Читать книгу Security Measures - Sara K. Parker - Страница 15

“Start at the beginning,” Hunter said, pulling onto the interstate.

Twenty-five minutes of highway stretched between the cemetery and Harmony Senior Living. It wasn’t enough time to explain all that had happened, but Triss never used more words than she had to, so she would make it work.

“The first person who died was Walter,” Triss started. “Walter Tompkins. He was eighty-six. Diabetic coma while he slept. He never woke up. All the residents were talking about how it was the perfect way to go. Everyone wants to die in their sleep.”

Hunter said nothing, so she continued. “Genevieve Hail was next. Her boyfriend always called her Jenna-Doll. She was sixty-seven. Heart attack during dialysis.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Don. He’s a resident, too. They’d been together about a year. He was planning to propose.”

“How long after Walter?”

“Six days.”

“Go on.”

“Connie Mays, four days later. Walking pneumonia got serious fast. She died while reading in her armchair. She was the healthiest seventy-two-year-old I’d ever met. And then, she was dead.”

“And this time, Frank Townsend,” Hunter said. “What was his story?”

“Ten days had passed. I’d started to think that the three deaths had been a tragic fluke. A bad season at Harmony. But Frank—he overdosed on prescription painkillers. He was one of the newer residents, always cheerful. Everyone loved him.”

“People learn to hide their pain,” Hunter pointed out.

“I won’t argue with that. Another possibility is an accidental overdose. He was a bit of a drinker and he’d had a beer or two that day. His daughter also mentioned she thought he’d started to show signs of dementia. He was scheduled for an evaluation later this week.”

Hunter nodded. “My mom suffered with dementia. Caught her consuming a whole stick of butter one day. She’d ingest anything that wasn’t locked up.”

“Exactly,” Triss agreed. “Which is why I know this sounds crazy. There’s a logical explanation for all of these deaths. But something doesn’t sit right with me. That’s a lot of death in a short amount of time.”

“At a residential community for the elderly,” Hunter added. He glanced over at her. “But?”

“But my gut tells me something else is going on,” Triss responded.

She filled him in on the lax security at Harmony and her ideas for tightening it up—if for nothing else, then for her own peace of mind. She told him about the meeting she’d held two days ago to get the other grad students and some staff on board—and how no one seemed to take her concerns seriously. And she told him that she’d started to wonder if she simply was being paranoid and not dealing well with grief.

Hunter was mostly quiet as she told the story, but that was his way. She’d been with him on enough interviews to know how he operated. When drawing up security plans, he believed in long silences and letting clients tell their stories until they ran out of words. That’s when he would start asking questions. She let silence fall over the car and waited.

Finally, Hunter glanced over at her. “This is a lot to handle alone,” he said. “I would have backed you up at that meeting.”

“We haven’t exactly seen much of each other lately.”

A beat passed, and she immediately regretted her words. It was no one’s fault but her own that they hadn’t seen much of each other. She had a phone. She had his number. She’d purposely stayed away.

“No,” Hunter said. “We haven’t.”

She suspected he wanted to say more on that topic, but he didn’t. Their exit was coming up, and he slowed, pulling off the highway. “So, four people have died in three weeks. On Monday, you held a security meeting and no one supported your ideas, and today your car catches on fire leaving the funeral.”

“I told you it sounded crazy.” She refused to look at him, afraid to see the doubt in his eyes. She could handle that look from almost anyone. But not from Hunter.

“It does sound crazy,” he finally said, and her heart sank.

When did she get so soft? When had words gained the power to hurt her again? Why did she care if Hunter believed her? It wasn’t as if—

“But I believe you,” Hunter added.

Relief flooded over Triss. The truck turned onto the winding road that led to the senior living community, fall leaves swirling along the path. She wanted to thank him. And hug him. Strangely, she also wanted to cry. She didn’t do any of those things. Instead, as he pulled up to the security gate, she said, “Good. Now is when you help me figure out what to do next.”

She gave him the code to open the wrought-iron gate, and as he drove through it and onto the property, he glanced her way. “The next order of business would be to file a report with the police. You may not have had much to go on with the residents’ deaths, but what happened today definitely gives your concerns more credibility.”

“Right.”

“And upgrading security measures like you mentioned would be a reasonable next step.”

The narrow road opened onto the well-manicured property, tufts of golden leaves scattered along the drive and the walkways.

“I’ll get in touch with Roman tonight and see what we can pull together. They have a security team here?”

He pulled into a parking spot.

