Blade reacted immediately, following Josie’s pointing finger, leading his eyes toward a backpack leaning against the wall in the corner of the courtroom. The bag was jet-black, innocuous enough except for the wires peeking out from the top.
Blade scanned the area around the bag, seeing nobody standing near it. Josie stood immobile, staring at it, clearly spooked by its presence. And she was right to be afraid. Whether this was the real deal or not was irrelevant. The courtroom should be evacuated. Immediately.
With no time to lose, Blade rushed to the nearest security officer. The judge was still struggling to retain order in his court as people refused to quiet down. The high emotion surrounding this case was spilling out from all directions, and the disappointment from little Lisa’s family could be heard in their continued cries and gasps.
When Blade spoke quietly to the officer, giving him details of the suspicious backpack, he was acutely aware of the need to prevent panic from breaking out. If these people thought they might be in imminent danger from a bomb, there would be a stampede. The security officer walked purposefully to the judge and leaned to whisper in his ear. All the while, Blade kept his eyes on Josie, trying to reassure her with a calm expression. Her euphoria at exposing Janice Weeks as a malicious liar had been snatched away, and Blade was angry on her behalf. One of the greatest moments in her career would now be tarnished by Cardwell and his campaign of hate.
He watched Josie help Norman put his coat back on as the judge announced that the court was now in recess and would be immediately evacuated due to a possible threat. Dismissing Janice Weeks from the witness stand, the judge rose from his chair and began to oversee the emptying of his courtroom.
Blade fought against the flow of people heading for the exit door and reached Josie’s side as she was cramming her notes into her briefcase.
“Let’s go,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s probably another hoax, but we don’t want to take any chances.”
“We need to protect Norman,” she said, beckoning a security officer to come to their aid. “He’s too frail to go out the main exit with all these people. We’ll use the side door.”
Blade looked at the door she was indicating just in time to see Allan Sanders rushing through it with Janice Weeks. His face was a mixture of anger and defeat. After the disastrous performance of his most important witness, he must now know that the case was lost.
The officer appeared at their side.
“Please escort my client to a place of safety,” Josie said briskly, ushering Norman toward him. “Norman, I’ll meet you out back.”
The jury was filing out of their seats, disappearing one by one through another side door. The courtroom was emptying pretty fast, and Blade started to feel more anxious.
“Come on, Josie,” he said. “We’re almost the last ones here.”
“Don’t panic,” she said, grabbing her briefcase. “This is the third bomb scare this week, and the other two have both been hoaxes. This one is likely to be no different.”
Blade took her hand. “Let’s not take a chance on that.”
Together they headed for the exit, joining the last of the people heading out the main door, being guided by a security officer. The bottleneck created by the sudden emptying of the court meant that the pace was slow, and this was clearly causing concern for the officer.
“Let’s go a little faster, folks,” he called. “No need to panic, but move along now.”
Josie turned to look at the bag as she passed, and Blade began to steer her to his right side, away from the danger.
“I must admit,” she said with a note of what sounded like admiration, “Cardwell’s made an impressive fake. It could almost be the real deal.”
Then, as if to mock her words, the room was rocked by an explosion that seemed to hit them with the force of a volcano.
* * *
Blade struggled to breathe as thick, acrid smoke choked his lungs. The wailing screech of the fire alarm seemed to be piercing his eardrums, and he fought the sensation of dizziness, staggering to his feet and shaking the dust from his hair.
“Josie!” he yelled. “Josie, where are you?”
The room was damaged most heavily where the bomb had been located. That wall was now partially collapsed, and the chairs of the public gallery were strewn in all directions. The impact on Blade and Josie had come from the shock wave, knocking them right off their feet.
“Josie!” he yelled again. Why couldn’t he see her? She had vanished.
All he could see in the dusty gloom were a handful of other people who had also been exiting the courtroom, wandering dazed and confused, but largely unharmed. It had been Josie who’d taken the brunt of the blast. Why hadn’t Blade steered her away from the bag quicker? He should’ve placed himself between her and the bomb without delay.
