Читать книгу Protection Detail - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 11
ОглавлениеCassie hadn’t climbed a tree in years. That hadn’t seemed to be a problem when she’d seen Gavin’s dog coming after her. She’d scrambled up the tree so quickly, she might have broken the sound-speed barrier.
The problem was, she’d never ever climbed down a tree.
The last time she’d tried, she’d been twelve. The effort had resulted in a broken arm and a trip to the ER.
She didn’t plan to repeat the mistake.
On the other hand, her progress was so slow, the sun might come up before she actually made it to the ground.
“Cassie?” Gavin called, a hint of impatience in his voice. She didn’t know what he’d been doing out in the woods, but she was glad he had been. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could have eluded the guy who’d been chasing her. She’d been fast, but he’d been savvy, slipping through the trees after her. Stealthy. Practiced. As if he’d hunted prey hundreds of times before.
She shuddered, her feet slipping off the bough she’d clambered onto.
“Careful,” Gavin called as if she needed to be reminded that she was up in a tree, the ground a good seven feet below her.
“I’m trying,” she muttered, inching down a little farther. Sirens were blaring, the sound coming from the direction of the house.
Virginia must have heard her scream and called the police.
Good. The kids would be protected.
That was all she cared about.
That and making sure the guy she’d seen on the back porch didn’t return.
She stepped onto another bough, pine needles digging into her raw feet. Her cheek throbbed, her jaw ached, but she was alive, help was at hand. God was good. Even in the bad times. She’d learned that young, and the knowledge had served her well. She’d hold on to it as she tried to figure out who had been on the back porch, what he’d wanted. Not just to steal something. If that had been the case, he’d have run when she’d opened the door.
Her sweater snagged on bark, her palms stinging as slivers of wood pierced flesh. She shifted her grip, tried to find another bough to place her feet on.
Gavin grabbed her ankle, tugged gently. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
“You’ve got my ankle. What good is that going to do?”
“Cassie, we don’t have all night. Just trust me and let go.”
Trust?
She wasn’t very good at that.
“Thanks, but I can—”
“A man was murdered tonight. His killer is on the loose. How about we skip all the ‘I’ve got to do it myself’ stuff and get you down, so I can get on with my investigation?”
His words sent cold fear shooting up her spine.
The guy on her back porch had looked like he could kill someone without batting an eye or feeling a bit of remorse. Had he been looking for another victim when he’d arrived at All Our Kids?
She let go.
Gavin managed to grab her waist as she fell, lowering her to the ground with so little effort, it was almost embarrassing that she’d doubted him. After all, the guy towered over her. Six-two to her five-three, and he had muscle to spare. Obviously, he worked out. A lot. He probably also ran, biked and swam. She spent most her time chasing kids around.
“Thanks,” she murmured, stepping away and nearly bumping into Gavin’s huge dog. It looked like a German shepherd but was nothing like Miss Alice’s old dog Angus. He’d been a shepherd, too, his muzzle already white with age by the time Cassie moved into her last foster placement. At fourteen, she’d thought she’d known just about everything, but she’d known nothing about love, commitment, respect. Miss Alice had taught her those things, and if she’d still been around, she’d have been happy to see Cassie putting them to good use.
“Sorry,” she said to the dog. Its ears perked up, its dark eyes watching her every move. At least it had stopped growling, snapping and foaming at the mouth. The last part might have been more her imagination than anything.
“She forgives you,” Gavin said dryly. “Now, how about you tell me what you’re doing out here?”
“Running for my life. And, not from your dog. There was someone at All Our Kids tonight.”
He stilled, his eyes blazing, his expression unreadable. “When?”
“Maybe ten minutes before I ran into you. He was out on the back porch.”
“Doing what?”
“I have no idea. I heard him, thought he was one of the kids. I opened the door and there he was.”
“Did you get a good look at his face?” He pressed a hand to her lower back, issued a command to Glory and started walking.
“Yes.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No. He was a stranger.” They made it onto the path that led from All Our Kids to Harland Jeffries’s mansion. An easy walk for anyone who knew the way.
An easy route for someone who might have murder on his mind.
The thought left her cold.
She’d known Harland for years, had been hired by him fresh out of college. She respected him, liked him, and believed in the things he stood for.
“You said someone was murdered tonight,” she said before Gavin could ask another question.
