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Protection Detail
Shirlee McCoy
LAWMAN ON A MISSIONAfter a prominent senator's son is murdered, Capitol K-9 Unit captain Gavin McCord wants answers. The senator was a mentor to Gavin, and he'll stop at nothing to bring the killer to justice. With his team of elite K-9 cops and his loyal dog, Glory, at his side, Gavin discovers that a child at Cassie Danvers's nearby foster home may have witnessed the murder. He's drawn to the determined and beautiful woman, but she doesn't want him interviewing her traumatized charges. Yet trusting Gavin is the only way to stay one step ahead of the deadly gunman when Cassie becomes a target.Capitol K-9 Unit: These lawmen solve the toughest cases with the help of their brave canine partners


LAWMAN ON A MISSION
After a prominent senator’s son is murdered, Capitol K-9 Unit captain Gavin McCord wants answers. The senator was a mentor to Gavin, and he’ll stop at nothing to bring the killer to justice. With his team of elite K-9 cops and his loyal dog, Glory, at his side, Gavin discovers that a child at Cassie Danvers’s nearby foster home may have witnessed the murder. He’s drawn to the determined and beautiful woman, but she doesn’t want him interviewing her traumatized charges. Yet trusting Gavin is the only way to stay one step ahead of the deadly gunman when Cassie becomes a target.
Capitol K-9 Unit: These lawmen solve the toughest cases with the help of their brave canine partners
“Call off your dog!” the perp shouted. “You don’t, and the woman gets it first, then the mutt.”
“Cease!” Gavin commanded Glory, not because he was afraid of the threat. Glory could take the guy down in seconds. He was afraid of how much damage could be done to Cassie in those heartbeats of time it took his partner to lunge.
Glory settled onto her haunches, her dark gaze glued to the perp. She was ready. Gavin was ready.
Was Cassie?
He met her eyes. Not even a hint of terror in her dark green gaze.
The perp shifted, the gun pressed deeply into Cassie’s flesh. “Open the door!” he commanded.
Cassie reached for the knob and eased the door open. But something in her face, something in the complete and utter stillness of her expression, warned Gavin that she had no intention of walking outside.
* * *
CAPITOL K-9 UNIT:
These lawmen solve the toughest cases
with the help of their brave canine partners
Protection Detail—Shirlee McCoy, March 2015
Aside from her faith and her family, there’s not much SHIRLEE McCOY enjoys more than a good book! When she’s not teaching or chauffeuring her five kids, she can usually be found plotting her next Love Inspired Suspense story or wandering around the beautiful Inland Northwest in search of inspiration. Shirlee loves to hear from readers. If you have time, drop her a line at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.
Protection Detail
Shirlee McCoy


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Remind me each morning of Your constant love, for I put my trust in You. My prayers go up to You; show me the way I should go. I go to You for protection, Lord; rescue me from my enemies. You are my God; teach me to do Your will. Be good to me and guide me on a safe path.
—Psalms 143:8–10
To the 2015 LIS continuity team—you ladies are the best!
Contents
Cover (#u2ffa8735-7522-5f8f-9d16-4b3471578fad)
Back Cover Text (#ua1d57506-6429-5927-acf6-ba780a06cd20)
Introduction (#u6b7b01a2-4df8-5f3e-8c36-87d636be8c6e)
About the Author (#u43d03259-7ef2-5515-bd11-6ac607cfb9ae)
Title Page (#u61160bf8-e628-53a8-9481-64d4cb7ef337)
Praise (#ue735ea71-57f2-57a7-8b55-c13174161b53)
Dedication (#u32bf482f-476a-5109-8403-f2989f7a3ea0)
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
Dear Reader
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#ue6c2a313-e382-5dbd-b235-0f3eb92a6709)
Something pulled Cassie Danvers from the half sleep she’d fallen into and yanked her back into the world of foster children and fevers, of long nights with sick kids. She eased away from little David’s bed, standing on legs that ached from too many hours sitting in one position. Five days and six nights of dealing with the eight-year-old’s illness had taken its toll. She was exhausted.
A soft thump sounded from somewhere below, and she cocked her head to the side, listening for whatever would come next. Something would. She was sure of that. She’d been house mom at All Our Kids foster home for enough years to know that kids didn’t always stay in bed. When it came to the kind of kids she dealt with, they often didn’t.
Someone was up. Probably Destiny. The thirteen-year-old had been neglected for ten years before she’d arrived at the home. As a result, she had food issues. As in, she liked to take food, hide it, hoard it. If she was up raiding the kitchen, she’d have to be dealt with. Too bad, because Cassie was just tired enough to want to ignore the issue.
She touched David’s forehead. Cool as a cucumber. Finally.
That was good news and might mean they both got a good night’s sleep. After Cassie got Destiny back into bed.
She hurried into the hall, tiptoeing past the boys’ room. The stairs creaked as she crept to the lower level of the house. A large foyer opened out into a living room area on one side and a formal dining room on the other. Unless they had special guests, the eat-in kitchen was always a better choice for meals. More relaxed and comfortable, it offered Cassie’s charges a chance to sit down and get a feel for what it meant to be part of a family. Or, in some cases, to remember what it felt like.
A wide hall stretched from the foyer to the back of the house. The family room and kitchen were there. The two most tempting areas for Cassie’s foster kids. TV and video games in the family room. Food in the kitchen. Not to mention the back door. That had tempted a few too many kids to wander outside unattended. She’d put a bolt at the top, but that couldn’t keep the more clever and persistent kids from escaping.
Fortunately, Destiny wasn’t one to wander. She’d been through way too much in her thirteen years, and she preferred to stay as close to All Our Kids as possible. Food, though, that was her weakness.
Cassie made her way down the hall, passing photos of dozens of children who’d spent time in the home. Some were kids who’d come and gone before she’d become housemother. Most were her kids. Hers for a while, anyway. She tried not to get melancholy about loving and saying goodbye to so many. Sometimes, though, she wanted to be more than someone’s foster mom. Sometimes, she wanted to be Mommy, Mom, Mother.
The hallway emptied out into the family room and kitchen area. The rooms were dark, and she didn’t turn on the light. If Destiny was hanging around somewhere, it was best to catch her in the act. Otherwise, Cassie would have to spend the rest of the night trying to get the kid to own up to her mistakes.
