The detective stood. “You two again? What have you gotten yourselves into this time?”
Sal gave a terse account of what had happened. “We didn’t feel like sticking around for the police to show up.”
Nynan picked up his phone, barked out a couple of orders, listened, then nodded. “Let me know what you find.” He turned back to Olivia and Sal. “Officers have already responded. I have some questions for you folks.”
Before Olivia could respond, Sal said, “Ms. Hammond has had a shock. I’ll answer any questions.”
She pulled herself up. “I can answer questions.”
He gave her a probing look. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“I’ll have to answer them sometime. It might as well be now.”
The warm approval in his eyes wrapped around her heart. “We stay as long as you’re able. Then I’m taking you home. Shock is going to set in.”
“I’m not in shock,” she protested.
“You will be,” he predicted. “Right now, you’re feeling numb. That’s good. It lets you keep functioning. But that won’t last forever. And then you’re going to crash.”
He was right. She would have thought of it for herself, but the numbness he’d spoken of was causing her thought processes to turn sluggish.
“Let’s do it. Before I change my mind.”
* * *
The police questioning wasn’t as bad as Sal had feared.
Nynan took them through the phone call from the kidnappers, finding the drive in the hidden drawer and then putting it in the trash can. His eyes narrowed when Olivia confessed to not calling the police immediately after receiving the call. “We could have helped.”
“We were trying to save a life,” she said.
He nodded curtly. “You say you saw your friend on the deck of the boat and then the explosion happened.”
“That’s right,” Olivia agreed, weariness heavy in her voice.
“We do have something,” Sal said and produced the copy of the drive that he and Olivia had made. “You’ll find a file about Bryan Hewston. It’s pretty self-explanatory.”
“Thanks.” Another curt nod. “At least you had the foresight to copy it so the evidence isn’t gone.”
“I think we’ve gone over everything,” Sal said. “And now, I’m taking Olivia home.”
The last days had caught up with her. The smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes had darkened with every hour.
He wanted to erase the shadows, to wipe away the fear and ugliness that had invaded her life. The impossibility of that caused his mouth to tighten. He didn’t like feeling powerless.
The detective stood. “If you think of anything else,” he said, “anything at all that will help us catch the people who did this, call me. Anytime.” He handed a card to Sal.
Olivia, a lady to her core, said, “Thank you, Detective.”
“Thank you for coming in. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”
“No. It wasn’t. But it had to be done. I owed it to Calvin.”
“Our forensics team will go over the boat, or what’s left of it. We’ll find out what caused the fire, trace what accelerant was used. That may give us a lead. Arsonists usually have a signature. We’ve got a database of local arsonists and explosive experts.”
Sal had been interviewed first, then remained quiet while the detective questioned Olivia. Though she’d held up well, she now looked fragile enough to break. He stood, placed a palm under her elbow and helped her to her feet.
Outside, he settled his hand at the small of her back, the proprietary gesture for his sake as much as hers. He was gratified to see that the trembling of her shoulders had subsided and that a bit of color had returned to her face.
What he hadn’t reconciled was his own overwhelming need to hold her to him and never let her go. He was here on a job, he reminded himself. Acting on his feelings for Olivia wasn’t in that job description.
Sal noticed she was leaning heavily on him. She probably wasn’t even aware of it. Without realizing it, he was practically running in his need to get her home, dragging Olivia along with him.
“Sal.” The word came out on a pant as she struggled to keep up.
“Sorry.” He slowed his pace.
Sal bundled her into the truck, slid into the driver’s side and drove to her place. Once they’d reached her townhome, he lifted her into his arms, carried her to the front porch and juggled to find her keys in her briefcase. Inside, he laid her on the sofa.
He then set about making her a cup of tea. He wished he knew how to offer comfort, but he had no words. She’d watched her boss, her mentor, her friend die in front of her and he didn’t know the right words to say, the right things to do.
“Sorry. I’m not much good with the ‘tea-and-sympathy’ thing.”
“You’re plenty good. Sit. And maybe...”
“What?” he prompted.
“Maybe you could hold me,” she said in a small voice.
That he could do.
TWELVE
Olivia awoke with a start. She must have fallen asleep. She shifted positions in an attempt to get up and shook her head, trying to dislodge the picture of Calvin dying in the explosion.
She couldn’t wipe the image of the burning boat from her mind. She doubted she’d ever be able to banish it. If only they’d arrived a few minutes earlier, maybe they could have saved Calvin.
The memory of him raising his arm to her only to be consumed by the flames would forever be seared into her brain. Smells—acrid smoke, the briny scent of the water, the stink of her own fear—had burned into her memory. Hadn’t she read somewhere that smell was the most powerful of the senses?
“Sal?” She looked about, found him in a chair, his vigilant pose making her wonder if he’d watched over her all the while as she slept.
