Security Measures

by Sara K. Parker

  “You may as well tell me now. I’m not some delicate flower, Luke.”

  Luke laughed at that, his attention shifting back to her. “Never accused you of being one.” But then his smile fell, and his gaze turned serious. “There was a fire. In your apartment.”

  She pushed herself up, her pulse racing. “What? How?”

  “Looks like you left your stovetop on—a rag was too close.”

  She was shaking her head as he told her, denial rising alongside horror.

  “Was everyone...?”

  “Everyone got out. Hunter got you out just in time. Firefighters contained the fire to your apartment.”

  Hunter ran in to save her? Her eyes stung unexpectedly. Of course he had. Hunter was the kind of man who risked all for others...but he had kids to take care of. Her thoughts shifted back to the previous day, but she knew she hadn’t turned on that stove. She lived by a routine she rarely changed. Each morning before school she ate a quick breakfast with the early risers in the dining hall, jogged the two miles to campus, ran the bleachers ten times, spent thirty minutes at the campus gym and went to class. She took the bus back for lunch, and usually ate dinner with the residents as well. She almost never cooked.

  She definitely hadn’t cooked yesterday. And she would never leave the stove on with a rag nearby.

  Her mind raced. The car accident. The unconsciousness. The fire. The four dead residents.

  “There’s no way I—”

  A soft knock tapped at the door and a man in a white lab coat walked in, a stethoscope around his neck. He smiled pleasantly and held a hand out to Triss.

  “I’m Dr. O’Neill. How are you feeling, Triss?”

  He glanced at her monitors, stepping in closer to her, probably noting that her heart was about to leap right out of her chest.

  “I feel fine, really. Just a headache.”

  But she didn’t feel fine at all. Her mind whirled with questions. Something was wrong at Harmony, and she was sure of it. But who would believe her? Who would target the residents of the senior living community? And why turn on Triss?

  By the time the doctor had left, she only felt worse. They’d run all the standard tests, and nothing had shown up in her scans or the labs to explain the spell of unconsciousness. She’d be discharged with instructions to follow up with her family doctor.

  She turned to Luke, bursting with all the suspicions filtering through her mind, but Hunter walked in, and her breath caught in her throat. Why was it that her heart skipped a beat every time he showed up? She’d told her heart to keep him out, but it seemed an impossible feat.

  He approached her bedside, tired, unusually serious, his hand just touching her shoulder before he seemed to catch himself, and he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “How are you doing?”

  She looked from Hunter to Luke, two men she knew she could trust with her life. Ignoring his question, she blurted out what had been nagging at her mind for long minutes now. “I didn’t use the stove yesterday. I was hardly in the kitchen all week.”

  “We were afraid of that,” Hunter said. “I’ll put in a call to Officer Goodson.” He glanced at Luke. “Did you get a hold of Roman?”

  Triss’s attention jerked to her brother as she realized that Hunter had filled him in on what had been going on.

  Luke nodded. “He’ll be by in another hour or two. We’ll get a plan in place before Triss is discharged.”

  Triss listened as the two exchanged ideas about how to best ensure her safety, and part of her wanted to chime in and remind them that she was part of the team, too. That she was in the room and had plenty of ideas to offer. But a warmth had settled over her, an unfamiliar sense of security that rose from the knowledge that she was taken care of. It had been a long time since she’d let anyone take care of her, and her eyelids felt so heavy. She’d let them work out the details tonight. Her eyes drifted closed, her heart settling into the slow rhythm of sleep, reassured by the cadence of their murmuring voices. Tomorrow, she’d be on her feet and ready to take back some control.

  FOUR

  The sun hadn’t yet risen when Hunter arrived at the hospital. Just ahead, a Shield SUV pulled into a parking spot, and Roman stepped out. Hunter quickly parked and hopped out of his truck, catching up as Roman approached the hospital entrance. Their breath swirled in the frigid morning air.

  “Luke said he’d meet us in the waiting room,” Roman said in greeting. “Bryan got here a little early to keep an eye on her room.”

  The doors slid open in front of them, the heat from the building immediately cutting through the chill. “Good work yesterday,” Roman said as they strode along the quiet hallway.

  “Right time, right place,” Hunter said, knowing full well that he’d only done what any other Shield agent would have done.

  “Good thing you went to the funeral.”

  “Thought Triss might want some support.”

  Roman glanced his way, open curiosity in his dark eyes. The guy didn’t miss much and had probably detected whatever it was that had been sizzling between Hunter and Triss for the last year or so. “Luke and I had discussed going but thought she might be more annoyed than grateful.”

  Hunter couldn’t help but grin at that. “You’re probably right. Technically, I didn’t even make it to the funeral. I got to the cemetery as Triss was leaving.”

  “And then she couldn’t be annoyed because you swooped in and saved her life,” Roman added, amusement lighting his eyes.

  The waiting room was just ahead, and Luke was heading toward them as they turned into it. They were the only three people in the small room, a private waiting area usually reserved for family, and Luke closed the door before taking a seat in one of the burgundy vinyl chairs across from Hunter and Roman.