He spun around, light-headedness almost threatening to send him to the floor again. Then he saw Josie’s legs protruding from behind the wooden witness stand. She had been blown at least seven feet away. He rushed to her side, only to find her knocked out cold. There was no visible sign of blood, but that couldn’t discount internal injuries. Her face was deathly pale, covered with a fine layer of plaster dust, yet she was breathing.
“Can I get some help here?” he bellowed at the top of his voice. “We need an ambulance!”
He brushed the dust from her face, holding two fingers to her neck and taking her pulse. “You’ll be okay, Josie,” he said softly. “Hold tight.”
He looked around to spot the security officer who had been ushering them from the room, but it appeared this man hadn’t been so fortunate. His body was lying on the floor, mangled and bloody. Blade closed his eyes and said a prayer for the fallen man before turning his attention back to Josie.
“You did a great job today, honey,” he said, daring to speak more intimately while she was in this unconscious state. “I’m so proud of you.” He thought of the way she carried herself around the court, poised and elegant, her bright red suit giving her extra gravitas. “You were beautiful out there.”
A hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder and pulled him back. He saw a woman in a long skirt and high heels kneel to the floor.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m one of the clerks here, but I’m also trained in first aid.” She lifted up one of Josie’s eyelids and shone a tiny flashlight into her eye. “What’s her name?”
“Josie.”
The woman began to speak loudly, tapping Josie’s cheek. “Josie. Josie. Can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can.” She glanced at Blade. “Paramedics are on their way. They might need some background medical details for her. Are you her husband or boyfriend?”
Blade struggled to shake the feeling that he might lose her. “Neither.” He didn’t know how to describe their relationship. “I’m just a friend.”
The woman checked Josie for broken bones.
“Is she allergic to any medications?”
Blade shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Does she have any medical conditions that we should know about?”
He wished he had the answers to these questions. “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.”
Blade looked on helplessly, realizing how little he knew about the mother of his child. He couldn’t even name her favorite color, food or movie. He used to know everything about her, yet he had pushed it into the margins of his memory, along with all the negative emotions he associated with the early days after the loss of his leg. The amputation had caused him to reject his entire life, including the woman he loved, and he suddenly regretted it with every bone in his body. If only he hadn’t been so cowardly. If only he’d stuck around and battled through his grief. He had wasted too many years of his life feeling sorry for himself in Florida, shunning society. But God had pulled him through the darkness and provided him with a purpose. Only God had been able to breathe life into his weary spirit. Only God had given him peace.
And if God would grant his prayer and save Josie’s life, Blade solemnly promised that he would never fail her in the same way again.
* * *
Josie woke in a white room, the clinical brightness of the walls stinging her eyes. Her head throbbed with pain, and she lifted her hand to touch her temple. The last things she remembered were a blinding flash followed by the most incredible hot wind whooshing past her ears.
“Blade,” she croaked. “Are you here?”
“I’m here,” he said, taking her hand. “Archie and Tim are on their way.”
She lifted her head and looked down at herself. She was still wearing the red pantsuit that she had pulled on that very morning, except it was now dirty and streaked with gray dust.
“Water,” she gasped.
Blade lifted a cup of water to her lips, and she felt the exquisite coolness of the liquid slip down her throat, soothing the rawness.
“How long was I out?” she asked, letting her head flop back onto the pillow.
“Around forty minutes,” he replied. “But you’ve been murmuring for a while.”
A doctor dressed in a white coat entered the room and smiled. “How do you feel, Miss Bishop?”
“Sore,” she said as the doctor leaned over the bed and peered into her eyes with a small black instrument.
“My name is Dr. Susan Evans,” the middle-aged woman said. “I examined you as soon as the paramedics brought you in, and I’m pleased to say that you have no broken bones and no symptoms of internal bleeding. But you sustained a concussion from a blow to the head, and we’d like to keep you here overnight to monitor your progress. I’ll arrange a CT scan.” She stood erect, having completed her inspection of Josie’s eyes. “A detective from the Wichita PD tells me that you’re under their protection.” She glanced at Blade. “So your husband can stay here with you if it makes you feel safer.”
“I’m not her husband,” Blade said. “But I’d like to stay nevertheless.”
“It’s an unusual situation,” the doctor said. “There are two police officers standing guard at the hospital entrance, and a detective is outside in the corridor.” She smiled at Josie. “You must be a very important lady.”
