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Forrest took the file, as though nervous to even touch it. “I’ve never read the details.” She swallowed, then said, “I’ve never even looked at the reports.”
Kenna touched her shoulder. “You don’t have to do this alone.” She peered over and looked at the case file. “Kobrinsky!”
He looked over. “Oh. Right. I’ll email that paperwork you asked for.”
“Thanks.” Her head pounded. “Let’s go.”
As they neared the doors, Forrest said, “I just want to know if there’s reason to think it wasn’t an accident. Maybe it will feel like someone else’s file.”
Probably that wasn’t going to be true, but they could at least hope. Maybe Forrest was counting on it.
And why was it so much easier to help someone else than to deal with her own fears? Walking through this with Forrest meant giving hope and peace to someone else. And avoiding her problems. Helping a hurt woman to move on and take another step.
If Kenna didn’t have Forrest to help, what would she do? She’d have to go back to Colorado and get up in Maizie’s business so she could feel good that the teen was healing from the trauma she had been through.
One day everyone would be fine, and Kenna would have to face the fear in her.
She’d been through so much. She’d survived.
God had given her new life. He had given her hope and a reason to keep going, more than just solving cases.
She had people who cared for her and a man who interested her more than anyone had in a long time. Who made her want to believe she could have something of what she had lost.
“Are you having some kind of existential crisis?” Forrest clutched the file and stared up at Kenna.
“Yes.”
“Let’s go, so you can read it at home where you’re not in front of an audience.” Forrest tugged on her elbow, and they stepped outside.
Kenna said, “Good idea.” Her head was pounding and spinning now. She definitely needed to go take a nap, and a lot of pain meds. With all the surgeries she’d had, Kenna had made sure she didn’t lose her tolerance for regular pain meds.
Hopefully, they would work today, and another day in the future she wouldn’t wind up with kidney problems because she got hurt more than most people seemed to.
They headed for the front doors.
“Let’s order a pizza,” Kenna said. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Chapter Eleven
Sunday, 2:16 p.m.
San Diego, California
Jax stepped out onto the patio, closing the sliding door behind him. His sister looked over from her lounge chair, where she watched her kids goof off in the pool with their dad.
“Everything okay?” Laney waved him to the seat beside her.
“Nothing new since that deputy called me.” That had been a surprise, when Kenna’s number flashed up on his screen and the caller turned out to be a Wisconsin sheriff’s deputy.
For a second he’d thought she was dead, and his heart had nearly stopped.
Everything in him wanted to run. Jump on a plane, and rush to her side. Stand between her and whatevercame at her, because a person who had been through what she had didn’t need to suffer even one more second. The fact she kept going made her even more amazing than she was just being a survivor.
“What did your boss say?”
Jax settled onto the lounge chair beside her, where he’d left his lemonade. It was warm from the sun now. “We have a witness sketch, so we’re trying to ID that person.”
She reached over and squeezed his knee. “Kenna is okay, right?”