Read Online Noah's Rainy Day by Sandra Brannan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sandra Brannan
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five. This is serious. Deadly serious.”
“I know, I know. I’m just saying—”
“You tell the BlueSky brass to get their asses out to DIA and meet us as soon as possible. We need some answers. Now.”
“Might be hard, being Christmas Eve and all.”
Gates ended the call and stared at his friend, worried about dragging Streeter Pierce into yet another high-profile case. They’d been together on so many of these emotionally charged cases over the years. And they’d solved nearly all of them, sometimes with not so happy endings. Like the case involving Streeter’s wife, Paula. A horrible story.
Gates couldn’t imagine a more tragic set of circumstances, unable to comprehend what he’d do if something so gruesome had happened to his beloved Lenora. He stared at her through the kitchen window, catching her eye. She was carving a ham and stopped midslice. And the outer edges of her eyes sagged, and the sad smile on her beautiful lips assured him she understood. He must go. And she knew that. Without a word, their silent exchange spoke volumes. Work. It was always work. But she supported him because it supported them. And of course, she knew he loved his work.
Gates offered his wife a smile in return.
“Want to join me, friend?” Gates said, stepping off the porch to walk around the house to his car.
“Let’s roll. Aren’t you going to tell Lenora?”
“I just did.”
“Of course.”
The sun was low behind the Rocky Mountains as the two men walked through the snow. Gates chastised himself for not finding the time this week to shovel the sidewalks in the backyard, worried Lenora would feel compelled to shovel the walks herself tomorrow morning before the kids woke up for Christmas, a moment he already sensed he’d miss entirely. Somberly, he led Streeter through the wooden gate to the front.
Gates’s oldest boy bolted out the front door, looking exactly as he had at fourteen. His son was his duplicate—strong, lean, gangly limbed, with short hair, dark skin, and black eyes filled with wonder and worry.
The teen said, “Dinner is almost on the table.”
Gates nodded at the boy, saying, “And make sure you tell your mother how good it is.”
“Dad, it’s Christmas Eve.” The disappointment in his son’s eyes was unmistakable.
“Which means you will lead the dinner prayer, son. You’re the man of the house.” Lenora came through the front door and stood beside her son, her demeanor stoic.
His son’s eyes grew sadder than Lenora’s. And his smile, although shaky, was meant to be reassuring and supportive. “Okay, Dad. Come home soon or Boyd will have picked the ham bone clean.”
Gates smiled. “Love you, Robbie.”
“Love you, too.” And the teen ducked back inside, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.
Gates stepped onto the front porch and kissed his wife. “A missing boy. From the airport. He’s five.”
“You need to find him. And bring him home to his mama,” she said, a tear sliding down her brown cheek.
Gates wiped it away with his thumb. “I’m sorry, dear.”
She nodded and turned back to go inside without another word.
Gates stood a moment staring at the closed door, wondering when he’d ever find a life of peace. As if falling back into formation after being called up by a general, Gates took a step back and spun abruptly on his toes, fists at his side, shoulders back, and he walked crisply toward Streeter as if prepared for battle.
Before Streeter went to his truck, he said to Gates, “The boy needs us.”
Gates nodded, appreciating his friend’s reassurance that he was doing the right thing by leaving his family on Christmas Eve. But as always, he used humor to mask his sorrow. “I hate involving you guys. You’re always so pushy and demanding, always standing in the shadows until it’s time to take the bows. Probably don’t have much of a choice, though, considering the child might have been taken on another flight across state
“I know, I know. I’m just saying—”
“You tell the BlueSky brass to get their asses out to DIA and meet us as soon as possible. We need some answers. Now.”
“Might be hard, being Christmas Eve and all.”
Gates ended the call and stared at his friend, worried about dragging Streeter Pierce into yet another high-profile case. They’d been together on so many of these emotionally charged cases over the years. And they’d solved nearly all of them, sometimes with not so happy endings. Like the case involving Streeter’s wife, Paula. A horrible story.
Gates couldn’t imagine a more tragic set of circumstances, unable to comprehend what he’d do if something so gruesome had happened to his beloved Lenora. He stared at her through the kitchen window, catching her eye. She was carving a ham and stopped midslice. And the outer edges of her eyes sagged, and the sad smile on her beautiful lips assured him she understood. He must go. And she knew that. Without a word, their silent exchange spoke volumes. Work. It was always work. But she supported him because it supported them. And of course, she knew he loved his work.
Gates offered his wife a smile in return.
“Want to join me, friend?” Gates said, stepping off the porch to walk around the house to his car.
“Let’s roll. Aren’t you going to tell Lenora?”
“I just did.”
“Of course.”
The sun was low behind the Rocky Mountains as the two men walked through the snow. Gates chastised himself for not finding the time this week to shovel the sidewalks in the backyard, worried Lenora would feel compelled to shovel the walks herself tomorrow morning before the kids woke up for Christmas, a moment he already sensed he’d miss entirely. Somberly, he led Streeter through the wooden gate to the front.
Gates’s oldest boy bolted out the front door, looking exactly as he had at fourteen. His son was his duplicate—strong, lean, gangly limbed, with short hair, dark skin, and black eyes filled with wonder and worry.
The teen said, “Dinner is almost on the table.”
Gates nodded at the boy, saying, “And make sure you tell your mother how good it is.”
“Dad, it’s Christmas Eve.” The disappointment in his son’s eyes was unmistakable.
“Which means you will lead the dinner prayer, son. You’re the man of the house.” Lenora came through the front door and stood beside her son, her demeanor stoic.
His son’s eyes grew sadder than Lenora’s. And his smile, although shaky, was meant to be reassuring and supportive. “Okay, Dad. Come home soon or Boyd will have picked the ham bone clean.”
Gates smiled. “Love you, Robbie.”
“Love you, too.” And the teen ducked back inside, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.
Gates stepped onto the front porch and kissed his wife. “A missing boy. From the airport. He’s five.”
“You need to find him. And bring him home to his mama,” she said, a tear sliding down her brown cheek.
Gates wiped it away with his thumb. “I’m sorry, dear.”
She nodded and turned back to go inside without another word.
Gates stood a moment staring at the closed door, wondering when he’d ever find a life of peace. As if falling back into formation after being called up by a general, Gates took a step back and spun abruptly on his toes, fists at his side, shoulders back, and he walked crisply toward Streeter as if prepared for battle.
Before Streeter went to his truck, he said to Gates, “The boy needs us.”
Gates nodded, appreciating his friend’s reassurance that he was doing the right thing by leaving his family on Christmas Eve. But as always, he used humor to mask his sorrow. “I hate involving you guys. You’re always so pushy and demanding, always standing in the shadows until it’s time to take the bows. Probably don’t have much of a choice, though, considering the child might have been taken on another flight across state
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