Page 22 of Vanishing Legacy

Cash leaned close to Alana to speak over the music. “It’s moments like these I want to remember forever.” Was it his imagination, or did she shrink back?

“I meant the kids,” he hurried to say, nodding toward Penny and Rocco. “Seeing them so entranced by all this.”

She gave him a crooked smile. “Absolutely. It’s one of the best things about being a parent, right? Making memories with our kids.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Cash grinned and listened to Rocco as he explained to Penny how the balloons worked.

The inflation noise subsided, replaced by the gentle rustle of the fabric and the occasional hiss of gas as the pilots made adjustments to the burners.

“I love these colors. I’ve seen pictures, but there’s something about standing here seeing them in person that takes my breath away.” Alana’s dark eyes shone.

“Mom, look at that one!” Rocco pointed to the next row, where a hot air balloon in the shape of an elephant slowly took form.

Penny hugged Cash’s waist. “Can we see it? Can we?”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

Rocco and Penny hopped and turned to run.

“Whoa, you two,” Alana called. “Stay where we can see you at all times.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rocco took Penny’s hand, and together they skipped a few steps ahead.

They skirted the concert crowd and walked along the row of balloons “You know, it’s great to see Penny so happy,” he said over the music. “Especially after yesterday. Sometimes…well, it can all become too much. Her emotions can swing from calm to meltdown in the blink of an eye.”

“That sounds challenging for a child,” Alana said.

“For everyone. But moments like this? So excited and making friends—it’s all worth it. These small victories remind me it’s possible to help Penny navigate the world around her.”

Alana looked at him with something of a smile on her lips. She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re a great dad, Cash.”

A man with acne-scarred skin and sunken eyes appeared in front of Cash, blocking his path. His greasy black hair was slicked back from his forehead, and a scruffy goatee clung to his chin. “Hey, I know you! You’re that doctor who killed my brother!” Spittle flew from the man’s lips, and he slurred his words.

Cash stepped back. “I’m sorry?”

“My little brother. Emilio Trejo. He was shot and you let him die.” The man closed the distance and thrust his face in Cash’s. His hot breath reeked of alcohol and mingled with the bitter tang of rage that hung heavy in the air.

Trejo. Trejo. The name didn’t ring a bell. “I—I’m truly sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Trejo’s face twisted into a mask of fury. His dark eyes blazed with anger. “He was my only blood, and you let him die!” He slammed both palms into Cash’s chest and shoved him back a couple of steps.

Cash’s hands flexed into fists.

Alana was in the space between them. “Hey now. I think it’s time for you to back off.” The threat came out menacing considering she had to crane her neck up to give it.

Cash touched her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I got this. Just call the police before this guy hurts himself.” People grieved in different ways, and he’d dealt with the whole spectrum from anger to depression. He didn’t need Alana to shield him from the worst part of his job.

Her eyes needled him with intense concern. “Subduing suspects is the work of a bodyguard, not a surgeon.”

Cool fingers brushed the back of his hand. The gesture was equal parts comforting and infuriating. It was part of her job to step in, but he wasn’t the one in need of protection. Over her shoulder he saw Penny and Rocco watching a clown twist long balloons into the shape of a hot air balloon, oblivious to Trejo and his tirade. “Please, I can handle this. Keep Penny and Rocco safe, and call this in.”

Cash turned to face Trejo. His loss of a patient was nothing compared to this man’s grief. “I promise you, I did everything I could to save your brother. Emilio. There was too much damage to repair. I did my best, but sometimes it’s just not enough.” Trejo didn’t need to know Cash was speaking about Dante Johnson, not his brother, the kid he couldn’t remember.

Trejo’s face twisted into a mask of hatred. “You liar! You see another thug on the table and think he’s better on ice.” He spat and reared his fist back.

The shot was wild. Cash easily ducked. He really did not want to fight with this guy. Trejo lunged, his body low like a linebacker going for a tackle. Cash sidestepped and drove his heel into the back of Trejo’s knee. The man let out a grunt. His leg buckled, and Trejo crashed to the ground.

A scream sliced through the air. Cash’s heart seized as he recognized his daughter’s voice.

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