She glanced around the kitchen. No sign of Destiny. No telltale candy wrappers on the counter. She looked in the trash can. No chip bags. That didn’t mean much. Destiny had been known to take her contraband food out onto the back porch, sit in the hanging swing and munch to her heart’s content. Cassie might have been tempted to allow her to do it, but Destiny was a kid who needed clear rules and firm boundaries. Snacks were fine if the kids were hungry. They weren’t fine in the middle of the night and in massive quantities.
Cassie crept to the door. The bolt wasn’t locked, and she really hoped Destiny had been the one to slide it open. Some of the other kids weren’t as likely to stay close to the house. She grabbed the doorknob, careful to make as little noise as possible. She’d learned the hard way that Destiny was great at hiding evidence, making up stories and pretending that she was as innocent as a newborn baby. Right at that moment, Cassie wasn’t in the mood for it.
The doorknob barely turned. Locked. Had Destiny locked herself outside?
Cassie turned the lock and swung the door open, expecting to see Destiny sitting on the swing, a bag of chips in her hands and a guilty look on her face. Instead, she looked into a stranger’s cold blue eyes, his hard face.
She screamed, the sound bursting out of her as she jumped backward and tried to slam the door shut. He grabbed it, grabbed her, yanking her out onto the porch.
She pulled against his hold, and screamed again, the acrid scent of gasoline filling her nose.
She fought, because it was what she’d grown up doing, scraping an existence in the meanest neighborhood DC had to offer. She punched the stranger in the stomach, swung again. He backhanded her so hard she fell onto the swing, that horrible gasoline scent making her dizzy.
“Cool it!” the guy growled as he hefted an oversize duffle with one hand and reached under his jacket with the other.
She didn’t know what he was reaching for, didn’t care.
All she cared about was warning the kids, warning her assistant, Virginia Johnson. She screamed again, loudly enough to wake the dead.
The guy yanked a knife out from under his jacket, the long blade making Cassie’s blood run cold.
“Scream again,” he said emotionlessly, his eyes cold. “I dare you.”
She didn’t, because she knew the look in his eyes. She’d seen it in the eyes of more people than she’d wanted to admit. It was the look of apathy, the gaze of someone who didn’t care. Dead. That’s how she’d describe it, and that scared her more than the knife.
A light went on inside the house, capturing the guy’s attention for the split second Cassie had been waiting for. She scrambled off the swing, sprinting off the porch, nothing else in her mind except leading the guy away from the house and the kids.
* * *
Michael Jeffries was dead, and there wasn’t one thing Capitol K-9 Unit Captain Gavin McCord could do about it. It seemed inconceivable, impossible, but it was true. Michael had been a good guy, a great attorney. Fair-minded, reasonable and determined to always see justice done. Now he was gone, shot down in the prime of his life.
That hurt. A lot.
Gavin snapped a picture of the bloodstain on the pavement at the rear of Congressman Harland Jeffries’s mansion. He’d already had the evidence team collect samples for DNA. He knew they’d find DNA matching Michael Jeffries and his father. Like Michael, Harland had been shot by a small caliber handgun.
Unlike his father, the young lawyer hadn’t survived.
Sad. All the way around.
Gavin knew and liked both of the men, but he couldn’t let his emotions get in the way of the investigation. He snapped another picture, glanced around the scene. The DC police had been the first responders, and several officers were huddled together discussing the case. He knew most of them. He’d worked as a DC police officer for ten years before taking the job Margaret Meyer had offered him. It had been an opportunity he couldn’t pass up, one that he hadn’t wanted to pass up. He’d been working as part of the Capitol K-9 Team ever since.
Glory shifted beside him. The three-year-old shepherd was too well trained to stand before she was told to, but it was obvious that the excitement of the crime scene was making her antsy.
“Be patient,” he said, touching her head as he took another photo.
Harland had been conscious when the ambulance arrived, and had given some limited information to the responding officers. Gavin would go to the hospital and interview him later. For now, he needed to concentrate on making sure that evidence was collected, the scene processed. The more thorough they were at this stage of the game, the more likely a conviction would be later on down the road.
“McCord!” One of the DC officers stepped from the group and waved him over. Tall with dark eyes and short-cropped hair, Dane Winthrop had been a veteran officer the year Gavin left the DC police. They’d run into each other quite a few times in the years since then.
“What’s up?” he asked, approaching Dane, his gaze jumping to the bloodstained concrete where Harland had been lying. Michael’s body had been found a few feet away. Both areas were cordoned off, yellow crime-scene tape strung around trees and porch railings.
“One of my men found something near the tree line. I thought you might want to see it.” Dane held up an evidence bag with a bright blue mitten in it. “Thing was clean as a whistle. Not a leaf on it. Not a stick. Not a speck of grass covering it.”
“It looks like a kid’s mitten,” he said, taking the bag and turning it over.
“A small kid’s,” Dane agreed. “There was no tag on it. Looks like something someone’s grandmother might have made.”
It did. “Where was it found?”
“A few feet from the path that leads to that foster home next door. All Our Kids?”
Gavin knew it better than most. He’d lived in the home during his last two years of high school.
“Want to show me?” he asked, and Dane led the way to the woods that edged Harland’s property. Wide and well used, the path was easy to find. A man and woman searched the area nearby, their K-9 partners sniffing the ground. Glory wanted in on the action, her lean body tense with anticipation. She’d get her chance soon.
“Here’s where it was.” Dane pointed to a couple of bushes that sat near the tree line. A small evidence flag poked out from the ground. Gavin stood close to it and glanced toward Harland’s house. A clear view of the back patio and the area where the congressman had been found.
He crouched so that he was closer to child-size. Still a clear view. The outside lights had been on. If a child had been standing where the mitten was when the shooting occurred, he or she would have seen everything.
“What do you think?” Dane asked, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, his gaze on the house. He was asking, but he knew. They had a potential witness, and the thought of that sent a wave of adrenaline coursing through Gavin.
“Did you send someone over to All Our Kids?”
“Not yet. It’s your case, your call. You want to go over or do you want me to?”
