Dave stepped forward. Jillian’s pale face went a becoming shade of rose. “I’d like to say good-night to Senator Armstrong. He hasn’t left, has he?”
“No, ma’am. Bob Caruthers will take him home after you’ve seen him.”
Bob hurried across to the dining room, and a moment later Joe appeared with him in the doorway.
“What’s the verdict, Doctor?” he boomed.
Dr. St. Pierre smiled at him. “I think the governor’s assessment was accurate. It’s not serious, but she needs to elevate it, ice it, and rest for a couple of days.”
“Joe, thank you so much for going with me tonight.” Jillian held out her hands to him and he grasped them.
“I enjoyed it right up until the finale.”
“Me too. Did you get your coffee?” Jillian glanced anxiously at Bob.
“Yes, I did. And now you need your rest.”
“I do apologize for the way the evening ended. Will you call me tomorrow?”
Joe’s eyes softened as he patted her hands. “Of course. I’ll want to know how you’re doing.”
“I’ll expect your call,” Jillian said. She turned to Dave and held up her hand before he could approach her. “I think I’ve been carried enough for one night. Stephanie, will you help me walk up the stairs? I’m sure I can manage. Thank you, everyone, for your help tonight. Perhaps this nightmare is finally over.”
Dave watched as Jillian made her way slowly up the stairs, still able to feel her in his arms, the warmth of her against him.
Dave caught only a few hours of restless sleep. He rose early and shaved, ignoring the dark circles under his eyes. At EPU headquarters, he filed his report, then read those submitted by the other officers at the scene of the shooting.
Lieutenant Wilson came in shortly after seven. The fact that he was in the office on a Sunday morning underscored the gravity of the situation.
“Good job last night, Hutchins.” Wilson clapped him on the shoulder. “Has the Today Show called you yet?”
Dave stared up at him, speechless, aware that he probably looked as savvy as a half-witted raccoon.
Wilson laughed. “You’re a hero. The receptionist just told me she’s getting a gazillion calls from the media.”
Dave gritted his teeth. He certainly didn’t feel like a hero. “I won’t have to do a press conference, will I?”
“We’ll let Mark Payson handle it. But it wouldn’t surprise me if all the networks sent camera crews here to interview you.”
“I’ll be in the field, doing my job.”
Wilson shrugged. “Hey, a little good publicity wouldn’t hurt the unit any. But we’ll try to keep them off your back.”
“Will I be suspended?”
“It’s customary to give an officer leave after a shooting, until the investigation is complete.”
“I need to be working on this, sir.”
“I’ll speak to the colonel,” Wilson said. “The governor’s requested to see you this afternoon.”
Dave’s stomach did a little flip. “At the Blaine House?”
“Yes. Gutsy woman. She insists on going to her statehouse office tomorrow. And she says the ankle’s only giving her a few twinges this morning.”
“Good. I see we’ve ID’d the shooter. She’ll have a lot of questions, though.”
“Like ‘Why?’”
“Yes,” Dave said, “and whether he acted alone.”
Wilson frowned. “Well, he can’t tell us that now.”
To Dave’s surprise, Jillian was in the sunroom when he arrived at four in the afternoon. She was seated at the piano playing softly, wearing a long-sleeved ivory top and a print skirt. Stephanie sat near the windows. Dave paused in the doorway, listening. Beethoven, if he wasn’t mistaken. He watched her hands glide skillfully over the keys. The governor was good, no question about that.
When the melody wound down in a quiet finale, Dave and Stephanie both applauded.
Jillian rose, flushing a bit and smiling apologetically. “I’ve wanted to try this piano for the past month, and never found a moment when there was no one around. Not that you two are ‘no one.’” Her blush deepened. “I guess the concert last night got to me.”
“That was wonderful.” Stephanie stood and stepped forward. “I had no idea you could play.”
Jillian tossed her head. “Mom made me practice way after I wanted to stop. She was very disappointed when I quit after high school.”
“You should play more often,” Dave said. Her playing had warmed his heart even more than the stirring orchestral music they’d heard the evening before.
“You two are sworn to silence.” Jillian glared at them both, but her eyes twinkled. “It’s a state secret. I don’t want to be railroaded into playing at some function or other.”
Dave was glad she could tease them, glad that her thoughts weren’t mired in the tragedy of the shooting.
“Naomi must know what a good pianist you are,” Stephanie mused. “She never said a word, though.”
“Oh, yes. She came to our house after school every day for years, until her mom got off work, and she heard me suffer through practice every afternoon. She hated it as much as I did, I think. It meant we couldn’t play or ride bikes until I was finished.” Jillian carefully closed the keyboard.
“Naomi Plante was in your class, wasn’t she?” Dave tried to recall what he’d read in her background file.
Jillian nodded. “Her mom was a single parent, and she made an after-school child care arrangement with my mother that lasted about five years.”
“You must have grown close,” Stephanie said.
Jillian shrugged. “Somewhat. We’re alike in a lot of ways, and yet we’re very different. But we’ve stayed friends for all this time.”
