Page 4

CHAPTER 4

Sachie’s face blanched a moment before her cell phone slipped from her hand. As her knees buckled, Teller reached out and pulled her into his arms.

She fell against him, her fingers digging into his shirt—her shirt—holding on as if she clung to a ledge, her feet dangling over a four-thousand-foot drop.

“No,” she said, her mouth pressed to his chest, her breath warm through the fabric of the shirt. “He’s dead. I saw him. He’s dead.”

“Sachie,” Teller said into her ear as he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. “Who was it? What did he say? Who’s dead?”

“No. It can’t be.” Her forehead pressed into him, tipping side to side. “It’s not him. He’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Teller asked. “Sachie, talk to me. ”

Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. Deep gut-wrenching sobs that wracked her slim body.

Teller’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest. He didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t making sense. “Who was on the phone?” he asked again.

“No. It wasn’t him. It’s not possible. I was there.”

He leaned back long enough to scoop her cell phone from the floor and then pulled her back into his embrace. “Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“How can it be okay?” she whispered. “I saw him die.”

“Who did you see die?” he asked.

More silent sobs shook her body.

Holding her with one hand, he pressed “replay” on the only voice message on her cell phone and listened to the message.

Ms. Moore. You failed me. Now, you must pay.

“What the hell?” Teller stared down at the screen. In place of the usual phone number were the words Unknown Caller. “Sachie,” Teller said softly, leaning back a little to look down at her. “You know the caller?”

She pressed her cheek to his chest, her fingers clenching the shirt. “It can’t be.”

“Who can’t it be? ”

“I failed him,” she whispered. “Then I watched him die.”

Frustrated by her answers, he tipped her chin up, urging her to look into his eyes. “Talk to me, Sachie. Who did you watch die?”

She stared up into his face, her eyes red-rimmed. “I knew he was in trouble. I didn’t stop him in time. It’s all my fault. I failed him,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks.

The more she sobbed, the faster she breathed. Teller could see in her face and the way she tensed that she was sliding into another panic attack, making her muscles stiffen beneath his hands.

“Sweetheart, breathe,” Teller whispered into her ear and stroked her hair at the same time, hoping that by holding her, he could help her work past the debilitating effects of her massive panic.

He held her in his arms, rocking back and forth as if he listened to music. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in the T-shirt. Slowly, her breathing became more regulated. Her sobs subsided, replaced by soft hiccups. Still, she clung to him, her body pressed to his.

Teller rested his chin on top of her head while rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm them from the instant chill she’d received while listening to the message .

When she finally calmed, but remained pressed into his chest, he squeezed her body gently and eased her away from him so that he could see her face and gauge her grasp on what was happening.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he assured her, his hand on her lower back, circling gently. All the questions he had could wait until she was able to answer them.

A few minutes later, she drew in a deep, slightly shaky breath and let it out slowly, deliberately. Then she stepped back.

Not until she was out of reach did Teller lower his arms. “Are you okay?”

“As okay as I can be, after seeing and hearing a ghost.”

His brow pinched. “Huh?”

“At least, I thought I was seeing things. But now...” She tipped her head toward Teller’s hand, which was holding her cell phone. “...I’m hearing things. The thing is, you heard it, too.”

He didn’t quite understand where she was going with her words. “I heard a male voice message from someone threatening you. What does that voicemail have to do with ghosts?”

“Exactly,” she said with a soft snort. “Nothing. But you heard it, too. I didn’t hallucinate the message like I thought I was hallucinating seeing a certain face on the streets of Honolulu, or outside the window of my office there. And now here.”

“A certain face? You know this person?” Teller asked.

“That’s the problem,” she said, her eyes welling with more tears. “The face I keep seeing is that of a former patient.”

“And you think it’s him stalking you?”

“Yes... No.” She met his gaze. “You see, he committed suicide in my office. In front of me.”

“Wow.” Teller shook his head. “Not something you want to experience ever in your lifetime.”

She nodded, her gaze on the floor in front of her. “One minute I’m talking with him. The next, he pulled out a gun, pressed it to his head and pulled the trigger.”

He’d been with battle buddies who’d been mortally wounded. He’d held a good friend in his arms as his lifeblood and life flowed out of him. Watching a friend die had had a profound and lasting effect on him. He couldn’t imagine the trauma of watching a patient shoot himself. “Are you sure he was dead?”

“I had brain matter and blood on me. When the emergency medical technicians arrived, they didn’t even try to revive him. His face was basically gone.” Sachie turned away, burying her face in her hands. “I can never unsee that image. Luke was only seventeen. He had his whole life ahead of him. Because I failed him, his life stopped.”

“Sachie, did you pull the trigger?”

With her back still to him, she shook her head. “No. But I might as well have. I didn’t do enough to help him understand that he was worthy, that his life mattered and that he could make anything of his future if he set his mind to it. He didn’t see a way forward or an alternative to his pain and frustration. I could have—no, should have —been able to help him.”

Teller tucked her cell phone in his pocket, gripped her shoulders and turned her toward him. “I’ve been in situations on the battlefield where, if I only made a different decision or been there a second earlier, one of my buddies wouldn’t have died. Long afterward, I’d go over and over the scenario, wondering if I could’ve changed the outcome. Do you know what I learned?”

