by Liz Johnson
Had God really stopped listening to her prayers?
There was no time to dwell on the answer to that as Jeremy parked outside the large cement building. “Want the chair?” he asked before sliding from behind the wheel.
“No.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I suppose I’d better.”
Jeremy walked around the car, popping the trunk and closing it a few seconds later. “Who knows?” he said, as he opened the back door for her. “It might win us some sympathy points.”
“Is that how you close cases in the sheriff’s office, Deputy Latham? With sympathy points?”
He helped her settle into the hard leather seat and leaned toward her, resting both hands on the rigid arm-rests. “We do whatever it takes to get the case solved, Special Agent Sloan.” His gaze hardened for a moment. “And this case is no exception. You can be sure that I’ll do whatever it takes to figure out who brought that chopper down.”
“Thank you.”
Almost immediately he disappeared behind her, wheeling the chair between thick columns toward wooden doors.
After passing through security, each showing their badges and entering the elevator, Jeremy pushed the button for the third floor. “Have you been here before?” he asked.
“Just once, when she first started.” Feeling compelled to explain why she’d only visited once in the four years her sister worked in the District Attorney’s office, she continued. “We both had busy work lives and weren’t actually in our offices that often. It was just easier to meet up for dinner after work or on weekends.”
The elevator chimed, the doors opening on cue, and he pushed her over the one-inch step to the floor. They moved down the hallway, stopping at Room 600 just as a tall, thin woman in a severe suit opened the door. She held it open and nodded at Jeremy’s quick thanks.
“Good morning.” The receptionist was young, but her eagle eyes surveyed them. “Do you have an appointment?”
Heather shook her head. “No.”
“Then, may I set one up for you? Our D. A. s are only available—”
Her words stopped at the instant that Heather held out her Bureau ID. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Jeremy had also pushed his jacket aside, showing his gold shield.
“This is Deputy Latham with the sheriff’s department.” Heather nodded in his direction. “And I’m Special Agent Heather Sloan.”
The young woman’s face crumbled before their eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to let anyone in without an appointment.” She swallowed loudly, reaching for the phone on her desk. Before she dialed, she looked back at Heather, brows pulled together. “Did you say Heather Sloan? As in…were you…did you know DDA Katherine Sloan?”
“She was my sister.”
Heather hadn’t ever seen anyone dial a phone as fast as the poor girl sitting in front of them. “Please, you have to come up here right now. No, now.” She hung up, a sadness clearly spelled across her face.
Just when Heather was about to take pity on the girl and say something kind, another woman joined them. Dark curls abused by the humidity and her face a mask of sorrow, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of Heather.
“I’m Tonya Norton. I was Kit’s assistant. Are you Heather?”
Now it was Heather’s turn to be confused. “Have we met?”
“No. I don’t think so. But Kit had a lot of pictures of the two of you up in her office. You look just like her. Just…”
“With a fair complexion,” Heather supplied, offering her hand to the nodding woman. “It’s good to meet you.” She introduced Jeremy quickly. “He’s investigating the helicopter crash, and we thought there might be some useful information in Kit’s files.”
“So, you think—” She broke off her words with a quick glance over her shoulder at the young receptionist suddenly making herself look busy. “Why don’t I show you to Kit’s office?”
Jeremy wheeled Heather down a short hallway and into what appeared to be just another vacant office. The large wooden desk was empty except for a white, file box with a plant and a few picture frames sticking over the edge.
Tonya closed the office door and pointed to a chair for Jeremy, then pulled out the one from behind the desk for herself. “This is a box of stuff that Kit had here in the office. I was going to contact you about picking it up.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it with me today.” Heather poked around in it for a moment, hoping for files or anything useful. But it seemed to be only personal things.
Leaning toward them, Tonya whispered, “Do you think it was foul play? Do you think someone purposefully sabotaged the helicopter?”
Heather looked to Jeremy, meeting his eyes immediately.
He cleared his throat. “We’re investigating all the possibilities right now.”
She leaned back, her tongue sucking on one of her back teeth. “Oh.” Was that disappointment lacing Tonya’s voice?
“Why?” Jeremy and Heather asked at the same time.
“Well, it’s just that…maybe I shouldn’t say anything. Maybe it was nothing.”
Heather leaned onto her injured leg and groaned, quickly shifting to lean on her other elbow. “You can tell us anything. Let us decide if it’s nothing.”
Tonya’s eyes shifted back and forth between the two sitting across from her. “I mean, I don’t really know anything.”
Jeremy bit the corner of his lower lip, leaning back from the revving emotions in the center of the room. “How long did you work with Ms. Sloan?”
“Three years. I’ve been with the office for more than seven, but when budgets were cut, we had to double up, assisting two of the D.D.A.s.”
“Did you like working with my sister?”
Tonya’s eyes turned watery. “Very much. She was so kind, always remembering my birthday or bringing me a latte for no reason.” She brought her hands up to cover her face, revealing wrinkles and age spots that Heather hadn’t noticed before.