“I’ll go.” His boss, Margaret Meyer, had assigned him the case. As head of the president’s special in-house security team, she’d put Capitol K-9 together and was the hub of the organization. The fact that a congressman had been shot and his son killed had been enough for her to want Capitol K-9 involved. Gavin had asked to lead the case. He’d known the Jeffries for years, owed Harland a lot, was determined to make sure Michael’s killer was brought to justice. He walked to the path, eyeing the dark edges of the woods. If he were a young kid running from a killer, would he go home or hide?
Probably home, but Gavin didn’t want to take any chances. Glory was trained in apprehension. Part of that training was scent tracking. He opened the evidence bag, bent so that Glory could get a whiff of the mitten. Her ears perked, her eyes sharpened with interest.
“Find!” he commanded, and she lunged toward the trees, loped onto the path. He ran behind her, the lead loose in his hand.
Moonlight filtered through the thick tree canopy, casting golden-yellow light across dead leaves and winter-dry undergrowth. Spring hadn’t quite made its appearance, the early March air frigid with winter’s last sting. If a child was out in this, he’d be cold, tired, scared.
Glory veered off the path, plunging through undergrowth and between trees. She didn’t hesitate. She had the scent, and she’d follow it to her mark.
* * *
She stopped a dozen feet off the path, nose to the ground, snuffling a pile of leaves. She circled a large oak, found her way onto the path again. Gavin had walked this way so many times when he was a teen that he could have done it blindfolded.
Glory paused again, cocked her head to the side and growled low in her throat.
Bushes rustled, twigs snapped.
Gavin grabbed his light and flashed it into the trees.
Nothing. Not even a hint of movement, but Glory growled again, her entire body tense, her muscles taut.
Criminal or kid. That was Gavin’s guess.
“Police!” he called. “Come on out!”
Nothing.
“You come out or I’ll send my dog in,” he warned.
Nothing.
Okay. Fine. They’d do it the hard way.
“Track!” he issued the command, and Glory lunged off the path, shoving through thick foliage, her wild bark ringing through the cold March air. He called in his location as he followed.
Up ahead, feet pounded on dead leaves. Whoever it was was heading toward the road. He wouldn’t make it. Not before Glory caught up.
“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 non-existent.
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 (#ue6c2a313-e382-5dbd-b235-0f3eb92a6709)
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 embarrassing 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 was 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.
She didn’t know.
She’d never had a mother.
Just a father who’d had little use for her and a grandma who’d been too busy growing pot in her backyard and selling drugs from her living room to pay much attention to Cassie.
“Nothing that I want to discuss in front of the kids,” she responded, smiling brightly at Destiny. The teenager wasn’t buying it. She took a sip of chocolate milk and scowled.
“Adults always have secrets. It’s stupid.”
“No secrets, Destiny. Just a need to have a little quiet. It’s so loud in here, I can barely hear myself think,” Cassie said. “Would you mind helping Virginia get everyone tucked back into bed while I speak with the police?”
“Yes,” Destiny snapped. “I would mind.”
But, she crouched and reached for Lila’s hand, pulling her out from under the table with a gentleness that belied her angry expression.
“I’ll do my best to get them settled.” Virginia sighed. “But you know how things get when they’re up after bedtime.”
She did, and it was never good.
“Thanks, Virginia. I’ll fill you in on things when you’re done.”
“With the way this crew is, I may never be done.” She took Juan from her arms. “Come on, sweetie. Time to go back to bed. The rest of you, too. Tomorrow is Sunday, and we’ve got to be up early for church.”
“I hate church,” Destiny griped, snagging a cookie from a jar on the counter and shoving it into her mouth. A small chunk fell to the floor and landed near Glory. The dog didn’t even drop her eyes. She was staring at Gavin as if the sun and moon rose and set on his command.
“I don’t hate church,” Tommy said with a scowl. “God is good, and church is good.” At seven years old, he was way too serious for his age, years of neglect and abuse causing him to sink into himself and hide from the world.
“I’m glad you feel that way, Tommy,” Cassie said gently, touching the little boy’s shoulder. “Now, you go on to bed. I’ll be up in a few minutes to check under your bed.”
“And in the closet, too, Cassie. That’s where the bad guys like to hide the most.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide and solemn.
“I’ll check in your closet, too. And, in your book bag and in your church shoes.”
“Bad guys can’t fit in shoes,” he responded, not even a hint of a smile curving his mouth.
“You’re right, but I’ll check, anyway. Now—” she gave him a gentle nudge toward the doorway “—go on. To bed.”
He shuffled away, his dark hair falling over sea-green eyes, his flannel pajamas bagging around his narrow frame. He didn’t say a lot. He’d come from a family where right words and wrong words, right actions and wrong ones all led to a harsh word, a slap, a punch or a kick. Even after seven months of living in a safe environment, he still scurried around at the edge of the action, tiptoed through the rooms to avoid being noticed, sat still as a statue while everyone else talked and giggled.
“You didn’t ask any of them about the mitten,” Gavin said as she filled the teapot, set it to boil. She didn’t want tea, but she needed something to do with her hands.
“I know.”
“I guess you have a reason for that?”
“My kids are...vulnerable. I don’t want them to think they’re being accused of something.”
“I get it.” He sighed. “More than you might imagine, but we don’t have time to worry about your kids’ sensitivities.”
“I know, and I know you need a witness, but—”
“I want a witness,” he said, cutting her off. “But I’m more concerned with keeping your kids safe.”
“I’ll talk to them.” She crossed the room, would have walked out into the hall, but one of the officers stopped her.
“Ma’am, we’d like to ask you a few questions before you do that.”
She tensed. She’d spent too many years being on the wrong side of crime-busting efforts, too many nights being pulled out of bed so the police could search her room for whatever narcotics her grandmother was suspected of selling. “About?”
“The incident on the back porch,” the older of the two responded, his dark brown gaze shifting to Gavin. “Unless you’re stepping in on this, Captain?”
* * *
Gavin wasn’t stepping in. He wasn’t leaving, either. He had questions, and someone at All Our Kids had answers. He needed to find out who. Aside from Juan Gomez, it could have been any of the children he’d seen in the kitchen.
Juan...
His mother Rosa Gomez had been Harland’s housekeeper. She’d been found at the bottom of a cliff in President’s Park two days ago. DC police were investigating.
Three deaths connected to the same family?
It seemed a stretch to think it was coincidence.