“I’m afraid so.”
“It wasn’t Harland, was it?”
He hesitated, and she grabbed his arm, pulled him to a stop. “Gavin, was it Harland?”
“It was Michael. Harland was injured, too, but he survived.”
“Was it a knife attack?” she asked, her eyes hot with tears. Michael had been a great guy. He’d spent a lot of time at All Our Kids, teaching the children to play football and basketball, bringing them treats. He had a heart of gold, and the world was going to be a lesser place without him in it.
“That’s an odd question,” Gavin responded quietly, urging her forward again. Just ahead, the path opened up into All Our Kids’ yard. She could see the house, lights blazing from every window of the three-story building. A police car sat in the driveway, flashing blue-and-red light across the pavement. Virginia had called the police. It looked as though she’d woken all the kids, too. Either that or the arrival of the police had. “Not really,” she responded as they moved across the acre of green lawn. “The guy on my back porch had a knife.”
“Michael and Harland were both shot,” Gavin said bluntly. “Michael died before the ambulance arrived. Harland called for help and was transported to the hospital.”
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
“I didn’t hear a thing.” Not gunshots. Not ambulance sirens. Nothing. Then again, she’d been dead tired from nursing David through the flu, the windows were double-paned glass, the house well-constructed.
“You heard the guy on your back porch,” he pointed out.
“I have an internal alarm that goes off when one of the kids is wandering around at night. Apparently, it doesn’t work when sirens are screaming through the neighborhood.”
He let out a bark of rough laughter, shook his head. “The house is pretty well built.”
“And, I was dead tired. One of the kids had the flu this week, and we’ve got a toddler who hasn’t been sleeping well.” Juan Gomez’s mother had died, and he’d been crying out for her for the past two nights. “I was dead to the world until I heard the guy on the porch.”
“Do you think your assistant heard anything?”
“Not until I screamed.”
“She came outside then? Did she see your assailant?” he asked.
“She didn’t come outside, and I don’t think she saw anything. She turned on a light, and it distracted the guy. I ran into the woods, and he followed.” She shuddered.
“Do you think he was here for you?”
“If he was, I’ve got no idea why. He had a duffle and—” She remembered the smell of gasoline clinging to him or to the bag.
“What?” Gavin prodded as he led her up the front steps and onto the wide porch that wrapped around the sides of the house. She’d be hanging flower baskets soon. Destiny had been looking forward to that. She’d never had a yard or a garden, and being at All Our Kids was allowing her an opportunity to test out her green thumb.
It was so much easier to think about that than to think about Michael dead and Harland wounded. To think about someone shooting two of the nicest men Cassie had ever met.
“Cassie?” Gavin touched her shoulder, and she realized she was standing in front of the door, hand on the knob.
“Gasoline. When I walked outside I smelled it.”
He frowned. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” he muttered. “We found something at the crime scene. I think it might belong to one of your kids.”
“What?” Her heart thundered in her chest, her mouth dry with fear. She didn’t think she was going to like what he had to say, but she wanted him to say it, anyway.
He pulled a bag out of his coat pocket and holding it up so she could see what was inside. A blue mitten. Hand-knit. Child-size.
She knew who it belonged to.
David.
“Do you recognize it?” Gavin asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. She’d seen the mittens earlier that day, tucked into David’s pocket when she’d brought him to the doctor. Somehow, at some point, one of them had ended up near the crime scene.
Had one of the kids witnessed a murder?
“Whose is it?”
“David’s, but he’s the one who has the flu. He’s been in bed all night.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I was sleeping in a chair beside him.”
“Someone had the mitten on. Whoever it was may have seen what happened at Jeffries place.”
“You think that’s why the guy was on the porch?”
“You said you smelled gasoline. It’s possible the murderer saw the witness and came after him.”
“And planned to burn the house down with all of us in it?” she asked, her voice shaking. She hated that, hated being afraid. She was, though. The kids were her responsibility. They counted on her, trusted her in a way they often hadn’t been able to trust other adults. “I need to check on everyone. Make sure they’re okay.” She opened the door, ran inside.
Gavin said something, but she couldn’t hear past the pulse of blood in her ears.
Voices carried from the kitchen. Kid voices. A man. Virginia—her voice high-pitched and shaky. From the sound of things, she was currently in full-out panic.
