“Doing well. She and Brooke talk a lot and she’s come a long way. She’s more at peace with herself, her father . . . everything.”
“She’s still enjoying the job?” Sarah had been offered an investigative journalist position with a local newspaper once she’d been discharged from the Army. She’d finally caved after taking several months to decide if that was what she wanted to do. It said a lot about the respect she commanded in the profession that they were willing to wait for her.
“She is. It’s a little different from what she was doing in Kabul, but she likes it. I like it because it’s not near as dangerous.”
“I get that. She’s crazy talented. Some of her articles have left me reeling.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, man.”
Travis chuckled and glanced at the ladies, who’d slipped into robes and gathered under one of the tall propane patio heaters. “Have you talked to Heather much?”
“I talk to her when I see her, which is every once in a while. Sarah sees her a lot more than I do. Why? Something going on?”
“I’m not sure.” Travis told Gavin about her race down the street—leaving out the part about how he got the bruised eye. “She said she wasn’t running from anything, but to something.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know. She started to tell me, but Brooke interrupted, so Heather said she’d explain later.”
Gavin stroked the five o’clock shadow on his chin. “You know, she does seem a little more tense than usual.”
“How so?”
“Just . . .” He shrugged. “The last few times I’ve seen her, she’s just seemed . . . off. Tense is the only word I can think of—or strung tight.”
“Yeah.” Travis fell silent, processing. “I guess she’ll share with us when she’s ready.”
Gavin gave light scoff of disbelief. “Heather might share with Brooke, and that means you’ll never know what’s going through her head.”
True. Brooke would never betray a confidence. Which meant Travis would have to do his own digging. “Those ribs are probably done by now. You ready?”
“Been ready even though you made me stand here and talk instead of getting a good soak in.”
Travis laughed and led the way back out onto the deck. With the three heaters, the grill, and the firepit, the chill wasn’t too bad. Asher had already started handing out the plates.
Once they’d piled the food high and had gathered around the firepit, Travis waited for Asher to say grace, then shot a look at Caden. “So, who won?”
“Shut up.”
Gina grinned and Caden scowled before giving a rueful smile and a shrug. Conversation shifted to small talk until Brooke turned to Heather.
“What were you running from earlier?” she asked.
Heather froze and her lips tightened a fraction. “Nothing.”
“Running?” Sarah asked with a raised brow. “Since when does Heather run voluntarily?”
The others snickered. Heather’s aversion to physical exercise was anything but a well-kept secret.
Gina leaned in. “Come on, Heather, spill it.”
Heather rolled her eyes, then sighed. “I’ll sound like I’m crazy. Y’all will think I’m flat-out losing it.”
“Now you have to tell us,” Sarah said. “No way you can say that and then just shut down the topic.”
Travis caught the darkening of Heather’s blue eyes and the furrowed brow along with the minuscule flash of fear. He frowned. “What’s going on, Heather? We’re your friends and want to help.”
Heather scowled. “Y’all . . . really. It’s probably not that big of a deal.”
“But?” Travis asked.
“But . . . I think I might have something of a stalker.”
CHAPTER
TWO
“A stalker!” Travis’s feet hit the ground with a thud and Heather refused to look at him. He’d just had to play the “we’re your friends and just want to help” card, hadn’t he?
“What?” Brooke cried.
Gina’s eyes had gone wide. “You mean like a stalker . . . stalker?”
Heather held up a hand. “I said something of a stalker. Actually, stalker might be too strong a word. He’s more like a watcher.” But maybe not.
All eyes were on her, making her want to squirm. Instead, her left leg started the jiggle like it did when she was stressed. She crossed her right leg over it to keep it still. Sarah’s knowing gaze homed in on the movement. “Explain, will you?”
“I’ve seen someone watching me and it’s putting me on edge,” Heather said. “So, when the guy showed up here, I wanted to confront him. But he disappeared on me.”
“That’s not nothing,” Gina said.
“If someone’s watching you, it could have something to do with that video.” Sarah leaned forward and snagged her drink from the table, her gaze intense.
Travis tilted his head. “What video?”
“You’re kidding me. Where have you been hiding?” Sarah asked. “It’s all over social media. It’s the one of Heather and the team operating on the Afghan teen who blew himself up at the hospital. Caden’s been trying to get it taken down but hasn’t had much luck.”
“Some of us don’t spend every spare minute on social media,” Travis said.
“Well, some of us have to know what’s trending because some of us have a job that requires it.” Sarah scowled at him, then smiled.
Travis rolled his eyes. Being friends with Sarah was like having another sister.
Caden frowned. “I’m making progress. It’s not exactly my specialty area, so it’s taking a little longer than I’d hoped.” He’d called in a favor from his tech guru at the FBI, but she hadn’t had spare time to devote to it yet.
Heather let out a low sigh. “It’s probably a moot point by now. It has over six million views and is climbing. Talk shows are calling me. Can you believe it?”
Four weeks ago, someone had posted a video of Heather performing surgery while in Kabul. It had gone viral within hours. When it had gotten to the point that people were stopping her in the grocery store to either lambaste her for trying to save a suicide bomber or regale her with praise for her “saintly” heart, she’d had enough. For a week, she’d worked to get it pulled from the internet—all to no avail. Heather had finally asked Caden to intervene.
“And the bomb went off before he actually got inside the hospital,” Heather said, her voice low. “I really don’t think he wanted to do it.”
“The boy? What makes you say that?” Travis asked.
She hesitated. “The hospital is in a rural area where a lot of fighting was going on. We were filled to capacity, working sixteen to twenty hours a day to help the troops and local Afghans caught in the middle. I was in charge of the operating room. We’d just gotten back from a short sandboarding trip and I wanted to check on some patients. I was walking toward the recovery ward when I saw him. He looked right at me, took his shirt off, showed us the bomb, and asked me to help him. That’s when it went off. And I don’t think the guy watching me has anything to do with the video.” Although it had crossed her mind.