Heather reached to pat the other woman’s shoulder, but couldn’t quite stretch that far from the wheelchair. She settled for a hum of understanding.
Jeremy continued questioning Tonya like she was a frail witness. “Had you noticed anything unusual about Kit’s daily activities lately? Had she been late to work? Or had unusual visitors?”
“Oh, no. She was always very punctual. And she hadn’t had any visitors lately except for her fiancé. He’s very handsome.” Out of the corner of her eye, Heather thought she saw Jeremy flinch, but she couldn’t figure out why. “But…there was one thing.”
“Mmm,” Jeremy prodded.
Tonya’s gaze darted around the room, as if confirming they were still alone. “I can’t be sure exactly what it was, but a couple weeks ago I saw a file—like one of the case files—on her desk. She always had me start those, but this one didn’t have a label on it, like I put on them.”
“Could it have just been an empty folder on her desk?” Jeremy asked.
Shaking her head, Tonya said, “I don’t think so. It wasn’t new—one of the corners was bent—and it looked like it had several pieces of paper in it. Not full, really. But it wasn’t empty.”
Tonya’s hands trembled, but Heather decided to press her just a bit more. “Did you ever see it again? That particular file or another one that didn’t have one of your labels on it?”
“I’m pretty sure that she was reading the same one when I walked into her office to drop off some paperwork about two weeks ago.”
“How do you know it was the same folder?”
“The corner was bent under in the same way, and it looked like it had about the same amount of paper in it.”
Heather rubbed her hands over her face. How much did Tonya really know about the situation? Was this folder really important or just a red herring to derail their investigation? Taking a deep breath through her nose and tucking her unruly curls behind her ears, she asked, “And what do you think this unlabeled folder means?”
It was Tonya’s turn t
o rake her hands over her face. “I don’t know.”
Jeremy rolled his office chair closer to the older woman, invading her personal space just enough. Wrapping his large hand around the comparably birdlike structure of Tonya’s forearm, he whispered, “Was it a case file? Did Kit start a file on a case and not tell you about it?”
Tears dribbled down her cheeks as she nodded. “I think so.”
“What was she investigating?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is that file now?”
More tears spilled down Tonya’s face, and Heather’s gut clenched. If the file had anything to do with Kit’s death, they had to find out what was in it. It could solve the case and identify the person responsible for this nightmare so he could be punished.
Tonya swallowed loudly. “I don’t know. When I cleaned out her office, I gave all the labeled files to the D.A., just like he told me to. And then I boxed up all of her personal items. I couldn’t find that file anywhere.”
Jeremy sat back, patting her shoulder with one hand. It looked like he nearly pulled his hair out by the roots with the other.
“Is that why?” Tonya’s voice shook ever so slightly.
“Why what?” Heather asked.
“Is that missing file why Kit was killed?”
SIX
Jeremy shook Tonya’s hand, balancing the box of Kit’s personal belongings on the opposite arm and wishing he had an answer—any response—to the traumatized woman’s question. “We’ll be in touch soon. If you remember anything about that file, or anything else that seems unusual, please call me.” He handed her his card as they walked toward the office of another D.D.A., one who Kit had worked with closely.
Just outside his door, Heather said, “Thank you for what you did. For being so good with Tonya in there.”
What was he doing besides his job? If she thought he was giving special preference to the case and possible witnesses, she was wrong. Sure, he was staying with his only true witness to the crash. But that was for her own protection and his benefit. She couldn’t help him find the culprit if she was taken out of the picture.
Beyond that, this case was just that—another case.
But if that was true, why did every part of this assignment remind him of the greatest failure of his career? One that had cost four of his friends, including his fiancée, their lives.
He wasn’t getting emotionally involved in solving this crash. He wouldn’t. He would simply work the case, solve the crime. And keep Heather safe while he was at it. It had no link to his past mistakes. It couldn’t, because he couldn’t handle going through something like that again.
“You ready, Latham?” Heather’s eyes asked a deeper question. Was his head in the game? Because she needed it to be.
Okay, maybe his heart was a little bit invested. But maybe if he could help Heather find justice in the midst of her loss, he could find some resolution—some absolution—for his sins. He could never undo the mistake he made or bring back Reena, but there might be some peace for him when Heather’s heart could begin to heal.
He nodded firmly. “Yes. Let’s go.” He tipped his head toward Tonya in thanks before rapping on the glass door with his knuckle. Pushing it open just a bit, he poked his head around the pane. “Mr. Smithers?”
A skinny man with tiny glasses perched on his overly large nose looked up from his computer screen. “May I help you?”
Jeremy pulled back his jacket to show off his badge. “I’m Deputy Jeremy Latham with the Multnomah County Sheriff’s Department.”
Smithers’ eyes brightened. “Of course. I tried one of your cases last year. It was pretty open and shut, if I recall.”
“That’s right.”
“What can I do for you?”
Jeremy pushed the door open a little farther, and Heather wheeled herself into the gap between him and the door frame. “This is Special Agent Heather Sloan.”
