Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection Detail\Hidden Agenda\Broken Silence (5 page)

“You'll feel better once you get cleaned up,” he said, and she shook her head.

“No. I won't. I'm not going to feel better until I hear that Officer Anderson is going to be okay.” She reached the top of the stairs, paused outside the bathroom. “But, I'm going to get cleaned up, anyway. I told Virginia to tell the kids everything was okay and keep them in their rooms. I don't want any of them to see me like this.” She plucked at her shirt and frowned.

“Good idea. We don't want them any more scared than they already are,” he responded, knowing that she was more concerned about that then about herself and the trauma she'd been through.

“Exactly.” She stepped into the bathroom, flicked on the light. She didn't turn on the water. Just stood staring at the chipped sink as if she didn't quite know what she was supposed to do there.

He reached past her, turned on the water. “There you go. Wash up.”

“Sorry. Thanks.” She grabbed soap, shoved her hands under the water.

He waited, his gaze dropping to the little chip in the white porcelain. He knew how it had gotten there. Knew how long it had taken to hang the oversize mirror on the wall, how many tiles it had taken to finish the floor. He'd helped Harland do both the year he'd turned sixteen. Part of his restitution for stealing the congressman's wallet. That was how they'd met. Gavin, a brash and angry foster kid who'd barely qualified for his Junior class trip to DC, and Harland, a veteran congressman who liked to eat lunch near the Washington Monument, sitting on a bench and enjoying the spring weather. Gavin had seen the wallet hanging out of Harland's back pocket as he walked by with his class, and he hadn't been able to resist.

He'd grabbed it, had about two seconds to celebrate the victory before Harland snagged the back of his shirt and told him to give it back.

He pushed aside the memory, forced himself back to the present. Cassie seemed intent on scrubbing every bit of skin off her palms.

“I think your hands are clean.”

She frowned, staring at her scrubbed hands. “They don't feel clean.”

“That might take a little longer,” he responded gently, turning off the water, offering her the hand towel that hung from the little rack he'd installed.

“Thanks.” She smiled. A real smile. A sweet one, and he found himself looking at her. Really seeing her. The long red lashes and deep green eyes. The freckles on her cheeks and nose. She was a beautiful woman. No doubt about that. She was also his key witness, and he had to keep her alive, keep her talking, keep her remembering everything she'd seen. “Gavin! You upstairs?” someone called.

Gavin knew the voice. He'd been working with Adam Donovan long enough to recognize it. The guy had a keen ability to separate important details from extraneous. He and his Doberman, Ace, were well known for their success in tracking criminals.

“Right here.” He walked to the top of the stairs, Glory padding along beside him. She seemed okay. Better than okay. She seemed back to normal. Being Tased didn't seem to have done any long-term damage.

“Glory okay? I heard a call went out for the vet.”

“She's good. I'm going to have the vet take a look at her, and I'm not working her for a while, but she seems to be fully recovered.”

“You want me to go out and find your guy?”

“Chase is already out with Valor, and there's at least one DC K-9 team with them. It might be better if you help with evidence collection. We've got a lot of information to sort through and several crimes. A murder. Two shootings. A potential attempt at arson.”

“I saw the hazmat team as I arrived,” Adam said. “You call them in?”

“We've got an accelerant on the back porch. I thought it best if they take care of it.”

Adam nodded. “You think there's a connection between what happened tonight and the body that was found at President's Park? The woman was Harland Jeffries's maid.”

“I don't know, but I think we need to look into it.”

“Are you talking about Rosa Gomez?” Cassie walked out of the bathroom. She must have splashed water on her face. The edges of her hair were damp, a few tendrils curling along the line of her jaw.

“That's right.” Adam smiled, but his gaze was sharp. He was as good at questioning witnesses and victims as he was at tracking criminals. “Did you know her?”

“Yes. She used to bring her son over every few days. She helped with some of the cleaning, and the kids and I watched Juan.”

“He's here now, isn't he?” Adam asked.

He knew the answer.

It was common knowledge that two-year-old Juan was staying at All Our Kids until his mother's family could be located. Since no father was listed on the birth certificate, relatives of Rosa's were the only option for giving him permanency outside of the foster system.

“Yes. We're just an interim placement for him. CPS is trying to locate extended family. If they're able to do that, it will be the best place for Juan.”

“I'm sure it would be,” Adam agreed. “You ever have any long talks with Rosa? She ever mention who her son's father was?”

Subtle
, Gavin wanted to say.

He kept his mouth shut, waited for Cassie's answer.

“No. She never talked about anything personal.” Cassie brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, her fingers trembling slightly. “Is there some reason why you think her death is connected to what happened tonight?”

“Yeah,” Adam responded. “I don't believe in coincidence. Two people connected to the congressman are killed in less than three days. It's a stretch to think the deaths aren't related.”

“I thought Rosa's death was an accident.” Cassie frowned.

Gavin cut into the conversation. “It might have been.”

The fact was, Rosa's death hadn't been ruled an accident by anyone but the media. Congressman Jeffries's housekeeper had been found at the bottom of a cliff, her purse and wallet missing, her cell phone gone. Police suspected foul play, but in the absence of physical evidence and witnesses, they couldn't prove it. They were digging hard, trying to find a suspect and motive, but so far, they'd come up empty.

“Which means it might not have been,” she added. “So, how about you explain why you think her death might have been murder.”

“How about we just concentrate on figuring out what happened tonight?” Gavin tried to reroute the conversation, get it back to where he wanted to be.

“How about I go downstairs and see if the DC team has come up with anything useful?” Adam said dryly. “Then, I'll head back to the congressman's house. Brooke left for...” He glanced at Cassie, frowned. “The potential witness's house an hour ago. She should be calling in soon.”

