“And this was the only voice mail she left you?” Buckler asked, his hazel eyes sharp with inquiry.
“Yes.”
“What time did it come in?”
Tess picked up the phone. “Five-oh-two in the afternoon. She must have been getting ready to leave the office. What time was the accident?”
Buckler and Hart exchanged a glance. “The call came in about five-forty,” Buckler said.
What had Mary been doing during those forty minutes before the accident? Had she been aware someone was after her? Had she been in a panic? Or had this been a terrible accident caused by someone uninvolved with Chanter Construction? She wouldn’t know until the police did their job and found the car that had crushed Mary’s vehicle. If they ever did.
“We’d like to get a court order to get a copy of her voice mail. We’d prefer a direct line of custody from your phone service in case we need to use it later to build a timeline,” Buckler explained. “Would you cooperate with that?”
Giving them access to her phone seemed an invasion of privacy and a threat. Some of the sensitive messages she’d received lately—When he noticed her silence, detective Buckler looked up. She chose her words carefully. “As long as that’s the only voice mail you ask for. Mary is…gone. If her message can help catch whoever killed her, I’m willing to give you access. But I have the expectation of privacy for myself and several people I’ve interviewed lately. In particular victims of a crime I’ve interviewed.”
“That can be stipulated,” Buckler said.
“I’d like a copy of the paperwork before it goes to the judge.” Tess held the detective’s gaze. “So I can see the scope of what you’re asking for.”
The detective’s brows climbed and he studied her for a moment. “I’ll see what I can do. Have you received any packages from Miss Stubben?”
She had wondered what Mary had meant that she’d found something else. Had she had the presence of mind or the time to hide it somewhere? Tess would have received it by now if Mary had mailed it. “No, of course not. Otherwise I’d have mentioned it.”
“If you do, please contact us,” Buckler said.
Tess studied the detective’s expression. They hadn’t discovered anything in the car. They’d be less excited about the voice mail if they had. And less thrown by the information she’d shared. At least now they’d be on the lookout for something in Mary’s possession. And they’d be looking at her death as more than just a hit and run. Could Mary have taken the something she’d found home before her death? Or had she unearthed more data on her computer?
“I’d like to go back over your interview with Ms. Stubben at the café. What was the scope of your discussion?”
Tess closed her eyes, visualizing each moment of the meeting. When she opened them, she described how Mary had behaved after entering the coffee shop. How she’d glanced around her as she sat down, her gaze sliding from one person to another. How her hands had trembled as she placed them palm down on the tabletop. They’d spoken for a few minutes about their backgrounds while the waitress took their order and served their coffee. When Mary talked about her boss and her suspicions, her breathing quickened, anxiety pinched the corners of her eyes, and her nervousness increased.
For twenty minutes Tess shared her observations and repeated every word she could remember of the conversation. When she was finished, her muscles were cramped with exhaustion, as if she’d gone on too long a run. She sank back in her chair and grasped the hand Brett extended.
Detective Hart sat back as well. “Do you have a photographic memory, Ms. Kelly?”
“Not quite. Two weeks from now I wouldn’t be able to tell you in as much detail, only the highlights. But I’d still be able to describe Mary’s behavior. If the person I’m talking to seems at ease, I write everything down and take copious notes during an interview. I’ve tried using a digital recorder, but that either freaks an interviewee out or makes them stilted and self-conscious. I couldn’t use either with Mary, so I was at my most observant.”
“Have you written about your interview with her?” Buckler asked.
“Yes. That afternoon in the car I jotted down some notes right after the interview. Then that evening when I arrived home, while it was fresh in my mind, I fleshed out my observations and impressions. When getting it right means publishing a story or not, I cover all my bases.”
“We’d like a copy of your notes.”
She didn’t mind giving them a copy of her interview with Mary, but Taylor might have a problem with her sharing her work product, and she did, too. They needed to gain their own insights. “I can email those notes to you tomorrow from the office.”
“Thank you.” Detective Buckler stood to go, and Hart followed.
She and Brett stood as well. Buckler extended a card to her. “If you think of anything else, please let us know.”
“Certainly.”
Buckler was half way out the door when he turned back to face her. “We’ll do all we can to find out what happened to Mary Stubben. The Feds will find out who blew up your car; they’re good at what they do.” For the first time a small hint of humor lightened his normally somber expression. “Don’t quote me on that.” His gaze turned intent. “But in the meantime, I’d suggest you give Chanter Construction a wide berth, Ms. Kelly. We’ll be investigating these allegations about the construction bids.”
Of course he didn’t want her doing any kind of interviews while they were investigating. “I’ll take that into consideration, Detective.”
Buckler’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. “We appreciate your cooperation, Miss Kelly. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you.” She closed the door and locked it behind them.
Brett turned her to face him. “I’ve seen that look before, Tess. What are you planning?”
“I won’t interfere with their investigation. But I have my own ideas. I’ll be going at this from a different direction than they probably will.”
“And that is?”
“What I’m known for, the human element.”
“That’s what saved my butt when you helped me.”
