radiated in his startling blue eyes. He waited for her, didn’t force her to enter. She took a deep breath. She pushed his hand away from her arm and walked into the room, her head held high.
An older Chinese man sitting at the conference table jumped up when they entered. He bowed to Jake and then to her.
When Lexie returned his bow and greeted him in Chinese, a soft smile spread across his face.
His voice was soft, tinged with the musical accents that never failed to calm her spirit.
“Ah, yes. Miss Beloi. I remember your brother told me that his sister spoke Mandarin Chinese.” He added, “And like your brother, you are a Kung Fu master, trained by Master Wan Li, yes? I have never had the honor of meeting him, but he is a famous sensei. You are fortunate to have trained with him.”
Lexie nodded in agreement, a twinge of guilt gripping her chest. She hadn’t called Master Wan or Madam Juen since she left San Francisco. She didn’t want to hear the pain in their voices. She didn’t think she could bear it.
Jake broke in, ushering her to a chair across from the solemn man with the haunted eyes. Even before Jake introduced him, Lexie knew Dr. Chang had seen much pain in his lifetime, but still allowed it to affect him. Unlike so many of the policemen and soldiers she met, he had not put up a wall to protect himself from other people’s raging grief. She was glad he was here.
Jake was speaking to her. “I invited Dr. Chang to join us, Lexie. He is the head pathologist on base. Dr. Chang can answer any questions you have that I can’t answer.”
Jake called out in response to a cautious knock at the door. Private Moran entered carrying a rattling tray of glasses and bottles of water. He stumbled against the doorframe, precariously tilting the bottles of water tingling against the glasses. His scarlet cheeks flamed brighter.
Jake gave a heavy sigh.
“Thank you, private. Just put the tray on the corner of the table. I’ll take it from there.”
The young soldier nodded, placing the tray next to Jake. His hands shook and a bottle of water fell on its side with a clang. Jake rolled his eyes and dismissed him with a flick of his wrist.
“At ease, soldier. You’re excused.”
As the door closed behind the hapless young man, Jake muttered, “Sure hope somebody warns me when Private Moran takes to the shooting range. I’ll make a point of being in Afghanistan.”
For a short moment, his small joke lightened the grim silence at the table.
Jake poured three glasses of water and handed one to Lexie and another to Dr. Chang.
Jake turned to face her. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table. He held her gaze, not letting her look away. The fear that had been gnawing at her for five days reared up. She thought she might choke on it. Jake’s stern expression catapulted her anxiety to new heights.
His voice was quiet, firm.
“Lexie, I need to give you fair warning.”
Glancing at the ominous stack of papers in the center of the table, he said, “This report is going to be difficult for you to read. Before you read it, I want to tell you the reason that I kept it back, held on to it for a couple of days. I have been meeting with the M.E., Dr. Chang, and the other pathologists pushing them to answer questions that I needed answered. I needed their best judgment on what happened to Anthony.”
Lexie tried to sort through his words. What was he saying? What was he going to tell her? She cast a wary eye at the report and looked away. She wanted to hear the answers from Jake, not some anonymous papers.
She heard his voice coming as if from a distance. “I’m glad we did, Lexie. I’m glad we persisted. Dr. Chang wrote this report. Contrary to the first report, Dr. Chang indicates with virtual certainly that the trauma to Anthony’s body was done after his death.”
She shuddered. Trauma? What kind of trauma? Her fear spiked, drenching her with icy cold. Her heart hammered painfully against her chest. When Jake started to respond to her unspoken questions, she held up her hand to stop him.
Reaching for the neatly bound report, she read Anthony’s name on the cover. Her chest tightened.
Flipping open the report, she began to read. At first it was dry, impersonal. It could have described any dead body. Then she turned the page and read the word “Traumas” at the top of the page. Ice crept up her spine. She forced herself to read the bulleted points, one after another, each more horrifying than the last. When she reached the bottom of the page, she put her head on the table, sucking in huge gulps of air, but not able to breathe. She put her hands over her ears as if she could prevent the words from reaching her brain. Over the din in her ears, she heard Jake’s voice at a distance, as if she was in a tunnel.
“Can you drink some water, Lexie?”
She jerked up, staring at him, then back at the page in disbelief. The words were still there. She saw them through a haze of red.
From a distance, she heard Jake’s chair scrape against the floor and felt him next to her, his knee pressed against her leg.
He took the report out of her hands and put it in the middle of the table. His voice was firm. “Breathe, baby. C’mon, darlin’. Take a deep breath.”
He rubbed her back until her gasps for air began to fill her lungs. When she could breathe without choking, she forced out the question. She didn’t recognize her voice. It sounded like a wounded animal caught in a vicious trap.
“Who…who could do this? Who could to this to another human being?”
Jake gave a harsh sigh. “That’s what we’re going to find out, Lexie. We’re going to find them.”
Her voice quavered. “It’s the gangs, isn’t it? This is the kind of thing they do.”
“It may or may not be.” Jake’s voice was sharp. “We don’t know, but whoever it is, we’re going to find them.”
Lexie felt the familiar blaze of panic overtake her. It caged her the way it always did. She struggled to breathe, fought helplessly to loosen its ugly grip.
From a distance, she heard Dr. Chang’s gentle words. She felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Miss Beloi, I regret more than I can say that you have to deal with this. Here is my card. Call me with any questions. I will leave now.”
Jake stood up and walked the diminutive man to the door.
Dr. Chang looked back at Lexie. His expression was grave.
“I can prescribe something for her, to lesson…”
Jake shook his head, glancing at the immobile woman sitting at the table.
“No…she won’t take anything. I know her well enough by now. She’s going to want to face this with all her faculties in place.”
When the door closed behind Dr. Chang, Jake walked back to the table.
Lexie was sitting silently staring ahead of her. She looked frozen, as if she was in some kind of fugue state.
Jake pulled back her chair and reached for her.
“Come here, Lexie. Let me hold you.”
He pulled her out of her chair and held her. She stood in his arms, unbending, a wooden statue, frozen with grief.
For several minutes, he held her, whispering comforting words, rubbing her back and arms. Dropping light kisses on her the top of her head, trying to bring life back to her rigid body.
Finally, he whispered in her ear. “Let go, darlin’. Let it go,” he urged. “Sometimes it helps to cry, Lexie. It can make you feel better. And, hell, I have a shoulder broad enough to cry on ….”
She cut off his words, her voice was ragged, harsh. She glared at him.
“I don’t cry. Ever. I never cry.”
Jake’s horror at her words mobilized him.
He stepped back and lifted her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes. His voice was hard, demanding.
“Look at me, Lexie. I need you to understand. You know how strong Anthony was. Hell, he’s the only guy in my life that could get the better of me. Not every time we sparred, but enough so I know the kind of fighter he is. No one could have done this to him unless he was taken from behind. The fact that there were no defensive wounds--that bruise and gash on the back of his head confirms that he was unconscious. You need to hear this,