Stephanie smiled. “Well, I know you have business to discuss. Your mother should be here soon. I’ll make rounds through the family quarters before she and Naomi get here. Would you like coffee? I can put in a request for you.”
Jillian arched her eyebrows at Dave. “How about it? I think I’d like a cup.”
“Sure,” he said.
“In my office upstairs, please,” Jillian told Stephanie, who nodded and left the room.
“How’s the ankle?” Dave asked.
“Not bad. If not for the circumstances last night, I probably would have ignored it.” They went into the hallway and walked to the staircase. “Did you get to church today?” she asked.
“Yes.” He’d gone to church that morning after filing his report, and the service had calmed him somewhat, but he’d slipped out during the final prayer to avoid people’s questions. “I guess you were kept busy here.”
She made a face. “Yes. This morning the doctor came by again, then the department spokesman and Colonel Smith. But next week I’m going to church for sure. I want my routine back.”
“I hope you can have it.”
“Colonel Smith gave me the lowdown this morning, but I suppose the unit has been busy all day.”
“Yes,” Dave said. “Every member but me.”
“Oh. Why is that?”
In the upper hallway, he opened the office door for her and followed her inside. “It’s standard procedure. I’m officially off duty until the case is reviewed.”
She pulled over one of the comfortable leather chairs. Dave hung his jacket on the back of his, and they sat down next to each other.
“You killed the man,” she said, “but everyone knows you did it for me. You were doing your job, I mean.”
“Yes. The colonel assures me I have nothing to worry about. The review is a formality. It makes you a little nervous, though, until the internal investigation is over.”
Even now, thinking about those few seconds when he’d realized the man intended to kill Jillian sent a tremor through him.
“Jillian, I owe you an apology. That man should never have been anywhere near you.”
“You saved my life, Dave.” She gazed intently into his eyes. “I want to
thank you for that, but words seem so inadequate.”
He swallowed hard. “I’m glad I was there, but still, I—”
She shook her and mustered a smile. “I’ve thanked God all day long. Andrew was magnificent, too, leaping on him like he did. I’m afraid either Penny or I would have been shot if you hadn’t acted precisely when you did.”
Dave thought, as he had a thousand times in the last eighteen hours, that he should have frisked the man before he let Jillian leave the concert hall.
“I’m happy to report that we got a match on the gun he used last night. Our ballistics lab says its bullets match the slug from the inauguration day shooting.”
Jillian caught her breath. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. This is the same gun.”
She exhaled. “Thank God. That’s one answer, at least.”
A soft tap on the door preceded Beth’s entry.
“Here’s the coffee, ma’am.” She set the tray on the desk before them.
“Thank you, Beth. Has my mother arrived yet?” Jillian asked.
“No, ma’am.”
Jillian turned to Dave. “I’ve persuaded Mom to spend a couple of days with me again.”
When Beth left the room, Dave said, “I’m glad Mrs. Clark’s coming, but you do understand that we can’t go lax on your security?”
“Oh, of course not.” Jillian reached for her mug. “But things should be a little less tense now, shouldn’t they?”
“A bit. But we still don’t know much about the second shooting. We’re hoping to find something in the shooter’s residence. Did the colonel tell you who the man was?”
“Yes. Wesley Stevenson. I can’t say I recall hearing the name before, but it’s a fairly common one. Colonel Smith said the EPU will do a complete investigation into his background.”
“It may take several days before we get a conclusive report. Carl Millbridge is checking to see if Stevenson had crossed your legal path in the past. At this point we don’t think he showed up as a defendant in any of your court cases.”
“That’s good, I suppose. But it might be better if we knew he had a reason to hate me.”
Dave took a sip of coffee to stop himself from saying that he found it impossible to believe anyone could hate her, despite evidence to the contrary.
She frowned. “I wish we could know for certain that it was the same man—I mean, that it was Wesley Stevenson all three times.”
Dave would certainly sleep better if they knew that. A lot of people would. But he said nothing.
“When will you be able to resume work?” she asked.
“Maybe as soon as Wednesday.”
“So you get a couple of days off to relax and enjoy yourself.”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure how much relaxing I’ll be able to do.”
She sipped her coffee, then looked at him. “What do you do for fun anyway? I know you’re dead serious about your job. All of you EPU officers are alike in that way. Won’t let me out in the yard alone for half a minute. But you must have hobbies when you’re off duty.”
He studied her for a moment. She’d deliberately taken the conversation out of official territory. Was that significant, or did she simply not want to discuss the dead man anymore? “I like to read. And I hunt. In summer, I do some canoeing.”
“Oh, I love canoeing.” She held her mug with both hands and smiled. “Where’s your favorite spot?”
“Kennebago River, I guess.”
“I like lakes better than rivers for canoeing,” she said. “I’m not skillful enough for white water.”
“I like a good river run now and then, but a nice, calm lake is better.”
Jillian leaned with one elbow on the desk. “Brendon and I went up to Moosehead for two weeks the summer before he died.” Her smile tilted a little.
Dave could see the pain in her eyes and wished he could ease it somehow. “I used to go with my brother.”
She perked up immediately. “Oh, you have a brother. Older or younger?”
