“Thank you,” Penny murmured, her eyes downcast as she shook hands with the governor.
“Dave.” Jillian paused. He felt a rush as she appraised him and he found himself hoping that he met her standards of dress for the evening. “I’m glad you’ll be with us.”
He took her hand, conscious of the eyes upon them, careful not to squeeze her fingers too intimately or hold on too long.
“Thank you, ma’am. I must say, you look stunning.”
Jillian chuckled. “Thanks. I confess, I felt less tired when I put this dress on.” She looked back toward Armstrong with a sly smile. “I haven’t had a date for years.”
He flushed pink and stepped forward, his face wreathed in smiles. “Well, my dear, would you like a drink first, or shall we begin our journey?”
Jillian glanced at her watch. “I think we’d better head for Orono, hadn’t we?” When her gaze met his, Dave again felt a distinct connection that went far deeper than the question she’d asked.
“Anytime you’re ready, Governor.”
Armstrong crooked his elbow for Jillian to grasp. “Well, then, shall we? I’m sure these gentlemen—and lady—” He nodded deferentially at Penny “—will direct us in how they’d like this to go.”
Dave smiled. “Yes, sir. We’re going out the front entrance, onto State Street.”
He looked around for Andrew, caught his eye and nodded. Andrew adjusted the transmitter at his ear as he walked toward them. Two officers would cruise the block, looking for loiterers. Ryan Mills would pull the SUV up to the private entrance while Dave retrieved the Lincoln and brought it around to State Street.
Varying her routine was part of the plan to keep Jillian safe. But it was impossible to make mundane events truly random, and if the shooter kept trying, Dave knew that sooner or later, he might just get it right.
EIGHT
Jillian wondered if she would be safer with a detective sitting beside her, instead of both officers riding in the front, but then Senator Armstrong would have to sit with the driver, and that wouldn’t go over well with him, she was sure. She settled back against the soft upholstery and smiled at her friend in the light of the streetlamps.
“Well, Joe, how have you been these past few weeks? I hope you’re over that nasty cold you had after Christmas.”
“Yes, I think I am, finally.”
Jillian found herself watching the back of Dave’s head and thinking what a handsome driver she had tonight. Penny was watching him, too, and she murmured something. Dave glanced over at his seatmate and answered quietly. Dave and Penny would make a cute couple.
The thought sent a pang of sadness through Jillian. Dave had demonstrated the integrity and diligence she valued. He was the first man who had attracted her since Brendon’s death. But she couldn’t contemplate a relationship with him, no matter how strong her feelings for him were. It would be dangerous for both of them—possibly even disastrous.
In the warmth of the vehicle, she unbuttoned her coat. The Kevlar vests the detectives had insisted she and Joe wear were not overly uncomfortable.
“So what have you been up to lately?” she asked the senator.
Joe grinned at her. “I’ve stayed close to home so far this winter, but my kids all came to visit over the holidays. I’ve spoken a couple of times, but close by. Thomas College and Colby. Just informal talks about the Washington scene.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Penny turned around. “How are you doing, Governor? Anything we can do for you? I’m sure you know that you can close the partition if you want more privacy.”
“We’re fine, thanks.” Jillian glanced over at Joe. “No secrets to discuss, are there?”
He laughed. “I’m way past that.”
She continued to chat with her old friend, and after a while Penny and Dave struck up a quiet conversation in the front seat. Dave seemed intent on his driving and only commented now and then, but Penny grew more animated as the miles flew by.
The radio crackled now and then, and Penny responded. Outside, the velvety night sky twinkled. Jillian could see the taillights of the familiar SUV ahead of them. As they approached Bangor, Dave slowed down. Twenty minutes later, he pulled up at a side door of the Maine Center for the Arts.
Andrew parked in a handicapped space nearby. He and Ryan jumped out and hurried to the Lincoln. Dave looked back at Jillian and the senator.
“All set?” he asked.
“I think so,” Jillian replied.
