“Track!” he urged again, and Glory howled her response. She loved the chase almost as much as she loved the find.
Somewhere nearby, sirens screamed.
Another emergency?
Not uncommon in DC’s rougher areas, but in the Jeffrieses’ posh neighborhood, crime was nearly nonexistent.
Glory stopped short, her ears perked, her scruff standing on end. She swiveled, turning in the direction they’d come. Gavin could still hear branches breaking in front of them, but Glory was trained in protection. She wouldn’t move toward a fleeing threat if there was another threat coming up from behind.
She growled, her dark eyes focused on the trees behind them. Gavin aimed his light in that direction, saw a shadow darting through the trees.
“Stop!” he shouted. “Police!”
The shadow kept going.
“I’m releasing my dog!” he yelled.
He unclipped Glory’s lead, gave her the command.
She lunged into the trees, muscle and fur and enough power to take down a grown man. She wouldn’t. Not until she was given the command, but she’d be able to corner whoever it was, keep him or her from escaping.
He ran after her, sprinting into the dense foliage, heading back the way they’d come. He hit the path at a dead-out run, his light bouncing across dirt and leaves, splashing over Glory and her mark. Small. Wearing jeans and T-shirt. A woman or a kid. Long hair, so he’d say female.
The rest of the details were lost as she veered off the path, ran into the trees. She must have thought she could lose Glory that way.
Wasn’t going to happen.
The woman screamed, the sound cut off by leaves rustling and Glory’s wild bark.
Gavin sprinted forward, his light bouncing off Glory’s brown-black coat.
“Release!” he commanded, and she moved to his side. She’d stay there until he told her differently.
“You may as well come down,” he said, moving the beam of his light into the tree. It flitted over bare feet, jean-clad legs, a soft pink sweater. A face he knew well. Cassie Danvers—housemother at All Our Kids for the past couple of years. He’d done his share of volunteer work at All Our Kids. He’d owed the congressman and the home that. Last year, he’d put new tile flooring in the kitchen, painted the trim of a dozen windows, helped run a field day for foster kids and their families. He’d seen Cassie there more times than he could count.
He scowled. “What are you doing up there, Cassie?”
“Climbing for my life,” she responded, her dark green gaze fixed on Glory.
Glory barked, and Cassie scrambled higher into the tree.
“Glory isn’t going to hurt you.”
“You might want to tell her that,” she said. She had a bruise on her cheek, blood on her feet. Something had happened to send her out into the woods at this time of the night. Had she heard the sirens? Come to see what was going on? Run into whoever it was Glory had been chasing through the woods?
He needed to get her out of the tree, get her back to All Our Kids, find out exactly what was going on.
“I already did. That’s why she backed off,” he responded, clipping on Glory’s lead. “She won’t move again unless I tell her to.”
“I’m not sure I can move, either,” she muttered.
“You’re stuck?”
“Maybe.” She peered down at him, her red hair falling across her cheeks, her eyes wide with fear. She’d managed to climb up ten feet, and he thought she might be wondering how she was going to get down.
“Want me to climb up?” he asked.
“I can figure it out. Thanks.” She eased down through the tree, her hand grasping branches and pine needles.
It seemed to take forever, every painstaking inch of progress making Gavin want to climb up and give her the help she said she didn’t need.
Instead, he waited.
He’d known Cassie for a couple of years. Not well, but enough to understand a few things about her. She wasn’t the kind of person who liked needing help, wasn’t the kind who’d trust quickly or easily. She was great with the kids, seemed to have a good relationship with Harland and Michael. She attended fund-raisers and hobnobbed with ease, but she didn’t ask for anything from anyone. If one of her kids had a need, she found a way to provide for it.
That was probably one of the reasons Harland had hired her at such a young age. The go-getter attitude combined with compassion. Those things were necessary for the job she did.
What was necessary for his job was information, and he needed it sooner rather than later. Because, someone else had been out in the woods with them. Someone Glory had been tracking. Someone who’d been beelining it toward the road.
Michael’s killer?
Maybe.
And, maybe Cassie had seen him, could offer a description that would help bring him to justice.
Gavin needed whatever information she had.
First, though, he needed her out of the tree.
TWO
Cassie hadn’t climbed a tree in years. That hadn’t seemed to be a problem when she’d seen Gavin’s dog coming after her. She’d scrambled up the tree so quickly, she might have broken the sound-speed barrier.
The problem was, she’d never ever climbed down a tree.
The last time she’d tried, she’d been twelve. The effort had resulted in a broken arm and a trip to the ER.
She didn’t plan to repeat the mistake.
On the other hand, her progress was so slow, the sun might come up before she actually made it to the ground.
“Cassie?” Gavin called, a hint of impatience in his voice. She didn’t know what he’d been doing out in the woods, but she was glad he had been. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could have eluded the guy who’d been chasing her. She’d been fast, but he’d been savvy, slipping through the trees after her. Stealthy. Practiced. As if he’d hunted prey hundreds of times before.
She shuddered, her feet slipping off the bough she’d clambered onto.
