Most everyone filed out, but Nathan reached out to Nick. “Hang back, will you? You, too, Justin, Gretchen.”
With a raised brow, Nick glanced at Gretchen, who shrugged and shoved a strand of short dark hair behind her ear and then tucked it up under the blue beret.
After the others were gone, Nathan turned to them. “Gretchen, what do you think about pairing up with Vanessa in order to keep eyes on Yvette at all times?”
“I’m happy to do it,” she said.
“I know that we had considered Vanessa might actually be Boyd’s accomplice. I truly don’t think she is, but I’d feel better knowing you were observing. And not only that, it’s possible she’s a target since she got a rose and a note. I’d like someone watching her back as well.”
“Absolutely. I agree.”
“What do you think, Nick?”
“I think that’s a great idea. We don’t need to take any unnecessary chances with anyone’s life.”
“Good, that’s settled, then. Gretchen, why don’t you catch up with Vanessa and let her in on the plan?”
“Of course, sir.” She hurried off.
Once she was gone, Nick raked a hand over his crew cut. “I think we need eyes on Heidi Jenks as well.”
“You think she’s up to something?”
“No. I think she’s in danger.” He didn’t bother explaining why he thought that. Nathan and Justin were both aware of everything that had happened last night.
Nathan pursed his lips, then nodded. “All right. Why don’t you take on that responsibility?”
“Yes, sir. Happy to.”
“Excellent. I still want you to be a part of the investigative team, but my gut’s telling me Heidi needs to be a priority. Until we know for sure she’s safe, you and Annie stay close to her.”
“Yes, sir.” He paused. “One more thing. I know OSI is investigating the bombing of the training center and is keeping you in the loop.”
“Right.”
“Heidi and I saw the trainer who was hurt in the blast, Bobby Stevens.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Recovering. But he’s lying about something.”
Justin raised a brow. “How’s that?”
Nick told them about the visit. “I think he and Heidi have established some sort of bond, simply because she’s the one who warned him to run in time and saved his life. But he’s hiding something even from her.”
“Hiding what? The identity of the person who set the explosion?”
“Maybe. He claims he doesn’t know who it was. I think he does know, but is too scared to say anything. Maybe.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something.”
“You want to do some digging?” Justin asked.
“I can. I don’t want to step on OSI’s toes, though.”
“I think as long as you agree to share whatever you find out, they’ll be all right,” the Lieutenant said.
“Of course.”
Justin nodded. “See if Heidi will agree to continue to keep that bond with Stevens. Maybe at some point he’ll tell her what he’s hiding.”
“That wasn’t really what I was thinking, but I can do that.”
“What were you thinking?”
“That someone needs to do an in-depth background check on him.”
“They did that when he enlisted,” Nathan said.
“I know, sir, but I still think he needs to be investigated. Finances, daily routine, the people he hangs out with and socializes with.”
“So, a full-blown investigation,” Justin said, rubbing his chin.
“Exactly, sir.”
“I’ll mention your concerns to Agent Steffen.”
“Thank you.”
Nick left, satisfied that everyone seemed to be in agreement that Heidi needed protection—and that he was the guy for the job. He told himself that his happiness had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to see Heidi again and everything to do with the fact that he just wanted to make sure she stayed safe. He’d feel the same about anyone in her situation.
Liar.
He huffed a sigh and decided not to examine any of that too closely.
He’d keep Heidi safe and that would be that.
So, why was he wondering what her favorite flower was?
Nick put the mental brakes on once again.
No flowers, no romance, no nothing. Why did he have to keep reminding himself of that when it came to her? He hadn’t had that problem until she kept crossing his path. Now, when he thought about the future, blue eyes and shoulder-length wavy blond hair kept intruding. It was ridiculous. She was a reporter. The one profession that filled him with disgust.
No flowers, no romance, no nothing.
But takeout wasn’t included in that list. He’d grab some Chinese and stop by to check on her. Just to be sure she was safe. Chinese wasn’t romantic.
Unless he included candles.
“No candles, Donovan,” he muttered. “Get your mind off romance and on keeping her safe.”
After all, he had a direct order to that effect.
FOUR
“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Weingard.” Heidi stood on the front porch of the house and smiled at the woman who’d answered her knock.
Children’s voices echoed loudly behind her. The young mother nodded and swiped a stray hair from her eyes and turned. “Billy! Stop jumping on the couch and take your sisters upstairs.”
“Can we play video games?”
“Yes, for a little while.”
Screams of glee at the apparently unexpected treat trailed behind the youngsters as they raced up the steps. A door slammed. Silence descended. “Call me Kitty,” the woman said. “And come in if you dare.”
Heidi stepped into the chaos. And longing pierced her. Would she ever have a family to call her own? With children who would leave their toys strewn around the furniture and the floor in testament to a play-filled afternoon?
