Silent Night Threat

“Do you think we could swing by my place first?” She held the sheet from the doctor out in front of her. “It can’t be too far of a detour.”

Chris’s heart skipped a beat. “I don’t see why not. The NASA physician isn’t expecting you at a certain time?”

“I’m supposed to get there as soon as possible, but there’s not a set time, no. Before everyone goes home for the day, I assume.” She chuckled softly, then sighed. “I’m already at an embarrassing disadvantage by not being able to remember critical pieces of information. I’d rather not further embarrass myself by showing up to my place of employment in lost-and-found couture.”

“Point taken. Your address is on the sheet from the hospital, right? Punch it into the GPS, and we’ll make the stop.”

He turned the volume up on the radio once she’d entered the address, and the cheerful sound of Christmas carols resonated through the SUV’s interior, discouraging further conversation. What would they say to each other, anyway? Any conversation would be one-sided and risk mentally taxing Natasha further. The whole situation seemed like a terrible mess, and in his professional opinion, it seemed like she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A mugging gone sideways, maybe—though that didn’t explain the drone or the car wreck. That was targeting, plain and simple, possibly by muggers who thought she’d caught a glimpse of their faces? It seemed a little extreme to go to such lengths, but he couldn’t discount any possibility.

“It’s going to be a pain replacing my ID,” she muttered. “It’s not like I can call the credit-card companies and confirm my identity to replace the cards. And at Christmas, too! There’s no time to get this figured out and get all my cards replaced in just a week. I hope I’ve already done the shopping for Hayley’s gifts. No child should wake up to an empty space beneath the tree. Oh, I hope I already have a tree, too.”

“Maybe the credit-card company’s security questions will jog your memory, or maybe those will be some of the details you didn’t lose,” he suggested. “You never know until you try.”

“Good point.” She sighed again. “And thank you. For doing this, for driving me. You didn’t need to.”

“I kind of did. It’s been my assignment to find you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you to fend for yourself after all that’s happened. Besides, you haven’t quite found all of yourself yet, so to speak.”

She laughed, a strong, deep sound that warmed him from the inside. He’d forgotten how much he missed that sound—and he hadn’t counted on how much it would hurt to hear it again.

“I appreciate that. And I definitely could use a friendly face for a while longer. Technically, right now you’re my oldest friend.” She grew quiet for a few minutes before continuing the conversation. “Are you married, Agent Barton?”

“Christopher. Call me Chris.”

“Okay, Chris. Are you married? Kids?”

There was that lump in his throat again. “No, can’t say that I am.” He sneaked a look at her. She blinked at him with her wide-eyed innocence, and it took all his restraint not to blurt out the truth. But what good would it do? Her head had started pounding at the hospital after a few questions from the police. Tossing out information from a bad situation that had happened twelve years ago would serve only to exacerbate her condition. As soon as he thought she was healthy enough to handle it, they’d talk. This wasn’t the kind of conversation he wanted to delay any longer than necessary.

She reached over and squeezed his upper arm. “Hey, it’s okay. These things happen when they’re supposed to happen.”

“Did I look sad?” Well, that was embarrassing.

“Kind of, yes. A muscle in your cheek has this tic...” Her voice trailed off as everything inside the car seemed to grow still. Even the radio had grown quiet, causing the silence to permeate every molecule of air between them.

All those years ago, she’d used to kiss that very spot on his cheek every time he’d retreated inside himself. He’d been the glue holding his family together—between his mom’s ill health, his dad’s gambling addiction and his younger brother’s tendency to spend nights locked in a cell, someone had needed to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Natasha always knew when the weight of responsibility was beginning to crush him underfoot, and she used to tenderly place her lips against his cheek.

“Make a left turn in fifty feet,” said the disembodied voice of the GPS. “Your destination will be on your right.”