She shook her head.

“That no amount of second-guessing would bring them back.”

“And the nightmares?” she asked.

He snorted softly. “I still have them. Just not as often.”

“The nightmares are still so real,” she said, her haunted gaze met his. “And when they happened during the day, I thought I was going crazy or hallucinating.”

“How do you mean they happened during the day?” he asked.

“I’d be walking along the street, see a face so much like Luke’s, and it would hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe. When the face appeared in my window tonight, even though it was shadowed, it looked like him.” She stared at Teller’s chest. “I knew it couldn’t be him because I was there when they carried him out of my office in a body bag. Then, the voice on the recording...sounded just like Luke.” Her gaze returned to his. “How can that be?”

“Could it be someone’s messing with you?” Teller brushed a strand of her hair off her cheek. “Did Luke have a friend or family member who looked like him?”

“He was an only child and didn’t have many friends. He was moved around several times in the foster system after his father was incarcerated for murdering his mother.”

“Tough break for a kid,” Teller said. “No wonder he felt hopeless.”

“He didn’t want to be like his father and go off in blind rages.”

“Now he’s gone, do you think someone is blaming you for his death? ”

“Based on the message,” she said, “yes.”

“Then either someone he knew cared that he died, or someone else is using his death as an excuse to terrorize you.” He shook his head. “Either way, we need to find out who that is.”

An alarm sounded from one of the cell phones in Teller’s pockets. He dug out Sachie’s and handed it to her. “It’s yours.”

She turned off the alarm, her lips twisting. “It’s time to get up, get ready and go to work.”

Teller frowned. “Can’t you call in sick?”

Sachie shook her head. “In the short time I’ve been here, my schedule has quickly filled. Apparently, there aren’t enough mental health professionals on the Big Island. I have to be there for them.”

Teller didn’t argue. If she had to go to work, he had to respect that. She cared about her patients.

“I have to change into more professional clothing,” she said and headed for her bedroom again.

“Did you pack them in your suitcase?” Teller asked.

She stopped beside the suitcase she’d rolled into the hallway. “I packed some of my things. I think I have other clothes still hanging in the closet. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Teller wandered down the hallway to the front door and examined the damage to the doorframe. He could fix it with the proper tools and supplies. Whoever had done this had been highly intent on getting inside and had been successful in breaking down both the front door and the door to Sachie’s bedroom.

Had Teller been a few moments later, the attacker would have met Sachie and her butcher knife. He didn’t even want to guess who would have won that fight.

“Kalea said she contacted someone to make the repairs on the house.”

Teller turned around.

Sachie stood in the living room, dressed in a tailored medium-gray pantsuit and a soft rose-colored blouse. She’d pulled her hair up into a loose bun on top of her head with a few tendrils hanging down in front of each ear.

She’d gone from looking like a child in a T-shirt two times too large for her slim frame to a professional businesswoman. Where some women would look stuffy and boring in a pantsuit, Sachie looked so sexy. Teller had to shift his gaze to keep from ogling her.

“I know,” she said. “Too much, isn’t it? I don’t normally dress so formally when working with kids and young adults, but I’m new at this practice, and I’ve been trying to make a good impression.”

“You’ll make a good impression,” Teller said brusquely. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” she said.

She gave him the address of the counseling center and followed him out to his vehicle.

Teller entered the address into the map program on his cell phone and connected it to the navigation screen in his SUV. As he pulled out onto the street, he looked both ways. “I’d like to stop by my apartment for a change of clothing,” he said. “If you have time.”

“I always try to arrive twenty to thirty minutes early to review my case load to familiarize myself with the clients I will see that day,” she said. “We’re leaving early enough that we have the time to stop at your place.”

“Perfectly commendable,” Teller said. “I had a drill instructor who insisted that if you were on time, you were late.”

“In what branch of service did you serve?” Sachie asked.

“Army,” he replied.

“Special Operations?”

He nodded. “Delta Force.”

“Thank you for your service,” she said softly. “I understand Jace Hawkins hires former special operation types for the Brotherhood Protectors.”

“That’s right,” Teller focused on the road ahead. “He has built an excellent team of former spec ops guys.”

She glanced his way, her head tilted slightly, as she studied him. “Was it hard transitioning into civilian life?”

Teller shrugged. “Sometimes. It’s so surreal that you’re walking along a sidewalk and overhear someone complaining about having to work on a weekend or that the air conditioner in their car isn’t working at its best capacity.”

“We don’t know how good we have it, do we?” Sachie said. “While we’re worried about what to wear to the office, our men and women in uniform in a warzone are worried about missiles landing in the middle of their camp or being blown away by an improvised explosive device.” She shook her head.

“Exactly.” Teller’s lips twisted. “I still duck when I hear loud noises.”

“Or the sound of gunfire.” Sachie sighed. “Which was a good thing when I ran out into the backyard like an idiot and you took me down.”

He shot a crooked smile her way. “Sorry. I did what I had to do. ”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I’m glad you did. Thank you.”