“She is,” Blade confirmed. “Very much so.”
A million thoughts raced through Josie’s head. Had she really managed to expose the prosecution’s star witness as a fraud? Would the judge now grant her motion to dismiss the charges? When would the trial reconvene? Why was Blade the second person to enter her head when she woke up, his face appearing in her mind right after she had thought of Archie’s?
Her expression must have revealed her anxieties, as Blade took her hand and squeezed it.
“Try not to think about anything other than recovering,” he said. “Everything else can wait.”
“I agree,” the doctor said, walking to the end of the bed. “Do you have any dizziness, nausea, numbness or tiredness?”
“No,” Josie replied. “But my head hurts.”
The doctor headed for the door. “I’ll go get some painkillers for you. I’ll be back soon.” She turned with a smile. “So don’t go anywhere, okay?”
When the doctor left, Josie shifted on the bed. Her suit jacket had ridden all the way up her back and was bunched uncomfortably between her shoulders. Blade saw her discomfort and gently raised her from the bed to slip her arms from the sleeves.
“Is Norman all right?” she asked. “He didn’t get caught up in the blast, did he?”
“He’s totally fine,” Blade said. “He’s at home, but he’s called the hospital twice, asking for news of your condition. I called him a few minutes ago and told him that you’re doing well. He’s really worried about you.” He touched her cheek. “I’ve been really worried about you, too. You gave me quite a scare.”
Josie flicked her eyes up and down Blade’s frame. His previously white shirt was now flecked with dirt, and his jeans were especially filthy on the knees as if he’d been kneeling in dust. But he didn’t have any visible injuries from the explosion.
“What about you?” she asked. “Are you hurt?”
Blade raised an eyebrow and punched his chest lightly with his fist. “I’m made of strong stuff. Nothing can bring me down.”
“Well, you are part cyborg,” she said with a smile. “That makes you a lot stronger than most.”
She suddenly realized that Blade might find this comment offensive. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
Blade laughed. “It’s okay, Josie. Jokes about my leg are fine, as long as they focus on the positive. I have no problem being called ‘part cyborg.’ It makes me kinda cool.”
Josie felt a sense of relief. But it was short-lived, because a memory of the explosion forced its way into her mind, and she raised a hand to her forehead to massage away the dull ache.
“How did somebody manage to bring a bomb into the courthouse?” She knew that Blade wouldn’t be able to answer this question. At least, not yet. “The security procedures are so tight that not even a lighter can get through.”
Blade’s stubbly face grew serious. “Detective Pullman told me that they suspect the bomb was a crude homemade device using fertilizer. Fortunately, we were standing far enough away to escape serious injury. The police have no idea how it was smuggled into the building, but they’ve launched an investigation. None of the security officers remember seeing anybody with that backpack in the courtroom, but sadly, the officer posted at the door is no longer able to tell us anything. He was pronounced dead at the scene.”
Josie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. An innocent man had lost his life because of a crazed man set on revenge.
“The location of the bomb suggests that Cardwell wanted to kill indiscriminately,” she said. “He doesn’t care who gets hurt.”
Blade nodded in agreement. “It certainly seems that way. The people in the gallery would’ve been in the blast zone. Everybody is very grateful that you spotted the bag in time. The officers were obviously too caught up in the court proceedings to notice it.”
Josie couldn’t recall her cross-examination of Janice Weeks in great detail. It seemed to have gone by in a blur, but she remembered the noise in the court, the judge calling for order and Allan Sanders sitting with his head in his hands as it became apparent that the cornerstone of his case was crumbling away.
“Did Janice Weeks really admit that she lied about seeing Norman take Lisa into his home?” she asked. “Or did I imagine it?”
“You’re not imagining it. You did an amazing job,” Blade said. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” He looked at the floor, seemingly embarrassed. “I don’t think anybody could take their eyes off you.”
As Blade settled his unwavering gaze on her, the throbbing in Josie’s head was replaced by a tingling in her scalp. Something in his expression had changed. He was looking at her in a different way, and it reminded her of how they used to be. Blade used to maintain eye contact with her for many minutes at a time, letting her know how intimately they were connected. She hadn’t seen that look in his eye for seven years, and she didn’t know how to react.
