That could make a person want to see anyone familiar, even the only living relative he’d tried to ignore her whole life. Couldn’t it?
She pushed the elevator button. If he still thought he was dying, then maybe. But surely he had been told he should recover.
Confused and conflicted, she stepped into the elevator, then pushed the down button to the parking garage. The descending motion conspired with her upset and her stomach lurched. She smoothed it with an unsteady hand, absolutely refusing to let his treatment of her make her feel inferior or unworthy. She’d been down that road most of her life and had yanked herself off it. She wasn’t going there again.
The elevator door creaked open. Stepping out, she cut through the rows of parked cars, passing right by her own vintage Mustang. Even with the rain, walking the few blocks to the hospital would be quicker than driving. Safer, too. Rain brought out the worst in downtown drivers.
What could he possibly want?
Her knees went weak. Stop it, Gabby. Stop thinking. You don’t have the answers. You never have had the answers for anything to do with him. Just follow the drill. Suck it up, stuff it down, and get to the hospital.
Lightning flashed a jagged streak in the night sky. Thunder crackled and rolled, echoing between the tall buildings, and Gabby stepped outside, into the crazy cold and rain.
On the sidewalk, she hugged the overhangs to stay out of the sharp wind. Raindrops stung her skin through her coat. No wonder Fitch had come in soaked. If the rain kept up, pouring down in bucketsful, the streets would flood.
At the corner of Perdido and LaSalle, a VIP alert pinged her mobile. She fished her phone from her handbag and spotted a new text from Shadow Watcher.
Rushing across the street, Gabby ducked into the row of concrete archways built into the first story of an office building, and then read the message.
TROOP CALL. Amber Alert issued on Cally Jean Smith. 13. Birmingham, AL. Stranger abduction. She’s in extreme danger, troops. Need all hands on deck. You know the drill. Time to suck it up and stuff it down.
Mist whipped in through the open arches and gathered on Gabby’s face. She shielded her phone with a cupped hand. Two of the six Troop Search and Rescue members replied, then Gabby responded. “Gate Keeper OOC,” she whispered as she keyed in the acronym for out of commission. “Sorry, SW. Medical emergency. Call in backup.”
Another ping followed immediately. A private text to her from Shadow Watcher. “You hurt, GK?” she read.
She keyed in her response. “My father. Stroke. Headed to hospital now.”
“You do what you need to do there. We’ve got this. Prayers are with you and your dad.”
Dad? Gabby’s throat constricted. Her father had never been a dad. She couldn’t imagine him in that role. In a sense, that’s what had led her to join the Troop Search and Rescue with Shadow Watcher five years ago. She had no family. No friends. No home life or support system or anyone to rely on. She had work. A job she was grateful for and good at, but it was work she didn’t enjoy. And she needed more. Wanted more. What more, she didn’t know, but something . . .
At her computer one night, she’d gotten an Amber Alert and decided to use her computer skills to help look for the child. She noticed the Troop Search and Rescue group and they noticed her noticing them. They watched each other but didn’t interact until Gabby found a live feed of the missing girl and her abductor. The group always sent their data to Shadow Watcher, so she forwarded her sighting find to him, too. He took it to the authorities, and they found the girl. Safe. Returned to her mother alive.
Gabby had been elated, and for the first time in a long time, (if ever was too brutally honest to admit even just to herself), she felt connected and fulfilled. She had found a purpose.
In the weeks that followed, they found another child, and then another. Finally, Shadow Watcher messaged Gabby and formally invited her to join Troop Search and Rescue. They’d been seeking missing kids ever since.
Everyone in Troop Search and Rescue retained their anonymity and everyone had an assigned role. Shadow Watcher collected data from the investigators, compiled and disseminated it to the appropriate authorities. Gabby was the Gate Keeper, keeping watch and covering the group’s backs. The other four troop members, ThumpIt, Ferret, Hunter and TreasureSeeker, were investigators with different special skills. Whenever human traffickers were involved and exposed, the risks to the group exploded. So far, Gabby had kept their digital footprints light, masked and their identities protected. “Thanks, SW.” She typed in her text and got a quick response.
“Let me know how it’s going. If you need anything, yell.”
“I’m fine.” She answered by rote. “Thanks again.”
“That’s not lip service, okay? I mean it.”
Gratitude spilled warmth into her. She didn’t even know his real name and he still reached out to her in ways no one else ever had. Afraid if she shared anything more, she’d blubber like a fool, she limited her response to an emoji smiley face, then added, “GK going dark.”
For some reason, breaking the connection to Shadow Watcher proved difficult. Her finger hovered above the screen, and she had to make herself tap Send. Absurd, really. She had never relied on anyone else. Yet as distant as the anonymous relationship was, a bond existed between them. Within Troop Search and Rescue, they worked most closely together online, and she innately trusted him. At least, more than she trusted anyone else, which honestly wasn’t saying much. It was kind of crazy really, considering she knew nothing about him. She wasn’t even a hundred percent sure he was a man, though he came across as a man in his approach and in the way he phrased and framed things. The other group members used the male pronoun to and about him, not that any of them had actually met him, either. But her feelings toward him . . . he had to be a guy.
Grateful she had been spared from explaining her relationship with her father for the second time that night, she stashed her phone, whispered a quick prayer for his recovery and then prayed Troop Search and Rescue found Cally Jean Smith and returned her home to her parents safe and sound.
How disappointing that only now have you prayed for your father, but a child you’ve never met, you pray for immediately.
Gabby rebutted the prick at her conscience. Cally Jean was a child and in extreme danger. He was an adult and getting professional care.
He’s your father.
Boom. Got her on that one. Gabby sighed and kept walking. She should have prayed for him right away. Guilt swam through her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to pray for him; she often did. It was him wanting her to come see him now that surprised her so much. His summons knocked her back on her heels and she still hadn’t recovered her balance. She didn’t know what to do with all the emotions it conjured.
Stop thinking, Gabby. Start there. She clenched her jaw. Just follow the drill. Suck it up, stuff it down, and get to the hospital.
“Right.” She stepped through the last open arch back out into the driving rain. “Right.”
Chapter Two
Tulane Medical Center
8:30 p.m.
A nurse from the station escorted Gabby down the hall and then into her father’s room. Seeing him looking so frail and far older than his sixty years shocked her into clenching her hands. His skin looked as gray as his hair, which was tousled, and the right side of his face drooped. Her eyes burned and her throat went tight. What she had expected, she wasn’t sure, but this . . . wasn’t it. He looked old and fragile and—