When they arrived at Teller’s apartment, he glanced across the console at her. “I’ll need you to come up to my apartment with me. I don’t trust leaving you alone in the SUV.”

Her brow furrowed as she glanced over her shoulder. “Were we followed?”

“Not that I could tell, but I don’t want to risk it.” He shifted into park and turned off the engine. “It won’t take me long to grab a shirt.”

“I’ll come.”

While Sachie unbuckled her seatbelt, Teller dropped down from the SUV and rounded the hood to the passenger side, scanning the cars, the hedges bordering the pavement and the road they’d just turned off. So far, so good.

Sachie had already pushed the door open when Teller arrived. He held out his hand.

When she laid her hand in Teller’s palm, a jolt of electricity shot up his arm. Not used to having such a visceral reaction to touching a woman’s hand, he quickly helped her to the ground and released his hold.

“I have to warn you, my place is a bachelor pad. It isn’t the cleanest.” He waved toward the walkway in front of him, indicating the way for her to go .

Once inside the apartment, he closed the door behind him and left Sachie standing in the entry. “I’ll only be a minute.”

He hurried into the single bedroom of the sparsely furnished unit and grabbed a T-shirt out of the chest of drawers.

“How long have you been in this apartment?” Sachie asked, her voice drifting through the open door.

“A couple of months.” He pulled off the hula girl T-shirt, tossed it on the unmade bed and dragged on a clean dark shirt, much like the one he’d worn earlier. Before he left the room, he grabbed a gym bag and stuffed it with clean boxer briefs, a couple of shirts, jeans and socks. He used to have a go-bag ready at all times, stashed in his vehicle when he’d been in the military, never knowing when he’d be deployed. After last night, he figured it might be a good thing to start doing again, especially while working for the Brotherhood Protectors.

“Did you pick the furniture?” Sachie asked, the sound coming from his living room instead of the front entry.

He stepped out of the bedroom, tugging the hem of his shirt down over his torso. “The apartment came furnished. It was only supposed to be temporary until I decided where I wanted to live. ”

She cocked an eyebrow. “And have you decided?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been all over this island and spent time on the Parkman Ranch, which is amazing, but I haven’t really looked for a more permanent place to live. I was thinking of visiting the other islands before I made up my mind.”

Sachie crossed to the window overlooking another apartment complex that had seen better days. “What are you looking for in a permanent home?”

He snorted. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a permanent home.”

She turned back, a frown denting her forehead. “What about when you were growing up?”

Teller usually didn’t talk about his distant past. There wasn’t much to talk about. “I didn’t have a permanent home.” He waved a hand toward the door. “We’d better get you to your office.”

Sachie opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it. “Right. I need to get to work.” She walked past him to the door. She didn’t say anything as he carried the gym bag out to his SUV and tossed it in next to her suitcase. The silence continued as he drove through the streets of Hilo.

He’d consigned memories of his life before he’d joined the Army to the back of his mind. Having been part of the foster care system since he was eleven, he hadn’t had a place he could call home. Before foster care, his father had been enlisted in the Army. They’d moved four times before his eleventh birthday. When his father, mother and sister had died in an automobile crash, he’d lost any chance of a permanent home. He would have died in that crash as well if he had been wearing his seat belt. Many times throughout the rest of his childhood, he’d wished he had died.

The guilt he lived with made him act out with each of the many foster homes he’d been shuffled around to.

A siren sounded behind him, yanking him out of his past and into the present. Just ahead of them, a fire engine pulled out of a station house onto the road.

Teller slowed to let the huge truck make the turn, heading in the same direction as they were.

The engine picked up speed, the siren wailing now, lights flashing.

Teller gave the truck a decent amount of space before he continued along the road. A glance at the map indicated they were nearing Sachie’s office.

Over the top of the fire engine, a plume of sooty gray smoke rose into the air.

“Oh my God,” Sachie leaned forward in her seat. “That’s my office! It’s on fire!”

Teller pulled into the parking lot of an auto parts store a couple of blocks short of Sachie’s office .

“Why are you stopping here?” she demanded. “My office is up there. On fire.”

“And we need to stay clear and let the fire department do what they’re trained to do,” Teller said. “There might be more trucks and emergency vehicles on the way.”

As if to prove Teller’s point, a police car roared by on the street and stopped a block short of the fire. The officer then turned his vehicle sideways in the street, blocking the oncoming traffic.

The fire engine was parked in the middle of the street. Men in fire-resistant suits jumped down and unrolled hoses from the truck, hurrying to attach one end to a fire hydrant.

“I’m going to get closer,” Sachie pushed open her door and jumped down from the SUV.

Teller quickly followed suit, racing to catch up to her before she reached the burning building.

Before they could get close, the police officer blocking the street held up his hands. “You’ll need to stay back until they get that fire under control.”

“That’s my office,” Sachie cried.

The roof of the building chose that moment to crash in, sending a cloud of smoke and glowing cinders into the air.

The officer glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “Not anymore. ”

Sachie stood in the middle of the street, her shoulders drooping and her eyes welling with tears. “What’s happening?”

Teller slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Teller didn’t have an answer for her, but he sure as hell would find out.