  “How’s she doing?” Hunter asked.

  “Still asleep. She’ll be discharged by noon. Waiting for more test results.”

  “Any leads?” Roman asked.

  Luke shook his head. “No. But I got Goodson down here earlier. He’s on it. He’s getting the car processed, and he’s got people combing through her apartment. The doctors are running toxicology tests to rule out the possibility she was drugged. That’s what we’re waiting on now. With clear scans and no signs of concussion, they seem to be at a loss.”

  Hunter mentally reviewed the previous evening. With so many people milling around and Triss bustling around the room, there would have been ample opportunity for someone to slip a drug into her drink, he supposed, but it didn’t seem likely.

  “Good,” Roman said with a satisfied nod. “Now, let’s talk strategy.” He turned to Hunter. “Luke filled me in on Triss’s suspicions, and I know you spent a little time at Harmony yesterday. What did you find out about their security?”

  “Nonexistent,” Hunter said. “There’s a gate, but anyone can walk in or climb over the fencing, and two neighborhoods adjoin the property. To enter with a vehicle, people need a code, or they need to ask Security to let them in, and they register at the administration office.”

  “So anyone with a code has unrestricted access?” Roman asked.

  “Right.”

  “What about cameras?” Luke asked.

  “Security cameras in a handful of locations, but mostly outdoors, and they’re not monitored constantly. Four security officers paired on rotating twelve-hour shifts on a fifty-acre property with at least sixty people on-site on any given day, sometimes many more.”

  Roman let out a low whistle. “Impressions of the team?”

  “I met one of the four last night—Vince Beck. He seems pretty set in his ways, but he’ll have to follow what the owner decides. I’ll work on setting up a meeting with her—the name’s Stella Cambridge.”

  Roman handed them each a formal printout of his security proposal. “We’ll need to offer a free consult, and I’m willing to ext
end a significant discount, but we can’t implement any of this if we don’t get the owner on board.”

  Hunter glanced at the line items, nodding in agreement at Roman’s tentative outline. It was a modest plan that wouldn’t come across as too invasive. Two Shield agents on the property—one on day shift, one on night shift in addition to the current setup. New visitor check-in procedures. Upgraded security monitors, locks and key cards. More cameras throughout the property.

  “I’d like to put more people here, but we’re pretty short-staffed right now, unfortunately,” Roman continued. “I’m in the process of interviewing, but new hires will still need training.”

  “I don’t mind switching my shift location for a while.” The words came out before Hunter had even thought them through, and Roman and Luke both stared at him.

  “That’s quite a drive,” Luke pointed out.

  It was. It would add almost a half hour to his current commute, and he’d be much farther from Josie’s school and Levi’s day care.

  “But it would be temporary,” Roman said thoughtfully. “It’d be easier to put a new guy at the Harper estate than to get him trained well enough to set him at Harmony.”

  Hunter had been working the day shift at the Harper estate for over a year now, an easy gig since Judge William Harper’s daughter Natalie had married Luke and was no longer in danger. The property also happened to be just five miles from Hunter’s house, which was extremely convenient. But Triss’s safety was a sudden priority, and even though he might regret putting himself in a position to spend more time with her, he couldn’t seem to convince himself to back off.

  “I’m fine with it,” he said, and Roman nodded.

  “Okay, good. At least for a couple of weeks. Hopefully, we can get things sorted out here quickly and add to our ranks some seasoned guys I’d feel comfortable putting anywhere. I’ll think about who to put on night shift. When can we schedule the meeting with Stella?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Give me the day. I want to go over and check out Triss’s apartment if I can get in there. I was talking to the activities director yesterday about bringing my kids for a visit. Maybe I’ll bring them by this afternoon, network a little.”

  “Network with the elderly?” Luke asked with a hint of skepticism.

  Hunter laughed. “Maybe networking isn’t the right word.”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Roman said in all seriousness. “Connect with some of the residents and staff first. Show they can trust you. You’ll also get more of a feel for what we need there.”

  A cell-phone alarm started ringing, and Roman pulled out his phone and shut it off.

  “Staff prayer. Join me?”

  Luke agreed, but Hunter stood to leave. “I’m heading out. I’ll touch base tonight.”

  He waved goodbye and left the room. He’d witnessed the daily staff prayer countless times, but he’d never participated, and he never would. Every morning at shift change, a rotating staff member led a conference call prayer over their clients and their mission. Hunter respected the ritual, but he couldn’t buy into it. The safety of their clients was dependent on the team’s training, knowledge and strategies. Did he believe that God had a place in there somewhere? Sure, though he was a little gray on exactly where. As far as Hunter was concerned, he had a job to do. Security at Harmony was now his responsibility. God knew what they needed, but if they failed, it was on them. Just like Viv’s death was on him. God had known Vivian needed to get to the hospital. Hunter had failed to act. That was on him, and he’d spend the rest of his life making sure he never failed to act again.

