CHAPTER 5

C HAPTER 5

All too soon, they were back at the hotel. Mellie wished Essa a good night, hugged her quickly, and went upstairs to the room she shared with her dad to watch a cartoon movie on pay-per-view.

"Nothing rated above PG, or you'll have trouble," Duke warned.

She just waved and kept walking.

"Oh, she's a mess," Essa said with a grin, watching the child go up the staircase. "You've done a great job with her."

He stuck his hands in his pockets and studied her quietly. "You love kids. But you don't want to get married and have some of your own?"

She gave him a droll look. "I'm everybody's big sister," she told him. "If somebody's girlfriend dumped him, here's my shoulder. If his wife is cheating on him, here's my shoulder. If he can't get a special girl to date him, here's my shoulder. That's me."

"You can't be the age you are and not have a single proposal of marriage."

"Well, I did have one," she said. She grinned. "But he was six years old, and his mother wouldn't let him buy me a ring."

He chuckled.

"Besides, I have these nightmares . . ."

His eyebrows arched.

"I mean really bad, howling nightmares," she added. "There was this one about a tiny little boy being beaten by a woman. She was wearing black pj's, like those martial arts people wear, and kicking him. He vanished. Then there was an older boy, but he was sturdier. She was hurting him. He ran away. He was older and he went back. He found something. He went mad. He had a weapon . . . his face was a skeleton. But when he turned around, it was . . . it was me." She looked up at him to surprise an expression on his face that she couldn't understand.

"When did you have this dream?" he asked.

"Last night. I almost came down and canceled today because I've had hardly any sleep. It was one of those three-dimensional nightmares that you wish you could forget."

He took her arm and led her to one of the couches and sat her down with him.

"There's a forensic workshop in Carnesville, about thirty miles south of here," he said. "Next Saturday. I have reason to believe that your friend who loves forensics will be there. Could you get off and go with Mellie and me?"

She frowned. "Dean?" she asked.

He nodded.

She was all at sea. "You don't think he's done something bad, do you?" she wondered. "He's such a nice man. Very gentle. I don't think he'd hurt a fly."

"Neither do I," he lied. "But I'm working a case, and I have to investigate anything out of the ordinary. He's not your typical forensic geek."

"Well, no. He knows too much," she agreed with a smile. "He's very intelligent,"

He nodded. "I don't think he's involved in anything, but he might be acquainted with someone who is," he said enigmatically. "I need to find out. But I don't want him to get suspicious. If you and Mellie come along, and you tell him that it was your idea to go to the workshop but your car wouldn't make it that far and Mellie wanted to go, too—and what a surprise, you didn't expect to see him there!" He gave her a long look. "Think you can pull it off?"

She made a face. "I had the lead in my school play in sixth grade."

"Great. Then can you ask your boss for one more free day? Tell him you're solving a case with the sheriff's department. It might help."

"I don't need to. He's just really nice. And one of the relief chefs needs the work," she added with a sigh. "His wife just left him and is suing for child support for their son. Honestly, doesn't anybody stay married anymore?"

"Some people don't and should. Some people do and shouldn't."

"Thanks. That gets you the Enigma Award for the year," she said sardonically.

He chuckled. "I'll find out exactly when the workshop starts. Thanks." He got up. "Mellie really likes you," he added, frowning, as if he couldn't understand why.

"Yes, strange, isn't it?" she asked. "I usually only attract drunk men."

His eyes widened.

"At parties, if I ever go to them," she explained. "I don't drink, so I'm usually sitting in a corner by myself. If there's a drunk man within fifty feet, he'll make a beeline for me. I did a dumb thing and danced with one once, and he passed out at my feet on a crowded dance floor. Was that fun!" she drawled, rolling her eyes. "So I stopped going to parties."

"That's sad."

She lifted an eyebrow. "You aren't exactly a party animal yourself," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "I don't have the time."

She smiled. "She's the best reason to not have time to party," she said.

He smiled back, without sarcasm. "I like to think so." He turned. "See you."

He was gone before she had a good reply.

* * *

During one free hour, Essa took Mellie outside the hotel for a walk on the grounds. Some of the trees were shedding pollen profusely, despite the cold. Mellie started sneezing her head off and coughing repeatedly.

"Back inside, right now," Essa said, herding her into the hotel lobby.

But the coughing didn't stop. Her face was turning red, and she seemed to have trouble breathing.