“You’ve both got your body armor on?”
“Yes, confound it.” Joe fumbled with the buttons on his overcoat. Jillian nodded.
“Okay, we’ll open your doors at the same time. Go with the officers quickly into the hall. They’ll get you directly up to the box. I’ll see you in about an hour when Andrew and I switch duties.”
They arrived in their seats about fifteen minutes before the program opened. Several people Jillian knew came to the door of the box and asked to speak to her. Penny scurried back and forth to tell her who had arrived, and Ryan admitted them a few at a time. Jillian felt Joe was as big an attraction as she was. He seemed better able to toss off witticisms and keep the guests laughing. Andrew and Penny graciously herded them out before the performance began, and Jillian sat down and caught her breath. She was glad she’d come. She glanced over at Joe. He winked at her and turned his attention to the orchestra.
She couldn’t help but think about Dave, alone in the parking lot, and was pleased when he appeared at her elbow during the last number before the intermission. She always felt safer when Dave was next to her, but she knew that wasn’t the only reason her spirits lifted.
During the intermission, Jillian was again deluged with people who wished to greet her. She had no time to sample the refreshments sent up to her box, though Joe somehow managed to snag a drink that she didn’t think was iced tea. The maestro, on hearing that she would not be able to stay for the reception afterward, came up to thank her for coming and wish her well. Dave assured Jillian they had cleared him for security, though his name didn’t appear on their original visitors list.
Jillian turned to greet the next arrivals, straining to hear what they said over the swell of voices. The box was getting crowded. She looked around for Dave and caught his eye. He arched his eyebrows and eased over next to Penny. Soon after, Penny moved among the visitors, gently urging them to step outside and allow others a brief chance to see the governor. Such a fuss, Jillian thought. Over who? Me?
Dave stood silently to one side for the most part, appraising each visitor. He looked frequently across the auditorium to the balconies and boxes opposite. Jillian supposed he was watching for suspicious movement in other parts of the hall. She was enjoying herself, but even so, she wished she were an ordinary concertgoer with no need for a security force of four and several local policemen all evening. And as fond as she’d grown of Joe Armstrong, she wished the dashing young detective stood at her side instead of the silver-haired senator.
Dave exited first, by the side door where they’d entered the concert hall. The subzero air smacked into him, but he left his hood down for maximum peripheral vision. Penny and Senator Armstrong lingered just inside, with Jillian and Ryan behind them. Penny waited for his signal, watching through the small glass window in the metal door. Dave crossed the frozen asphalt to where Andrew stood between the two official vehicles.
“All clear?” Dave asked.
“So far,” Andrew replied. “It’s too cold for much action out here.”
Dave nodded and waved to Penny. She opened the door to bring the senator out. Andrew opened the door of the SUV, according to plan. Dave wanted to switch the governor and her guest from the Lincoln to the SUV for the ride home as one final break in routine to confuse anyone watching.
He scanned the parking lot. A few rows over, two people walked between the rows of vehicles. Closer, a man headed for the door, hunched against the cold. As Armstrong approached the vehicle and slid into the
backseat, Dave unzipped his parka and slipped his hand inside, near his sidearm, just in case.
Penny headed back to the side door, so that she and Ryan could flank Jillian on her walk to the SUV. She reached the door half a dozen strides before the approaching man did.
Dave called out, “Sir!”
The man faltered and turned toward him. “Me? You talking to me?”
Penny slipped inside the building.
“Yes, sir.” Dave held a hand up to the pedestrian. “I need to have you wait a minute before you go in.”
The man scowled. “It’s cold out here.”
“Yes, sir. I apologize. Just wait here with me, please. This will only take a minute.” Dave pulled out his badge and held it up in the beams of the streetlight above.
“Oh. Uh…I’m just here to pick up my wife.”
Dave took his arm and pulled him back a few paces. Better to have him where Dave could watch him than to let him come face-to-face with the governor in the hallway. “Just stay right here. Don’t move until I tell you.”