As she felt her color rise, the door opened and the doctor returned, her face partially obscured by an enormous bouquet of flowers.
“These just arrived for you, Miss Bishop,” Dr. Evans said, placing them on the table at the side of the bed. “I thought I’d bring them straight in. Aren’t they beautiful?”
Josie’s gaze immediately left Blade’s and snapped to the blooms, their colors of red and white reminding her of blood and bandages. Nestled between the stems was a small envelope. Her name was printed on it in red ink.
Blade clearly shared her trepidation. “Do you want me to read the card?”
“No, I got it,” she said, sitting up and plucking the tiny envelope between her thumb and forefinger. Then she carefully opened it up and pulled out the card. She had prepared herself for a shock, but she let out a gasp nonetheless.
The message written on it was typed in small, neat letters:
Today was just a rehearsal. Tomorrow you die for real.
* * *
Blade saw a look of horror pass over Josie’s face and slid the card from her fingers. After reading the hateful message, he took the flowers from her and handed them back to the doctor.
“Who sent these?” he asked. “Do you know?”
The doctor looked confused at the displeasure that this magnificent bouquet had clearly created. “I’m not sure. I’ll ask at the front desk.”
Blade couldn’t bear to look at the flowers, finding it hard to believe that their beauty could provoke such a feeling of disgust. “Can you give them to Detective Dave Pullman out in the corridor? And make sure he reads the card.”
“Of course,” the doctor said. “Am I to assume that the sender isn’t a friend?”
“That’s correct,” Blade replied. “If any more gifts arrive, they must be screened by Detective Pullman before being allowed into the room.”
The doctor placed a pack of painkillers on the bedside table. “Take two of these to help with your headache. I’ll go speak with the detective and come right back.”
Blade watched the bouquet disappear through the door and pulled a chair close to Josie’s bed. “He won’t get a chance to hurt you,” he said. “I promise.”
Josie either couldn’t or wouldn’t speak. She blinked quickly while staring upward.
“Hey,” he said gently, holding her hand. “Let’s remember the positive aspects of today. You ruled that courtroom this morning. You exposed a witness as a fraud and a liar and probably prevented a serious miscarriage of justice as a result.”
Josie’s lip wobbled slightly. “The judge hasn’t dismissed the charges yet. Norman isn’t out of the woods. And no matter what happens in the courtroom, it won’t stop Cardwell, will it?”
“US marshals are here in Wichita looking for him, and you have round-the-clock protection, including mine.” Blade wondered what was going through Josie’s mind. She seemed to be in a state of shock, which was hardly surprising under the circumstances, yet he had become used to seeing her so strong and confident.
“Archie needs to leave Wichita,” she said quietly. “Today.”
Blade had been thinking the same thing. “I agree. After he and Tim visit you, I’ll ask Detective Pullman to drive them to Dodge City.”
“I’d like to go back to the safe house with Archie and help him pack a bag,” Josie said, reaching for the painkillers.
Blade handed her a glass of water to help her swallow the pills. “You heard what the doctor said. They’d like to keep you here overnight. You have a concussion.”
Josie snapped back her head and swallowed both pills with one gulp of water. Then she swung her legs over the side of the bed and took a couple of deep breaths. She was rallying herself. He could see it in her expression, which was resolute and determined, trying to chase away the fear.
“Archie will need me,” she said. “I don’t know how long he’ll be away, and he might forget all the important things, like Oscar.”
Blade struggled to place the name. “Oscar?”
“His toy dog. He can’t cope if he doesn’t have Oscar. He also has a favorite blanket and book.” She stood up, wobbling slightly. “Oh, I almost forgot. He uses a special cup for his bedtime drink. He won’t go to bed unless he has it. I just don’t trust my dad to remember to look for all these things.”
Blade took hold of her hand and she struggled to stay steady on her feet. The boy she was describing wasn’t the boy he had gotten to know in recent days. Archie was a carefree kid who didn’t require any routines to keep him happy. But trying to tell Josie this was like navigating a minefield. Nevertheless, he had to try for their son’s sake.
“Archie isn’t a toddler anymore, Josie,” he said, guiding her to sit back on the bed. “He doesn’t need all those things anymore. He’ll be just fine. As long as he remembers to take Sherbet, he’ll have a great time.”