"Give me your phone," Essa said quickly.

Mellie dug it out. She was still fighting for breath.

Her dad's number was on speed dial. Essa punched it, but there was no answer. She called 911 instead, but the ambulance would take too long to get to the hotel, so she told them she was bringing Mellie right to the emergency room.

She told one of her staff on the way out what had happened and where she was going. She had the woman stay with Mellie in the lobby while she brought her car around. Then they got Mellie into the front seat and Essa burned rubber getting her to the ER.

She explained the situation to a clerk, who got Mellie right into a treatment room. Luckily, there were very few people who needed to be seen.

The young doctor examined Mellie, called in a nurse, and gave instructions.

"Your daughter will be fine," he told Essa, assuming she was responsible for the girl, "but she needs to see an allergist. This is an asthma attack, and I'm betting it's not the first one." He smiled. "People don't realize it, but pollen can be a problem year-round, not just in the warm months."

"But she was only coughing," Essa replied, not correcting his assumption about her relationship with her little friend.

"It sometimes presents that way, which is why people don't see allergists. It's not uncommon. She'll be fine. We're giving her breathing treatments, and I'll prescribe an inhaler. You got her here in good time. Don't worry."

"Thanks," Essa choked. She was really upset. The child could have died.

"All in a day's work," he said.

"I'll be okay," Mellie said as she did the breathing treatments. "Really, Essa."

Essa hugged her. "I'm so sorry! I never should have taken you out when pollen was in the air . . . !"

"Yes, but we didn't know I had asthma, did we?" the child asked gently. "Really. I'm fine."

Essa swiped at her eyes. "Okay."

Mellie's phone rang. Essa plucked it out of her pocket and answered it.

"Where the hell is my daughter?" came a familiar voice.

"We're in the ER," she said. "She's okay," she added quickly. "She has asthma."

"She has . . . what?" he asked curtly.

"Asthma. She started coughing while we were walking under some trees, and it wouldn't stop. I was so scared . . . I rushed her to the ER. They're giving her breathing treatments . . . Here, she can manage a few words . . ."

She handed the phone to Mellie.

"I'm okay, Daddy," Mellie said in a rasping tone. "Essa took great care of me. Yes. Yes. I will. Okay. Bye."

She handed the phone back. "He's on his way here," Mellie managed.

"Okay." She smiled at the little girl, mentally hoping somebody, a doctor, a nurse, an orderly, somebody, would come to save her when he walked in the door. He was certainly going to blame her for the attack. And she blamed herself.

* * *

Duke walked right into the treatment room. Mellie, still doing the breathing treatment, gave him a smile and a thumbs-up from her perch on the examination table.

Essa, standing beside it with her arms crossed over her chest, looked devastated.

Duke hugged his daughter. Then, to her surprise, he pulled Essa into his arms and hugged her close.

"Thanks," he said huskily.

She felt funny. He smelled of spicy cologne and soap, and he was as solid as a wall. All muscle. He was much taller than she was, but they fit together perfectly. She never wanted him to let go. She sighed and smiled and nuzzled her face into his shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He lifted his head and looked down into her eyes with affection. "What for?"

"Not being mad at me," she replied solemnly. "I didn't know she had allergies," she said miserably. "She could have died, and it would have been my fault!"

"Or she could have had an attack when she was all alone, with nobody to help her. How about that?" he added gently.

She took a deep breath. "Thanks," she said. "That makes it a little better." She glanced at Mellie and smiled. "She's a trouper," she added. "I went all to pieces, but she was just so calm!"

"I taught her never to panic but to assess the situation," he replied, smiling at his daughter. "She's sharp."

"She's also asthmatic," the doctor added, coming in behind them. "I gather that symptoms haven't presented before this?" he asked as they shook hands.

"Never," Duke said, letting go of Essa. "Of course, we've rarely been out of cities until now."

The doctor nodded. "I've called in a prescription for a rescue inhaler, a nebulizer, and meds to use if she has an attack this bad again. I'd recommend allergy shots as well. You'll need to get her to an allergist as soon as possible."

"Is there one in town?" he asked, surprisingly.

"Yes. He has a branch office here, and he comes two days a week." He gave Duke the doctor's name and the phone number of his office. "Your daughter has a very adult attitude toward emergencies," he added with a smile at Mellie. "Your wife, I daresay, may need sedation."