“Careful,” Gavin called as if she needed to be reminded that she was up in a tree, the ground a good seven feet below her.
“I’m trying,” she muttered, inching down a little farther. Sirens were blaring, the sound coming from the direction of the house.
Virginia must have heard her scream and called the police.
Good. The kids would be protected.
That was all she cared about.
That and making sure the guy she’d seen on the back porch didn’t return.
She stepped onto another bough, pine needles digging into her raw feet. Her cheek throbbed, her jaw ached, but she was alive, help was at hand. God was good. Even in the bad times. She’d learned that young, and the knowledge had served her well. She’d hold on to it as she tried to figure out who had been on the back porch, what he’d wanted. Not just to steal something. If that had been the case, he’d have run when she’d opened the door.
Her sweater snagged on bark, her palms stinging as slivers of wood pierced flesh. She shifted her grip, tried to find another bough to place her feet on.
Gavin grabbed her ankle, tugged gently. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
“You’ve got my ankle. What good is that going to do?”
“Cassie, we don’t have all night. Just trust me and let go.”
Trust?
She wasn’t very good at that.
“Thanks, but I can—”
“A man was murdered tonight. His killer is on the loose. How about we skip all the ‘I’ve got to do it myself’ stuff and get you down, so I can get on with my investigation?”
His words sent cold fear shooting up her spine.
The guy on her back porch had looked like he could kill someone without batting an eye or feeling a bit of remorse. Had he been looking for another victim when he’d arrived at All Our Kids?
She let go.
Gavin managed to grab her waist as she fell, lowering her to the ground with so little effort, it was almost emba
rrassing that she’d doubted him. After all, the guy towered over her. Six-two to her five-three, and he had muscle to spare. Obviously, he worked out. A lot. He probably also ran, biked and swam. She spent most her time chasing kids around.
“Thanks,” she murmured, stepping away and nearly bumping into Gavin’s huge dog. It looked like a German shepherd but was nothing like Miss Alice’s old dog Angus. He’d been a shepherd, too, his muzzle already white with age by the time Cassie moved into her last foster placement. At fourteen, she’d thought she’d known just about everything, but she’d known nothing about love, commitment, respect. Miss Alice had taught her those things, and if she’d still been around, she’d have been happy to see Cassie putting them to good use.
“Sorry,” she said to the dog. Its ears perked up, its dark eyes watching her every move. At least it had stopped growling, snapping and foaming at the mouth. The last part might have been more her imagination than anything.
“She forgives you,” Gavin said dryly. “Now, how about you tell me what you’re doing out here?”
“Running for my life. And, not from your dog. There was someone at All Our Kids tonight.”
He stilled, his eyes blazing, his expression unreadable. “When?”
“Maybe ten minutes before I ran into you. He was out on the back porch.”
“Doing what?”
“I have no idea. I heard him, thought he was one of the kids. I opened the door and there he was.”
“Did you get a good look at his face?” He pressed a hand to her lower back, issued a command to Glory and started walking.
“Yes.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No. He was a stranger.” They made it onto the path that led from All Our Kids to Harland Jeffries’s mansion. An easy walk for anyone who knew the way.
An easy route for someone who might have murder on his mind.
The thought left her cold.
She’d known Harland for years, had been hired by him fresh out of college. She respected him, liked him, and believed in the things he stood for.
“You said someone was murdered tonight,” she said before Gavin could ask another question.
“I’m afraid so.”
“It wasn’t Harland, was it?”
He hesitated, and she grabbed his arm, pulled him to a stop. “Gavin, was it Harland?”
“It was Michael. Harland was injured, too, but he survived.”
“Was it a knife attack?” she asked, her eyes hot with tears. Michael had been a great guy. He’d spent a lot of time at All Our Kids, teaching the children to play football and basketball, bringing them treats. He had a heart of gold, and the world was going to be a lesser place without him in it.
“That’s an odd question,” Gavin responded quietly, urging her forward again. Just ahead, the path opened up into All Our Kids’ yard. She could see the house, lights blazing from every window of the three-story building. A police car sat in the driveway, flashing blue-and-red light across the pavement. Virginia had called the police. It looked as though she’d woken all the kids, too. Either that or the arrival of the police had. “Not really,” she responded as they moved across the acre of green lawn. “The guy on my back porch had a knife.”
“Michael and Harland were both shot,” Gavin said bluntly. “Michael died before the ambulance arrived. Harland called for help and was transported to the hospital.”
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
“I didn’t hear a thing.” Not gunshots. Not ambulance sirens. Nothing. Then again, she’d been dead tired from nursing David through the flu, the windows were double-paned glass, the house well-constructed.
“You heard the guy on your back porch,” he pointed out.
“I have an internal alarm that goes off when one of the kids is wandering around at night. Apparently, it doesn’t work when sirens are screaming through the neighborhood.”
He let out a bark of rough laughter, shook his head. “The house is pretty well built.”
“And, I was dead tired. One of the kids had the flu this week, and we’ve got a toddler who hasn’t been sleeping well.” Juan Gomez’s mother had died, and he’d been crying out for her for the past two nights. “I was dead to the world until I heard the guy on the porch.”