“Younger. And a sister. She lives at home still. She’s twenty—going to UMA.”
“And your brother?”
Dave inhaled deeply. “He’s in Iraq.”
She stared at him for a moment, her face troubled. “You were in Iraq, too. Someone told me that.”
He nodded. “Two tours.”
“It must be hard to see your little brother go.”
“Yeah.” He reminded himself that the odds were good Matt would come back in fine shape. “I’m proud of him.” Despite his efforts, his voice cracked. He remembered his first combat experience. If he could spare Matt that, he would do anything in his power. Taking down the man who wanted to kill Jillian last night had been easy compared to seeing his friends fall in combat.
Jillian reached over and touched his hand for an instant, then drew back. “Would you mind if I prayed for him?”
“Not a bit. In fact, Matt and I would both appreciate that. Thanks.”
“Dave…”
As he looked up to meet her pensive gaze, another soft knock came at the door.
“Come in.” Jillian looked expectantly toward the sound.
Stephanie entered, smiling. “Your mother is here, Governor. She’s in her room, getting settled.”
Dave rose, picked up his jacket and slipped it on. “Have a good evening. Thanks for the coffee.”
Jillian’s smile soothed the ache in his heart. The people of Maine, more than a million strong, vied for her attention. Tonight, for fifteen minutes, he’d had her all to himself.
“Dave, thank you for everything.” She stood and took his hand in both hers for a moment. His heart thundered as he gazed down into her eyes.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” he said. “Have a good night’s rest.”
“I think I will. And I’ll pray that you’re back on active duty soon.”
“Thank you.” He stood too long, looking down at her. If he’d acted a moment too late…but he hadn’t. She was safe. And others would watch over her until he was allowed back. Which couldn’t happen a moment too soon.
TEN
When Jillian answered her phone on Thursday afternoon, Lettie’s words set her pulse racing.
“Detective Hutchins is here, Governor. He has some news for you on the Stevenson investigation. If you can give him a few minutes, he’d like to see you.”
“Of course. Oh, Lettie, I have someone coming at three…”
“I believe they just entered the outer office. I’ll seat them until you’re finished with the detective.”
Jillian sat back and took a deep breath. Every time she’d thought about Dave lately, she’d tried to convince herself that her feelings for him were illogical and temporary. But careful consideration brought the opposite conclusion. What could be more logical than falling for the man who had done so much to protect her? This was more than an adolescent crush. She admired and appreciated Dave’s diligence, his sympathy and kindness, and she found herself wishing their relationship could transcend business and become something more personal…and more permanent.
He entered, smiling, and she stood to shake his hand.
“Dave! You’re back at work.”
“Who told you?”
“You did. I can tell by the satisfaction on your face.”
He laughed. “I admit being on leave depressed me. It feels good to be back on the job.”
“You look great.” She immediately wondered if the remark was too personal, but his dark gray suit, pearl-gray shirt and burgundy necktie, along with his dashing good looks, put him in the head-turning category.
“Thanks. I feel great. How about you? Any pain in that ankle?”
“No, it’s fine. What can you tell me today?”
He sat down opposite her, and sobered as he looked into her eyes for a long moment. “We’ve found a connection between you and Stevenson.”
She caught her breath. “What?”
“Roderick Tanger.”
“He’s still in prison.”
“Yes.” Between Dave’s eyebrows, little vertical lines spelled regret and concern.
“It’s all right,” she said. “Tell me everything you know.”
“Okay. This Wesley Stevenson—the gunman—worked for Tanger.”
“Before Tanger was convicted?”
“Yes. And some say he still did.”
Jillian studied his face. “You think Tanger’s still running his so-called business from the Maine State Prison?”
“Maybe. Other men are doing the legwork—bringing the drugs in, collecting the payments. But Tanger may still have a hand in it. We’ve got three detectives in Portland and another at the prison right now, trying to ferret out information.”
“So you think Tanger is carrying out the revenge he’s wanted on me for nearly a decade?”
“I think it’s possible. We’re looking into Stevenson’s connections now and trying to determine how he’s supported himself recently. The car he drove to Orono Saturday night wasn’t flashy enough to draw attention, but it’s not a cheap model. The detectives in Portland searched his house, and they tell us he lived pretty well. We’re looking at his bank records now.”
She nodded slowly. “Anything else?”
“Yes. They found a rifle. The lab will test it. They should be able to tell if it fired the round from the parking garage.”
“That would be progress.”
“The thing is, Tanger’s been a model prisoner. If he’s still running drugs, we have no proof. And the prison is crowded. They want his room.”
“You’re not serious,” Jillian said, her stomach suddenly in knots.
“He’ll have a parole hearing this summer.”
She frowned and looked down at her desk, gathering a few stray papers and nervously tapping them into a neat stack. “I can recommend that the parole board refuses to release him.”
“Maybe you should set up a meeting with the attorney general.”
“I’ll ask. But if they can’t find any evidence…” She jotted “Call the AG” on a slip of memo paper, then looked up into Dave’s brown eyes. “You seriously think Roderick Tanger was behind these attacks.”
“I don’t know. But it’s the best lead we’ve had in a long time.”
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