“It’s all right. I’m here.”
“What time is it?”
“Six.”
“In the evening?” She’d slept for more than eight hours. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You were exhausted. You snore.”
“Do not.”
He chuckled. “Have it your way.”
Memories of Calvin and her father crowded her mind. Without her volition, tears leaked from her eyes. She swiped at them with an impatient hand.
“Daddy and Calvin started the firm in a storefront. They shared a desk. It was a shoestring operation, but they kept at it. Daddy promised himself that he’d never turn away someone who needed his help.”
“He sounds like a pretty special man.”
“He was.” She realized she was grieving not just for Calvin but for her father as well.
Not for the first time, she thought of how grateful she was for Sal’s presence. He’d offered her comfort, given her answers and helped her remember that life went on, burning away the raw edges of her grief.
Sal caught her hand in his.
“Calvin’s dead.” If she said the words often enough, she might begin to believe them. With a start, she realized that she hadn’t given Walter a single thought. “I need to call Walter, tell him what happened.”
“The police will have already made the notification.”
“I should at least call him, see if he needs anything.” She found her phone, punched in Walter’s number. When the phone rang and rang without any answer, she reluctantly hung up. “He probably doesn’t want to talk with anyone right now.” She understood. The son’s grief had to be far greater than her own.
Tears stung her eyes once more as the magnitude of her loss hit her. It had been Calvin who had comforted her when her father died. It had been Calvin who had mentored her on her first big trial case. He had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember.
She’d lost not only her boss but her friend, the man who’d stood as a surrogate parent. “Thank you.”
Surprise flickered across Sal’s face. “For what?”
“For being here. Tell me what our next step is.”
She thought she saw admiration in his gaze.
“You’re pretty great. Did you know that?”
She realized how much she had come to depend on Sal. He had protected her with his own body during the explosion, taking care of her when she needed him most, and he was still taking care of her.
But she couldn’t continue leaning on him. That wasn’t who she was. She took care of herself and, with the Lord’s help, handled whatever life threw her way. That was rule number one in her book.
Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to give in to them. Tears wouldn’t bring Calvin back. Nor would they solve his murder.
So she steadfastly held them back and focused on what Sal was saying.
“This is more than getting back some files,” he said.
Once more she had to concede that he was right. Just as with Bryan, she hadn’t known Calvin as well as she’d thought she had. What secrets had he harbored? Why hadn’t he shared them with her? It reminded her that two years ago she’d believed she knew Sal, but she’d been wrong since he’d been able to leave her so easily.
“We can’t leave it this way.”
“No,” Sal agreed. “We can’t.”
It had been a horrific day. There was no getting around it. But knowing that he was there eased some of the heartache.
Her growing feelings for Sal created more than a bit of confusion in her. Two years ago, they’d parted. Now he was back in her life and she realized that she wanted him to stay right there.
* * *
Sal thought about what had just passed between him and Olivia.
There’d been a connection. He wanted that. More than he should. He’d promised himself that he’d keep it all business.
Nothing had changed from two years ago when he’d walked away. He was still the Hawk. Still the man who had spotted enemy combatants for a sniper to take out. If the sniper had been unable to perform his duty for whatever reason, Sal had taken over.
If he let himself, he could still picture the deadly M4 carbine, feel his shoulder supporting the weight of the stock, remember the scent it left in its wake.
Olivia came to stand beside him, laid her hand on his arm. “What is it, Sal? What’s filling your eyes with such sorrow?”
How did he answer? “It’s nothing that you need to worry about.” He hadn’t meant his words to be a rebuff, but apparently she took them as that for she removed her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...” Of course he’d meant to shut down her questions. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
What would Olivia think if he told her about his past? She’d recoil in disgust. Her world was filled with light and truth and love. His was shrouded in darkness. Not even Jake Rabb, a Delta buddy, knew of Sal’s missions while he’d been in Afghanistan. His orders were buried so deep that only those possessing the highest security clearance knew of them.
Sal knew his friends from Delta wouldn’t judge him—they risked their lives every day—but he judged himself. Something had changed inside of him. The man who had gone to war, determined to serve his country, had become a man who abhorred violence. That his current job demanded he use violence upon occasion didn’t alter his distaste for it.
Accepting that shift was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Sometimes he wanted to return to that simpler time, when he understood what he was doing and why he was doing it. Now that understanding had become blurred.
He knew he had to make peace with his past. For his sake. For his family. And maybe, just maybe, for Olivia.
His thoughts circled back to his family. They knew he had been Delta. His father, a big, bluff man, couldn’t have been prouder. His mother had turned to her faith during those years, always praying for her son’s safe return. But neither knew of his special assignments.
What would they think if they knew the truth—that he’d been a spotter for a sniper, giving the go-ahead for enemy targets to be taken out? Would they be repelled by the knowledge or would they understand that he’d been doing his job?