“Does any of this look familiar?” Jolted out of memory, he scanned the street as they turned onto it. She lived in a decent-looking neighborhood, a typical middle-class residential area. Inflatable Christmas decorations lay flat on a number of lawns, colorful fabric puddles waiting for nightfall so they could come to life. Other homes were decorated with strings of lights, plastic reindeer and garland streamers that rustled in the breeze. He’d grown up in Florida, but after a few years in the Midwest and farther north, in states that actually received snow in December, it was odd to reconcile inflatable snowman decor with green lawns and palm trees.

He noted the decreasing house numbers, then pulled the Suburban up alongside the curb in front of a row of attached condos. They were tall, boxy buildings, with beige siding and single-car garages. It looked like a few of the units were slightly wider than the others. A double staircase led from the ground level up to the main floor, and a set of sliding glass doors opened onto a small balcony on each top floor. The front yard of each wasn’t much more than a bland, rectangular bit of grass with a young tree in the center.

“You’re number thirty-seven, right? I think that’s what I read on the paper.” For some reason, he’d expected Natasha to live in a fancy Tuscan-style home, something with a three-car garage, a colonnaded porch, tall palm trees and a pool out back. Something more like the home she’d grown up in, a place that aligned more with her family’s beliefs about wealth and social status.

“Thirty-nine, actually,” she said, folding the papers back up. “I used to live in thirty-seven, but Hayley and I swapped units with our neighbors right before my launch, really lovely people. Thirty-seven is one of the slightly wider units with an extra bedroom, and since they had a baby on the way with two other children under three, we—” She froze midsentence. “How do I know that?”

“Dr. Olsen said your memory loss would be selective, remember? I’d say this is a good sign.” He cut the engine and hopped out, then jogged around to the other side to open the door for her. “It’s late afternoon, almost four o’clock. Will Hayley be home?”

Natasha squinted up at the condos, her gaze swinging between numbers thirty-seven and thirty-nine. “She...might be? If I’ve been missing, she’s probably been staying with the neighbors. She stays there when I have overnight training or a conference to attend. In exchange, and for a bit of spending money, she babysits for Rania after school sometimes, so Rania can have a bit of personal time. With the baby, of course. Hayley got her babysitting certificate as soon as she turned twelve. The course fee was her birthday present.” Her voice rose with excitement as she recalled details about her daughter.

Maybe yours, too, he told himself. “Your daughter sounds like quite the entrepreneur. Smart kid.” He swallowed hard. That lump in his throat refused to go away. “Does she look after the kids in your current place or next door at the old place?”

Natasha didn’t respond, but took the first flight of steps halfway up to unit thirty-nine before pausing. She remained still for a moment, then turned around and came back down. A small red mailbox was positioned on the outer wall next to the garage door, decorated with a gaudy gold-and-silver tinsel wreath that looked like it had come from a discount store. Natasha placed her hands on either side of the mailbox and lifted it off the wall. A strip of duct tape underneath held two house keys in place, which she removed before replacing the mailbox.

“Either place,” she said. “And Hayley has her own set of keys to get inside, but... I remembered these were here.”

“Another good sign.” He rocked back and forth on his heels as nervousness dug in further. As Natasha started to climb back up the steps, a large, silvery-gray mass of fur and muscle careened up the sidewalk, leaping toward her with massive front paws. “Look out!”

He lunged for the dog. Instead of shouting in alarm, Natasha laughed and leaned into the creature’s awkward embrace. Its paws scrabbled against her legs and torso. As they greeted each other, the dog dropped back onto all fours and took small steps backward, punctuating its movements with short, terse barks.

“You know this dog?” Chris asked. “Something’s clearly got him worked up.”

“It’s a she,” Natasha said, ruffling her fingers along the fur at the dog’s collar. She bent to read the tags. “Her name is Fin. Short for Infinity. She belongs to the neighbors.”

“Infinity? Cute.” Chris couldn’t help but smile. “She has such an unusual coloring! I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

“Silver Lab,” Natasha said, trying to beckon the dog back to her waiting hands. “I love dogs, but I’m away too often to care for one myself. Maybe when Hayley’s a little older.”