“I can’t save Mary Stubben, Brett.” The pain and guilt for the small, soft-spoken woman burned inside her. “If I hadn’t encouraged her to meet with me, she’d still be alive.”
He shook his head and ran soothing hands down her arms. “You can’t know that.”
“Not for certain but—”
“She made a choice to try and get at a truth she believed in. She chose to take the risks.” He hesitated. “Just as you’re doing now.”
“It’s my job.”
“Yeah. Covering the news. Not investigating it. I can’t tell you to stay on the sidelines. Not when your investigation and your dad’s dug out the truth about my own situation.” He took a breath. “All I can do is protect you, if you need me to.”
He stood against terrorists, drug cartels, and other bad guys to keep the nation safe. And now he was volunteering to do it for her. She slipped her arms around his waist and leaned in against him. If she put him at risk and something happened to him… “Maybe I’ll back off and let the police do their thing.”
“Maybe you can manipulate them into giving you a scoop in exchange for your cooperation. You’re not really going to give them everything you have, are you?”
Tess shot him a look.
He grinned. “Didn’t think so.”
Chapter Seven
‡
Brett stretched his legs out, propped his feet on the coffee table, and pretended to focus on the television screen. Though the talk show droned in the background, he had one ear cocked for Hawk’s arrival and the other listening to Tess while she circled from one area of the apartment to the other. Briefly his attention was captured by a report on Afghanistan. How many morning programs had he watched in the last seven years? Not many. He’d been too busy training, on post and off. And working to get back to where he’d been before the coma.
H
e needed to learn to relax and just enjoy, not necessarily the inane show on the television, but…the moment. And just being with Tess.
Though his eyes were on the screen, his attention returned to her as she paced and chatted with her boss about the police detectives’ visit the night before.
Listening to her describe her interview with Mary Stubben in such detail… Tess had noticed more about the woman in those few minutes than he probably had absorbed about people in weeks. She had a real gift. She’d been exhausted after the detectives left the night before, jittery and anxious, although she’d tried to hide it. He’d done what he could to sooth her by holding her until she went back to sleep.
Tess slid in next to him on the couch and glanced at the screen. “You’re really not into that, are you?”
He looped an arm around her. “I was just thinking how amazing you are.”
She smiled. “You’re supposed to think I’m amazing. You’re going to marry me.”
“I’m serious, Tess. You have something special. You really see people. You really hear them. One day you’ll earn a Pulitzer or something.”
Her burnt sienna brown gaze settled on his face for a moment, then skittered away.
“What is it?” Brett asked.
She drew a deep breath. “Nothing. You said that with such conviction.” She rested her head against his shoulder.
“I believe it.”
“I could win a Pulitzer as a freelancer, couldn’t I?”
Freelancer? A sinking sensation struck his stomach. He studied her expression. “Are you thinking about doing that after we’re married?”
“It’s just an idea. Dad has made a living that way.”
And Ian was gone as often as Brett was, possibly more. The newsman had been from Pakistan to Paris in a week’s time when they’d last spoken. Could Tess handle that kind of nomadic existence? Could their marriage? Jesus…could he handle it? He’d worry about her constantly.
Just like she probably did about him.
But hoping she’d stay in one place while he hopped from one global hot spot to another wasn’t fair to her, either.
“I want you to do what makes you happy, Tess. I know you need to have more than just me in your life. Especially when I’m asking you to take on—”
She covered his lips with her fingertips. “Since this car thing happened, I just—it makes you think. It was a fleeting thought. I know my strengths and weaknesses. I’d go crazy waking up in a different hotel room, alone, every morning. I need a home. Stability.”
Stability. What was stable about having a husband who was gone for ten months out of every year? A husband who could be transferred during any rotation? Or deployed at a moment’s notice? Jesus, what was he thinking asking her to put up with that?
Or was something else going on here? Since the police interview, though she had remained composed, she’d been more than wound up. There was something else going on with her, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“You don’t have to be afraid, Tess. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I’m not afraid. Well, maybe just a little. I haven’t been out since I got home from the hospital. I’m a little anxious about how I’ll react to going outside.”
Of course she’d be anxious. Any civilian would be after what she’d been through. The way she’d been able to recall every detail of her interview with Mary Stubben, she must be doing the same thing about seeing her car blow up. “Why don’t you write about the explosion, Tess?”
“The police asked me not to. And Taylor assigned another reporter to the story.”
“I mean, write how you feel about what happened to you. You focus on the human element…well you’re human and you’re the one who experienced it.”
“Do you talk about the things you go through?” she asked.
For a moment the face of the last cartel thug he’d taken down flashed through his mind. Damn, she homed right in on exactly what he didn’t want to talk about. “I’ve been through psyche evals, but no, we don’t normally talk about it.”
“Then how do you deal with it?”
“It’s part of our training to think in terms of mission, training, reconnaissance, and targets. We don’t let it get close, Tess.”
“And when you’re the target?”
“You don’t give up or give in. You keep fighting until you have nothing left.” You don’t give up until you’re dead. But he couldn’t say that to her.