“Sort of. Two officers patrol on twelve-hour shifts. You can usually find one of them in the admin offices over there.” She pointed to a small whitewashed brick cottage across the parking lot.

“Good. I’ll try to get with one of them before I leave.” He turned off the truck and focused his attention on her. Triss forced herself to meet his gaze, to pretend that the warm concern in his soft brown eyes didn’t affect her one bit.

“You sure you’re okay? We can turn around now and get you checked out.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, and she meant it. She hadn’t hit her head, and she wasn’t the least bit tired. She was overwhelmed. She’d almost died, and then Hunter had shown up—the man who had spent the past couple of years slowly chipping away at every wall Triss had built around her heart. The very man she’d been successfully avoiding since August.

She started to open the door, but Hunter reached past her and opened the glove box.

“Hold on.” He pulled out a packet of wet wipes and handed them to her. “Unless you want to answer a bunch of questions, you’ll want to get rid of the evidence.” A hint of a smile played on his lips, and Triss flipped down the visor mirror.

Traces of smoke residue were smudged along the side of her nose and the edge of her jaw. She took a wipe and swiped it over her skin, erasing any signs of the accident. Then she grabbed a new one for her hands, a warm thankfulness rising at Hunter’s thoughtfulness.

She handed the pack to him. “Better?”

His gaze traveled over her face, his eyes too soft. He nodded and popped the packet back in the compartment, which was also stuffed with a pack of crackers, two Pull-Ups and a box of Disney-character Band-Aids.

He glanced up at her as he closed the console, humor in his expression as he caught her observing.

“It’s my emergency stash,” he said.

Somehow, the stash made her heart ache, but Triss forced a small smile. “Always prepared.”

Of course, he would be as a single dad of two young kids.

She opened the door and stepped out, pushing away the emotions threatening to rise again. What was wrong with her?

Death. Funerals. Families weeping over graves.

And Hunter, crouching on the hood of her car, locking eyes with her and renewing her strength as her breath started to fail, just as her body started to give up.

If she was the type of woman who dreamed of happily-ever-afters, he was the type of man she would dream about. Courageous, quick and smart at work. Tender and lighthearted with his kids. Kind to everyone he met.

Of course, Triss wasn’t prone to dreaming. Even if she was, Hunter was off-limits, and she would never tell him why. The reminder wrenched at her heart as Hunter came around the front of the truck and walked alongside her. Sure, she’d moved here to cut her expenses and get out of her brother’s house. But the move had also allowed her to cut her hours at Shield and switch to the weekend night shift, which meant she rarely saw Hunter. And that had been on purpose.

“My mom lived here when her dementia got bad.”

Triss glanced over at Hunter as they headed up the walkway toward Creekside Manor, the independent-living home where Triss resided. Harmony was set on fifty wooded acres with walking trails, gardens, a man-made lake and a fitness center, and offered fresh, organic meals and live music twice a week. There were three separate homes for residents. Creekside was for those who could still live independently, and the residents resided in either single-or double-bed apartments. Silverwood Villa housed assisted-living and memory-care residents. Emerald Estate was the last stop, so to speak, with skilled nursing care available 24/7.

“This is the place to be when you can’t live on your own anymore,” Triss commented.

Hunter agreed. “Mom seemed to enjoy it. She started in Silverwood until she moved into Emerald.”

His voice had lowered, his gaze roaming over the property as they walked. “How many of the deaths were at Creekside?” he asked.

“All of them.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Exactly.” The deaths might not have been as worrisome or noticeable if they’d happened between the three homes, or mostly in Silverwood and Emerald, but all the residents had died at Creekside—where no one required nursing care. In fact, there had only been one other death since Triss had moved in, and it was over at Emerald in September.

A car parked nearby, a young family climbing out, likely coming to visit parents and grandparents, and Triss figured she and Hunter probably shouldn’t discuss murder suspicions out in the open.

“How long did your mom live here?” she asked, moving into more neutral territory.

“Four years. She passed away when Josie was two.”

“Young for dementia, right?”

He nodded. “Sixty-three at onset. She was never the same after my dad died. He was twelve years older, a smoker. Died of lung cancer.”

Triss knew loss. She also knew that Hunter had been an only child, and she could read the latent grief in his eyes. She was scrambling to think of something to say other than “I’m sorry,” but the doors flew open in front of them and Kaye Lawson emerged, her bright red lipstick matching her wide smile and fiery hair. Kaye had moved into Harmony after a stroke, determined not to burden any of her six children, and despite her nearly full recovery, she’d stayed.

