The Departed

Dez’s eyes, the horror.
    No. Not Anna…
    Lifting his head, he stared at the back of a silver frame. He kept it turned away because he couldn’t stand to constantly see her face when he was here.
    * * *
     
    DEZ stared at Taylor’s back, her belly in knots. What… ?
    A wave of agony all but swamped her. She gasped, pressing one hand against her belly as she stared at him. Oh, shit—what in the hell?
    A voice, familiar, whispered, Not Anna, not Anna …
    Taylor…? Oh, shit.
    And yet again, that true psychic skill that had been so erratic became clear. The words were distinct and solid and real. She knew , as well as she knew her own name, that voice had come from him.
    No.
    Oh, no .
    Rising, although she wasn’t sure she could trust her legs to support her, she made her way over to him. The second she touched his back, the wave of grief intensified and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She did, biting down until she tasted blood.
    She stroked the rigid muscles of his back, studying his face. He wouldn’t look at her, and that was strange. Taylor always seemed to be looking at her, she realized. Always.
    But right now, he was staring very intently at a photo frame. Or rather, the back of it.
    Dez closed her eyes.
    “Dear God.” She reached out and turned it around. But even before she looked, she already knew who she’d see. The child was beautiful. And she had Taylor’s eyes—that steely blue, although they didn’t have that cool, untouchable look on the girl. The same gilt-edged hair, though. Even the same smile. The resemblance was eerie.
    Taylor stared at the picture, a muscle jerking in his jaw.
    And tears on his face.
    Dez felt her heart shatter into a million pieces.
    Reaching up, she wiped the tears away. He caught her wrist and shifted his gaze from the picture to her face. His eyes, not so cold now, but burning hot and intense, bored into hers. “Is it her?” he rasped.
    Dez said softly, “I haven’t seen her outside of a dream.”
    “Is it her ?” The demand was unmistakable.
    “Yes. I think it is.”
    The grip on her wrist tightened—bordering on pain—but she just stood there. Then, abruptly, he jerked her close. He went to his knees, then, and pressed his face to her belly.
    Broad shoulders shook as he cried.
    * * *
     
    “WAS she your daughter?”
    They were the first words spoken between them in hours. Dez felt him jerk in surprise. Then he lifted his head and stared at her. “No…Anna…she was my little sister.”
    Dez winced and touched a finger to his mouth. “I’m sorry.” Pushing a hand through his hair, she asked, “How old was she? And you?”
    “I was fourteen.” He shifted on the couch, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him. “She was six.”
    “So young. Both of you.” Pressing her lips to his chin, she hugged him, wishing she could do something, say something. But she’d already shattered him. He knew something bad had happened now. Anna hadn’t just wandered off and gotten lost, although God knows that would have been heartbreaking enough.
    “Yes.” He stroked a hand up and down her back, restless, like he couldn’t stop touching her. He’d been like that for the past few hours, even as he cried, even as she held him. Like the simple act of touching her was comfort to him. Perhaps it was.
    She could feel the tension in him and even before he spoke, she suspected she knew what he was going to say. Already dread was a heavy weight in her belly.
    “You need to know what happened that day.”
    Lifting her head, Dez stared down at him. “I need to help her,” she said quietly. “She’s weak—not much she can give me. So the more I can get on my own, the better my chance of helping her.”
    His gaze was turbulent, but his voice was level as he said, “Don’t forget who I am, what I do.” His mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “I know the drill. Hell, I fucking wrote the drill.”
    “That you did.” Reaching up, she cupped his cheek, stroking a thumb over his lip. “For Anna. All these years, I’ve wondered what drives you. A lot of people think it’s political aspirations, or just some insane workaholic taking it to the limit. But you’ve got demons like I never imagined, Taylor. All of this was for Anna, wasn’t it?”
    He closed his eyes. “I don’t want armchair psychology, Dez. Especially not right now. What I do, I do because I want to.” Gently, he nudged her off and sat up, scrubbing his hands