Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            “And your sister?” Abigail asked.

            “She died, too.” Liza glanced at Mercy, who looked sad but gave her a nod of approval. “She was killed. A very bad man killed her.”

            Abigail sucked in a startled breath. “Oh no. I’m sorry.”

            Liza smiled down at her. “Thank you. I miss her, every day.”

            Abigail’s eyes filled with tears and they spilled down her cheeks. “Then you were all alone?”

            Her sorrow was like a punch to the gut. This child saw, heard, and felt too much. “Yes and no.” Taking the tissue Mercy offered, Liza dabbed at Abigail’s wet face. “I met Agent Tom about that time and he introduced me to his family. I was only seventeen then, so I went to live with a friend of his mother. Her name is Dana and she’s like my new big sister.”

            “Like Mercy is to me?”

            “Very much like that. She let me live with her and her husband. They had a lot of kids, so I wasn’t alone anymore, and that was nice. Some of the kids were hers, and—Well, that’s not true. All of the kids were hers. Some were permanently hers and some were temporary. They lived with her while their own families fixed the problems they were having. That’s called foster care. But Dana loved every child that came through her house.”

            “How long did you live with them?” Mercy asked. “I’ve been curious, but didn’t want to pry. Don’t answer if you don’t want to.”

            “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” And it was true. That phase of her life was one she didn’t mind remembering. “I stayed with them until I was eighteen. I’d already decided—even before my sister Lindsay died—that I’d go into the military. Lindsay and I didn’t have any money, and, at the time, I thought Lindsay was cleaning office buildings at night to put food on the table. I didn’t want to be a burden to her when I was old enough to carry my own weight. I’d already discussed my plans with an army recruiting officer in Minneapolis.”

            Abigail’s eyes were wide. “You were a soldier?”

            “I was,” Liza said soberly.

            “Did you kill people?” Abigail whispered.

            “Abigail!” Mercy hissed.

            Abigail stiffened. “I’m sorry.”

            But Liza could see that she didn’t understand why she’d been scolded. “It’s a fair question, Mercy,” Liza said, giving Abigail a hug. “It’s all right, Abs. Yes. I did. And . . . well, that’s hard to talk about.”

            “Why?” It was asked with such innocence that Liza’s heart hurt. She remembered being that innocent, so many years ago. Before her mother died. Before Lindsay was taken.

            Before she’d made decisions that still haunted her.

            “Because my job was taking care of people, not shooting. But one day we were attacked and I had to jump in and help.” Changing the subject, she gave the child what she hoped was a warm smile. “I was a medic. Do you know that is?”

            Abigail mouthed the word, testing it. “Like a doctor?”

            “A little like that. I’m not a doctor, though. Someday I’ll be a nurse, but medics do . . .” She faltered, trying to figure out how to explain it to a seven-year-old. “We took care of soldiers who got hurt on the battlefield. Emergency fixes, until they could get to a surgeon.”

            Abigail looked doubtful. “Emergency fixes?”

            Liza hesitated. “Soldiers get hurt sometimes.”

            “Like Papa did.” Abigail lifted her chin. “He got hurt saving Mercy, because Brother DJ wanted to shoot her. Because he’s bad.”

            “You’re right,” Liza agreed. “DJ is—”

            “Evil,” Abigail interrupted angrily, her jaw clenched. “He is going to hell.”

            Mercy blinked, taken aback at the little girl’s vehemence. “That sounds about right.”

            Abigail seemed to relax at Mercy’s confirmation. “Gideon’s girlfriend took care of Papa until the para—” She pursed her lips. “What are they called again?”