“What’s she doing on the loose?”

“She must have escaped from the backyard, or maybe Hayley let her out by accident. Not a problem. I’ll let her back in the house so Rania doesn’t come home and wonder where her dog has wandered off to.” As Natasha crossed the driveway to her old condo, the dog followed after her, barking and whining. When she reached the steps, Infinity’s whining grew stronger and her tail drooped. The dog placed her front paws on the bottom steps but refused to follow Natasha up.

Chris’s heart squeezed at the sounds coming from the agitated canine. “Hey, something’s not right here—don’t you think? She seems worried.”

Natasha reached the first landing and looked over the railing at him. Under different circumstances, he might have made a joke about the moment feeling like a scene out of Romeo and Juliet—after all, their families hadn’t liked each other, just like that ill-fated couple’s—but it would fall flat without Natasha’s memories of the two of them. Based on the way her memories of Hayley and her home were pouring back into her brain, however, it wouldn’t be long before she remembered him, too.

“She’s probably just nervous about the kids,” she said. “They can be loud, especially if Rania’s youngest has a screaming tantrum. He’s still learning not to pull on Fin’s ears and tail—oh, there I go again, remembering things. It’s so strange—like one moment, there’s nothing inside my head, and the next moment, there’s too much and I have to let it out. Sorry. You probably don’t care to know all these random facts I’m spilling. Long story short—the poor dog likely needs a quiet place to rest.”

“If you say so.” But the dog’s whimpering increased to an all-out wail as Natasha climbed the remaining steps. The instant she inserted her key in the lock, Fin tore up the stairs, reaching Natasha just as she turned the key. Fin leaped up, grabbed Natasha’s shirt in her teeth and yanked backward. Natasha stumbled back with a cry of surprise, her fingers brushing against the front door and sending it swinging inward just as a mighty pull from Fin dragged her down the first flight of stairs.

And then the front of the house exploded.

* * *

Natasha’s breath came in ragged gasps as she clung to the dog’s soft fur. Muffled sounds rang in her ears as she blinked away the dust and debris that obscured her vision.

“Tasha!” Chris barreled across the short space to reach her—how had she gotten on the ground?—and knelt by her side. “Are you all right? Does anything hurt?”

For a moment, she thought she felt the dog beneath her grow still, and her insides tightened. Then the large, furry body rolled underneath her and sneezed. Thank You, Lord. “I think Fin just saved my life,” she said. Her words sounded strange, and her body felt worse than it had when she’d arrived at the hospital earlier, but that didn’t matter. There was something very, very important she was forgetting. Something critical—

It returned to her in a flash.

“Hayley!” She pushed to her feet and stumbled toward the demolished staircase, not caring how much her body hurt. She’d climb the drainpipe or knock down the garage door to get inside if she had to, because if her daughter and those little ones had been inside the house during the explosion... “Hayley, can you hear me? I’m coming!”

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her away from the smoking remains of the front entrance above them. Chunks of the door and the landing fell, but she didn’t care. She’d find a way in. She’d break down the door at the back of the house, or—

“Tasha, no! It’s not safe.” Chris’s breath across her neck made her pause. She stopped struggling against his grip. “Does Hayley have hair like yours? Curly? Reddish brown? A girl just came outside at your place.”

Sure enough, the sound of feet pounding down the next-door steps was followed by her daughter’s strained cries. “Mom? Mom! You’re home!”

Natasha pulled free from Chris’s grasp and opened her arms to embrace her daughter. She squeezed her tightly once, then held her out at arm’s length. “You’re all right? The others, too?”

Hayley nodded, her eyes wide and teary. “Yeah, we’re fine. I just heard a boom and looked out the window and saw smoke. What happened? Where have you been?”

The reality of seeing her child alive and well sank in, and she clutched Hayley to her chest again.