He’d have to bring it up to the team. First, he had to interview Cassie’s kids. He understood her need to protect them, he even admired it, but he wasn’t going to let it get in the way his job.
“It’s all yours,” he responded, his focus on Cassie.
She looked scared, but she also looked determined.
Hopefully that determination wasn’t going to be a problem. He didn’t want to waste time fighting her for access to the kids.
The officer nodded. Just like Dane Winthrop, Paul Anderson was someone Gavin had worked with during his days with the DC police force. Serious and hardworking, he had a reputation for following leads to the end, never giving up, never backing down. “Looks like you’ve got quite a bruise on your cheek,” he said, and Cassie touched the swollen spot.
“Yeah. The guy with the knife wasn’t real happy to see me.”
“Guy with a knife?” Paul asked. “Ms. Johnson didn’t mention that.”
“Virginia didn’t know about him,” Cassie explained quickly, giving Paul the same story she’d given Gavin. That was good. Her memories seemed clear, the details she offered matching the ones she’d provided before.
When she finished, Paul opened the door that led onto the back porch. “You say you heard him?”
“I heard a thump. I thought it was one of the kids playing around.” She frowned. Probably remembering that one of them had wandered to Harland’s property and possibly witnessed a murder.
“Is that why you didn’t call the police before you went outside?” Paul’s partner asked. Young with dark hair and an almost too-pretty face, he looked like a rookie who was desperate to prove his merit. “Because it seems to me—”
“Yes.” She cut him off. “That’s why.”
She followed Paul outside, her dark red hair spilling down her back, bits of pine needle and dead leaves sticking out of it. She was still barefoot, the cuffs of her jeans dragging the floor, her dusty toes peeking out from under them.
“It still smells like gasoline out here,” she commented.
Gavin didn’t know who she was directing it at, but he doubted anyone needed it pointed out. The acrid scent stung his nose, made his eyes water.
He crouched. The fumes were thicker there, the scent so strong, he could have lit a match and caused an explosion.
“We need to get a hazmat crew out here,” he said.
“You want to call that in, Shane?” Paul said to his partner. “And walk around to the front? See if there’s gasoline anywhere else. Looks like someone was trying to burn the place down.”
It’s what Gavin had been afraid of, and he wasn’t surprised to have it confirmed.
“Who would do something like that? Kill a bunch of children?” Cassie whispered, her freckles standing out against pale skin.
“Someone who would kill a well-known and well-liked attorney,” he responded. “Someone who wanted to protect his identity and stay out of jail. Someone who saw a child running away from the crime scene, but likely didn’t get a good enough look to know which child it was.”
“You think this is connected to the murder at the congressman’s place?” Paul asked.
“We found a mitten near the scene. It belongs to one of the kids who live here,” he responded, scanning the empty yard. Beside him, Glory paced restlessly.
“So the guy thought he’d kill them all?” Paul shook his head. “Every time I think I’ve seen it all, I’m proven wrong. You got a good look at the guy?” he asked Cassie.
“Yes,” she responded.
“Think you could identify him if you saw him again?”
She nodded, her face so pale, Gavin thought she might pass out.
“Maybe you should go back inside, Cassie. Get some tea, sit down,” he suggested. He needed her focused and calm. Not panicked...or unconscious.
“And give the guy more time to get away? I’d rather help hunt him down.”
“Your time would be better spent giving us a good description,” Paul said.
“I’ll take Glory out after we get you back inside,” Gavin cut in.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, stepping to the edge of the porch and pointing to the east. “That’s the direction I ran. He wasn’t far behind me. Your dog can probably—”
“Cassie,” he interrupted. “I appreciate your help, but the guy could still be hanging out in the woods. If he’s the same guy who shot Michael and Harland, he has a gun. It wouldn’t be that hard for him to take a potshot from those trees.”
“If you’re trying to scare me,” she said. “You’ve succeeded.”
“All I’m trying to do is—”
“Keep me safe?” She walked inside, moving deeper into the kitchen.
He followed, wanting to remind her a dozen times that she was in danger and that she needed to play by his rules. She knew it, though. There was no sense beating her over the head with it. “Yes.”
“Thanks.” Cassie shivered, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs. The bruise on her cheek looked darker, her oversize pink sweater and bare feet making her look young and vulnerable. “But, I’m pretty good at keeping myself safe.” She brushed a hand over her hair, frowned as she pulled a few leaves out of the wild curls.
“Not from this kind of creep,” Paul said as he stepped inside. “You saw him. He’s going to want to take you out. You’re going to need more than yourself to stay safe.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she responded, tapping her fingers on the table. She had short nails. No polish. It looked as though she’d gotten a couple of cuts and scrapes climbing out of Glory’s reach. Gavin was tempted to tell her she should wash the wounds out, put some bandages on.
“Can you give me a description of the perp?” he asked instead. He needed to get out into the woods, see if he and Glory could track the guy.
“Blond, short hair. Kind of a military cut. Not very tall. Lots of muscle, though.” She shivered and Gavin shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it around her shoulders.
“I think you’re going to need this more than I do,” she said, but she made no move to remove it. Just scratched at a spot on the tabletop, her brow furrowed. “He was wearing black. Pants. Shirt. I’m not sure about his shoes.”
“Eye color?” Paul interrupted.
“Blue. And his face...” She shook her head. “He looked dead inside.”
Glory shifted, the movement subtle, her head turning toward the still-open door. Beyond it, Gavin could see the porch, the yard, a glimpse of the woods beyond.
Glory sniffed at the air, the fur on her scruff standing on end. She growled, the deep low grumbling making the room go silent.
“She see something?” Paul asked.
“Looks like it.” He walked to the open door, scanned the tree line at the far edge of the property. As far as he could see, there was nothing lurking in the thick shadows there. He trusted Glory, though. The dog had good instincts, a great nose, and eyes that were a hundred times better than Gavin’s.
“Better close the door after I leave and keep Cassie away from the windows,” he said as he walked outside.
He waited just long enough to hear the bolt slide home before he gave Glory the command she’d been waiting for. The shepherd sprang into action, lunging off the porch and racing toward the tree line, Gavin sprinting behind her.