Heidi wasn’t getting any younger, and she had to admit that as the months passed, the questions seemed to rear their heads more and more. First Lieutenant Nick Donovan’s flashing blue eyes popped into her mind for a split second and she cleared her throat. “You look like you stay busy.”
Kitty laughed. “Are you kidding me? I rarely get to sit down, that’s for sure.” She paused. “But I love them. They’re high-energy, but have sweet dispositions. Do you have kids?”
“No, not yet. Hopefully, one day.”
Kitty picked up a children’s book, two toy trucks and a plastic tiara from the couch. Then waved a hand at it. “Have a seat.”
Perched on the edge of the cushion, Heidi pulled her voice-activated recorder from her bag. “Do you mind if I record this? It makes it easier to just transcribe everything later.” It also was proof if someone discounted her reporting.
“Sure, that’s fine.”
“So, can you start from the beginning?”
“Um...like I told the police, my husband was deployed a few weeks ago for his third tour to Afghanistan. He’s earned a purple heart and other medals that we kept in a drawer in the bedroom. I’d gone grocery shopping while my kids were at school and when I got home, I found the house torn apart.”
“So, this happened during broad daylight.”
“Exactly.”
“And no one noticed anything at all?”
She shrugged. “No, I think the MPs questioned the neighbors and looked at the security camera footage, but all they could see was a guy in a black hoodie strolling casually out my front door, with his hands tucked in his pockets.”
“A black hoodie, huh?”
“Yes.”
Like the guy who’d bombed the training center? Sounded like him.
Heidi continued to question the woman, but her mind w
as only halfway on the interview as she really wanted to know if the training center bomber, the guy who’d pulled the gun at her home, and the person stealing the medals were one and the same. Although it didn’t make much sense to her. Why go from stealing medals to bombing an unused portion of the training center? What could be the purpose in that?
Soon, she wrapped up and tucked her recorder back into her purse.
Kitty stood. “Do you think my story will help?”
“I don’t know. But it sure won’t hurt. The more people who are aware of what is going on, the more likely they are to keep their eyes open.”
“I suppose. You know, the thefts are sad and it’s infuriating that someone would do such a thing. I’m more angry about the disrespect to my husband and the other soldiers than the loss of the medals. They aren’t worth much. Maybe a couple hundred dollars each. But what they represent...that’s priceless. And stealing them just makes me mad.”
“I agree completely,” Heidi said. “Unfortunately, a few of the medals that have been stolen have been passed down through the generations and are worth quite a bit of money. I think the thief is just taking his chances with the value. He doesn’t know who has what, but finds something worthwhile to keep stealing more. And, also, a few hundred dollars times a hundred-plus medals is some nice pocket change. In addition to the jewelry and money he finds on top of the medals.”
“True. But it sure makes my blood boil.”
“I understand. Hopefully, this person will be in custody soon and everyone can relax.” On that score, anyway. With Sullivan still on the loose, no one would be relaxing anytime soon. Heidi walked to the door. “Thanks again for meeting with me. If you think of anything else, please give me a call.” She held out her card.
“Of course.”
“Mom! Can we have some popcorn?”
“In just a minute, hon,” Kitty called over her shoulder to her son.
“Thanks! And some apple juice boxes?”
“Yes, I’ll bring them in a minute if you won’t interrupt again, please.”
“Okay.”
The door slammed again and Kitty rolled her eyes, but the smile curving her lips said she didn’t really mind. She looked tired as most moms with multiple children were, but it was obvious she loved her brood. The longing hit Heidi again, and she had to push it away, yet again. It would happen for her. Someday. Maybe.
Heidi left and headed for the next interview, where she heard basically the same story as Mrs. Weingard’s, except the break-in had occurred at night when the newly married couple had gone to dinner. The thief had taken the young man’s great-grandfather’s Medal of Valor, awarded to him by the President of the United States for his service in World War II. The young groom almost cried as he described the loss, and Heidi’s heart ached for him.
Hours later, she decided to call it a day. It had been a long one and she was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster she’d ridden while doing the interviews. She’d done her best to offer comfort and sympathy, and now she needed some space to gather her notes and write the article.
Walking home, Heidi felt slightly guilty once again. While listening to Airman Keith Bull talk about his great-grandfather with pride gleaming in his gray eyes, it had occurred to her that she was doing the story—and the families—a disservice with her lack of focus. They deserved her full attention even if the stolen medals story hadn’t been her first choice for an assignment.
So she didn’t get the lead on the Red Rose Killer story.
So her boss couldn’t seem to see past his own nose—or his obvious favorite, John Robinson—to see her potential.
So John Robinson drove her batty.
So what?
She was a good reporter and she needed to give this story her best. The families deserved that.
Decision made, guilt assuaged, she drew in a deep breath of the night air. As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the temperature dropped. She loved being outside in the fall. It was time to open the windows and turn the air-conditioning off. And write.
