"Roger and out."
He thumbed the off button, relieved it wasn't another major crisis. The ADO—assistant director of operations—directly below him in the chain of command could have handled this one, but the old commander Quade had been such a micro-manager that the personnel around him hadn't broken the habit of calling about every nitnoid detail, which made the job more time-consuming than need be.
Quade was a helluva flyer, had been a dedicated commander, and no doubt cared about his people, even if his gruff demeanor implied otherwise on more than one occasion. But Carson had often wondered what would have happened to the squadron if Quade died while in charge.
Delegation was important. Sure there were times he could do the job better than someone less experienced, but if someone else could do the job well enough, that was okay, too. Otherwise how did anyone learn if they never had a chance to stretch their wings?
But what did he know? He was too damn young to be in this job anyway. Even with delegating, he was working his ass off so much he was lucky to get breakfast.
Or lunch.
He tucked the phone back in his thigh pocket and stared up at the balcony marking Nikki's place, her UNC alma mater flag waving beside her sliding doors. His chest went tight again as he thought about finding her this morning, her spine so straight while she sat wrapped in that blanket. He would do anything to wipe away this horror for her. Any-damn-thing. Nothing would slip his attention in this investigation. And hell, suddenly he understood Quade's position a little better.
Because Nikki's safety was one responsibility he couldn't bring himself to delegate.
* * *
Nikki brushed her hand over the stack of sixth grade reports on farming techniques of ancient Egypt calling to her for grades, but she resisted. Her students deserved her complete attention and a fully functioning brain.
She needed air, space, sun, all in short supply on this rainy day. But at least her balcony would be less claustrophobic than the tiny apartment that had seemed so big when she first moved in last fall.
Nikki snagged her cordless phone from the cradle and slid open the balcony door. She really craved a long run on the beach but her aching body probably wouldn't hold up for any length of time. Too bad the pool was closed for the winter. The water, chilly though it might be, invited from below.
Dropping into a lounger, she started to dial her mother's number when the phone rang in her hand before she could punch the first number.
She checked caller ID and found "Caller Unknown."
Her stomach clenched. Residual nerves, no doubt. She tapped the On button. "Yes?"
Silence stretched for a second too long. Her nerves flamed. She started to hang up and sprint back inside when a cleared throat on the other end stopped her.
"Nikki?"
Carson.
But he'd only just left. Standing, she scanned outside, past the swimming pool and found him three stories down in the parking lot, against the closed tailgate on his truck. She rested her elbows along the wooden rail, phone pressed to her ear as firmly as her eyes stayed locked on his tall, lean body.
"Did you forget something?" She'd returned his jacket, although she did still have his handkerchief.
"I seem to have overlooked doing one mighty damn important thing for too long."
The weight of his words seeped through the telephone. Did he intend for there to be a deeper meaning? Could he be referencing their night together after all these months? That evening she'd thought finally he'd noticed her only to have him leave the next morning and pretend the whole night never happened.
She wished she could erase that night from her memory as easily as she'd forgotten the one prior. "At least one of us has good recall today."
"I'm not talking about today."
"I know." How silly to speak on the phone while they looked at each other, but with a swimming pool between them and three stories of height, they were safe from touching.
Could he be as affected by her as she was by him? The disturbing and tempting thought spread soothing warmth through her on an oh-so-cold day. "Maybe we shouldn't talk right now with everything so jumbled—"
"I'm sorry for the way I behaved that night and the next morning."
An apology months too late.
She wouldn't be drawn in again. She couldn't bring herself to believe he was total scum, but something was messed up in that head of his and she didn't want any part of the fallout again.
Best to shoo him away fast before she did something reckless like ask him to come back up and inside. "You're forgiven."