THREE (#ue6c2a313-e382-5dbd-b235-0f3eb92a6709)
Gavin pulled Glory to a stop at the edge of the woods, the beam of his flashlight bobbing along dry earth. Dark trees jutted up from ground covered with a winter’s worth of dead leaves. A half mile in, a small tributary meandered through the thick forest. Usually, the Royal River was nothing more than a creek that flowed across the congressman’s land. The winter had been brutal, though, and melting snow had probably turned it into a rapidly flowing stream.
“Hopefully, our guy didn’t have a raft or boat with him,” he muttered. “If he did, we may lose the trail there.”
Glory’s ears perked up, but she kept her head down, nose snuffling dead leaves and earth.
She’d pick up the scent again. Gavin trusted her to do that as much as he trusted the German shepherd to do the job she’d been trained for. Not search and rescue. Protection. Together, they’d been assigned more than one case that involved protecting high-level political figures.
Tonight, they hadn’t been able to protect Michael and Harland. They would find the gunman, though, and they’d protect Cassie and her kids. There was no other option. “Gavin!” someone called.
Gavin turned, caught sight of Chase Zachary hurrying toward him. Chase hadn’t been working with the Capitol K-9 Unit for long, but there was no doubt he belonged. A former Secret Service agent, he worked hard and knew the ropes. His Belgian Malinois Valor knew them, too. The dog moved beside Chase, ears alert, body tense.
“Glad you’re here. There’s been an incident at All Our Kids,” Gavin said, turning his attention back to Glory, who’d found the trail again and was moving through thick foliage and deeper into the trees.
“I heard the call come in while I was on the road searching for your perp. Adam and Brooke are still at the crime scene working with the DC police.”
That was fine with Gavin. Adam Donovan and Brooke Clark would keep things flowing smoothly. Veteran members of the K-9 Unit Team, they’d have no trouble cooperating with the police.
“Good. Any sign of a vehicle on the road?”
“No vehicle. No perp. There is something, though. It was found at the crime scene.”
That caught Gavin’s attention, made his pulse jump. “What?”
“I saw a gold pendant about fifty feet away from where Michael’s body was discovered. It looked like it had been kicked under some leaves. The thing was clean as a whistle. No dirt embedded in it. Nothing to indicate it had been lying there for any length of time.”
“There’s more to it than that, right?” Because Gavin knew Chase. The guy was clear thinking and had spot-on instincts. No way would he have come looking for Gavin if there wasn’t something compelling about the find. “I know who the pendant belongs to.”
There it was.
The missing piece to the puzzle.
Gavin met Chase’s eyes. “Who?”
“Michael’s girlfriend.”
“Erin Eagleton? You’re sure about that?” Gavin pushed through a thick stand of evergreens, the loamy scent of damp earth filling his nose. Glory was ten feet ahead, working the trail, her head down, tail up, ears alert. She’d found what she wanted, and she was going to keep chasing it until it led to the prize.
“Would I be telling you if I wasn’t? It’s an unusual pendant. A starfish with the initials E.E. engraved in it.”
“There are plenty of people in this world with those initials.”
“How many of them are dating a guy who just turned up dead?”
“We can’t make assumptions, Chase. You know that. We can look for DNA on the locket, we can ask Erin if it belongs to her—”
“It’s hers.”
He sounded certain, so certain that Gavin wondered just exactly how he could know what kind of pendant a socialite like Erin would have hanging from her neck. She came from money and privilege and, as far as Gavin knew, didn’t hang in the same circles as Chase. “I think there’s a story here that you need to tell me. How about we skip all the extraneous stuff and get right to the details?”
“Erin and I are...old friends.”
“As in you were dating?” He hoped not. He really did, because that would complicate things. If the pendant belonged to Erin and if they determined that she’d been at the scene when the murder occurred, a team member who’d had a recent relationship with her might be a problem.
“A long time ago. When we were in high school.”
“Okay.” That wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.
“I saw her tonight, though. Near the National Monument. I was working a reported mugging and ran into her there.”
“You’re going to tell me she was wearing that pendant, aren’t you?” he asked as he picked his way down a steep incline. Glory was just ahead, stopped in her tracks, nose to the ground. She’d lost the scent, and she turned in circles, trying to catch it again.
“Yeah. I am,” Chase responded. “We were in a well-lit area, and I saw it clear as day.”
“What time was that?”
“Ten. A few minutes after.”
“The shooting was called in at 11:30. She’d have had plenty of time to get from the National Monument to Harland’s place.”
“That doesn’t mean she committed the crime,” Chase shot back.
“No need to get defensive.”
“I’m not getting defensive. I’m stating a fact. Pure and simple. She was at the mansion tonight, but that doesn’t mean she pulled the trigger. If she did, Harland would have said as much.”
“Maybe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Harland didn’t see the shooter.” The congressman had been shot in the shoulder and lost plenty of blood, but he’d been lucid when the police had arrived. The first responding officer had traveled in the ambulance with him and conducted an interview on the way to the hospital. Margaret had been given the information he’d obtained, and she’d passed it on to Gavin. No mention of anyone at the mansion except a couple of staff members and Michael. “And he didn’t mention Erin being at the mansion tonight.”
“She might have been visiting Michael and left before Harland saw her,” Chase responded.
“Could be.” One way or another, Gavin found it interesting that his coworker felt the need to defend a woman he’d dated over a decade ago. “If that pendant really is hers, we know she was there tonight. We need to find out why and when. We need to know if she saw anything, heard anything. The sooner the better.”
“Want me to question her?”
“I need you out here. I’ll send Brooke to her place.”
Somewhere behind them, a branch snapped, the sound discordant in the midnight silence.
Both dogs alerted, their ears twitching, their tails still and straight as they shifted their gazes to the deep woods they’d just come through.
Another branch snapped.
Glory growled.
She knew what she was hearing. Not the stealthy movement of a deer. Someone was in the woods, and whoever it was seemed to be between Gavin and All Our Kids.
That didn’t make him happy.
He gestured to Chase. “The suspect might be heading back to the foster home,” he mouthed.
Chase nodded. “What’s the plan?”
“Let’s separate. Try to hem him in.”
Chase nodded, taking two steps away and melting into the trees. There one minute. Gone the next.
Gavin issued a short quiet command, and Glory took off, moving through trees and foliage with unerring purpose. She had the scent. She was going to find the perpetrator, and the person who’d shot and killed Michael Jeffries was going to be made to pay for it.
