Politics trumped mission too often to count, and innocents died because of the choices of a few suits in a very safe room. Thayne might be the only person who would truly understand.
Her finger lingered above the screen until she squeezed her eyes shut and let the phone fall from her hand. Counting on him was dangerous. She could tough out this challenge alone. She had to, because she’d learned a long time ago. She really couldn’t count on anyone but herself.
Hospitals possessed that odd smell of illness and strange lighting that put most anyone on edge. The double doors of the twelve-bed facility swung closed behind Thayne and his father. They didn’t even pause at the main desk but veered to the right down one of the two hallways.
The Singing River sheriff pressed the phone to his ear. “You find anything, anything at all, I want to know.” He shoved the cell into his pocket and scowled at Thayne. “The only prints on the phone are Cheyenne’s. It’s like she just vanished into nothing.”
“Let me go, you old fool,” a voice cried out. “I’m late. I have to get to class. The kids are waiting.”
“Gram,” Thayne said, meeting his father’s startled gaze.
They hurried to room six and stood in the doorway. Gram might be small, but the fire in her eyes made Thayne smile with fondness, even as his heart broke. She sat on the side of the bed, trying to get up. His six-foot-one, burly grandfather stood beside her, eyes resigned—and pained all the way down deep to his soul.
“Helen, honey.” Retired Sheriff Lincoln Blackwood leaned over her, pressing her gently back to the bed. Gram shifted, avoiding his touch. Pops lowered his arms. “You’re retired, sweetheart. No class today.”
Gram shook her head, staring at the hospital room floor. “You’re lying to me. Why are you lying?”
The words saddened Thayne. She hadn’t taught school for fifteen years. The first time he’d witnessed her living her past—right after he’d come home—he hadn’t known what to say or how to act. He’d learned quickly that Alzheimer’s leaves no prisoners, and he could do nothing but surrender to the moment.
“She woke up about two this morning and won’t go back to sleep,” Pops said.
Thayne crossed the room and smiled. “Gram, are you feeling better? That bandage on your head is quite the fashion statement.”
Her hand touched the dressing on her scalp, and she winced. Her sharp eyes shifted to Thayne, and her eyes widened. “Lincoln? It’s about time you got here. Get this old geezer out of here.” She tilted her head toward Pops and lowered her voice. “He’s trying to keep me here. I want to go
“Don’t go around me on this,” Tom warned. “I can be your biggest supporter. I’ll go to the mat for you. Cross me and I’ll become your worst enemy if it’s in the best interest of you and Unit 6.”
He ended the call.
Riley tossed the phone onto the table.
Her computer beeped.
A message in bold yellow letters popped up on a red screen.
A CCESS D ENIED .
Tom had done it. He’d really done it. He’d cut her off.
She leaned back in her chair and tucked her knees to her chest. Her mind whirled. The computer was silent. The mantel clock’s second hand ticked, the click growing louder with each strike. The muffled sound of a siren echoed below. Ambulance this time.
Riley laid her head on her knees. Everything she’d worked so hard to achieve was slipping away. She couldn’t stop looking for Madison. She’d promised herself. She’d promised her parents. Her mother.
That horrible darkness that had enveloped her the first year after Madison had vanished clutched at Riley’s throat. She grabbed the phone back and stared at the lit screen.
Thayne. She needed to hear his voice. He’d butted heads with his SEAL team commander more than once over the rules of engagement. Politics trumped mission too often to count, and innocents died because of the choices of a few suits in a very safe room. Thayne might be the only person who would truly understand.
Her finger lingered above the screen until she squeezed her eyes shut and let the phone fall from her hand. Counting on him was dangerous. She could tough out this challenge alone. She had to, because she’d learned a long time ago. She really couldn’t count on anyone but herself.
Hospitals possessed that odd smell of illness and strange lighting that put most anyone on edge. The double doors of the twelve-bed facility swung closed behind Thayne and his father. They didn’t even pause at the main desk but veered to the right down one of the two hallways.
The Singing River sheriff pressed the phone to his ear. “You find anything, anything at all, I want to know.” He shoved the cell into his pocket and scowled at Thayne. “The only prints on the phone are Cheyenne’s. It’s like she just vanished into nothing.”
“Let me go, you old fool,” a voice cried out. “I’m late. I have to get to class. The kids are waiting.”
“Gram,” Thayne said, meeting his father’s startled gaze.
They hurried to room six and stood in the doorway. Gram might be small, but the fire in her eyes made Thayne smile with fondness, even as his heart broke. She sat on the side of the bed, trying to get up. His six-foot-one, burly grandfather stood beside her, eyes resigned—and pained all the way down deep to his soul.
“Helen, honey.” Retired Sheriff Lincoln Blackwood leaned over her, pressing her gently back to the bed. Gram shifted, avoiding his touch. Pops lowered his arms. “You’re retired, sweetheart. No class today.”
Gram shook her head, staring at the hospital room floor. “You’re lying to me. Why are you lying?”
The words saddened Thayne. She hadn’t taught school for fifteen years. The first time he’d witnessed her living her past—right after he’d come home—he hadn’t known what to say or how to act. He’d learned quickly that Alzheimer’s leaves no prisoners, and he could do nothing but surrender to the moment.
“She woke up about two this morning and won’t go back to sleep,” Pops said.
Thayne crossed the room and smiled. “Gram, are you feeling better? That bandage on your head is quite the fashion statement.”
Her hand touched the dressing on her scalp, and she winced. Her sharp eyes shifted to Thayne, and her eyes widened. “Lincoln? It’s about time you got here. Get this old geezer out of here.” She tilted her head toward Pops and lowered her voice. “He’s trying to keep me here. I want to go
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