“Okay.” The man’s knit hat came down over his eyebrows, but he kept his hands in his pockets and shivered as he watched the door.
Dave glanced back toward the SUV. Andrew lifted his hand, signaling him to proceed. Dave gave Penny and Ryan his signal, and the door opened.
Penny emerged first. Ryan held the door open for Jillian. After his first glimpse of her a sudden movement at Dave’s side caught his attention. The man leaped out before him and faced the door. Penny was only two steps away, and her eyes widened as she jerked to a halt.
“Gun!”
As Penny yelled, Jillian nearly barreled into her.
Dave had only a nanosecond to decide—tackle or shoot. He whipped out his pistol. As though someone had slowed the action, he saw every movement clearly: Penny lunging backward to carry Jillian down, Ryan jumping toward the governor, Andrew racing for the man, and the pistol the interloper held, reflecting light from the streetlamps.
Dave’s pistol cracked. A second shot echoed off the building. Andrew piled on top of the man, and Dave rushed to his aid.
“Get the governor in the car,” he yelled to Penny.
She stared, white-faced, for an instant, then turned to help Jillian to her feet. Ryan was already bending over her.
Dave picked up the pistol that had fallen from the shooter’s hand. The 9 mm Glock’s clip held six rounds of copper-jacketed bullets.
He whipped out his handcuffs. Andrew already had the prone man subdued.
“Go!” Dave yelled to Ryan. “Get her to the car. Quick!”
Andrew stood. “I don’t think we need the cuffs. You got him.”
“Call for an ambulance,” Dave said.
Ten feet away, Jillian rose slowly, grasping Ryan’s hand.
“Are you hurt, ma’am?” Ryan asked.
“My ankle.”
“Are you shot?” Ryan asked.
Dave reached her in three strides.
“No.” Jillian brushed back her hair. “I twisted it going down.”
“It’s probably my fault,” Penny said, offering her hand to steady the governor. Jillian took a step and winced.
Dave touched her arm. “We need to get you away before the crowd comes out. Hold on.” He bent his knees and lifted her, and she twined her arm around his neck. It was only a few steps to the SUV. Ryan dashed past him to open the door. Andrew already had a phone connection and was asking for backup.
Dave placed Jillian gently on the backseat next to Armstrong, not wanting to let her go. She looked up into his eyes. The fear he saw there nearly broke his heart.
“You okay?” Dave asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
He nodded. “We’ll take you directly to a hospital. Eastern Maine Medical, I imagine, but Andrew will get orders. Buckle up. We’re leaving.”
“I heard a shot,” Senator Armstrong quavered. “What happened?”
Jillian reached over to pat his hand. “It’s all right, Joe. God protected us.”
Dave shut the door and hurried to the driver’s seat. Two uniformed officers came out the side door of the building and stopped, staring at the man on the pavement. Ryan headed over to them to help Penny.
“Go to EMMC,” Andrew called to Dave. “Bangor police will meet you at the emergency entrance.”
“Got it. Tell the colonel and the E.R. staff it’s a twisted ankle, not a gunshot wound.” Dave jumped into the SUV, buckled his seat belt and headed toward Bangor as people surged out of the building to see what happened. He was furious with himself for allowing the shooter anywhere near Jillian. She trusted him with her life, and this was how he repaid her?
If anything had happened to her, he never would have forgiven himself—ever. Was it possible that his feelings were getting in the way of his ability to do his job?
NINE
Dave drove in silence as they merged onto the interstate, trying not to convey his fury.
“Please don’t take me to the hospital.” Jillian sat forward and leaned on the back of the front seat.
Dave looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You need to have your ankle checked.”
“It’s not serious. I’ll ice it when we get home. Besides, if we go to EMMC, we’ll be there a couple of hours. You know we will. And there’s only one of you to protect me now.”
She was right about the extra time at the hospital, though Dave was sure the staff would expedite the governor’s visit. But security would be tricky, even with the Bangor P.D. on alert.