  * * *

  A few hours after leaving the hospital, Hunter stood in the center of Triss’s charred apartment and turned in a slow circle, his gaze touching every square inch. The fire had swept quickly out of the kitchen and partially into the living room. The bookshelves and their contents—rubble. The couches, scorched and irreparable. The curtains, mere remnants. The only items in the living room that had escaped total destruction were the glass-and-iron coffee table, the leather recliner, the wall-mounted television and a mammoth chest behind the couch near the far wall.

  It was hard to believe all this damage had started with a rag on the stove. He looked up at the ceiling, noted the smoke detectors. Wouldn’t they have picked up the fire before it had gotten so out of control?

  If Triss was right and someone had purposely started the fire, had that same someone done something to render her unconscious? Hoped she’d wake too late, if at all?

  He picked his way across the living room to the adjoining kitchen. The space was no more than a hundred square feet, the formerly white cabinets scorched black, the white fridge a sooty gray, the microwave melted above what was left of the oven. He stepped into the space, careful not to touch anything. Technically, he shouldn’t be in here, but no one had kept him out, and it had been easy to pry open the loosely tacked-on piece of drywall that had replaced the apartment door after the investigators finally left a while ago. He stared at the blackened stovetop, the knobs melted beyond recognition. If there were clues to be found, he didn’t see any. He’d want to speak with the fire inspector later.

  Turning out of the kitchen, he pushed open the door to Triss’s bedroom. Nothing seemed amiss there, except for the blackened wall that adjoined the kitchen and the thick odor of smoke. He coughed and cleared his throat, realizing he shouldn’t stick around much longer without a mask.

  But as he returned to the living room, his attention caught again on the chest by the couch. Idly, he lifted the hinged cover and was surprised to find the items inside protected from the fire.

  But before letting the lid drop, he took a closer look at the contents and paused. His heartbeat quickened as he kneeled next to the chest to get a closer look. A lilac baby onesie with the price tag still attached. A board book with textures. He gently pushed the items aside, knowing he shouldn’t be looking through Triss’s things, but compelled. A plush teddy bear with a pacifier. A dollhouse with a miniature family set. And a lifelike doll with light tan skin and pitch-black curls.

  Hunter didn’t know what he was looking at, but he knew it was none of his business to be looking at it. He was closing the lid on the chest when a gasp sounded behind him.

  He turned his head, embarrassed and guilty to see Triss standing in the entryway, a mix of shock and anger darkening her eyes.

  * * *

  “What are you doing?” Triss’s heart was thumping wildly—she was horrified to find Hunter digging through her personal things. Even more horrified at what he’d found. No one had ever seen the items before. No one.

  He let the lid of the chest snap closed. “Sorry.” He stood, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black dress pants, and Triss told herself not to notice the way his white button-down fitted to his chest under his tailored suit jacket, the way his presence filled the entire apartment, the sincerity in his expression. “I wanted to take a look around, get a feel for what happened. See if anything made it through the fire.”

  Triss scanned the room quickly, realizing that not much had made it through, and she wanted to weep with the realization that the gifts had been protected. But she also wanted Hunter out. Because she didn’t want to answer the question in his eyes.

  He moved toward her, and she realized that her breathing was uneven. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and it wasn’t just because Hunter had seen the evidence. It was because of Hunter’s presence itself.

  He stopped a foot in front of her, and he waited a beat, as if seeing if she would volunteer any information. Finally, he said, “I talked to Roman and Luke this morning.”

  “I know,” Triss said before he could say more. “They told me you volunteered to take on the day shift here. But don’t.”

  “Don’t?”

  “It doesn’t make any sense. Your kids’ schools are too far. You’re a single par
ent. You don’t need that commute. Someone else can do it.”

  For a moment, he was silent, and Triss was sure he could hear the beat of her heart. It was such a rebel, her heart. Somehow, it knew all that she wanted and didn’t deserve. All that she longed for but would never have. In the months since she’d separated herself from Hunter and his kids, she’d focused all her energies into the people at Harmony and her studies at school, actively rejecting the traitorous pull of her heart.

  And now, here he was again, staring into her eyes with a warmth that she’d spent months convincing herself she could live without.

  “Too late.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I already said I’d do it. I’m not backing out.” He grinned, and his dimples destroyed the last of her defenses.

  Triss’s lips twitched, despite herself. Every time she took herself too seriously, he made her want to smile. She crossed her arms, fighting the urge. “Okay, boss,” she said, attempting a casual tone, as if she was unfazed by the idea of daily contact with Hunter. “What’s the plan, then?”

  “Samantha’s breaking my kids out of school and day care in a couple of hours and bringing them here for some Play-Doh action. Thought it’d be a way to get to know some of the residents and staff. Maybe blend in as a friend for a while before breaking out the security hat.”

  Play-Doh. If it was possible for a heart to melt to the floor, that’s what Triss’s did as she imagined Hunter facilitating a Play-Doh extravaganza with the residents and his two adorable kids. “Sounds like a blast,” she said noncommittally.

  He followed her into the hallway and tacked the drywall board over the door. “Where will you sleep tonight?”

  “Stella’s getting one of the other apartments ready. She said I can move in after lunch.”

  “I can help you bring over what’s salvageable.”

  “I don’t think I’ll take much. The smoke did a lot of damage.”