Free Cast the Cards by Shyla Colt Page A

the kitchen.
    “See,
Mom, I’m getting breakfast like I promised.” She  cut a bagel in two, slathered
it with strawberry cream cheese from the fridge, and poured a glass of orange
juice into her travel cup.
    “Mmhmm.”
Her mother quirked an eyebrow but continued eating.
    “I’ll
see you guys later. Call me if you need anything.” She exchanged a meaningful
look with her father. He’d be on the lookout for anything out of the normal,
and his gun was in a safe by the bed. He wouldn’t hesitate to use it, if need
be. The knowledge filled her with a sense of relief. He might be retired, but
her father was still sharp as a tack, and a crack shot.
    He
kept up a relaxed, but steady workout regime accompanied with a biweekly trip
to the shooting range. She knew her Mother was worried, though she’d never admit
it. It was a part of having family members in a dangerous profession. You put
on a good front to keep the worry from them so they could act with a clear
mind. It took a toll. It was the price paid by those who loved someone with a
calling to protect and serve.
    She
hooked the travel mug onto her satchel and took a bite of the round circle of
bread. After snatching her keys from the counter, she exited the house. Ten
minutes later she was in front of the police station finishing off her cup of
orange juice. With one last gulp she grabbed her mug and exited the car. Long
strides took her inside the building. Time seemed to slow as she waved to the
receptionist and walked to the office she shared with Carey.
    Everyone’s
gaze followed her. This case had been the one that got away. They were all
eager to solve it and avenge one of their own.  She opened the door to her
office. Carey sat at his desk, doing his best not to stare at the small, manila
envelope.
    “Thank
God! I’ve been itching to open this thing all morning!” He pushed his chair
back and swiveled to face her.
    “What
happened with that exactly?”
    “They
brought in the dogs to test if for explosives or hazardous items. It came out
clean.”
    “So
I have the go-ahead?”
    “Yep.”
    “Good,
let’s go get suited up.”
    “Music
to my ears!”
    She
laughed as she placed her bag onto the desk and removed a set of gloves to
handle the package with.
    ***
    After
all the anticipation, the tiny, fur-covered object Vannah pulled from its
yellow prison was anti-climatic.  He wrinkled his brow.
     “What
the hell is that?” he asked with a snort. Greeted with quiet, he turned to look
down at Vannah and his heart sank. Something was very wrong. The tongs shook
where she held the tiny, brown, plush bear holding a heart. Her breathing was ragged,
and her eyes were wide with dilated pupils.
    “Vannah?”
    “I
won this for him … at the carnival.” Her voice was empty and monotone.
    Fuck. She
seemed glued to the spot, unable to move, as she clenched the tongs hard enough
to turn her knuckles white. Her eyes glazed over, and he knew her mind was no
longer in the present. Every time she turns around she’s forced to relive
bit and pieces of her ordeal. But somehow to have an actual bit of history from
that night was the cruelest twist the wheel of fate had delivered.
    She
took a deep breath, and her face crumpled like a wadded piece of paper. He
wanted to look away, pretend he hadn’t seen the wounded woman beneath the
hardnosed agent persona she embodied. Yet, he promised Clark. Old habits died
hard.
    He
placed his hands over hers, helping her lower the bear to the counter before he
removed the tongs from her hand. Chest heaving and shoulders shaking, she
balled her fists and bowed her head. 
    “It’s
okay, Vannah.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his
body. He could hear the hiccups she swallowed and knew she was tittering on the
edge of a meltdown.
    “Shh.”
He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Let’s take a break.”
     Leading
her to the stools across the room, he helped her sit. She clenched her jaw.