“Mom, I can’t breathe,” Hayley said, her voice muffled. When she pulled away, the girl’s eyes flicked to the side and back again. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be away overnight? It’s not on our calendar. The Kaifs said you probably just forgot to write it down, but I know you don’t forget that kind of thing and I was freaking out. Who’s that?”

“Who?” Natasha followed her daughter’s gaze to see Chris, standing back and staring at the two of them. He looked pale and shaken, but she suspected she looked even worse for wear. “Oh, that’s Agent Barton from the FBI. He helped me when—You know what? It’s a long story and I’ll tell you after we get this all figured out.” The poor Kaifs and their lovely home. A week from Christmas, no less! Could it have been a natural-gas leak? But she didn’t smell mercaptan, the odorant that gas companies added to natural gas so that even the smallest leak could be immediately detected. Ruling that out, could it have been wiring gone wrong? She thanked God that the children hadn’t been inside. She ushered Hayley, Chris and Fin into her own home, where they could keep an eye on Rania’s children. The house felt strange and yet familiar at the same time. She needn’t have worried about having a tree, because she’d clearly gone all out decorating for the holiday. A Christmas tree sat in the corner of the living room, tall enough to touch the ceiling, the branches so filled with lights and a random assortment of handmade ornaments that they bowed toward the floor. She didn’t remember making them, but at the same time, they felt...right. As she took in the rest of the room, it was bizarre to see some things she recognized but others that looked out of place. She was a stranger in her own skin, with nothing to grasp on to but thin, random memories like wispy strands of tinsel.

A bulletin board next to the refrigerator listed emergency contacts and neighbors’ phone numbers—and a large calendar listed all of hers and Hayley’s appointments in detail. She used her landline to call Rania while Chris made his own calls to the FBI and local police. With help on the way, Natasha sank into the living room’s tan suede couch. Hayley returned to the floor to play with the children, who were oblivious to everything but the brightly colored plastic blocks and noise-making toys around them. Fin jumped up and placed her head and paws on Natasha’s lap. She stroked the dog’s shiny silver coat, grateful for her neighbors’ intelligent pet.

“Fin must have known there was a problem,” she murmured. “Dogs can sense danger that our limited human senses can’t. Labradors are particularly intelligent.”

Chris half stood and half sat against the arm of the couch, not fully committing one way or the other. It was similar to the pose he’d taken next to her hospital bed, as if he was preparing to bolt at any moment.

“I’ve heard that, as well. If she hadn’t pulled you away from the door... Well, as it was, the blast sent you both flying down the rest of the steps, but she took the hit for you. It’s probably why you’re not unconscious from another blow to your head. Fin deserves an entire bag of treats, if you ask me.”

“Maybe two.” She sighed, grateful indeed. “I just can’t believe it. I’ve heard of natural-gas explosions happening without much warning, but the entire area would smell like rotten eggs from the mercaptan if that was the cause. Whatever it actually was, I thought newer homes like these would be more secure, less prone to issues.”

“When did you say you switched apartments?” Chris’s voice was soft but carried an undercurrent of tension. “Recently?”

She nodded. “Right before I left on the Orion mission.”

“And the move is on record?”

“No, not yet. It was a bit of a last-minute decision since the Kaifs had only just started telling people about their pregnancy and I was leaving the following week. We figured we’d fill out the official paperwork when I got back, and got approval from the homeowner’s association for the whole thing. It’s been easy enough to simply hand off mail to each other, but I don’t see why that’s important right now.”

“Don’t you?”

She shook her head, then winced. It still hurt. She might be running high on adrenaline from what had happened, but both her mind and body had taken a massive beating today. She needed to take it easy.

“Natasha,” Chris said impatiently. “Think about it. How many attempts on your life have there been today? You’re on record as living next door. Someone thinks that’s your home. That was no natural-gas explosion. That was a bomb, and it was intended to kill you.”

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