Uniformed or not, he was back on duty.
Apparently she had a new watchdog after all.
Rick hadn’t left her side except when the cops insisted on a solo interview. They’d acted as if they suspected him of being a stalker boyfriend or something worse.
His growl hadn’t done much to further his innocence.
She rolled her eyes. Men. She stopped by their uncomfy sofa—or at least that’s what she’d started to think of it as from their earlier chitchat in the rehab room. Given that most of the physical therapists had headed off for supper, the place was for the most part deserted except for the occasional health-care professional bustling by, past and away.
She was on her own to get her head together before she said goodbye to Rick once and for all, a more emotional event than she’d expected, what with them almost getting blown up. He could have so easily been injured worse if he’d been standing closer to her car. She could have died if she hadn’t bothered to warm up her car with the remote starter.
Her knees folded and she flopped to sit on the couch, her black leather boots thudding on the tile floor.
“Are you okay?” He joined her, the cops having stopped keeping them apart.
“I was just thinking how lucky we both are. What if I’d waited to start the car from inside and you’d been standing beside? God. We both could have died.” She swallowed hard.
“Two warriors taken down by a car bomb.” He shook his head. “Quite an ignominious end.”
“No kidding. Is your back okay?”
He shrugged his shoulders, only wincing a hint as the Air Force PT T-shirt tugged at the blood on his back. “Doc put butterfly bandages on while you were interviewed by the cops.”
“I’m so glad you weren’t hurt worse because of me.” She hated to think about causing him more pain.
“You’re certain this was meant for you?”
She might as well be up-front with him. She was surprised he hadn’t found out during the interview with the police.
Nola slid her purse from her shoulder, unzipped the leather bag and withdrew a manila envelope. She plopped the envelope onto his lap.
“What’s that?”
“Go ahead and open it.”
Without answering, he pried apart the metal prongs and poured out a dozen or so sheaves of paper, all black-and-white copies of notes comprised of words clipped from magazines.
“The originals are with the police back in Charleston, South Carolina, where I’m stationed, but I keep these with me at all times in case another comes when I’m on the road so I can show local cops.”
She watched while he thumbed through the stack of her stalker’s notes about how he was watching her. How he’d seen what she chose at the mall. When he’d noticed the specific date she’d come home from a flight.
An outfit of hers he liked most.
The low hum of life in the hall continued while he read. A cart rattled by. A television squawked and talked and blared laughter. Conversation echoed from the chow hall.
All the while Rick’s jaw grew tighter with each Xerox copy before he finally replaced the stack into the envelope. “The explosion’s not coincidental.”
“I don’t think so.” She’d kept the notes because the police instructed her to do so, but she hadn’t taken the whole thing too seriously until now. She’d been so certain her training would be enough to protect herself against anything anyone could bring her way.
She hadn’t factored in car bombs.
“Jesus, lady. How can you sit there so calmly?”
He thought she was calm? Hah.
She pulled a tight smile. “Trust me, my heart’s racing like a newbie pilot during a check ride.”
“Have you had other accidents like this?”