“There you are!” Kaye was a thin woman, but tall, and she wrapped Triss in a motherly hug. Triss had finally stopped avoiding Kaye’s hugs several weeks ago. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to be hugged by her own mother, an addict who had been in and out of jail for decades, bringing home questionable men and leaving for days at a time. Kaye claimed that Triss needed more hugs, and Triss was starting to think she may be right.

“Sorry I’m late,” Triss offered, not mentioning the accident. She didn’t want to draw the attention away from the celebration of Frank’s life and onto her.

“We were starting to worry about you.” The woman’s observant gaze seemed to inspect Triss with a question, but she didn’t ask it. Instead, she glanced curiously toward Hunter. “Now, who is this handsome young man?”

Hunter flashed his disarmingly charming and dimpled smile at Kaye. “Hunter Knox.” He held out a hand, but Kaye laughed.

“I only accept hugs.”

Hunter laughed, too, hugging her in greeting and sending a good-natured wink at Triss. She felt a smile tugging, her pulse suddenly racing. She looked away. This was exactly why she was trying to get some distance from him. All her defenses were useless when he was nearby.

“Hunter and I work together at Shield,” Triss said as they all walked inside. “Hunter, this is my friend Kaye.”

“Are you helping set up?” Kaye asked him.

“He doesn’t have much time,” Triss answered for him, helping him off the hook. “You have to get home for the kids, right?”

“I have time.”

“I like you already.” Kaye smiled broadly, her face a map of lines that showed she lived a life bent toward joy and maybe adventure.

“So, you have kids,” Kaye said, leading the way through the common area. “How old are they?”

“My daughter, Josie, is about to turn six. And my son, Levi, is two.”

“Oh, and I’m sure they keep you on your toes. If your wife’s at home holding down the fort, you’d better not stay here too long,” she said with a grin.

Kaye’s gaze flicked to Triss, and Triss groaned inwardly. Knowing Kaye, she’d already searched for Hunter’s wedding band, found it missing and decided she’d found Triss a husband.

“Their very young and energetic nanny is home with them, and she’s paid very well,” he said warmly. “My wife passed away after our son was born.”

Kaye’s smile fell. “Oh, dear. How sad.” She touched his arm. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful dad.”

“Thank you.” He smiled ruefully. “Some days I do better than others.”

“That’s parenthood for you. You should bring them by some time. We love kids around here. So much energy.”

“I’ve been meaning to for a while now, actually,” he said. “We’d visit sometimes when my mother was here a few years ago.”

“Well, Brandon’s over there setting up the microphone.” She pointed to the front of the room near the fireplace, where a white-haired gentleman was crouched in front of a microphone stand, his back to the room. “He’s our activities director. You should talk to him.”

“Sounds good. I’ll catch up with you two in...?”

“The kitchen or dining hall,” Triss suggested, and then followed Kaye.

“Let’s get the waters filled on the tables,” Kaye said. “Then we’ll light the centerpiece candles.”

“Got it.”

The dining hall was quiet, and a handful of residents were starting to trickle in. Triss glanced around as she filled water glasses, her focus returning now that Hunter was out of the picture. What had happened with her car had heightened her suspicions. She shifted her gaze to each new guest that entered—residents, caregivers, custodial staff, her fellow grad students. No one seemed to be paying her much attention. If anyone knew she’d been in a life-threatening accident, they weren’t letting on.

Her pitcher ran out again and she headed to the kitchen, standing at the fridge to fill it with filtered water.

“How’s it going out there?”

Triss glanced over at Barb, Creekside’s live-in chef, noting that she’d exchanged her trademark blue apron with smiling cartoon bananas for a plain black one more appropriate for the occasion.

“Good. People are starting to arrive. Need any help in here?”

Barb shook her head. “I’ve got it under control. The family wanted chicken alfredo, though—sorry, there’s not much of a substitute for that.”

“I’ll stick with the salad,” Triss said. “You know I’ve told you not to worry about me.” She had a pretty serious dairy allergy that had necessitated an EpiPen more than once in her life, and Barb couldn’t stand the idea of anyone missing out on a meal.

“I made a couple of chicken-and-rice meals for you. They’re in the fridge if you get hungry later.”