“We’re going to keep the kids safe,” Gavin said, his voice mixing with all the others.
She stopped, pivoting around to face him so quickly that he nearly walked into her. She was face to chest with him, staring at his coat and the K-9 insignia on it.
“I appreciate that,” she said, stepping back so she could look into his face, into his dark blue eyes. “But when all is said and done, they’re my responsibility. They’re counting on me to keep them safe. Not the police. Not your K-9 team. If one of them was outside tonight and witnessed Michael’s murder...” She swallowed a hard knot of grief and fear, forced herself to continue. “I haven’t done my job.”
“Kids do lots of things we can’t control. You can’t beat yourself up if one of them snuck out.”
“Sure I can,” she replied, shifting her gaze from Gavin to his dog, because she didn’t want to keep looking into his eyes, didn’t want to see the sympathy there.
“You can, but you shouldn’t.”
She would, anyway. That’s the way things were when a person mothered kids. She didn’t bother explaining, just headed toward the kitchen. Gavin followed. She didn’t have to look to know it. She could hear his dog’s feet padding on the wood floor, smell the scent of pine needles and outdoors.
She stepped into the kitchen, bracing herself for what she knew she’d find.
It was as chaotic as she’d imagined.
Destiny stood with her head in the open refrigerator, a bottle of chocolate milk in her hand. Little David sat bleary-eyed at the table. Rachel, Axel, Tommy and Kent huddled near the stove. Lila sat under the table, her thumb in her mouth, a blanket pulled around her shoulders.
And then there was Virginia.
She sat next to David, eyes closed, tears streaming down her face as she hugged Juan, the toddler, close. Two police officers stood to either side of her. One held a cup of water and seemed intent on shoving it into Virginia’s hand.
“She’s dead,” Virginia moaned. “I know she is. Dead and all of these children are just going to miss her so much. She’s—”
“Standing right here, Virginia,” Cassie cut in.
Virginia’s eyes flew open and she jumped up, the chair nearly tipping over.
“You’re alive!” she cried, rushing forward and throwing her free arm around Cassie. “I heard you scream and I thought the worst.”
“I’m fine. Sorry for scaring you.”
“Scaring me? You took a dozen years off my life.”
“Sorry about that, too,” Cassie responded.
“What happened?” Virginia asked, bouncing Juan on her hip. The poor little guy’s eyes were wet from tears, his face red. He reached for Cassie, and she took him, kissing his soft cheek and murmuring the kind of comfort she figured a mother would offer.
She didn’t know.
She’d never had a mother.
Just a father who’d had little use for her and a grandma who’d been too busy growing pot in her backyard and selling drugs from her living room to pay much attention to Cassie.
“Nothing that I want to discuss in front of the kids,” she responded, smiling brightly at Destiny. The teenager wasn’t buying it. She took a sip of chocolate milk and scowled.
“Adults always have secrets. It’s stupid.”
“No secrets, Destiny. Just a need to have a little quiet. It’s so loud in here, I can barely hear myself think,” Cassie said. “Would you mind helping Virginia get everyone tucked back into bed while I speak with the police?”
“Yes,” Destiny snapped. “I would mind.”
But, she crouched and reached for Lila’s hand, pulling her out from under the table with a gentleness that belied her angry expression.
“I’ll do my best to get them settled.” Virginia sighed. “But you know how things get when they’re up after bedtime.”
She did, and it was never good.
“Thanks, Virginia. I’ll fill you in on things when you’re done.”
“With the way this crew is, I may never be done.” She took Juan from her arms. “Come on, sweetie. Time to go back to bed. The rest of you, too. Tomorrow is Sunday, and we’ve got to be up early for church.”
“I hate church,” Destiny griped, snagging a cookie from a jar on the counter and shoving it into her mouth. A small chunk fell to the floor and landed near Glory. The dog didn’t even drop her eyes. She was staring at Gavin as if the sun and moon rose and set on his command.
“I don’t hate church,” Tommy said with a scowl. “God is good, and church is good.” At seven years old, he was way too serious for his age, years of neglect and abuse causing him to sink into himself and hide from the world.
“I’m glad you feel that way, Tommy,” Cassie said gently, touching the little boy’s shoulder. “Now, you go on to bed. I’ll be up in a few minutes to check under your bed.”