“Do you think your assistant heard anything?”
“Not until I screamed.”
“She came outside then? Did she see your assailant?” he asked.
“She didn’t come outside, and I don’t think she saw anything. She turned on a light, and it distracted the guy. I ran into the woods, and he followed.” She shuddered.
“Do you think he was here for you?”
“If he was, I’ve got no idea why. He had a duffle and—” She remembered the smell of gasoline clinging to him or to the bag.
“What?” Gavin prodded as he led her up the front steps and onto the wide porch that wrapped around the sides of the house. She’d be hanging flower baskets soon. Destiny had been looking forward to that. She’d never had a yard or a garden, and being at All Our Kids was allowing her an opportunity to test out her green thumb.
It was so much easier to think about that than to think about Michael dead and Harland wounded. To think about someone shooting two of the nicest men Cassie had ever met.
“Cassie?” Gavin touched her shoulder, and she realized she was standing in front of the door, hand on the knob.
“Gasoline. When I walked outside I smelled it.”
He frowned. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” he muttered. “We found something at the crime scene. I think it might belong to one of your kids.”
“What?” Her heart thundered in her chest, her mouth dry with fear. She didn’t think she was going to like what he had to say, but she wanted him to say it, anyway.
He pulled a bag out of his coat pocket and holding it up so she could see what was inside. A blue mitten. Hand-knit. Child-size.
She knew who it belonged to.
David.
“Do you recognize it?” Gavin asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. She’d seen the mittens earlier that day, tucked into David’s pocket when she’d brought him to the doctor. Somehow, at some point, one of them had ended up near the crime scene.
Had one of the kids witnessed a murder?
“Whose is it?”
“David’s, but he’s the one who has the flu. He’s been in bed all night.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I was sleeping in a chair beside him.”
“Someone had the mitten on. Whoever it was may have seen what happened at Jeffries place.”
“You think that’s why the guy was on the porch?”
“You said you smelled gasoline. It’s possible the murderer saw the witness and came after him.”
“And planned to burn the house down with all of us in it?” she asked, her voice shaking. She hated that, hated being afraid. She was, though. The kids were her responsibility. They counted on her, trusted her in a way they often hadn’t been able to trust other adults. “I need to check on everyone. Make sure they’re okay.” She opened the door, ran inside.
Gavin said something, but she couldn’t hear past the pulse of blood in her ears.
Voices carried from the kitchen. Kid voices. A man. Virginia—her voice high-pitched and shaky. From the sound of things, she was currently in full-out panic.
“We’re going to keep the kids safe,” Gavin said, his voice mixing with all the others.
She stopped, pivoting around to face him so quickly that he nearly walked into her. She was face to chest with him, staring at his coat and the K-9 insignia on it.
“I appreciate that,” she said, stepping back so she could look into his face, into his dark blue eyes. “But when all is said and done, they’re my responsibility. They’re counting on me to keep them safe. Not the police. Not your K-9 team. If one of them w
as outside tonight and witnessed Michael’s murder…” She swallowed a hard knot of grief and fear, forced herself to continue. “I haven’t done my job.”
“Kids do lots of things we can’t control. You can’t beat yourself up if one of them snuck out.”
“Sure I can,” she replied, shifting her gaze from Gavin to his dog, because she didn’t want to keep looking into his eyes, didn’t want to see the sympathy there.
“You can, but you shouldn’t.”
She would, anyway. That’s the way things were when a person mothered kids. She didn’t bother explaining, just headed toward the kitchen. Gavin followed. She didn’t have to look to know it. She could hear his dog’s feet padding on the wood floor, smell the scent of pine needles and outdoors.
She stepped into the kitchen, bracing herself for what she knew she’d find.
It was as chaotic as she’d imagined.
Destiny stood with her head in the open refrigerator, a bottle of chocolate milk in her hand. Little David sat bleary-eyed at the table. Rachel, Axel, Tommy and Kent huddled near the stove. Lila sat under the table, her thumb in her mouth, a blanket pulled around her shoulders.
And then there was Virginia.
She sat next to David, eyes closed, tears streaming down her face as she hugged Juan, the toddler, close. Two police officers stood to either side of her. One held a cup of water and seemed intent on shoving it into Virginia’s hand.
“She’s dead,” Virginia moaned. “I know she is. Dead and all of these children are just going to miss her so much. She’s—”
“Standing right here, Virginia,” Cassie cut in.
Virginia’s eyes flew open and she jumped up, the chair nearly tipping over.
“You’re alive!” she cried, rushing forward and throwing her free arm around Cassie. “I heard you scream and I thought the worst.”
“I’m fine. Sorry for scaring you.”
“Scaring me? You took a dozen years off my life.”
“Sorry about that, too,” Cassie responded.
“What happened?” Virginia asked, bouncing Juan on her hip. The poor little guy’s eyes were wet from tears, his face red. He reached for Cassie, and she took him, kissing his soft cheek and murmuring the kind of comfort she figured a mother would offer.
Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection DetailHidden AgendaBroken Silence Page 2