Duke just chuckled. "We'll take that under advisement," he replied, not correcting the doctor.

Mellie was finished with the breathing treatment. Duke helped her down from the exam table.

"Get that rescue inhaler asap," the doctor recommended. "The pollen count is pretty bad, even though it's practically winter."

"We'll do that. Thanks."

"My pleasure."

* * *

"Now. Tell me all about it," Duke said when they were in the car. He'd actually arranged with someone to pick up Essa's car and deliver it to the hotel and leave the keys at the desk. And this time, Mellie was in the back seat and Essa was in the passenger seat.

"I started coughing and couldn't stop," Mellie explained. "Essa tried to call you, but your phone didn't answer, so she drove me to the hospital."

"No ambulance?" he asked Essa.

"It was ten minutes away, according to dispatch, and I was pretty sure we didn't have ten minutes," she replied. "I got her there very quickly. I'm just so sorry . . . !"

"Nobody knew she had asthma," Duke interrupted. "And you very likely saved her life."

"Yes, you did," Mellie said. She beamed at the woman in the front seat. "You saved me."

"I just did what anybody else would have done," Essa said.

"You'd be amazed at how many people wouldn't have done it," Duke said somberly. "I've been in law enforcement most of my life. You can't even imagine the things I've seen. Compassion in our modern society is a dying thing."

"Not here," Essa replied, feeling warm inside as Mellie laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks for what you did," Mellie told her.

Essa squeezed the little hand and smiled. "You're most welcome."

Half the hotel staff poured into the lobby when Duke came in with Essa and his daughter, all relieved that the child was all right.

* * *

Duke just shook his head as they all went back to work. "It's not like this where we live," he told Essa.

She grinned. "That's why I live here," she replied.

"I wish we did," Mellie said on a sigh.

Duke didn't answer her. He just smiled.

* * *

They drove to the site of the forensics workshop the next Saturday. Duke was distracted, nobody knew why. Mellie talked nonstop about what Dean had taught them at the archaeology site.

"I think I might like to do archaeology," Mellie said enthusiastically.

"Me, too." Essa sighed. "But I'm not smart enough."

"You are so," Mellie said firmly. "You can do anything you want to."

Essa smiled at her. "You're very good for my self-esteem."

"Only when she isn't brooding about the dog we don't have," Duke muttered as he drove.

"We could have just a little dog," Mellie warmed to her subject. "They wouldn't know he was in the apartment!"

"It's in the lease, honey," he told her. "No pets. I'm sorry."

"I can't have a dog, either." Essa sighed. "The hotel won't allow it."

"I saw an old lady with a little puffy dog going up the stairs," Mellie told her.

"Oh, that's Mrs. Greeley," Essa replied. She smiled. "She owns the hotel. She comes every other month to make sure the place is running well and everybody's happy with their jobs. And their salaries. She's one of a kind," she added softly.

"You like old people?" Mellie asked.

"Very much," Essa replied. "You can learn so much just by listening to them!"

"You do that?" Duke asked.

"I go to the nursing home on holidays and take cookies and pies and cakes," she said. "The manager donates them. There are so many who don't have family anymore. All they need is somebody to just listen to them."

Duke nodded. "One of our agents is retired from the CIA. Boy, can he tell some stories!"

"I'll bet." Essa chuckled. "We have a retired Texas Ranger, and she's got lots of those, too!"

"A Texas Ranger. Wow!" Mellie said.

"I wish we had time to visit," Duke said. "But I only have a few more days to wrap up my part of this case. Which my boss doesn't think I'm doing."

"Why doesn't he come here and do it if he doesn't trust his people?" Essa asked, outraged on Duke's behalf.

He noted that and felt warm inside. She was getting to him. The more he learned about her, the more she attracted him. And her actions with Mellie after the asthma attack were the biggest draw of all. She was one in a million. Stupid local men, he thought, letting a treasure like Essa get away.

He thought of his late wife and how different she was from Essa. The pregnancy had been an accident. She'd wanted to end it, but Duke dug in his heels. He wanted the baby more than anything. She could have it, and he'd have to raise it, she said hatefully. She wasn't being tied down to diapers and bottles and sleepless nights. Fine, Duke had said. He'd do all that.

And he had. Her death several years ago hadn't been the tragedy most people thought it was. She'd had nothing to do with her little girl. She was irritated by the noise the child made, reluctant even to change a diaper, and she hated the constant crying. The child cried when she was wet or hungry, but his wife never seemed to connect those things.