She strode with a little more pep in her step, actually looking forward to transcribing her notes and sending this article to Lou.
Footsteps sounded behind her and she spun. The setting sun blinded her for a moment, but she thought she saw a shadow dart off to the right and slip down the sidewalk that led to more houses off the main Base Boulevard.
Chills swept through her. That was weird. And creepy. And secretive. For a moment, she considered searching for the shadow, but memories of icy blue eyes, exploding buildings and the man with the gun steered her steps toward home. Quick steps. Sure, she could just be paranoid, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t following her. One blessing was that there were plenty of people out tonight enjoying the weather. She passed several officers and saluted, thankful for their presence on the sidewalk.
But the darting shadow still bothered her.
A hand on her shoulder spun her around and she let out a startled squeal. She raised a fist and swung it—only to have it caught.
“Heidi! It’s just me, Nick.”
He released her hand and she placed it over her racing heart. “Wow. You scared me. Seriously?”
“I called your name twice. You started walking faster.”
“I didn’t hear you. But a few minutes ago, I thought someone was following me.” She frowned. “When I turned, he shot off down a side street.”
“I must have crossed the street about then because I saw you turn around. Where are you headed?”
“Home.”
“Do you mind if I walk with you?”
Was he kidding? “That would be great, thanks.” She looked behind him. “Where’s Annie?”
“Back at the kennel. She’s finished her work for the day so she gets to take a break.”
Once they were inside her home, she kicked off her shoes and turned on a lamp. And sniffed. The trash in the kitchen. Great. It wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t great. She’d meant to take it out first thing that morning, but in all of the chaos of everything, she’d forgotten. Oh, well. Hopefully, he wouldn’t judge her. “Want something to drink?” she asked him.
“Sure. Whatever you’ve got is fine.”
She returned with two glasses of iced tea. He took his and settled on the couch. She turned her air conditioner off and opened the two windows in the den to let in the fresh air, then took the recliner. “Any progress on finding the man who blew up the center?” she asked.
“No. Unfortunately. And nothing on Sullivan, either. That man is as slippery as a snake.”
“As scary as one, too.” She shuddered.
“Depends on the snake,” he said. “How’s the story coming with the stolen medals?”
She shrugged. “I’m talking to the victims. The MPs are tight-lipped about the investigation so I have to get the details from the people who’ll talk to me.”
“People don’t trust reporters. Especially law enforcement.”
“No kidding. At least not until it suits their purposes, then they’re the first ones to call.”
He tilted his head. “How do you live with that? Doesn’t it get frustrating?”
“Of course.”
“So, why do it? Why pick a career that a lot of people don’t have a lot of respect for?”
She sighed. “Because it’s in my blood. My father was a reporter and a good one. He was killed while investigating a story and after the shock wore off, the anger set in. I was mad. Livid. It felt like if I could pick up where he left off, I would be carrying on his legacy.” She shrugged “I don’t know if that makes any sense or not.”
“Strangely enough, it kind of does.”
His soft words pierced the chunk of armor she’d had to wrap around her heart. “Thank you.”
He cleared his throat and nodded.
“An
d besides,” she said, “journalism is a very respectful career. It’s just a few who give it a bad name. I’m trying to be one of the good ones.”
“I’m starting to see that,” he said softly.
“You are?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, good. Thanks.” They fell silent and she studied him for a moment.
“What is it? You’re looking at me weirdly.”
“I was wondering what happened to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re very anti-media, anti-reporters. More so than what seems normal for the average person, I guess. I figure something must have happened to make you feel that way.”
* * *
Nick looked away. She’d brought the subject up before and he’d managed to avoid answering. He didn’t like to talk about his mother’s death to anyone. Much less a reporter. Then again, she could easily research it and find out everything she wanted to know and more. Of course, most of it wouldn’t be truth. And he wanted her to know the truth.
For a moment, he wondered why he cared. When he couldn’t come up with an acceptable answer, he shook his head. “My mother was a Type 1 diabetic. She’d battled the disease from the age of eight. But she did well, got married and had me. My father was a political star and rising through the ranks in Washington when a reporter took pictures of him in a very compromising position with his young and very pretty political assistant.”
Heidi’s eyes widened. “Uh-oh.”
“Exactly. Those pictures wound up in the newspapers and all the media outlets you can think of and his career was destroyed.”
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes frosted. “Are you? Are you saying you wouldn’t have done the same thing had you been in that reporter’s place?”
She bit her lip. “I’m sorry it happened. Would I have done the same thing?” She frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Right.”
With narrowed eyes, she did her best to filter her response. “Look, until I’m walking in someone else’s shoes, I can’t tell you what I would or wouldn’t do in that same situation. I can tell you that I do my best to act with integrity at all times. I get that not all reporters have the same code of honor, but I do.” She paused. “Was the story fact or not?”
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