* * *
Like Cassie, most of the children staying at All Our Kids didn’t trust the police. They’d come from a variety of homes, foster placements and difficult situations, but the one thing they all had in common was a deep-seated distrust of authority. In her three years working as housemother, that seemed to be the one and only overriding theme, the piece of baggage every single one of her kids brought into the home. She spent a lot of time working with the kids to help them overcome that, and each child spent time with counselors and therapists.
That was all well and good, but right at that moment, it didn’t matter. In the wee hours of the morning, with darkness pushing against the kitchen window and sleep still fogging their brains, there wasn’t one of the seven kids who wanted anything to do with Officer Anderson.
With Virginia upstairs trying to settle Juan back down, Cassie was having to deal with the attitudes, the silences and the tears on her own.
It probably would have been a good idea if a female officer had conducted the interview. Most of the kids responded better to female authority, but Officer Anderson hadn’t wanted to waste time bringing someone else in.
She’d warned him, told him it wouldn’t be a waste of time if it helped open the mouths of her charges.
He’d insisted on doing things his way.
And, now they were all in the kitchen, the sharp scent of gasoline seeping in from under the back door.
The dead-eyed guy had been trying to burn the house down.
The smell was a constant reminder and a distraction. One Cassie didn’t want or need. The Hazmat team would be there eventually. For now, she had to fight to keep from gagging every time she inhaled. She eyed the kids, all of them seated at the oversize table, their eyes sharp, their faces set in an array of scowls. They looked like a mutiny getting ready to happen.
“Your silence doesn’t change anything. Someone,” Officer Anderson said, his voice just a little too loud, “was outside of the house tonight. That person needs to own up to it.” He speared each kid with a look meant to melt their defiance.
None of them even blinked.
“Confess to it,” he continued. “Before you find yourself in more trouble.”
“You’re not in trouble,” Cassie broke in, knowing full well that threatening the kids wasn’t going to help. “You won’t be in trouble if you admit you were outside.”
Nothing.
Not a peep from anyone.
There was strength in numbers, the silence of one bolstering the silence of the others. They should have talked to each child individually, but Officer Anderson had wanted to save time. Another mistake on his part. The guy seemed kind enough, but he hadn’t wanted to listen to anything Cassie had to say.
Typical, her childish self whispered. The piece of her that was still the young kid being yanked from her bed every other night, police streaming into her room and demanding that she get up, wanted to tell Officer Anderson that they were done playing twenty questions.
The more mature part, the part that wanted to keep her kids alive, the part that wanted to stay alive with them, knew she needed to keep her mouth shut and let him do his job.
“Right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said trouble. No one is in trouble,” Officer Anderson agreed, his gaze jumping from one child to another. “I just need to know where you were, what you saw.”
“Destiny?” Cassie prodded. She doubted the young girl would have wandered to the congressman’s house, but the kid seemed to know everything about everyone in the house. If someone else had left, she’d probably know it.
“What?” Destiny asked, studying her nails like they were way more interesting than Cassie or Officer Anderson.
“Did you hear anyone leave the house tonight?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I was sleeping like a baby until you started screaming, and truth be told, I want to be sleeping again.”
“How about everyone else?” Officer Anderson’s asked. Maybe he thought he could read guilt or fear on their faces.
They just kept staring at him like he had two heads.
“Look.” He raked a hand over his hair, paced to the sink and turned to face the kids again. “A blue mitten was found over near the congressman’s house. One of you dropped it. You might as well ’fess up.”
“I have blue mittens,” David piped up. “But I wasn’t wearing them tonight. They’re in my coat pocket.”
“Where’s your coat?” Officer Anderson asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Son, you don’t just misplace a coat. Obviously, you wore it recently. How about you think about it a little more carefully?”
David shrank back, sliding down so low in his chair, Cassie thought he might slip right under the table.
“It should be in the closet,” Cassie offered. “How about you go look for it?”
David scrambled out of the chair and ran from the room. It would only take him a couple of seconds to reach the coat closet. He’d probably take longer. If he came back at all.
“These kids leave the house at night very often?” Officer Anderson asked.
More than she wanted. She’d thought about putting an alarm system in, but too many of the kids had been in homes where there were bars on the windows, security systems, guard dogs. “Occasionally.”
“You ever think of putting in a security system?”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“You might want to think on it some more. This neighborhood is safe, but that doesn’t mean young kids can’t get into trouble.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, but she wasn’t sure she was successful. She’d spent the past three years proving that she could do her job and do it well. Harland had always believed in her, but there were plenty of other people who’d doubted. There were plenty of people who still doubted. Based on Officer Anderson’s comment, she’d say he was one of them.
“You want some help with it, I can give you a hand. I have a friend in the security business. He’ll put it in for free. Just cost a weekly fee for the security monitoring.”
His offer stole away some of her frustration. He might be going about things in the wrong way, but his heart was in the right place. That was what counted. That was one of the things Ms. Alice had taught her. To look at the heart, to judge according to motive rather than outcome. Everyone messes up, she’d always say when Cassie found herself in trouble again. But, if the heart is right, mistakes can be fixed.
She took a deep breath, tried to smile. “I appreciate that, Officer Anderson. Once Harland recovers, I’ll ask what he thinks. I usually run things by him before I make any changes to the house.”
“The way I hear it, the congressman is doing well, but he might not be out the hospital for a couple of days. I’m not sure you want to wait that long.”
“I—”
“Cassie.” David appeared in the kitchen doorway. “My coat isn’t in the closet.”
“You’re sure?” She’d hung it there after their trip to the doctor’s office. She was certain of it. With eight kids to take care of, she couldn’t afford to waste time searching for things like coats or shoes.
“I looked about sixteen times,” he responded.
She wasn’t sure he’d looked that many, but he was young and it was easy to miss things. “Destiny, would you mind—”
She never finished.
The window exploded, glass flying across the kitchen, kids screaming. Officer Anderson dropped to the ground, blood spurting from his shoulder or his chest. Cassie didn’t know which, didn’t have time to think about it. She yelled for the kids to run, then darted forward to grab Officer Anderson by the arms. Another shot, this one whizzing past Cassie’s head.
She dragged Officer Anderson out of the kitchen and into the hall, the kids’ screams ringing in her ears.