He held down a full-time job and was a full-time dad, while his wife went out with her girlfriends day and night and left her child in his care. He never understood why she was so angry. When she got cancer she refused treatment. She had nothing to do with Mellie even then. Duke buried her with her parents. Mellie was only five years old.

Then he thought of Essa, rushing his daughter to the hospital, staying with her, bawling because she was afraid of what might happen to Mellie—that was incredible to him.

He rarely dated, because once women discovered that he had a child, they wanted nothing to do with him. The fact that he was a widower didn't even give him points, because any woman he married would be raising another woman's child.

His own wife didn't want her own child. But here was Essa, who adored Mellie, and it showed. It was also mutual.

"One thing, and we won't discuss this outside the car," Duke said when they got to the site of the workshop and parked. "Nobody leaves the premises with Dean. Is that clear? Under no circumstances whatsoever," he added, emphasizing every single word. "And we didn't know he'd be here, also. Got that?"

They both nodded. Essa wanted to ask questions, but Duke's expression deterred her.

Mellie and Essa exchanged puzzled looks, but they didn't argue.

Mellie was left with a prearranged babysitter at the site, to her utter disgust, but Duke was firm. He also cautioned the woman, who was middle-aged and formidable, that Mellie was not to leave the premises without his express, personal consent. In person. She smiled and promised.

Duke escorted Essa to the workshop, handing her a program as he picked up one for himself.

"They have some heavy hitters here," he murmured as they scanned the handout while participants came into the room around them. "One of these is a former FBI forensics supervisor."

"Do you know him?" she asked.

He looked down at her, smiling. "No. I was just a case agent when he was there."

She smiled back. He was so incredibly handsome. It made her heart sing just to look at him.

They stared at each other until a loud cough interrupted them.

They turned.

"Dean?!" Essa said, giving a good impression of absolute surprise. "What are you doing here?!"

He chuckled. "I can't get enough of these workshops. Why are you here?"

"I didn't get to go to the one at my hotel. Duke saw this one and offered to drive me." She made a face. "My car won't make it past garages. I'd be on the side of the road hoping for rescue if I'd tried to drive here."

"Well it's good to see you," he replied. "Did you bring Mellie?"

"She's with a babysitter, complaining that we shut her out of essential learning for her future." Duke chuckled. "She wants to be a forensic anthropologist. She said you impressed her that much," he added with an easy smile.

Dean flushed. "She really said that? About me? Gosh." He looked odd. "Tell her thank you. That's, well . . . that's one of the nicest compliments I've ever had."

There was a speaker at the podium, calling for quiet.

"Better get to my seat," Dean said. "Want to get coffee at the break? They have a nice café attached to the hotel across the street."

"Good idea," Duke said. "We'll wait for you at the intermission."

"Good deal," Dean said, smiling at them both.

They all sat down, and the program started.

* * *

The workshop went on until lunch. The first hour was a presentation by a blood spatter expert who explained the patterns and how they helped forensics examiners pinpoint the particulars of an assault in murders. The second hour was a talk by the man from the FBI forensic lab and included information about how even a grain of pollen or a fleck of paint could help solve a crime.

Then it was time for lunch.

"My head is swimming," Essa said, shaking it as they left the auditorium. "I've never in my life been more fascinated with anything."

"It really is fascinating," Dean said. "I've studied it for years and it never gets old." He had a faraway look. "It's just . . . well, sometimes I seem to lose myself in it."

"That's not a bad thing when it's your career," Essa teased.

He chuckled self-consciously. "I suppose so."

Mellie spotted them and jumped up leaving the babysitter behind, who quickly disappeared. "It's you!" she exclaimed when she saw Dean. She ran to him. "I didn't know you'd be here! I'm so happy to see you!"

He looked very strange, as if he were choking on something. He swallowed hard. "Mellie," he replied, and smiled. "It's good to see you, too. How are you?"

"I'm great! Are you learning a lot here for your job?" She grimaced. "Sorry. I guess you don't really need to learn a lot more. You're awfully smart!" She looked up at him and grinned.

He was breathless. He'd been undervalued by most people in his life, abused by some, ignored by others. But here were these two females, a child and a woman, and they both looked up to him. In fact, they liked him, and it showed. He didn't know how to respond to praise. He'd rarely ever had any.