And what of Olivia? What would she think? He backed away from that. He didn’t want to know.
“Where did you go?” Olivia asked when the silence turned as thick as the humidity.
“Took a trip to the past.”
“Must not have been a pleasant journey.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Your face. It looked like you were in pain.”
“Maybe I was.” He didn’t elaborate, and Olivia refrained from asking further questions.
* * *
When the judge presiding over Olivia’s case learned of Calvin’s death, he granted a continuance, giving Olivia a much-needed break. She was still reeling and needed time to grieve and work on other things. The firm had other cases that required attention.
Sal took her to the office, hovering like a mother hen until she asked him to go out and pick up some lunch.
A call from the police informing her that Bryan wanted to see her came as a surprise. She was going to refuse, but then thought better of it. His actions had caused the death of a good man. She wanted to confront him, to hear him admit his guilt.
When Sal returned, she told him of Bryan’s request.
“You don’t have to go.”
“I do.”
They made the trip to the police station, the fourth in as many days.
A sergeant showed them to the room where Bryan waited, his wrists shackled together, the chain bolted to the table. In prison orange, he looked pale, defeated and not at all like the arrogant man she had worked with for the last several years.
“You wanted to see me?” She and Sal took seats in the metal chairs across the table from him.
Bryan lifted his head and shifted his gaze to Sal. The despair in his eyes was belied by his first words. “What’s he doing here?”
“He’s here because I asked him to be here. If you’ve got a problem with that, we’re done.”
“No,” he said quickly. “No problem.”
“Why did you want to see me?”
“They’re charging me with murder. You know me, Livvie. You know I couldn’t kill anyone. I didn’t have anything to do with Chantry being kidnapped. Or killed. You’ve got to believe me.” Bryan’s voice held the rough edge of someone who was terrified.
Her lips compressed at his use of her nickname. “Why should I believe you? You sent those men after us.”
“Yeah. I did.” His voice held not a hint of apology. “You brought it on yourselves, digging into my life. You had no business doing that.”
“You made it my business when you embezzled from the firm and when you kidnapped Calvin.” She pushed away from the table and made to get to her feet.
“Don’t go. I’m sorry. I copped to the embezzling, sure, but I had nothing to do with kidnapping our illustrious leader or murdering him.” The sarcastic words took on a note of desperation, those of a supplicant who knew he’d done wrong but was still begging for mercy. “Seriously. You’ve got to believe me,” he repeated. “I admit to doing some stupid stuff, but no way would I kidnap someone, much less kill him.”
“What about hiring someone to do it for you just like you hired those thugs?” Sal countered.
Bryan withered under Sal’s hard glare. He looked like what he was, a pitiful human being who excused his failings by blaming them on others. The gloss that had once coated him had peeled away like a cheap veneer.
Despite her contempt for Bryan, Olivia found herself believing him. True, the evidence poin
ted to him, she argued with herself, and he had confessed to several crimes that would send him to prison for a number of years and have him disbarred, but he’d steadfastly denied being involved in Calvin’s abduction and death.
“You know me. Know I couldn’t kill anyone. I need your help. Please,” Bryan implored. “Convince the police that I didn’t have anything to do with Chantry’s death.”
“What about the file Calvin had on you?” Olivia asked.
“What file?” he demanded hotly and tried to stand despite the chains bolting him to the table. “You’re talking like I know what’s going on. If there’s information saying I had something to do with Chantry’s kidnapping and murder, then it was planted.”
Olivia heard the shocked vehemence in his voice. It sounded genuine. “The one showing that you took bribes from someone in the pharmaceutical company.”
“That’s a crock.” Bryan sat back. “You’ve got to help me. Someone is framing me.”
Without making any promises, Olivia and Sal left.
“You believe him, don’t you?” Sal asked as they walked out of the police station.
“I think I do,” she said, shading her eyes against the blindingly white light of the sun. “Bryan’s weak, but he’s not a murderer. What about you?”
“He’s messed up, sure, but he doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to do what was done to your boss. He could have hired those thugs,” Sal continued, “but you’re right, he’s basically weak. He embezzled because it was easy. Cutting off Chantry’s finger, rigging the boat to explode, those were hard. I don’t think Hewston has the guts for either.”
“We can do some digging, see if there was someone in the company offering Bryan bribes.”
“Good idea. That will either tear his story to shreds or...”
“Prove his innocence,” Olivia finished.
* * *
Sal was glad to take Olivia out of there. He’d seen the shock and pity move into her eyes when Hewston confessed to what he’d done. He’d freely admitted to sending men after her, men who’d been told to “rough her up,” but she’d still managed to find sympathy for him.
It was her faith, Sal thought, that gave her a bedrock of grace for those who didn’t deserve it.
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