Josie clicked her tongue in an expression of annoyance and irritation. “I know exactly how you feel about my mothering,” she said, shuffling herself along the bed, away from him. “I don’t think I’m being overprotective or indulgent. Archie is still only six years old.”
Blade imagined his six-year-old self, building forts in the woods with his friends, running barefoot through fields of corn, swinging from a rope over the river before plunging headfirst into the cool water. The joy that came with long summer days spent surrounded by nature was unparalleled. By the time Blade was ten, he was able to identify different types of trees and birds, knew what berries were safe to eat, had made a simple crossbow from wood and understood basic survival skills. It was a childhood that set him up for manhood. He couldn’t see the point in growing older if his hands weren’t calloused and well used. Josie obviously saw Archie’s childhood mapped out differently, and he had to tread very carefully so as not to offend her, especially considering the stress she was facing.
“Josie,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. Her face was streaked with dirt, but her green eyes shone fiercely through the grime. “I don’t think you’re overprotective. I think you’re a great mom. I honestly do. Archie is the most wonderful child in the world, and I thank God for giving him a mother like you.” He placed a hand over his heart as an unexpected well of sentiment bubbled up. His vow to treat Josie with constant kindness seemed to be making him more prone to displays of emotion. “You took care of him unfailingly while I ran away from society like a coward because I lost a leg. You stepped up, carved out a career as a respected defense attorney and raised a wonderful child. So please don’t ever think I’m criticizing you. That’s the last thing I want to do.”
She gave him a sideways look, cautious but friendly. “Thank you.”
Now for the hard bit. “But I think that some part of you doesn’t want Archie to grow up because you don’t want to lose that bond you have. He’s your special little boy, and you want to keep him close. You want him to cuddle up to you with his favorite blanket and nighttime sippy cup, just like it’s always been since he was a baby, but all children change as they grow up. It’s inevitable.”
Her friendly expression grew more guarded. “I don’t think you know Archie as well as I do.” There was something patronizing about her tone that infuriated Blade, but he remembered his promise to be kind. “It’ll take you a long time to understand his little quirks and habits,” she continued. “He’s not like other kids. He’s more gentle and sensitive.”
“I already told you that I caught him swinging from the light fixture,” Blade said, keeping his voice as light as he could. “Would a gentle and sensitive kid do that? Sometimes we see what we want to see rather than the reality.”
“Blade,” she said in a voice that let him know a reproof was coming.
Yet she didn’t have time to continue. The door opened and Detective Sykes walked in, closely followed by Archie and Tim. Archie bounded into the room and jumped up onto the bed, throwing his arms around his mother and holding on tight.
“It’s nice to see you back, Detective Sykes,” Blade said, watching her hang back to allow Josie’s family some space. “Are you fully recovered?”
“I’m good, thank you, Mr. Harding,” she replied, pointing to a row of small, neat stitches on her eyebrow. “I have just one small wound.” She dropped her voice and led Blade into the corner. “We’re very concerned about this latest development. I just can’t imagine how a bomb was smuggled into the courthouse without inside help. We’ve requested all of today’s security footage from the courthouse in the hope that it’ll give us a lead.”
“Josie also received some flowers from Cardwell a few moments ago,” he said, making sure to whisper. “The message said she would die tomorrow. Detective Pullman knows all about it.”
Detective Sykes took a sharp breath. “It might be wise to keep Josie on lockdown for a couple of days. I’ll explain to the judge that she can’t risk her life by continuing the trial.”
“You think she should be replaced by another attorney?”
“I do,” the detective replied with solemnity. “This has gone far enough.”
Blade glanced at Josie, cuddling Archie on the bed with a smile of joy mingled with apprehension on her face.
“Josie’s come this far. I doubt she’ll walk away from Norman now,” he said. “This battle is one that she’ll want to fight all the way to the finish.”
* * *
Josie slipped Oscar into her son’s backpack and zipped it up. She checked her list and ticked off the items that had already been included in the suitcase, pushing Blade’s concerns to the back of her mind. How dare he accuse her of babying her son? At six years old, Archie was barely out of toddlerhood. At least, that was the way she saw it. Blade might be Archie’s father, but he had a lot to learn about how complex he was. Just because Archie sometimes liked to swing from the ceiling now and again didn’t mean he was a rough-and-tumble kind of boy. He wasn’t. Josie knew him from his head to his toes.