“Everyone up the stairs,” she shouted, her heart thundering as she dragged Officer Anderson further away from the kitchen.
He groaned but didn’t open his eyes.
Something slammed into the back door.
Once. Twice. Again.
Please, God, let the kids be hiding. Please keep them safe.
“I called the police. They’re on the way!” Virginia pressed in beside her, grabbing at Officer Anderson, frantic sobs coming from her throat as she helped drag him back.
The banging continued, the sound reverberating through the house. They made it to the stairs before the back door crashed open with so much force the entire house seemed to shake. Or maybe it was Cassie who was shaking, fear stealing her breath and making her heart skip frantically. She met Virginia’s eyes.
“Go get the kids. Hide them until the police arrive,” Cassie whispered as she pressed the hem of her sweater to a wound in Officer Anderson’s right shoulder. His eyes were still closed, his body slack.
“I can’t leave you here,” Virginia cried, tears streaming down her face.
“You can’t stay!” Cassie hissed. “Someone has got to protect the kids.”
“But—”
“Go!” she mouthed.
Virginia took off running, up the stairs, out of sight.
And it was just Cassie and Officer Anderson.
And whoever had broken through the back door.
FOUR (#ue6c2a313-e382-5dbd-b235-0f3eb92a6709)
Gavin crept around the side of the house, Glory moving silently beside him. Chase was close. Maybe a quarter mile back in the woods, running toward the house and the gunshots they’d heard. There wasn’t time to wait for him.
The back door of the house had been kicked in and hung listlessly from the top hinge. He motioned for Glory to heel, then eased into the room. Glass on the floor near the sink. Pool of blood nearby. More blood in a swath that led from the sink into the hallway. His jacket lying near the table.
Glory stood facing the hall, her scruff standing on end, every muscle in her body taut. She didn’t make a sound, though, and Gavin listened. No movement in the hallway. No sounds from upstairs.
Gavin unhooked Glory’s lead and gave her the hand signal. She took off, nearly flying through the open doorway and into the hallway. Gavin followed, gun drawn, adrenaline pumping. A man stood near the front door. Tall. Broad. Strong. Those were Gavin’s first impressions. A dark ski mask covered the guy’s face, and he glared out from it, eyes icy blue as he held Cassie with one arm locked around her arms and chest, a handgun pressed to the underside of her chin. A few feet away, Paul lay on the ground, blood spreading in a crimson stain under his back. If he lost much more, he’d die.
“You come any closer, cop,” the perp said, “and I’ll kill her.” He jabbed the gun against Cassie’s jaw to emphasize the point. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t panic. There were no tears, no wide-eyed pleas for help. In all the years he’d worked as a DC cop and all the years he’d been part of the Capitol K-9 team, Gavin had never seen her kind of calmness in a civilian.
“Put the gun down,” Gavin responded, not moving closer, but not stepping back. He’d had training with hostage negotiation teams. Not enough to be an expert, but enough to know that he needed to make himself as unthreatening as possible.
“I don’t think so,” the man snarled, jabbing Cassie with the gun again. “Call off your attack dog.”
Glory wasn’t on the attack.
If she had been, the gun would have already been out of his hand. Gavin could have signaled for Glory to take the guy down, but the gun was too close to Cassie, the risk was too high.
“Let the woman go,” he said instead. “Walk out the door. Leave now before things get worse for you.”
“I’m not the one who needs to worry about things getting worse,” the guy mocked. He was confident, and that was going to play in Gavin’s favor. He’d make a mistake. Overestimated his chance at success. Gavin was ready to take advantage of that. Glory was ready, too, a constant low-level growl emanating from deep in her throat.
“You wait much longer to leave, and you’ll be trapped. I’ve got backup coming.”
The guy shrugged, but he was edging closer to the door, his gaze on Glory. “They’re not going to do any more than you are. No cop wants a civilian killed.” He jabbed Cassie again.
She didn’t flinch.
Didn’t meet Gavin’s eyes.
Was she in shock?
“And no criminal wants to die. You kill her, and that’s what’s going to happen.”
“Right,” the guy said, but the words had gotten to him. Gavin could tell by his tension, the quick darting of his gaze from Glory to the hallway beyond.
“Just let her go and—”
“Shut up and let me think! I’m the one in charge!” the man shouted. “I have her life in my hands, and you’re too much of an idiot to know it!”
Glory snarled, the sound low and deep and meant to intimidate.
“Call off your dog! You don’t, and the woman gets it first, then the mutt.”
“Cease!” Gavin commanded, not because he was afraid of the threat. Glory could take the guy down in seconds. He was afraid of how much damage could be done to Cassie in those heartbeats of time it took his partner to lunge.
Glory settled onto her haunches, her dark gaze glued to the perp. She was ready. Gavin was ready.
Was Cassie?
He met her eyes. Not even a hint of terror in her dark green gaze.
“That’s better,” the perp muttered. “That’s what I like to see. Now, you just stay here, and I’ll take our friend for a little walk. I get a little away from you and that dog, and I’ll let her go. Simple and easy. Everyone will be safe. Everyone will be fine.”
Except for Anderson who groaned quietly, his skin ashen.
The perp shifted, the gun pressed so deeply into Cassie’s flesh, her skin bulged around the barrel. “Open the door!” he commanded.
Cassie reached for the knob, eased the door open. A screen door lay beyond, still closed, the black night pulsing behind it. There were officers out there, moving in. Gavin was certain of it. If the perp suspected anything, he didn’t show it.
He kicked the storm door. “This one, too! Quick!”
Cassie moved, something in her face, something in the complete and utter stillness of her expression warning Gavin that she had no intention of walking outside.
“Cass—” he started to say, but she was already dropping, her weight breaking the perp’s hold. The gun went off, the bullet barely missing her head as she fell to the floor.
“Protect!” Gavin commanded, and Glory leaped forward, teeth bared as she crashed into the perp. He fell against the storm door, and it flew open, the gun dropping from his hand and clattering onto the porch.
Glory snarled, teeth sinking into the guy’s arm.
The guy let out a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush, his feet kicking at the shepherd as he tried to yank his arm out of the dog’s mouth.
“The more you struggle, the harder she’s going to bite,” Gavin said.
“Then maybe I’ll just have to make sure she can’t bite anymore,” the perp growled, pulling something from his pocket and jabbing it into Glory’s side.