"You're embarrassing the man, Mellie," Duke chided, but gently.

"No!" Dean exclaimed, catching his breath. "Oh, no, it's not that. You see, I don't . . . well, most people don't like me . . ."

"Why not?" Mellie asked belligerently. "They must not be nice people, then."

"Absolutely," Essa agreed. "You're just different. Smarter than most people, and that makes them jealous, so they ignore you or put you down."

Duke's eyebrows arched. "You're more perceptive than most people."

"Indeed you are," Dean added. He smiled at her. "I wish I'd known you—someone like you," he corrected gently, "when I was young."

She cocked her head, puzzled, but smiling. He looked young. Perhaps he felt older than he looked. "Thank you. But, why?"

He drew in a breath. "That's a question with a very long answer."

"And I'm starved. Lunch?" Duke asked his companions.

"Oh, Daddy, you're always starved," Mellie teased.

"Said the girl who ate a whole sub sandwich that she was supposed to half with me," he muttered.

She grinned and hugged him. "You're just the best daddy! And I was really hungry," she added with a chuckle.

Dean, watching, grimaced. It was acutely painful to him to see what a normal family was like. It pointed out poignantly what he'd missed, what he'd lost. His eyes went from Essa to Mellie, and he hated what was inside him, what would be dangerous to them. No matter what, he had to keep himself together. He didn't dare let loose the demons inside. He had to fight them . . . !

"Are you okay?" Mellie asked him, worried by the expression on his face.

The child's concern hurt him. He managed a smile for her. "I'm fine. I'm really fine," he emphasized. "I'm just starving," he teased.

She grinned at him.

He grinned back, touched.

* * *

They ate sandwiches and then ice cream at a table in the hotel where the workshop was being held.

"This stuff is really interesting," Essa said between bites. "I've read about things like blood spatter and facial reconstruction for years, but it's different when you get to see it in person."

"It really is," Duke said. "I used to do it for a living. Sometimes I miss that part of my life. Now all I do is track down fleeing fugitives and hunt deadbeat husbands," he added with faint distaste.

Dean seemed to relax a little as he said that. He laughed softly. "I suppose that would get boring. What do you do?"

"I'm with a detective agency," he said, sighing. "I thought it would be as exciting as working for the bureau." He looked up and grimaced. "It isn't."

"His boss is mean to him, too," Mellie said belligerently.

"Mellie," her dad cautioned.

"But he is," she argued. "You shouldn't let him yell at you, Daddy. You should yell back."

"Yelling rarely solves problems," Dean commented absently. "In fact, it often precipitates them."

"Absolutely," Duke agreed. "And neither does beating a child," he added coldly, his eyes on his coffee.

Dean seemed to draw into himself, as if he could feel welts across his body. In fact, he could. It brought back horrible memories of his insane stepmother, who was the soul of kindness around his own father but cruel when nobody was looking.

"Children can be reasoned with," Dean agreed after a minute. "Hitting children only provokes resentment and injustice. And those often translate into crimes." He glanced at Duke with a wan smile. "I imagine you've run across a number of victims of child abuse who became murderers."

"All too many," Duke said, and his voice softened as he looked at Dean. "The world can be a cruel place to a child."

"Not this one," Mellie sang out, laughing. "Daddy never hits me." She glowered at him. "But he takes away my video games."

"Just punishment," Duke said with a grin. "Effective, too!"

Everyone laughed.

Dean finished his coffee. "If you aren't happy in your job, you really should find one that does make you happy," he told Duke. "Life is . . . very short."

Duke's eyes narrowed. "Short, indeed. And good advice, also."

Dean flushed with pleasure. These people made him feel of worth. He liked them. It made what he'd done harder. It made living with it almost impossible. He'd done something insane in response to two insane acts. He hadn't meant to. It had been impossible to draw back, to stop himself. It had been an act of passion.

He'd thought about Essa and Mellie since he'd left the hotel. He'd missed both of them. He could hardly believe it when they walked into this hotel. He'd been looking for a way to get back to them. And here they were.

But now he was in a quandary. He didn't know what to do. Wasn't it dangerous for them to be near him? If he'd done something totally insane once, couldn't he do it twice? Could he stop himself?

He didn't want to hurt either of them. He hated himself. He didn't understand the stranger who'd taken over his body. How was he going to go on living? He looked at the child and shivered inside.