Mountain of Evidence

by Cindi Myers

  “Ewww.” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “Okay, well, what about the insurance salesman?”

  “He tried to sell me a life insurance policy on our first date. I don’t know, it just set the wrong tone. Then there was the man who spent most of the date on the phone with his ex-girlfriend. Or the guy who brought his dog along on the date.”

  “You like dogs.”

  “I love dogs. But this one sat between us the whole time and growled at me. At the end of the evening the man told me things weren’t going to work out between us because his dog obviously didn’t like me.”

  “What is wrong with men?” Sarah asked.

  “Maybe I’m being too picky,” Eve said.

  “No,” Sarah said. “You want what you want, and it isn’t these guys.” She sighed. “You and Dane were good together—until you weren’t.”

  “Dane and I are never getting back together,” Eve protested.

  “No, hear me out,” Sarah said. She straightened. “You don’t want or need Dane anymore, I agree, but maybe he’s your type, so you need to find someone like him—only better. A good-looking, mature man who wants a family. An athletic, outdoorsy type. Maybe former military.”

  “I don’t know. Does such a guy even exist?”

  “Face it, that’s what you were attracted to. It’s why you’re attracted to that police commander with the Ranger Brigade.”

  “He’s FBI,” Sarah corrected her. “And I already told you he isn’t right for me. He already has two almost grown daughters.”

  “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want more children. Maybe he loves children. Maybe he’s secretly longing to find the right woman to raise more children with.”

  “Maybe he’s a great cook and loves to clean house, too,” Eve said. “I mean, as long as we’re fantasizing about the perfect man, let’s go all the way.”

  “He doesn’t have to be perfect,” Sarah said. “He just has to be perfect for you. There’s someone out there for you, I know there is.”

  “I wish I had your faith.” Eve straightened. “Now come on, we both have work to do. We’d better make sure we have plenty of supplies for corsages, wristlets, hair clips and boutonnieres,” she said. “Lots of carnations and baby roses and ribbon.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  After Sarah left, Eve tried to concentrate on proofing the order for the Salazar wedding. But Sarah’s words kept echoing in her head. Was it true she had a type of man she was drawn to? But what if her type was all wrong?

  She sent in the order form for the wedding, then called the wedding photographer and discussed getting some shots of the bouquets and table arrangements to use in her portfolio and possibly in future advertising. She put together a Get Well Soon arrangement for a woman who broke her arm in a climbing accident, then returned to her computer to get the contact information for the head of a local charity for whom they had supplied flowers for a fundraising banquet, to see if she needed more flowers this year.

  She was engrossed in plans for a new summer sales flyer when the front buzzer sounded. “Hello? May I help you?” Sarah asked.

  “I’d like to speak to Eve. Ms. Shea.”

  The voice was unmistakable. Eve rolled her chair back a few inches and looked out at Grant Sanderlin. He wasn’t in uniform, or a suit, but dressed casually in dark jeans and a polo shirt.

  “Oh, Eve!” Sarah practically sang the words.

  Sarah stood, smoothed her slacks and walked out to greet him. “Hello, Commander,” she said.

  “I’m not in uniform. Why don’t you call me Grant?”

  Aware of Sarah watching them while pretending to sort greeting cards at the stand in the corner, Eve struggled to keep her expression smooth. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

  “I did a little checking into Toby Masterson’s background,” he said. “I thought you’d be interested in what I learned.”

  “Why were you looking into his background?” she asked. “Is he a suspect in a crime?”

  “I didn’t like the way he approached you at the rally this morning. And I could tell he made you uncomfortable. You have good instincts, I think.”

  Sarah had stopped trying to hide her interest and was watching them openly now. “Maybe we should talk about this outside,” Eve said.

  “It’s almost time for you to close,” he said. “Maybe we could discuss this over dinner.”

  “I don’t know...” she began.

  “What a great idea.” Sarah rushed forward. “I can close up here. You go ahead.” She nudged Eve toward her office. “He’s your type,” she whispered, Eve hoped softly enough that Grant didn’t hear.

  Eve relented. Having dinner with Commander Sanderlin probably wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening, and she was curious to hear what he had learned about Toby Masterson. “I’ll just get my jacket and purse,” she said, and slipped into her office.

  While she was fishing her purse out of the desk drawer, she heard Sarah ask, “Were you ever in the military?”

  “I served ten years in the air force,” Grant said.

  “I knew it. You just have that look about you.”

  Eve rushed to rejoin them before Sarah could ask any more probing questions. “I’m ready,” she said, already moving toward the door.

  On the sidewalk, Grant touched her elbow. “Where are you rushing off to?” he asked.

  She forced herself to slow. “I was just anxious to get out of there before Sarah started grilling you like an overprotective parent. She’s a great friend, but she can’t get away from trying to, I don’t know, mother me.”

  He smiled, an expression that transformed his face to such arresting handsomeness she felt warm clear to her toes. She looked away, afraid at any moment her mouth would drop open and she’d assume the vacant, adoring look of a smitten teen. That would be beyond mortifying. “Do you need to get your car?” he asked.