She sat on a chair in Archie’s room as a sensation of light-headedness engulfed her. She had discharged herself from the hospital against the doctor’s wishes, but there was no way she would allow herself to be kept there overnight while her son prepared to take a road trip.
“You okay, Josie?” Blade asked, walking into the room with Archie in his arms.
Since their son had learned of his unexpected visit to his great-grandparents’ house in Dodge City, he had attached himself to his father like a limpet, and it hurt Josie to see the strength of his affections. Archie had barely spoken to her while she packed his suitcase.
“I’m fine,” Josie replied, smiling brightly. “How about you, champ?” she said to Archie. “You excited about your trip?”
“I want Dad to come,” Archie whined. “I don’t want to go without him.”
Blade tried to place him on the floor, but Archie refused to let go of his father’s neck and clung on for dear life. Blade gave up and allowed his small body to remain curled against his torso. Josie physically ached, watching her son cuddle his father while her own arms remained empty.
“We already talked about this, buddy,” Blade said gently. “I need to stay in Wichita and take care of your mom.”
Archie was unconvinced by this argument. “But Mom can come, too.”
“Mom has to work,” Blade said. “She’s a very important lawyer—you know that—and lots of people rely on her to help them.”
“It’s not fair,” Archie said, his whiny voice rising.
“Listen to me, son,” Blade said, pulling Archie’s fingers, one by one, from around his neck and forcing him to stand on his own two feet. “If you and Granddad aren’t here to take care of your mom, who’s gonna do it, huh?”
Archie thought about this for a few seconds, his face screwed up tight. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly,” Blade said, dropping to a bended knee to be on his son’s level. “You normally do a great job of being Mom’s special helper and giving her hugs when she needs them, but if you’re not here, then she’ll be lonely all by herself. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Archie shook his head, his blond curls bouncing. “No, sir.”
“You won’t be away for long,” Blade said. “Just long enough for Mom to finish her important job and get your house ready to move back into.”
At the mention of his home, Archie perked up. “So you’ll give Mom lots of hugs when she’s sad?” he asked seriously. “Because that’s one of my important jobs.”
Blade put his arm around Josie’s shoulder. She surprised herself by not flinching or shrugging him off. His arm, in the sleeve of a brushed cotton shirt, was warm and weighty, seemingly naturally suited to resting on her nape and shoulder. In fact, she enjoyed the gesture of affection. She always enjoyed Blade’s gestures of affection, no matter how resentful she felt about losing her son’s loyalties to him.
“I’ll give your mom as many hugs as she needs,” Blade said.
Archie smiled knowingly. Josie recognized his expression as one of mischief.
“She looks sad now,” Archie said with a downcast face. “I think she needs a big hug right away.”
Josie shook her head reprovingly. She knew exactly what her son was up to, but Blade played along, turning and drawing her into a tight embrace. She had no choice but to snake her arms around Blade’s waist and rest her head on his torso, breathing in his woody scent. In his gentle hold, she allowed the tension in her body to flow away, breathing in rhythm with the rise of his chest. It was the most relaxed she had felt in many months, and she almost didn’t want the moment to end, but Blade finally pulled away with a smile.
“You see?” he said to Archie. “I’m almost as good as you are at hugging Mom.”
“Only almost,” Archie said, turning to run from the room. “I’ll go tell Granddad I’m ready to go.”
Josie rolled her eyes. The child’s ability to change his mind in a heartbeat was remarkable. She watched him run to the stairs and hook his leg over the banister, preparing to slide all the way to the bottom.
She stepped forward. “No, you’re not allowed to do that. Walk down the stairs, please.”
But her son, for the first time in his life, openly disobeyed her. He shot her a defiant stare and climbed onto the banister before gliding out of sight on his downward path.
“Archie Bishop!” she called, chasing after him. “You’re in so much trouble.”
A sudden yelp and stomach-turning crunch stopped her in her tracks. Something had cracked hard onto the wooden floorboards at the bottom of the stairs.
She screamed at the top of her voice, “Archie!”