Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

B ailey threw the soda cans away and stared at the trash can. Why had she asked Nate about leaving his job as a detective? Even when he left the police department a year and a half ago, he'd refused to say more than that he was taking time to re-evaluate his career. It wasn't long before he started working for Paws with a Cause, and then he never went back.

She suspected it had to do with a case. There'd been a couple of rough ones the month he left. Even Jenny didn't say much. Bailey figured she felt loyal to Nate, and Bailey couldn't blame her.

Movement at the kitchen door caught her attention. She looked up to find Nate leaning against the doorframe watching her.

"I'm sorry." He slipped his hands into his pockets. "I hate talking about it because it brings up a lot of memories that I wish I could just forget."

His voice was strong, but there was a flash of pain in his eyes.

Her heart hurt for him and whatever he went through. "You don't need to feel obligated to talk to me—or anyone—about it."

"Thanks for that." He pushed away from the doorframe. "I'd still like to tell you if you're up to it. Please."

"Of course."

He shifted so that she could precede him into the living room. She caught a hint of his cologne as she passed him on her way back to the couch.

Nate joined her, rubbing the palms of his hands against his jeans. "Last February, I took on a case. A little girl had disappeared from her own backyard, and her parents were frantic to find her. Originally, we had no suspects. We started looking into the father's brother, who they didn't have a good relationship with. We canvassed the neighborhood and even spoke to her preschool teacher. At one point, we wondered if one of the parents was covering for the other." He crossed his arms. "When working a case, it's important to care about the people you're helping, but you have to maintain a level of distance so you can think objectively."

There was no doubt in her mind that this story didn't have a happy ending, and she steeled herself for the details. "But you couldn't keep that distance. Not this time."

He shook his head. "Her name was Lana, and there was something about her. She was four, had fiery red hair, and the greatest smile. Her favorite color was purple, she loved Minnie Mouse, and her favorite food was pancakes. Her parents said she lit up a room, and I have no doubt that's true. But I never got to meet her." A sad smile quickly fell away.

Bailey swallowed hard. She could picture Nate frantically searching for Lana, doing everything he could to find her.

"I couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. The case consumed me." He swallowed hard. "We found her just over forty-eight hours after she disappeared, but it was too late. Evidence took us to the neighbor who lived next to Lana's family." Nate turned tortured eyes on her. "Bailey, I spoke to that man twice. Twice. And I had no idea. What kind of detective does that make me?"

"Oh, Nate. I can't even imagine…" Her throat ached as tears filled her eyes. "You couldn't have known. Not even her parents knew it was the neighbor. You did everything you could to find her."

"And it wasn't enough. I'll always wonder if, had I kept that distance, maybe I could've seen something in the guy when I'd interviewed him. Figured it out in time to get her back to her parents."

"Or maybe the monster who killed her knew exactly what to say to keep you—and the rest of the police—off his trail." Bailey curled one leg under the other and shifted on the couch so her body was turned toward him. "It wasn't your fault, Nate. Her murderer is the one responsible, and he doesn't deserve for you to take part of that blame." She reached across the space between them and laid her hand on his arm.

"I know you're right. Now. A couple of months later, I found out about a grief counseling group and stopped by on a whim. I really didn't think it'd help me. But being able to talk to other people who were dealing with the same emotional struggles that I was…it was cathartic. It took the rest of that year to start to heal. Most days are better, but sometimes, I still battle the guilt and anger. More often than I'd like. Adopting Minnie helped a lot, too."

He seemed focused on her hand. She should move it, but even as her brain registered the thought, it refused to pass the command along. Bailey looked from him to the dog, and suddenly, she understood where the name came from. "Her name…"

"I named her in honor of Lana because Minnie Mouse was her favorite."

More tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them away. "I'm sure Lana would've loved that. I'm glad the counseling helped. I really admire you for being willing to go through that and to find a way to get help when you needed it." His arm felt like it was hot enough to burn her palm. She finally pulled her hand away and tucked it under her knee. "Do you think you'll ever be able to go back to the police department? Do you think you'll even want to?"

Nate rubbed his arm where her hand had been a moment before. "Honestly? I don't know. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready."

"I remember the case, but I had no idea you…" She took in a steady breath. "I wish I could've done something to help you."

He shook his head. "There's nothing you could've done. I've had to work through it. And if there's one thing I've learned, there's no fast-tracking things when it comes to processing grief and guilt."

"Isn't that the truth." It'd been over two years since Joe died, and still, the grief crept in when she least expected it. She chuckled with a shake of her head. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

When she looked up at him, she found him studying her. A flash of something she didn't quite understand passed across his face.

Suddenly, Minnie sat up when she'd been asleep moments before. Her ears perked, and she looked in the direction of the front door. A low growl emanated from her chest as she continued to stare.

Nate got to his feet and reached for his gun. Minnie stood, her movement punctuated by a deep bark.

He glanced at Bailey and whispered, "Do you have your weapon?"

She nodded and stood as well. The weight of the gun nestled in the waist of her pants gave her some comfort. She didn't intend to take it off until she was getting ready for bed. "Do you think someone's out there?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to take a look and find out."