  “I left my car at home and walked to work after the rally this morning,” she said. “Parking can get very congested downtown and I figure I need the exercise.”

  “Where would you like to go for dinner?”

  “There’s a good Himalayan restaurant at the end of the block,” she said.

  “That sounds good.”

  The owner’s wife greeted them at the door and, instead of seating them at one of the tables in the front room, led them to a secluded booth in the back of the restaurant. Did they really look so much like a couple on a date? Eve wondered.

  “This is good,” Grant said, sliding into the booth across from her. “It’s quiet, so we can talk.”

  “Tell me about Toby Masterson,” Eve said.

  “Let’s order first.”

  They decided on an assortment of small plates and hot tea. Eve leaned back in her seat and cradled a cup of tea. “Well?”

  “Toby Masterson really does know Dane Trask from Welcome Home Warriors, the veteran’s organization Dane founded.”

  “Dane was very proud of the work WHW did to help veterans reintegrate into society,” Eve said. “He worked very hard at it. But I never saw any sign that he was unbalanced, as Masterson claimed this morning. And he never acted particularly upset over us splitting up. He accepted it was never going to work out between us.”

  “Why was that?” Grant asked. “Why were you both so certain the relationship wouldn’t work? After all, hadn’t you been together three years?”

  She stared into the teacup. Would it really matter if she told this man the truth? “I very much would like to have children,” she said. “Dane wasn’t interested. He helped raise his daughter, Audra, and he said he was done. He was very firm about that. If I wanted to stay with him, I’d have to give up my dreams of raising children and I wasn’t willing to do that.” She met his gaze. “I’m not willing to do that.”

  He nodded, his expression unreadable.
At least he didn’t express sympathy with Dane’s position. “I never found any evidence of violent or unlawful behavior when I checked into Trask’s background,” he said. “I can’t say the same for Masterson.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Domestic violence charges on two occasions. That was two years ago, when he was first discharged from the army. He’s had a clean record since them and took the job with TDC three months ago. Apparently, Trask recommended him for the position.”

  She sipped her tea. “That sounds like something Dane would do,” she said. “He was always trying to find jobs for his guys—that’s what he called the men and women who came to WHW for help.” She set aside her cup and leaned across the table toward him. “That’s another reason I don’t think Dane just ran away on a whim. He felt a real sense of responsibility to the people in Welcome Home Warriors. He wouldn’t run away and leave them in the lurch. If he left, it must have been because he felt he had no choice.”

  “Then why doesn’t he come forward now and tell us his reasons?” There was no missing the annoyance in Grant’s voice. “Why the mysterious messages and inflammatory press releases and other games?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I wish I did.”

  A server delivered their meal, and they passed the next few minutes filling their plates from the various dishes. “This is very good,” Grant said after the first few bites. “It’s been a long time since I had Himalayan food.”

  “We have a lot of good restaurants for such a small town,” she said. “Though probably not the variety you’re used to in DC.”

  “It’s nice to have someone to eat with,” he said.

  The warmth in his tone touched her. He really was a nice man. It wasn’t his fault she was so conflicted over her relationship possibilities. “It is,” she agreed.

  “Tell me about your flower shop,” he said. “How did you get started? I’m not asking as a cop, just because I’m interested.”

  She told him how she had started working part-time for another flower shop while she was still a reporter. “I was getting burned out on the job at the paper,” she said. “The long hours and the horrible pay. The abuse you take from the people you’re reporting on and sometimes from the readers, too. I was looking for something new and discovered I had a talent for growing plants and arranging flowers. And a good head for the business side, too. I took a few courses, and when the owner of the shop announced she was retiring, I wrote a business plan, got a small business loan, and turned in my resignation to the paper.”

  “You took a big risk.”

  “I’ve always believed if you weren’t happy in your life, then it was up to you to take action to change it.” It was why she had broken up with Dane. Why she was considering different ways to have the children she wanted so much. “I figured if things didn’t work out, I could always find another job,” she said. “Fortunately, things worked out. What about you? How did you end up with the FBI?”

  “I worked in military intelligence. When I was discharged, the CIA recruited me, but I wanted to stick with the domestic side of law enforcement, which meant the FBI.”

  She savored a bite of saag paneer. “Do you like the work?”

  “I don’t like the politics, but every job has that, to some extent. I like working on cases, and putting some really bad people behind bars. It’s important work and I have a talent for it.”

  He spoke matter-of-factly, not bragging, but not assuming false humility. “And now you’re a commander,” she said.

  “It’s different, since my team is made up of men and women from lots of different branches of law enforcement. But we’re on our own out here, with a certain degree of independence that allows us to do our job without a lot of bureaucratic interference.”

  “You get to run the show the way you want.” That was one of the things she appreciated about having her own business.

  “More or less.”