For a split second, Triss wanted to set down the pitcher and hug Barb. But that would be awkward for both of them, so she just said, “Thank you,” knowing that Barb couldn’t possibly understand how touching her thoughtfulness was. More days than she could count, there had been no food in the Everett household when she was younger. Luke was forever scavenging leftovers from restaurants and grocery stores for the three siblings to split, and a well-meaning neighbor sometimes dropped groceries by. It was a wonder Triss had survived those years. She learned many years later that Luke had scoured ingredients labels on the grocery leftovers and had made friends with two local restaurant owners, who saved dairy-free extras regularly for them. They’d had one scare, when she was six, but Luke had managed to get her to a hospital. They’d left with two separate foster families, Triss with an EpiPen. It was the first time they’d been split up—Cal and Luke to one home, and Triss to another. They’d been more careful after that.

With the pitcher topped off, Triss turned from the kitchen, pushing the swinging door open with her arm as Hunter walked in.

She stopped short, water sloshing from the pitcher onto his white button-down.

“Whoa.” He grasped the pitcher, steadying it as Triss took a quick step backward.

“Sorry,” she said, water dripping along her arms, a bubble of laughter threatening at the amused expression on Hunter’s face.

He took the pitcher from her. “Here.” Reaching past her, he grabbed a hand towel and wiped the sides of the pitcher before handing it to her. The tips of his fingers grazed her hand, sending a sudden jolt of awareness straight up her arms.

So. It hadn’t been shock earlier, when he’d lifted her into his arms and every muscle in her body had gone weak, her pulse racing as her hand had clutched a small square of his shirt. It had simply been the effect Hunter had on her. What was it about him?

“You talked to Brandon?” she asked, realizing she’d stood still for a couple of seconds too long.

He nodded. “He said I can bring the kids any day between lunch and dinner—just shoot him an email.”

“Great. Heading home?”

“Figured I’d help out.” He took off his wet tie and shoved it in a pocket, then started unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling up his sleeves.

“I think we’ve got things under control,” Triss said, making a move toward the door. “You need to—”

“I’m planning to stick around for a while. I can sit and observe, but I’d much rather have something to do,” Hunter said, moving in front of her and blocking her path as he rolled up the second sleeve.

“Give the man a job, Triss, and out you both go! Too many cooks in my kitchen.”

Triss shot a glare over at Barb even as the woman winked at Hunter and continued prepping several large salads.

“We’re setting tables,” Triss said finally. She pointed to an empty pitcher by the sink. “Go ahead and fill that one up with ice water and meet me in the dining hall.” She scooted past him and turned out of the kitchen.

* * *

Hunter hurried to the pitcher, filling it and heading out the way he’d seen Triss turn. He wanted to tell her to slow down, to sit, to take it easy. But he knew any suggestions wouldn’t just be ignored, they’d be fought. The best he could do would be to stay close, keep an eye on her. Was he overreacting? Maybe. But he’d learned two years ago exactly what could happen when physical symptoms were ignored. His wife had died because of it.

When he turned into the dining hall, he noticed Triss setting down her pitcher and taking a seat next to one of the residents. She leaned forward, empathy in her expression as she listened.

Hunter filled the glasses around the room, his attention flicking to Triss as he did so. She spoke softly to the man, whose dark hair was still winning its battle against gray. Her hand came to the man’s upper arm, soothingly rubbing it as the man wiped away tears. Her tenderness was always a surprise when she let it show, and Hunter wondered often why she worked so hard to hide it.

He’d been intrigued by Triss ever since he’d met her at the gun range during a training session a couple of years ago. She’d never shot a gun in her life, but within hours she was outshooting police veterans. He’d been impressed, but not drawn to her in the least. The loss of his wife was still raw, and Triss emanated no warmth. She didn’t smile even once, and barely spoke the entire day, moving off to the side to eat a quick bagged lunch she’d brought, clearly signaling she wasn’t interested in conversation.

She was gorgeous, with a slim athletic figure, and wide dark eyes set against caramel skin. But her body language created a barrier that told people she was intensely private and happier that way. Still, something about her intrigued Hunter, especially when he learned that Luke was her older brother. Luke had to be one of the most congenial guys Hunter had ever met, and the contrast between the two was striking—even though their sibling bond was obvious to anyone who saw them together.

Over time, their friendship grew, and Hunter had become determined to discover what had hurt her so much in the past that she had created a rigid wall around her. She had seemed just as determined to keep her distance, which had become painfully obvious when she’d moved to Harmony and stopped contacting Hunter in August. Even his kids had started getting attached to her, and her disappearance had been confusing for them.

But something had shifted between them today. His mind called up the memory of her in his arms, her hand clutching his shirt. He’d never known Triss to accept help, but she had done more than accept his help. She had hung on to him, her face pressed to his chest.

