Page 5 of Silent Threat
She jumped out and headed across the parking lot toward the cluster of buildings.
Kelly—two years older, a real estate agent with dreams of world domination—was saying, “I can’t wait to be in front of those cameras. The whole town will be watching. I’ve been telling everyone that we’ll be on the morning show. Sylvia will be taping it for Gramps. Are you excited?”
Sylvia was their grandfather’s housekeeper.
Kelly’s enthusiasm was flooding through the phone, impossible to resist. Annie had to give her something. “I’m cautiously optimistic.”
“Good. I’m wildly excited for the both of us. This is going to put me on the map. Broslin’s top real estate investment consultant. Everybody wants to rehab and flip these days. Now, when someone local thinks about it, I’ll be the first person they’ll think of. And a complete home makeover is exactly what you need. Win-win.”
Annie wasn’t sure what she needed, but she was almost certain that having her house demolished on live TV wasn’t it.
She walked through the rehab center’s front door and headed to her small office. “I have to go. I’m at work. I’ll call you tonight.”
They said goodbye, and Annie clicked off her phone, then dropped it on her desk, feeling guilty because Kelly was genuinely excited while Annie was ... partially still mired in the past. Not something she’d ever show, and yet, she would never be as comfortable with her cousin as her cousin was with her.
She turned on her laptop, went through today’s schedule, and read the patient files. She gave special attention to her new patient, Cole Makani Hunter, former Navy SEAL.
Depression, PTSD, multiple surgeries, loss of hearing, loss of mobility in right arm. Added notes: POW, torture. Under family history, one thing jumped out: father—suicide.
She read the more detailed patient report, none of it pretty.
She nodded at the file on the screen. “OK. Let’s do this.”
Laptop turned off, she went off to meet the man. Their first appointment was set for nine o’clock at the trailhead. At least he was cleared for all physical activity.
She cut through the courtyard that belonged in an antique Chinese woodcut, the layout as well designed as the Frank Lloyd Wright–style buildings that surrounded it. A picturesque weeping willow dominated the space, accented with artistically placed rocks.
The handful of patients she passed greeted her. She wished them a good morning, but didn’t stop to chat.
The morning clouds were clearing out—no storm after all. Good. The sun finally decided to bathe everything in warmth and golden light, the temperature rising. Would be nice if the weather stayed this way for another couple of weeks.
Past the courtyard, Annie cut through the exercise yard and its basketball court, then walked straight to the edge of the woods. Here, she stopped to wait, kicking off her Keds, letting the soft grass tickle her bare toes.
Since she had another minute or two, she closed her eyes and breathed in nature. She inhaled peace, filling herself with serenity.
Comfort smelled like the green leaves, underscored by the crisp tone of pines and the rich scent of earth. She drank in the sounds of the birds in the trees and the bugs in the fallen leaves—life’s steady, unstoppable music at its purest.
She breathed and listened until she found her center, until her thoughts and emotions settled. She didn’t want to bring any of her own baggage into therapy. Her patients deserved better.
She let the tension of the morning melt off her until her shoulders relaxed. She opened her eyes.
On the other side of the yard, men moved between the buildings, going to their appointments. A few of them waved at her. She waved back. She watched for an unfamiliar face without knowing what to look for in particular. The patient files didn’t include photographs.
Her new patient’s injuries were ...challenging. The good news was, physical disability had no relation to mental recovery. That came from attitude, for the most part. Physical strength had little to do with the kind of therapy Annie practiced. The patient simply had to open up to what she was offering.
Across the exercise yard, a large, bulky shape separated from the others.
Oh.Annie’s mouth slackened with recognition.
A heavy, dark gaze pinned her through the distance as if marking her for ...demolition. Her brain kicked up the word.
Don’t be stupid.
Yet that newly familiar shape barreled toward her, the ground shaking from the impact of his combat boots as he crossed the yard. His mood had clearly slipped several notches since she’d last seen him.
A tremor ran up Annie’s spine, but she held her ground, and she held his hard gaze. He wasn’t the first disgruntled bear she’d run into in the woods.
The man moved as if he meant to run her down, as if he was angry to find her here, as if she had somehow tricked him earlier at the gas station.
