“Fact.”
She huffed. “Then, yes. I might have done the same thing.”
He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets as he checked the locks on her windows.
“Where’s your father now?” she asked him.
“Married to that assistant and living in San Antonio. She’s sixteen years younger than he is.”
“Do you talk to him?”
“No. Not often. He doesn’t seem to care.”
She winced. “Nick, I’m sorry you had a rough time, I really am. It’s no fun being in the spotlight, I get that. Trust me. Probably better than you think.”
He turned to her. “You’re talking about when your dad was killed?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your mother?”
“Happily remarried to a pastor, living in Tennessee.”
“Nice.”
“It is.” She sighed. “But if the story about your father was fact, why are you so antagonistic?”
“Because it led to my mother’s death. Indirectly.”
She blinked. “Oh. How?”
“The story led to her depression, which led to her not taking care of herself, which led to her insulin issues going out of control, which led to her passing out at the wheel and going over a cliff.
“Anyway, that was one story the papers got all wrong because a diabetic passing out at the wheel and driving over a cliff isn’t nearly as sensational as saying she killed herself. And that’s the conclusion they immediately came to when there were no skid marks indicating she tried to stop.”
With a gasp, Heidi surged to her feet. “That’s horrible, Nick.”
She sounded like she meant it.
“Horrible is one way to describe it,” he said.
“And completely unethical. I’m so sorry. I really am.”
He raked a hand over his hair. “I am, too.” And why was he telling her this?
“Did you confront the reporter?” she asked.
“I did, actually. He didn’t care and there was nothing I could do to make him grow a conscience. There was no way to prove Mom didn’t commit suicide—even though the autopsy later revealed that her blood sugar was so low that she probably passed out. But even with that evidence in hand, the paper wouldn’t print a retraction or admit they might have jumped the gun and not done a thorough investigation before printing the story. But Mom wasn’t suicidal. She was hurt and she was mad at my dad and aggravated with the media up to that point, but she’d just bought us tickets to go see the Rangers play at the stadium that weekend.” He gave her a short smile. “We were big fans.” He sighed. Enough. He didn’t come over here to go down memory lane.
He turned away and once again examined her windows. Maybe just to give himself something to do. “Do you have an alarm system?” he asked.
“Um, no. Why?”
“Because I think you probably need one.”
With a slow nod, she let her gaze sweep around her home. “I’ve never felt unsafe here. This place has been my sanctuary since I moved in. And now...” She rubbed her arms. “I feel like a sitting duck.”
“We’ll work on that. What are your plans tomorrow?”
She shrugged. “Church, then lunch. Sometimes Felicity and I see a movie if Westley is busy. Other times I ride out to the lake. I’ll probably work some in the afternoon after I make my weekly call to Mom and take a nap. And then I have that last interview I need to do with the latest theft victim so I can get this article in to Lou.”
“You don’t have many friends, I gather,” he said softly.
She gave him a sad smile. “Well, I had a few more, but when rumors of me being the anonymous blogger started gaining some traction, a lot of them kind of dropped off the radar.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for her. And yet, he did. “We go to the same church here on base. So...come to church with me tomorrow and let’s grab lunch after.”
Her eyes went wide, then narrowed. “Wait a minute. Is this pity company?”
He blinked. “What?”
“You know. You feel sorry for me, so you’re trying to do something nice. Not because you really want to, but because you feel you should.”
His jaw dropped and for a moment, he just stared at her. Then he stood and glared, jabbing a finger at her. “I don’t do pity company. Sure, I feel bad that you’re feeling the brunt of the gossip, but I don’t spend time with people because I feel sorry for them.” Much. Okay, maybe occasionally, but that didn’t apply to this situation. “And if I do,” he said, completely negating what he’d just claimed, “I don’t volunteer to spend that much time with them.” Her eyes sparkled, and he cleared his throat—something he found himself doing a lot around her. “Anyway, no. Definitely not pity company.”
His glower didn’t seem to faze her. She searched his eyes. “I think I believe you,” she said. Then grinned.
Having her throw his words back at him sent his anger down the drain. A bark of laughter escaped him and he stepped back. “Well, thank you, ma’am. I appreciate that.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “You’re welcome.”
“So? Church and lunch?”
“Sure,” she said. “Church and lunch.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up.” With that, he left her standing in her den, staring after him, speechless.
The smile on his face died when he saw the Security Forces vehicle parked outside her home. Nope, not pity company. Protective company, yes. Because while he had no plans to fall for the pretty reporter, he was genuinely worried about her safety. He sighed and did a one-eighty. Back at her door, he knocked.
She opened it with a frown. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I just need to know your favorite flower.”
“Pink carnations. Why?”
“Just needed to know. See you tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Good night, Heidi.”
Her confused huff made him smile again. A tight smile that stayed with him all the way home.