“We could have your personal physician meet us at the Blaine House,” Dave said.
Jillian frowned. “I’d hate to get her out so late. It’s after nine o’clock now. It’ll be eleven before we reach Augusta, won’t it?”
Dave glanced at the dashboard clock. “Nearly. But you’ve got to see a doctor tonight. That’s imperative. If it’s worse than you think—”
“Okay. Put the word out for Dr. St. Pierre.” She settled back beside the senator.
“Are you sure, Jillian?” Armstrong asked. “I don’t mind going to the hospital with you.”
Dave noted the strain in the old man’s voice. Taking Joe Armstrong with them to another public place could pose problems, especially if he was upset.
“I’d rather go home and see my own doctor,” Jillian said calmly. “Besides, this will get you home before midnight. If we stopped at the hospital, who knows when we’d get to bed?”
Dave fished out his cell phone and punched in the colonel’s emergency line.
“Hutchins! Where are you? More to the point, where’s Bronte?”
Dave almost smiled, in spite of the circumstances. Before the inauguration, Stephanie Drake had suggested the code name for the governor at one of their unit briefings. “Charlotte Bronte wrote Jane Eyre, and Jane was a governess.” Stephanie was dead serious when she said it, but everyone in the briefing room had cracked up. The code name stuck.
“We’re on I-95 and heading straight to Augusta. Could you please inform the Bangor police and Eastern Maine Medical that we’re not stopping? The passenger prefers her own physician.”
“Browne says she’s not seriously injured.”
“No, just a twisted ankle.”
“Is Armstrong with you?”
Dave winced. The officers were supposed to use a code name for the senator, as well, but you couldn’t correct the colonel on something like that.
“Yes, sir. All’s well with him.”
“All right. We’ll contact Bangor P.D. and the hospital,” Smith said.
“Thank you. And if you could give the doctor a ring and see if she’s available for a house call this evening…”
“Will do.”
Dave closed his phone, dropped it into the cup holder and was silent for the rest of the drive.
Stephanie Drake was waiting at the Blaine House when they arrived an hour and a half later, to act as Jillian’s personal guard for the night. Three other EPU officers and four sta
te troopers had also turned out to ensure Jillian’s safe return.
Dave leaped out of the SUV and pushed past Bob Caruthers to get to Jillian’s door. He helped her out and bent to pick her up.
“I can walk,” Jillian said with a laugh.
Dave merely glanced at her, making it clear that she would not be walking anywhere on his watch.
She gave in, and the officers surrounded Dave as he lifted her and quickly took her in through the family entrance and down the hall to the sunroom. He couldn’t help but notice how it felt to have her arms entwined around his neck as he carried her, and it took all the strength he had not to look into her eyes. He gently put her down on the sofa, where Dr. St. Pierre was already waiting for her.
The doctor bent over her, gently probing her ankle. Stephanie sat close to Jillian, holding the governor’s purse and bulletproof vest. Another EPU member, Tom Rawls, stood unobtrusively at the other hall door to the room.
“Where did the senator go?” Dave asked.
Bob nodded to the doorway across the hall. “In the family dining room, having a drink.”
Dave arched his eyebrows.
“High-test coffee laced with cooking sherry,” Bob said.
Apparently, the senator had gotten around Jillian’s prohibition rules. “Is he driving himself home?”
“I can take him.”
“Probably a good idea,” Dave said. “Have another officer go along to deliver his car and ride back with you.”
“Sure. I think he wants to wait until the doctor gives the official word that the governor’s all right,” Bob said.
Jillian sat up, fumbling with her evening shoes. With Stephanie and the doctor supporting her, she stood and hobbled toward him.
“Let’s ice that right away,” Dr. St. Pierre said, looking at Stephanie.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get an ice bag and take it upstairs immediately.”
“And you need to stay off it, Governor. I’m not sure I want you walking up those stairs.”
Hearts in the Crosshairs Page 7