Page 1 of Believe in Me
Prologue
Trish Peterson dragged her dance bag into the kitchen and threw it on the bench in the breakfast nook. She kicked her sneakers under the table and moved into third position before rising on her toes, feeling the pull in her arches and calves. If someone had told her that teaching dance to toddlers would hurt more than a two-hour en pointe class, she wouldn’t have believed them. She would have been wrong. Trish thought that she was in the best shape she could achieve after being in the touring company forKinky Boots— she could dance across the stage, night after night in platform boots without giving it a thought. Teaching toddlers to stand at barre in first position? Yeah, that was a challenge.
With a shift of her hips, she went into a pirouette and danced to the calendar hanging next to the fridge. After her landing, she felt a slight pull in her right knee. Maybe she should soak it tonight, she thought as she grabbed the marker hanging next to it and marked off another day. Reading the number at the bottom of the date, she smiled. Just eight days before Joe was on his way home. He’d been deployed for a few months this time; somewhere in a hot location doing his thing. She’d learned the first year they were married that knowing where he was going and what he was doing wasn’t something that was good for her mental health. If she needed to know anything, then Blade or Beatle or one of the other wives would give her a call.
She released her bun and shook her shoulder length hair, pulling at the ends and frowning. Damn, she needed to make an appointment to get a trim before Joe got home. He loved running his fingers through her hair and it wasn’t in any condition for that. These days she didn’t really think about more than putting it up before classes, were her leotard and skirt clean, and where was the spray for her ballet shoes? She hadn’t spent this much time in ballet shoes in years. Yeah, she’d done her timeen pointebut while she had the build for ballet with the strength in her legs and small stature, she really preferred to dance in Broadway musicals. Classics likeGreaseandBye, Bye Birdie— thank you revivals— over classicalSwan LakeorLa Sylphide.
Making a quick note on the calendar to call Shearlock Hair tomorrow for an appointment with Liz for a trim, she turned to the fridge. Needed to figure out what she was eating tonight. It sucked cooking for one. Opening the door and glancing inside had her cursing. She’d meant to stop by Dish Bliss and refill her stock of “pre-made healthy” meals at lunch, but Bonnie had decided they needed to figure out the dances for the recital. Why they needed to do it in January for a May performance, boggled Trish’s mind, but she wasn’t the owner. As she reached for the phone to call for delivery, the doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone tonight.Hmmm, might be Lori. They had talked about having wine this week.
“Hey Lor, didn’t think we planned for tonight,” she said as she opened the door. With one look at the two men standing in full uniform on her front porch with their green berets tilted just so, stoic looks on their faces, Trish knew her world was never going to be the same again.
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Sergeant First Class Mike Mullvaney stood still as the guys in the platoon moved around him. They’d just gotten back from a deployment to Iraq and were rushing to find their spouses and families. He’d wait a minute. Denise was here somewhere; he’d find her then they’d have a private welcome home. Mike understood the need for the dog and pony show but Christ, they’d been gone for eleven months, twenty-two days and fifteen hours. Enough already.
A break in the crowd formed so Mike took that as the sign for him to move. Looking around him, he didn’t see Denise immediately but there were so many bodies. The heptad had talked about being here when he got home but agreed that since Spook and Jeannine’s wedding was in a month, they’d all just meet up a few days early to help him decompress. He walked toward the bleachers, head on swivel. When he got to the bottom, he began searching the risers for her.
“Sergeant Mullvaney, have a good seventy-two,” Private Nelson said from next to Mike, wrapped around a woman with rosy cheeks. Lord knew what Nelson had said to her.
Mike shook his head before responding. “Please try and stay out of trouble. I really don’t want to meet any of the MPs. Okay?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Nelson agreed, and the couple walked away.
Where the fuck was Denise? She had said that she didn’t like all the crowds but holy shit, could she have found a more out of the way place to wait? He pushed through the crowd toward the door. Maybe she was outside.
After another twenty minutes looking for Denise, Mike was pissed. What. The. Fuck. He went over to where the Rear Detachment NCO was standing, waiting to make sure everyone got their rucksacks.
“Sergeant Maguire, any chance there’s a soldier that can run me to my apartment?” Mike asked, trying to avoid telling Maguire that Denise wasn’t here.
Maguire nodded and looked around before holding up a hand. “Haynes, over here.” When the soldier was in front of him, he instructed, “Grab the vehicle and run Sergeant Mullvaney to his residence please.”
“Roger. This way, sergeant.” The specialist turned without waiting and walked away.
“Thanks, Maguire. See you in a few days.” Mike grabbed his ruck and hot-footed to catch up. He threw his bag in the back and climbed into the passenger side. Relaxing into the seat, he buckled up and gave Haynes his address before closing his eyes. Mike was trying his best to control his anger. Denise better have a fucking good reason for not being there.
It didn’t take long for Haynes to stop in front of the condo complex. Mike had chosen the location because it was so close to the post. Working in lab he didn’t have a lot of free time, so he didn’t want to spend it in a commute. Lord knew when he moved to San Antonio, he’d be in traffic all the time.
“Haynes, you’re a life saver. Thank you,” he said as he grabbed his ruck.
“No problem, sergeant. Glad everyone came back safe,” Haynes replied as he shifted the car into reverse.
Mike stopped in front of the building and looked around. Well, there was his truck in the spare spot, but he didn’t see Denise’s little coupe. Maybe she’d gone to pick up something for them to eat. Shouldering his bag, he started up the stairs to the second floor. He could feel the tiredness setting in now that he was actually home.
When he got to the door, he knocked. He’d left all the keys with Denise when he left. What was he going to do with the extra keys in Iraq? When she didn’t answer, Mike looked toward the sky and took a deep breath. Okay, what the fuck.
Dropping his bag next to the door, he trudged down the stairs to the complex’s office. There was a woman sitting behind the desk who looked up when he entered.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m Mike Mullvaney from two-C. Any chance there’s an extra set of keys to my condo here? I know it’s not usual but on the off chance… maybe for maintenance?” He could be hopeful, right?
“Mullvaney? Two-C? Hold on and let me check. I’ve only been here a week.” She stood and moved over to a filing cabinet. Mumbling to herself, she flipped through the drawers before saying, “Here you go.” Handing over an envelope, she turned back to whatever she’d been working on.
Silently, Mike took the envelope and left the office. Climbing back up to the second floor, he pulled a single key out and opened the door, not glancing inside as he grabbed his sack. When he pushed the door wide and looked around, he was beyond shocked. He couldn’t see the bedroom or office but there wasn’t a stick of furniture in the living room. The TV and sound system were gone too. The only thing he could see was a set of keys sitting on the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen.
Mike just dropped his bag and stood there. “Holy fuck!”
Chapter 1