When he stepped inside, he found his grandfather in the recliner, a football game playing on the television mounted over the fireplace. A retired colonel, the man had moved in with him after Nick’s grandmother had died last year. He was able to function on his own, but Nick felt better with him there so he could keep an eye on him. And besides, he liked the company. “Hey, Gramps, how’s it going?”
“It’s going fine. Where’ve you been?”
“I went over to see Heidi.” He’d told his grandfather about the explosion. As much as he could, anyway. Even though the man was retired military, there were still things Nick had to keep to himself. “I was worried about her.”
“Uh-huh. You like her, don’t you?”
“Did you miss the part where I said she’s a reporter?”
“I didn’t miss it. So why do you like her?”
“I didn’t say I did.”
Gramps harrumphed and let out a low laugh. “Okay, boy.”
His grandfather could make him feel like a child of ten without even trying. “Gramps...”
“I picked up your shirts from the cleaners. You can wear the blue one tomorrow to church.”
Church. Right. “Ah...about church. We have to swing by and pick up Heidi. She’s going with us.”
“That reporter you don’t like?”
He sighed. “Yes, sir, that’s the one.”
“Gotta find me a woman I don’t like as much as you don’t like that one.”
With a groan, Nick made his way back to his room and shut the door on his grandfather’s chuckles.
“Just keeping her safe, that’s it,” he muttered to the quiet room. Because in spite of the lighthearted banter with his grandfather, Nick’s pulse pounded a rhythm of fear every time he thought about her being a ta
rget of the man who bombed the training center.
Which meant nothing special, he told himself. He’d be concerned about anyone who’d caught the attention of a man who bombed a building.
But Heidi...
He did like Heidi. A lot.
And while his head argued that it was a bad idea, his heart was jumping all over it.
He had a feeling he was in big trouble.
FIVE
Heidi had found sleep difficult to come by last night, but when nothing had happened by one o’clock, and she could see the MP was still parked outside, she’d been able to fall into a restless doze. By the time her alarm buzzed, she was already up and getting ready.
And questioning her sanity as she slicked pink gloss across her lips. “We go to the same church here on base. So...come to church with me tomorrow and let’s grab lunch after.”
She rolled her eyes at her reflection and decided she would do. She’d left her hair down and it rested against her shoulders, the strands straightened with the help of her flat iron. Light makeup enhanced her blue eyes and the lip gloss added a subtle sheen to her mouth.
In her day-to-day work life, she looked professional and neat, not made-up. It suited her. So why was she making more of an effort today?
She knew exactly why and his name was Nick Donovan. She might as well admit it.
With a grimace, she turned from the sink and headed for the kitchen for a bagel and a cup of coffee. Her nose reminded her she still needed to take the trash out, but she wasn’t about to risk dirtying her nice clothes. She put that at the top of her after-church to-do list. A glance out the window revealed the Security Forces vehicle still parked on her street. She frowned. The man she’d seen running from the training center hadn’t liked that she’d seen his face. In fact, he’d been so desperate to get away he’d pulled a gun on her and Nick. Then he’d managed to escape the base perimeter. Would he come back or was his work done? Or had he decided the smart thing to do was disappear? She hoped it was the latter.
While she was on her second cup, her phone rang, and she snagged it. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, stranger.”
Heidi grimaced. “Sorry, it’s been crazy around here.”
“I know. I’ve been keeping up with what’s happening on the base. They haven’t caught that serial killer yet. Boyd Sullivan.”
“No, they haven’t, but they don’t think he’s on the base anymore. He was last seen in central Texas.”
“And what about the explosion at the training center?” her mother asked.
“Oh. You heard about that, huh?”
“Like I said, I keep up.”
What could she say that would be the truth, but not send her mother running to the base?
“We’re not sure, Mom. OSI is investigating so we hope we hear something soon. Until then, security is super tight.”
“I would hope so. Do you need to take a leave of absence and come here?”
“No, ma’am. I need to stay here and do my job.”
“In spite of the fact that it might get you killed?”
“I’m not planning on putting myself in any danger.”
“Your father—”
“Dad knew exactly what he was walking into when he started working that story. Now that I’m older, I understand his thought processes. He didn’t want to die, but he was doing what he believed in.” She paused. “I’m not Dad, but I’m a lot like him. I don’t plan to do anything that may put me in danger, but I believe in ferreting out the truth.”
For a moment her mother didn’t respond and Heidi wondered if she would hang up on her. Then a watery sigh reached her. “On the contrary, my dear, you are just like your father.”
“Well...okay.”
“And I’m very proud of you.”
Heidi snapped her mouth shut. Then let out a low sigh. “Thanks, Mom. I needed to hear that.”
“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“I will.”
“And someone needs to tell that blogger to quit posting. Whoever is writing that stuff is revealing things probably better kept under wraps.”
A choked laugh escaped her. “I agree, Mom. They’re working on silencing that person.”
“Which means they don’t know who it is.”