“And in the closet, too, Cassie. That’s where the bad guys like to hide the most.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide and solemn.
“I’ll check in your closet, too. And, in your book bag and in your church shoes.”
“Bad guys can’t fit in shoes,” he responded, not even a hint of a smile curving his mouth.
“You’re right, but I’ll check, anyway. Now—” she gave him a gentle nudge toward the doorway “—go on. To bed.”
He shuffled away, his dark hair falling over sea-green eyes, his flannel pajamas bagging around his narrow frame. He didn’t say a lot. He’d come from a family where right words and wrong words, right actions and wrong ones all led to a harsh word, a slap, a punch or a kick. Even after seven months of living in a safe environment, he still scurried around at the edge of the action, tiptoed through the rooms to avoid being noticed, sat still as a statue while everyone else talked and giggled.
“You didn’t ask any of them about the mitten,” Gavin said as she filled the teapot, set it to boil. She didn’t want tea, but she needed something to do with her hands.
“I know.”
“I guess you have a reason for that?”
“My kids are...vulnerable. I don’t want them to think they’re being accused of something.”
“I get it.” He sighed. “More than you might imagine, but we don’t have time to worry about your kids’ sensitivities.”
“I know, and I know you need a witness, but—”
“I want a witness,” he said, cutting her off. “But I’m more concerned with keeping your kids safe.”
“I’ll talk to them.” She crossed the room, would have walked out into the hall, but one of the officers stopped her.
“Ma’am, we’d like to ask you a few questions before you do that.”
She tensed. She’d spent too many years being on the wrong side of crime-busting efforts, too many nights being pulled out of bed so the police could search her room for whatever narcotics her grandmother was suspected of selling. “About?”
“The incident on the back porch,” the older of the two responded, his dark brown gaze shifting to Gavin. “Unless you’re stepping in on this, Captain?”
* * *
Gavin wasn’t stepping in. He wasn’t leaving, either. He had questions, and someone at All Our Kids had answers. He needed to find out who. Aside from Juan Gomez, it could have been any of the children he’d seen in the kitchen.
Juan...
His mother Rosa Gomez had been Harland’s housekeeper. She’d been found at the bottom of a cliff in President’s Park two days ago. DC police were investigating.
Three deaths connected to the same family?
It seemed a stretch to think it was coincidence.
He’d have to bring it up to the team. First, he had to interview Cassie’s kids. He understood her need to protect them, he even admired it, but he wasn’t going to let it get in the way his job.
“It’s all yours,” he responded, his focus on Cassie.
She looked scared, but she also looked determined.
Hopefully that determination wasn’t going to be a problem. He didn’t want to waste time fighting her for access to the kids.
The officer nodded. Just like Dane Winthrop, Paul Anderson was someone Gavin had worked with during his days with the DC police force. Serious and hardworking, he had a reputation for following leads to the end, never giving up, never backing down. “Looks like you’ve got quite a bruise on your cheek,” he said, and Cassie touched the swollen spot.
“Yeah. The guy with the knife wasn’t real happy to see me.”
“Guy with a knife?” Paul asked. “Ms. Johnson didn’t mention that.”
“Virginia didn’t know about him,” Cassie explained quickly, giving Paul the same story she’d given Gavin. That was good. Her memories seemed clear, the details she offered matching the ones she’d provided before.
When she finished, Paul opened the door that led onto the back porch. “You say you heard him?”
“I heard a thump. I thought it was one of the kids playing around.” She frowned. Probably remembering that one of them had wandered to Harland’s property and possibly witnessed a murder.
“Is that why you didn’t call the police before you went outside?” Paul’s partner asked. Young with dark hair and an almost too-pretty face, he looked like a rookie who was desperate to prove his merit. “Because it seems to me—”
“Yes.” She cut him off. “That’s why.”
She followed Paul outside, her dark red hair spilling down her back, bits of pine needle and dead leaves sticking out of it. She was still barefoot, the cuffs of her jeans dragging the floor, her dusty toes peeking out from under them.
“It still smells like gasoline out here,” she commented.
Gavin didn’t know who she was directing it at, but he doubted anyone needed it pointed out. The acrid scent stung his nose, made his eyes water.