Good. Gavin was anxious to hear what Erin had to say about her visit to the Jeffries mansion. “Sounds good. I'll want an in-person update from her once she's spoken to the witness. How about we meet at headquarters in a couple of hours?”

“You want the entire team?”

“Everyone who's not on duty.”

“Will do.” He walked away, and Gavin turned his attention back to Cassie.

“I need to interview you, and then I'll need to talk to the kids.”

“The kids—”

“A man is dead,” Gavin cut in. “Two more have been injured. I think that's a good reason to ask a few more questions. I'll start with you. Then, I'll need to speak with everyone else. One at a time.”

“Fine,” she conceded. “We can talk in my office. It's upstairs.”

* * *

She was going to puke.

She really was.

Cassie only hoped Gavin wasn't around when she did it.

She swallowed down bile, caught another whiff of blood.

Gagged.

Officer Anderson had almost died.

His blood had been gushing over her hands, and there'd been absolutely nothing she could do but apply pressure and pray.

Please, God, let him live.

She'd chanted that over and over as she'd waited for help, was still chanting it, because she believed that God would hear, that He would act. She hoped He would.

“You okay?” Gavin asked. He smelled like the outdoors—clean and fresh with just a hint of earth and rain mixed in.

That was so much better than the scent of blood which seemed to cling to Cassie's skin. She swallowed hard, trying to keep the little bit she'd had for dinner in her stomach. “I will be.”

“If you need some time to get out of those clothes or—”

“No. I don't want to waste time. I'll change after I answer your questions.” She broke in, because there weren't many things that could make her cry. Not sad kids. Not sad movies. Not her own grief or past sorrows. Kindness though? That got to her faster than just about anything. And Gavin? He had that look on his face. The one people wore when they felt pity or sympathy or compassion.

“It will take you two minutes to change.”

“Two minutes that you don't have. You were right. A man is dead. Two men were injured.”

And then there was Rosa.

Like everyone else, Cassie had believed what the media reported—a tragic accident, a fall that had led to a young mother's death.

Had Rosa been murdered?

The thought had never occurred to Cassie. Rosa had always been kind and sweet. She had obviously loved her son, obviously enjoyed her job. She'd never said much about her family. Never mentioned parents, boyfriend, husband. Cassie had her own secrets. Things that she didn't tell anyone about her past, where she'd come from and why she'd become the woman she was. So she hadn't asked anything more than what Rosa was willing to tell.

Maybe she should have. Maybe pressing for details would have saved Rosa's life or helped the police find her killer.

Cassie jogged up the stairs and hurried down the narrow hall. The third floor wasn't nearly as open and airy as the two lower floors. Harland had designed the house to serve as a home for at-risk kids, children who'd worked their way through so many foster placements that they'd have ended up in group homes or juvenile detention. They were the hard-case kids, the ones who social workers worried about, lost sleep over.

The ones Cassie loved, because she'd been one of them...until she'd walked into Miss Alice's home.

The upstairs contained two offices and two bedrooms for respite foster care, a storage room and a small library that Cassie used when one of the kids needed a time-out.

She opened the door to her office. It was the only space in the house that was just hers. No kids allowed. She had paperwork in there, files—locked up in a cabinet—containing information about each child. She also had a computer, a small mahogany desk that Harland had bought her for Christmas two years ago and a couple of chairs. Three shelves of books that she'd been meaning to read. Most were educational. A few were fiction.

She took a seat behind the desk and smoothed her hand over a thin layer of dust. She hadn't been in the office since David's illness. Not that she ever spent much time there. Her life was too hectic to do much more than file papers.

“You want to know about the mitten,” she commented as Gavin took the chair across from her, Glory dropping down on the floor beside him. The dog was bigger than most of the shepherds Cassie had seen. It was also more muscular, its coat thick and glossy.

The dog huffed, its dark eyes focused on her face, and she thought it might actually be smiling at her.

“That's right.” Gavin touched Glory's head, and the dog settled onto her stomach, her head resting on her paws. “You said David had a pair and that you'd seen them earlier today. Were you and Officer Anderson able to figure out which kid had them on tonight?”

“We were trying to find David's coat when Officer Anderson was shot. The mittens were in the pocket.”

“Trying? You couldn't find it?” He leaned forward, his palms resting on the table. He had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Not green-blue or gray-blue. Not denim. They were the clear crisp blue of the purest summer sky.

“I never made it to the coat closet. That's where it was supposed to be. David looked, but you know how kids are.”

“You'd probably know more about that than I would.” He smiled, and she forgot for a moment that he was a police officer. He just looked like a man. A nice one. One that she'd have probably wanted to know more about.

If she weren't completely done with men and relationships.

She glanced away and tried to focus on the wall, the bookshelves, anything but Gavin. “Eight-year-olds aren't all that good at finding things. Even when those things are right in front of their faces.”

“Would you mind if I check the closet?”

“I'll do it.” She stood, because seeing that smile had made her more uncomfortable than she wanted to be.

“Cassie,” he said, blocking the path between the desk and the door. “You've been attacked twice tonight. How about you stay put for a while?”

“There are police all over the place,” she argued.

“And there are guns that can hit a target at 400 yards.”

He had a point. One that she hadn't considered.

“The closet is—”

“I know where it is.”

“I forgot. You've been here before.”

“Not just been here, Cassie. I lived here for two years. I know the coat closet, the offices, the little attic space that you can only access through the storage room.” He shrugged. “I'll be back in a minute. Try to relax. Take a few deep breaths. Want some water while I'm down there?”

She shook her head, because there were a dozen questions spinning through her head, a dozen things she wanted to ask about the two years he'd spent at All Our Kids, about his life before he'd become the man he was.

He walked out the door before she could.

Which was exactly what she wanted him to do.