Smithers’ face immediately fell. “Kit’s sister?”
“Yes,” she confirmed.
Smithers looked like a beanpole as he stood and walked around his desk, coming to meet both of them but holding his hand out only to Heather. “I am so sorry for your loss. Kit was a very special woman.”
Heather quickly agreed, and Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder if Kit was really as wonderful as everyone said. Could anyone be so kind and perfect? Or was that just what everyone wanted to remember? Maybe she really was just like Mary Poppins. Or maybe she was mixed up in something that got her killed and nearly took her sister’s life as well.
For Heather’s sake he was willing to believe the best of Kit. Unless they found proof otherwise.
“How closely did you work with Kit?” Heather asked the other man, who leaned against his desk.
“Well, we shared an assistant. And sometimes we’d consult on cases together, but we didn’t spend that much time together in or out of the office.”
“Would you call her a friend?” Jeremy said.
Smithers rubbed the tip of his nose and blinked in rapid succession. “She was great, and I enjoyed working with her. But we weren’t that close. She was more of a professional acquaintance.”
“You said that you sometimes consulted on cases together,” Heather said.
“Sure.”
“What was the last case that you discussed?”
Again Smithers blinked six times in a row, and Jeremy had a sudden urge to find the man a bottle of eye drops. “I’m afraid it’s still an active case. I can’t discuss it with anyone outside this office except for the arresting officer.”
“Can we speak in generalities, then?” The other man nodded, and Jeremy continued. “Did Kit consult with you about any cases involving illegal street drugs? Either a case you were taking to trial or one she was?”
Smithers’ eyes rolled toward the ceiling as his forehead wrinkled. “The last drug case we talked about was almost a year ago, and it was my case. Kit was usually assigned to felony cases more likely to go to trial because she was so good in the courtroom. A lot of the drug cases we get end up in plea bargains, so the D.A. usually didn’t assign those cases to Kit.” He blinked again, and tugged on the hair at his temple. “Why? Do you think Kit’s death was a result of criminal activity?”
Jeremy glanced toward Heather, who maintained eye contact with Smithers. Her slender hands trembled for just a second, but she clamped them together before the thin man seemed to notice. Undoubtedly she could handle answering the question, but Jeremy had a sudden urge to save her from having to respond about her sister.
“We’re exploring all possibilities.”
Smithers’ gaze moved back to Jeremy. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. We might not have been good friends, but I liked and respected Kit. She was a good attorney, and we certainly miss her.”
“Thank you,” Heather and Jeremy said at the same time. He shot her a quick grin, as he collected the box of Kit’s personal belongings.
They offered a quick farewell to Tonya as they passed her desk on the way out of the office, but other than that, they were both silent as they headed toward the elevator and back to the first floor. Heather held the box on her lap as he pushed her across the street to his car.
Pressing the brakes on the wheels, Jeremy took the box, sliding it all the way across the backseat. When he turned back to Heather, she had almost pushed herself all the way to a standing position. But he clumsily bumped her arm, and she began to sway on one foot, her face turning into a mask of fear and humiliation.
Without thought, he reached for her, his hands wrapping around her waist and pulling her close enough that he could smell the coconut shampoo she’d used that morning. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to knock you over.”
Her hands latched on to his arms just below the shoulders, as she chuckled. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily. We have an agreement.”
He tugged her a fraction of an inch closer until her good knee bumped again
st his, and he realized in that moment that he had absolutely no desire to get rid of her. And it had very little to do with their agreement and almost everything to do with the way that she made him laugh and the way his stomach twisted in a knot and his heart beat a little harder just standing next to her.
She was beautiful and spunky and guaranteed to complicate his life.
It was better that their partnership was based only on their agreement to solve this case. Pushing any wayward emotions aside he nearly lifted her off her feet placing her in the backseat. “Yes, we do.”
Heather stared at the back of Jeremy’s head as he maneuvered the car back into traffic. She’d been certain that she was going to hit the ground when he bumped into her a moment ago. The brace surrounding her leg, even over her jeans, looked like a brick, holding her back, keeping her from doing what it would take to solve this case. She wanted to hit the ugly brackets with her fist, but she’d done that once before by accident. It hurt worse than she thought it should have.
But maybe her frustration had more to do with the way her skin reacted to being so close to him than her own limitations.
She could still feel his arms around her waist and the way his proximity made goose bumps erupt up and down her arms. He was strong, but not like he spent every day in the gym. It was muscle from hard work, training for his job. Like maybe he chopped firewood on the weekends for the fun of it.
That thought made her nearly laugh out loud at its absurdity. Until she remembered the up-close view of his five-o’clock shadow, which had already started to darken his perfect jawline, and the roguish grin that had crossed his face.
Any other time, any other reason for knowing him, and she probably would have appreciated his handsome face and teasing humor. But not now. Not with Kit’s memory so fresh.
“So?” Jeremy’s single syllable yanked her mind back to her surroundings.
“What?” She caught his eye in the mirror, and he looked to the right, his eyebrows jumping slightly. She just shook her head, confused.