He crouched. The fumes were thicker there, the scent so strong, he could have lit a match and caused an explosion.
“We need to get a hazmat crew out here,” he said.
“You want to call that in, Shane?” Paul said to his partner. “And walk around to the front? See if there’s gasoline anywhere else. Looks like someone was trying to burn the place down.”
It’s what Gavin had been afraid of, and he wasn’t surprised to have it confirmed.
“Who would do something like that? Kill a bunch of children?” Cassie whispered, her freckles standing out against pale skin.
“Someone who would kill a well-known and well-liked attorney,” he responded. “Someone who wanted to protect his identity and stay out of jail. Someone who saw a child running away from the crime scene, but likely didn’t get a good enough look to know which child it was.”
“You think this is connected to the murder at the congressman’s place?” Paul asked.
“We found a mitten near the scene. It belongs to one of the kids who live here,” he responded, scanning the empty yard. Beside him, Glory paced restlessly.
“So the guy thought he’d kill them all?” Paul shook his head. “Every time I think I’ve seen it all, I’m proven wrong. You got a good look at the guy?” he asked Cassie.
“Yes,” she responded.
“Think you could identify him if you saw him again?”
She nodded, her face so pale, Gavin thought she might pass out.
“Maybe you should go back inside, Cassie. Get some tea, sit down,” he suggested. He needed her focused and calm. Not panicked...or unconscious.
“And give the guy more time to get away? I’d rather help hunt him down.”
“Your time would be better spent giving us a good description,” Paul said.
“I’ll take Glory out after we get you back inside,” Gavin cut in.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, stepping to the edge of the porch and pointing to the east. “That’s the direction I ran. He wasn’t far behind me. Your dog can probably—”
“Cassie,” he interrupted. “I appreciate your help, but the guy could still be hanging out in the woods. If he’s the same guy who shot Michael and Harland, he has a gun. It wouldn’t be that hard for him to take a potshot from those trees.”
“If you’re trying to scare me,” she said. “You’ve succeeded.”
“All I’m trying to do is—”
“Keep me safe?” She walked inside, moving deeper into the kitchen.
He followed, wanting to remind her a dozen times that she was in danger and that she needed to play by his rules. She knew it, though. There was no sense beating her over the head with it. “Yes.”
“Thanks.” Cassie shivered, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs. The bruise on her cheek looked darker, her oversize pink sweater and bare feet making her look young and vulnerable. “But, I’m pretty good at keeping myself safe.” She brushed a hand over her hair, frowned as she pulled a few leaves out of the wild curls.
“Not from this kind of creep,” Paul said as he stepped inside. “You saw him. He’s going to want to take you out. You’re going to need more than yourself to stay safe.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she responded, tapping her fingers on the table. She had short nails. No polish. It looked as though she’d gotten a couple of cuts and scrapes climbing out of Glory’s reach. Gavin was tempted to tell her she should wash the wounds out, put some bandages on.
“Can you give me a description of the perp?” he asked instead. He needed to get out into the woods, see if he and Glory could track the guy.
“Blond, short hair. Kind of a military cut. Not very tall. Lots of muscle, though.” She shivered and Gavin shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it around her shoulders.
“I think you’re going to need this more than I do,” she said, but she made no move to remove it. Just scratched at a spot on the tabletop, her brow furrowed. “He was wearing black. Pants. Shirt. I’m not sure about his shoes.”
“Eye color?” Paul interrupted.
“Blue. And his face...” She shook her head. “He looked dead inside.”
Glory shifted, the movement subtle, her head turning toward the still-open door. Beyond it, Gavin could see the porch, the yard, a glimpse of the woods beyond.
Glory sniffed at the air, the fur on her scruff standing on end. She growled, the deep low grumbling making the room go silent.
“She see something?” Paul asked.
“Looks like it.” He walked to the open door, scanned the tree line at the far edge of the property. As far as he could see, there was nothing lurking in the thick shadows there. He trusted Glory, though. The dog had good instincts, a great nose, and eyes that were a hundred times better than Gavin’s.
“Better close the door after I leave and keep Cassie away from the windows,” he said as he walked outside.
He waited just long enough to hear the bolt slide home before he gave Glory the command she’d been waiting for. The shepherd sprang into action, lunging off the porch and racing toward the tree line, Gavin sprinting behind her.