  They finished the meal in companionable silence. When she looked up from her plate, she invariably found his eyes on her, but the knowledge didn’t make her uncomfortable. When they had eaten their fill and were finishing the last of the tea, she turned her thoughts back to the information he had shared earlier. “If Toby Masterson approaches me again, should I talk to him about Dane?” she asked.

  “That’s up to you,” Grant said. “But I wouldn’t recommend engaging with the guy.”

  “Why did he even seek me out? What does he have to gain from that?”

  “A place in the limelight. Or maybe he just wants to get your attention.”

  She laughed. “Telling me my old boyfriend is dangerous isn’t the best pickup line I’ve ever heard. It could be the worst.”

  “He’s probably harmless,” Grant said. “But if he gives you any trouble, let me know.”

  “And what—you’ll threaten to arrest him?”

  “Harassing another person is a crime. I can remind him of that.”

  She could picture that reminder. Grant could look pretty fierce when he wanted to. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she said.

  When the bill came, he insisted on paying it, so she left the tip. “It’s a nice night,” he said. “May I walk you home? I’ll walk back for my car.”

  The request was so formal and old-fashioned. Sweet. “I’d like that,” she said.

  The streets were mostly empty this time of evening, most of the businesses closed for the day, and traffic was light. They left the main business district and strolled past neat bungalows and cottages, many with broad porches and gingerbread trim, painted in soft pastels. Lights glowed in windows and spilled in golden squares on flower beds blooming with daffodils and crocus. The days were starting to lengthen, though the early evening still held an icy chill. Grant shortened his stride to match hers, a companionable presence.

  They stopped on a corner to wait for a light. When the signal changed, she started forward, but he pulled her back. “What’s wrong?” she asked, startled.

  “Across the street. Do you see him? Look out of the corner of your eye. Pretend to be looking at me.”

  She turned toward him, looking past him to where a man stood on the opposite corner, watching them. “Is that Toby Masterson?” she asked.

  “He’s been following us for a couple of blocks, staying back and in the shadows. I wasn’t sure at first, but now I am.”

  “He lives in town. Maybe he’s just out for a walk or...” Even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true. Something in Masterson’s stance made a shiver run down her spine.

  “Wait here,” Grant said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Before she could protest, he jogged across the street, against the light. Masterson turned away and tried to flee, but Grant caught up to him easily and grabbed his arm. Masterson resisted, but Grant held firm.

  Eve waited until the light changed and crossed the street to join the two men. “What is going on?” she shouted over their raised voices.

  “I told him to stop following you,” Grant said.

  “I just wanted a chance to talk to you,” Masterson said. “To warn you again about Dane Trask. He’s really dangerous.”

  Grant started to speak, but Eve sent him a quelling look. “Do you know where Dane is?” she asked. “Have you seen him in town? Have you seen him anywhere near me?”

  “That’s one of the things I want to talk to you about,” Masterson said. “I haven’t seen him, but I figure you have. He’s probably been trying to get in touch with you.”

  “Why would Dane get in touch with me?”

  “Because he hates you.”

  The words made her shiver again, but she couldn’t believe him. “I haven’t seen Dane,” she said. “And he hasn’t been in touch with me.” No need to mention the press release and the deposit box key. That had been so cryptic it hadn’t even seemed as if he
was communicating with her. She was just a conduit for information he wanted to get out there.

  “If he gets in touch with you, you need to let me know,” Masterson said. “I can protect you.”

  “The police will protect her,” Grant said.

  “Right,” Masterson sneered. He turned back to Eve. “Call the hotline number.” He shoved a business card at her. “I’m in charge of that program and I’ll see you get the protection you need.”

  “You need to leave now or I’ll have you charged with harassment,” Grant said.

  “And I’ll charge you with assault.” But Masterson took a step back. “Watch your back, Eve,” he said. “You think you know Dane, but you really don’t.”

  He turned and jogged down the sidewalk away from them, disappearing into the dusk.

  She stared at the card in her hand, numb. Grant put his arm around her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” She shoved the card into her coat pocket. “That was just so...strange. Why would he be so certain Dane would want to get in touch with me? If he does, he has my personal and work numbers. He knows where I live. But all I’ve had is that envelope mailed to the flower shop. Dane might not even have sent it.”

  “His fingerprints were on the envelope and the press release,” Grant said. “We checked.”

  She shivered, and his grip around her tightened. Comforting, not confining. “Let’s get you home,” he said.

  He kept his arm around her all the way to her house. Once there, he waited while she unlocked the door. “I want to go inside and check around,” he said. “Just to reassure us both.”

  “All right.” She stepped back and let him precede her into the front room. He moved through the rooms quickly but deliberately, not commenting on anything he saw, though she had the sense he took in everything. “Does everything look all right to you?” he asked.

  “Yes. And you’re scaring me a little.” She hugged her arms across her chest. “Why should there be anything wrong?”

  “I’m just being overly cautious.” He returned to where she stood beside the front door and took her by the shoulders. “Being in law enforcement makes you reluctant to trust people’s motives,” he said. “It’s a hazard of the job.”