And he hadn’t missed her reaction when he’d run into her in the kitchen doorway a few minutes ago. Triss, flustered? Was it possible he still had a chance to deepen the friendship he’d been fighting for? Did he even want to? The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his kids if she started coming around and then disappeared again. And Triss had big goals, he reminded himself.

When she’d signed the contract at Harmony and essentially made an exit from his life, he’d told himself that he wouldn’t get in the way of her dreams, like he had with his late wife. Viv never did finish college and go on to practice law like she’d planned to do. If he was honest with himself, he was the one who had pushed for the marriage. She would have been content to finish out her education first and have kids later. But she’d caved to his cajoling, lost in the glamour of the romance and the lure of a future together...before her entire life was stolen from her a few short years later. He wouldn’t do that to someone else, especially not to Triss.

It wasn’t something he should be thinking about, anyway. Not after what Triss had told him today. He’d stick around for a while and observe what was going on, then have a chat with Security before heading home to the kids. Thankfully, he had flexible childcare.

Hiring a live-in nanny had been the best decision he’d made since his wife’s death. A college student and the oldest of five kids, Samantha Farrow knew her way around the kitchen, the laundry room, temper tantrums and messy diapers. What was more—she genuinely seemed to adore his kids. Granted, Josie and Levi were pretty easy to get along with. But he’d had sitters before who had been all too eager to plop the kids in front of a television or cart them off to bed early. Samantha enjoyed interacting with them, playing games with them, reading to them, teaching them—which meant that Hunter could focus his energy on keeping an eye on Triss tonight, knowing his kids were in good hands.

The next half hour slipped by quickly, as the tables were set, the buffet was spread out and the guests arrived. Triss gave Hunter new tasks when he asked, but for the most part, she didn’t seem to notice that he was there. All her energy and emotion seemed focused on making the reception run smoothly, as she spoke with residents and also Frank’s family members. Despite her typically guarded nature, she knew how to draw someone into a conversation, her sincerity evident in her body language and the softness that had fallen over her expression. She might be living here on a contract, but she wasn’t merely fulfilling her duty or putting on a show to prove that she was worthy of the position. She genuinely cared, and for some reason, Hunter’s heart swelled as he watched her in action.

This was the part of her personality he’d caught glimpses of over the past couple of years, but something changed when she walked through the doors of Creekside, and her shields came down. Interesting.

By the time dinner was served, Hunter felt confident that Triss wasn’t seriously injured or in any immediate danger. Plus, Triss knew how to handle herself. He glanced at his watch. Just enough time to touch base with Security and pick up groceries before heading home to tuck in his kids. He turned to leave the dining hall, but Kaye saw him and practically jumped out of her seat.

“You’ve helped all this time. Why don’t you eat with us?” she suggested, grabbing his arm and attempting to pull him toward the buffet tables.

“I’ve got to get home, but thank you.”

“Oh, right. Your kids are waiting for you. Well, I hope I’ll get to meet them. Did you talk to Brandon?”

“I did. I’ll bring the kids by soon.”

“Levi and Josie, right? I can’t wait.”

“Have a good night, Kaye,” he said and started to turn away before he had a last-minute thought. “Actually...” He pulled out his wallet, slipped out a business card and handed it to her. “I’m a little worried about Triss. I don’t think she wants anyone to know right now, but I’d feel better if someone here was watching out for her. She was in an accident on the way back from the cemetery today.”

Kaye accepted the card, her eyes widening. “That’s why she seemed different when she walked in. Why she was late...”

“She didn’t want to go to the hospital, so I was keeping an eye on her. Would you—”

Kaye was already nodding. “I have six daughters. This is my specialty.” She smiled then, tapping the card. “What a very caring coworker you are.”

Hunter couldn’t help but grin. The woman was astute, and he knew he could trust her to watch out for Triss.

“Go home to your kiddos, now. And I won’t tell Triss that I know about the accident.” She gave him a goodbye hug and Hunter let himself out of the home, heading across the parking lot to the cottage-like building Triss had pointed out.

The cottage was constructed of whitewashed brick, and its oak door was unlocked. Hunter tapped on it before opening the door, and was greeted by a jungle of flowers and a smiling silver-haired woman snipping thorns off of a pile of roses. The place smelled like a flower boutique, with arrangements in a myriad of vases on every surface.

“Hello there,” the woman said, her voice chipper. “How can I help you?”

“Sorry,” Hunter said, confused. The place looked more like a gift shop than an administrative office building. “I think I’m in the wrong place. I was looking for Security.”