“You’re very astute.”
Heidi could almost hear the smile her mother no doubt wore. “I love you, hon.”
A knock on the door made her jump. “I love you, too, Mom. We’ll talk later, okay? Give Kurt my best.” She really did like her stepfather. Mostly because he adored her mother.
“Of course.”
“Bye.” Heidi hung up as another knock echoed through her small home. She rose and placed the cup in the sink, then grabbed her purse.
When she opened the door, she blinked. Nick in his military fatigues was one thing, but dressed in civilian clothing, he plain looked good. Amazing. She’d seen him at church before in his civvies, of course, but to have him standing on her doorstep put a whole different kind of beat in her heart.
“Hi,” she said. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” He blinked as his gaze swept over her. “Wow. You look different.”
“Thanks?”
He shook his head and laughed. “Sorry. I mean different as in good.”
Did a little makeup make that much of a difference? Apparently, it did, judging by how his eyes were focused on her. “Thank you. You look different, too. As in good.”
She thought his cheeks might have gone a little pink. He cleared his throat. “I think I need to work on my manners. Let’s start over.” He turned his back to her, walked down the steps, then back up. When he stood in front of her once more, he offered her a slight bow. “Heidi, you look lovely this morning.”
And there went her heart. “Thank you.” She was sure her cheek color now matched his. And where did that breathlessness come from? She cleared her throat. “Is it okay if I don’t say ‘you do, too’?”
He laughed. “I’m more than fine with not being called lovely. Are you ready?”
“I am.” She locked the door, then shut it behind her. Then she smiled up at him. “But you are handsome.”
“Ah, thank you.” More throat clearing. “I hope you don’t mind that we have some company.”
“Not at all. Who? Annie?”
“And my grandfather. Colonel Truman Hicks, retired. He lives with me and decided to come to church this morning.”
“Sounds wonderful.” She hoped it would be, anyway. “So, how does he feel about reporters after what happened to your mother? His daughter, I presume?”
His eyes narrowed. “Yes, he’s my mother’s father. Let’s just say he’s reserving judgment on any reporters, present company included.”
“Uh-huh.”
At the car, he introduced her to the man who sat in the back seat. He looked familiar, like she’d seen him in the church before, but she wouldn’t have placed him if Nick hadn’t introduced them. “Very nice to meet you, sir, but I’m happy to take the back.”
“I’ve got better manners than that, young lady. Climb in.”
“Yes, sir.” She raised a brow at Nick and he shrugged and opened the door for her. Oh, boy, this might just get interesting.
Annie rode in the very back. The colonel stayed quiet the entire ride while Nick did an excellent job with small talk. She figured the colonel was listening and observing, because while he didn’t seem to resent her presence, she wasn’t sure he approved of it.
So, Heidi focused on Nick and thought she managed to sound halfway intelligent. The sight of a handler walking his dog brought the missing animals to mind. “Any word on the dogs still missing from the kennel?” she asked.
“No.”
“What about the four German shepherds? Felicity said Westl
ey was especially concerned about them.”
“They’re definitely the more trained and special dogs, for sure, but there’s been no word or sightings on them. It’s frustrating.”
“I’m sure.”
They fell silent and she couldn’t hold back the sigh of relief when the church came into view.
The jaunt from her home to the church had taken all of three minutes. It had felt like at least thirty.
Nick parked and everyone climbed out into the heat that was already starting to steal the oxygen from the air. She was definitely ready for cooler weather.
The colonel went on ahead, his steps confident and sure, his back straight and strong.
“Why’d he retire?” Heidi asked as Nick released Annie from her area. “He seems a little on the young side.”
“He is. He’ll only be sixty-eight on his next birthday, but a couple of years ago, my grandmother got sick,” he said, “and he wanted to give her his full attention so he requested a leave and was granted it. She passed away. Losing my mom and then grandmother was hard for him. Grief knocked him for a loop. He had his forty-five years—and then some—in, so he was able to retire. Since it was just the two of us left in the family, I decided to ask him to move in with me. He didn’t argue about it too much. I think he was lonely.”
“I see.” She walked with him up the steps and into the sanctuary. “You’ve had a lot of pain in your life.”
“Hmm No more than anyone else, probably. Life comes with a guarantee of pain. It’s how you deal with it that matters.”
“Maybe.” He was right, of course. She just didn’t want to think about how she’d dealt with the pain life had served her. Avoiding it wasn’t exactly dealing with it.
They found their seats. The colonel sat in the front row. Now she knew why he’d looked familiar. She saw the back of him most Sundays. Nick led her to a pew in the middle and slid in. She sat next to him, ignoring the suddenly speculative looks of some of the others around them. “You don’t sit with your grandfather?”
“No. Sometimes I have to slip out and I prefer not to do that in front of the whole congregation. He’s sat in that seat since he’s been on base so he’s not about to move. And see that empty space next to him?”
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