He needed to guide her away from that line of thinking. “Hawk will pick us up and drop us at a car rental place, and we’ll get a car a little more low-key than my Mustang. I’ll be with you all day while you do your thing. The cops will do theirs, and they’ll get this asshole. It’s going to be okay. While you’re busy, I’ll make some calls and find us a rehearsal dinner location.”
“And if you can’t?”
“We can use Doc’s back patio or Hawk and Zoe’s back yard. Or Lang and Trish’s. Trish won’t mind if we pitch in to do some of the housework. I thought about it after we talked the other day. I’m sure one of them will volunteer if we can’t find a restaurant. It isn’t as though people do the fancy dress thing for the rehearsal anymore, do they? Are we?”
“No, it was just going to be casual family thing at an Italian restaurant.” She nestled close. “I might do what you suggested and write about things…later.”
Tess’s cell rang and she reached for it. “It’s Hawk. He’s at the door.”
A brief knock brought them both to their feet. Brett opened the door to his first team leader and brother-in-law. All six foot four inches of him and a duffle bag filled the door. Hawk stepped forward, dropped the bag, and he and Brett hugged and pounded each other in greeting.
“Good to have you home, bro,” Hawk said when he stepped back.
“Good to be home.”
“Morning, Tess,” Hawk gave her a quick, careful hug. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. Just a little bruised here and there.”
“Sorry you have to go through this. The two of you are welcome to hole up with us if you want to. I have a state-of-the-art alarm system on the house, with cameras and everything. Flash helped me install it.”
Brett wasn’t surprised by the offer, but the thought of putting Zoe and the baby, A.J., in any kind of jeopardy made it unacceptable. “We appreciate the offer, but we’re fine.”
“I expected to see some cops,” Hawk said.
Tess explained, “They were here, but when I told them I was going to be interviewing people for stories today, they didn’t want to take responsibility for keeping me protected.”
Hawk’s brows went up, and he gave Brett a quick glance. “I’ve brought your sig from the apartment and a vest, a jacket, and I found a shirt you can use. I looked around for smaller vest, but we don’t have anything that would work for Tess.”
“We’ll make do.” Brett took the vest from Hawk. He put it on over his T-shirt, then put Hawk’s shirt on over it. It bulked him up, but it would work. He shoved his shirttail into his jeans. He slipped on his shoulder holster, checked his weapon, and thrust the clip Hawk handed him into the gun. “If you can give us a lift to the rental car place, we can take it from there.”
“I can stick around for a few hours and do reconnaissance to make sure no one follows you to your first appointment. Once you get past that hurdle, you should be clear the rest of the day.” Hawk turned to Tess. “Anyone know where you’re going?”
“Only my editor,” Tess said. “But he doesn’t know the order of my interviews.”
“Good,” Hawk nodded. “I’d mix it up if you can, just to be certain.”
“Let’s do it,” Brett said. He slipped on the jacket to cover the shoulder holster.
“One more thing before we go,” Hawk said. “Your mother has set up a family thing tonight. You’re expected at our place at seven. You two up for that?”
He should have known it would happen as soon as his feet t
ouched U.S. soil. He knew he should be as eager to see his family and friends as they were to see him, but he hadn’t had enough alone time with Tess yet. But the get-together would only be a few hours, and they could slip away.
Brett glanced at Tess and she nodded.
“We’re good.” Brett said.
*
Tess read over the arrest report for Daniel Delgado for the third time as part of her preparation for the interview. Maria, his mother, believed her son had been railroaded for something he didn’t do. The gang-related activity in the area colored the way cops and the public viewed teenagers. The woman had begged Tess to look into it, and after seeing the arrest report, Tess felt there seemed to be some credibility to what the mother believed. Just maybe.
Brett took the 28th Street exit while Tess punched in the address she’d saved on her GPS. Half an hour later they pulled up in the drive. Brett’s cell phone rang, and Hawk’s voice came across the line about the time his car cruised by the rear view mirror. “It’s all clear. No sign of a tail or anything else suspicious.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“Any time.”
Brett took off his seat belt but Tess grabbed his arm. “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea for you to go in with me. It’s hard enough to get people to talk when it’s one-on-one. Would you mind very much waiting here for me?”
“After I’ve checked the situation out and escort you to the door,” he said, his expression serious.
Just because she felt less hunted didn’t mean Brett shouldn’t continue to take the situation seriously. He and Hawk had sandwiched her between them all the way to the car. Their jackets did nothing to hide the sidearms and shoulder holsters, or the body armor Brett wore beneath his shirt and Hawk wore outside of his. Tess knew Brett had a license to carry. Now she knew Adam ‘Hawk’ Yazzie, her future brother-in-law, did as well. The police didn’t seem to mind Brett was taking over their protection detail. Though they’d kicked up just a tiny bit of fuss to make things look good and had her sign a form waiving their responsibility.
Tess had fought not to roll her eyes. The two officers who’d stood guard all night had looked a little sheepish when she shook their hands and thanked them. Maybe she should write about that.
Building Ties (Military Romantic Suspense) (SEAL Team Heartbreakers Book 4) Page 7