“Oh, no. You’re in the right place. I’m the office manager.” The woman set aside her flowers and wiped her hands on a hand towel before offering a handshake to Hunter. “Laura Senate. My daughter’s wedding is this weekend, and I’m helping make the floral arrangements.”

“You do beautiful work.”

“Thank you. The security office is around the corner. First door on the left.” She pointed, but a frown line surfaced along her forehead. “I hope everything’s okay?”

“I have a few questions I wanted to run by the team.”

The woman nodded, still not quite smiling. “Vince’s there right now, and Adam’s somewhere...” She shrugged. “It’s pretty quiet out here, you know.”

“It’s a peaceful place,” Hunter agreed. “Thanks for the help.” He followed her instructions and walked around the corner, finding the first door on the left open. He tapped on the wall outside the door and peeked in.

The man at the desk wore black slacks and a gray uniform shirt A brown desk plaque gave the name Vince Beck. He looked up from his computer monitor in surprise, his hand coming up to adjust his too-long comb-over.

“Yes?” the man asked, his gruff voice matching his bulky frame.

Hunter stepped into the room and held out a hand, “I’m Hunter Knox. A friend of mine is one of the graduate students here at Harmony—Triss Everett.”

Vince smiled and relaxed, shaking Hunter’s hand. “How can I help you?”

Without much information yet, Hunter wanted to be careful with his words. His purpose tonight was to get a feel for the security at Harmony, and also the receptiveness of the team to making some adjustments.

“You may know that Triss works for Shield Protection Services. We’re coworkers, actually.”

Vince’s expression was suddenly amused. “Oh, yes, we all know about Triss and her focus on security. She’s always got new ideas she wants us to put in place, but Harmony hasn’t ever had a security problem. I say, if it ain’t broke, why fix it?”

Hunter didn’t see the humor Vince obviously saw, and took note that he would likely meet resistance when trying to implement any changes. Vince seemed a little too comfortable with his job. He was a big guy, probably in his late thirties. He carried a little extra weight around his midsection, but otherwise he appeared fit. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, and there were no family photos anywhere in his office.

Hunter forced a smile. “It’s a beautiful place. My mom was here for a while.” He started. “Maybe you knew her—Wendy Knox?”

Vince shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell, but I’ve only been here three years.”

Hunter nodded. “She passed before that, but sure enjoyed her time here. In fact, I know others who are considering it for their parents. Would you mind giving me a quick rundown of your security protocols?”

“Oh, sure,” Vince said, motioning for Hunter to take a seat as he turned a wide-screen computer monitor toward him. The monitor showed four grainy scenes at a time. “This here’s our monitor,” Vince began, and Hunter suppressed a sigh. This was going to be worse than he’d expected.

* * *

A half hour later, Hunter was thinking about the practically nonexistent security at Harmony and wondering how quickly Shield could convince Harmony management to make improvements. A private security company, Shield designed, installed and manned custom security systems for residences and businesses. Due to the nature of the work, agents often served as both bodyguards and investigators, reporting suspicious activity and passing tips on to police. Usually, potential clients approached Shield for help. Bringing a proposal to Harmony would likely be a hard sell. Maybe bringing his kids to the facility the next day would be a good first step. That way, he could get a feel for the place without making anyone uneasy.

He pulled into the first grocery store he saw, heading quickly inside and grabbing a basket. He’d only managed to grab bananas and frozen chicken nuggets when his cell phone rang, the number unfamiliar.

“Hello?” he answered, snagging a pack of mini doughnuts for his kids in the morning.

“Is this Hunter Knox?” a woman’s voice asked.

He recognized the voice, and his heart pitched. “Yes. What’s wrong, Kaye?” He was setting his basket on a closed register before she could even answer, heading straight for the exit.

“It’s Triss. She just left the dining hall. I followed her and she told me she was very tired. Unlike her. It’s not even seven o’clock. And she looked...funny.”

“Funny, how?”

“I can’t really say. Her eyes looked kind of glazed. Maybe I’m overreacting...”

“I’m heading back now.”

“Hurry, okay?”

“You got it.” Hunter was already running to his truck. He slammed the door shut and peeled out of the parking lot.

This is what he’d been afraid of—a head injury or an internal injury that hadn’t made itself known immediately. He should have forced her to get checked out after the accident. Well, she wouldn’t argue with him this time. He would go over there and knock on her door until she opened it, and then he was going to drive her straight to the hospital—even if he had to drag her.