She collapsed, and Gavin’s heart nearly stopped. Glory wasn’t just a dog. She was family. He wanted to run to her, but protocol dictated he take down the perp before he helped his injured partner.
Gavin aimed his gun.
“Freeze!” he shouted, issuing the warning because training demanded it.
The perp yanked something from his jacket pocket tossed it onto the floor. There was a flash of light, the harsh scent of smoke. Flames licked at floor and the door frame, and Gavin fired a shot, knew he’d missed his mark.
The flames ate at the hardwood, and he stomped them out, Cassie right beside him, her breathing frantic and uneven.
It only took seconds to put out the small fire, seconds to run out onto the porch. The perp had disappeared around the side of the house or into the tree line. Gavin flashed his light into the shadows, searching for movement, some clue as to which direction the perp had gone.
“Gavin!” Chase called as he sprinted around the corner of the house, Valor loping beside him. “I heard another gunshot. Everyone okay?”
“Glory’s down. One DC officer down. Call for an ambulance and the vet,” he responded as he flashed his light into the darkness, praying that he’d catch a glimpse of the intruder.
Nothing. Not even a whisper of movement in the trees. The guy was close, though. He had to be. Gavin took off across the yard, running toward the trees, his gut telling him that the perp had headed there.
Sirens screamed and two police cruisers raced into view. Both DC police. One of them a K-9 unit. Good. They needed more officers and dogs on the ground. And Gavin needed Glory. They were a team. Tracking a suspect without her felt odd and a little disorienting. He’d do it, though. He’d put everything, every fear for his partner, every worry aside to get the job done.
“You have any idea which way the perp headed?” Chase asked, jogging up beside him, Valor sniffing at the ground and then the air, his ears perked, his tail still.
“I’d guess he went into the woods. No way would he head toward the road. Not with police everywhere. If he’d gone toward the back of the house, Valor would have heard him.”
Chase nodded. “You want me to take Valor in to look for him while you fill the DC guys in?”
What Gavin really wanted to do was go into the woods himself, hunt the guy down. But he’d been at the scene, spoken to the perp, looked in the guy’s eyes.
“Yes,” he responded reluctantly. “Radio in if you find anything.”
“Will do!” Chase raced away, Valor loping along beside him.
Gavin jogged back to the house. Three officers were inside, two hovering over Cassie as she pressed what looked like a dish towel to Paul’s shoulder.
The third was beside Glory, murmuring something to the dog that Gavin couldn’t hear. Glory’s tail thumped, and she managed to get onto her feet, her gait a little stiff as she walked to Gavin’s side. No blood that he could see. No evidence of a knife wound.
He frowned, touching what looked like singed hair on her flank.
“Looks like a Taser,” one of the officers said. Young with gaunt face and a narrow frame, he looked like a high school kid. He was right, though. It seemed as though Glory had been Tased.
If that was the case, she’d recover well.
Relief coursed through him, and he scratched behind her ears, looked into her eyes. “Good job, Glory,” he said, offering the praise she craved.
In their three years working together, Glory had never been injured, never been ill, never missed a day of work. She loved her job, and even now, she seemed excited, her tail wagging, her eyes bright.
Paul, on the other hand, had lost every bit of his color. Gavin knelt beside him, nudging in close to Cassie, feeling the corded muscles of her shoulder and arm as he set his hand over hers, added more pressure to the wound.
“How far out is the ambulance?” he asked, glancing at one of the officers, wondering if he could apply enough pressure to staunch the blood. Wondering if it was too late for that to do any good.
“Should be coming up the driveway now.”
“Someone needs to bring them in. We’re on limited time.”
“Not that limited,” Paul murmured, his eyes still closed. “I got a fifteenth wedding anniversary coming up. I die, and my wife will kill me.”
If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Gavin would have laughed. “You’ve got big plans for your anniversary?” he asked. He needed to keep Anderson conscious and talking.
“Cruising to the Bahamas. Wife’s been planning this trip for years. If I don’t make it, she’ll kill me.” He opened his eyes, offered a smile that was more a grimace. “Also, I got a score to settle with someone, and I’m not going anywhere until I settle it.”
“You’re not going anywhere, period,” Cassie cut in, her tone brusque and matter-of-fact. Her hand was steady beneath Gavin’s, her expression calm. “Except the hospital. Where they’ll fix you up and get you ready for that big anniversary trip.”
“Right,” Paul rasped. Gavin wasn’t sure he believed Cassie’s words, but he was putting on a good show, making an effort to stay conscious.
Gavin had seen people live through worse injuries. He’d seen them die with lesser ones. God was in control of the outcome. Not willpower. Not medical intervention. It had taken a long time for Gavin to believe that, to accept it.
An ambulance crew hurried in, and Gavin put a hand on Cassie’s elbow, helping her to her feet as the medical team moved in and began to stabilize Paul.
A living room opened out to the left of the foyer, and he brought her there, waiting as the crew stabilized Paul and lifted him onto the gurney.
“I’ll ride along with them,” one of the DC police officers offered.
Good. Gavin didn’t want Paul to be alone, but he wasn’t willing to leave Cassie and the kids. The perp hadn’t been playing games, and he hadn’t intended for Cassie to survive.
Gavin met her eyes, saw the fear she’d been keeping at bay.
“You okay?” he asked, and she nodded, her gaze skittering away.
“Fine.” She shrugged away from his hold, marched through the living room and into the kitchen. The place looked like a war zone—broken window, blood, shards of glass and bits of wood.
“This is a crime scene, Cassie. You need to stay out until we can process it,” Gavin said because it was true, and because he didn’t want Cassie anywhere near the broken window or door
“Can I wash my hands?” She held them up. They were covered in blood and shaking. A lot.
“How about you do it in the bathroom upstairs?” He took her arm, felt her muscles trembling as he turned her around and guided her back into the hall. It wasn’t much better in there. Blood on the floor, door open, soot staining the walls and floor.
Officers were there, processing the scene and collecting evidence, but he kept himself between Cassie and the door as they walked to the stairs. The perp was bold, and he had plenty to lose. No way was Gavin going to give him another shot at Cassie.
She didn’t look at him and didn’t speak.
He let her have her silence.
They’d have to talk eventually, but he’d give her time to clean up, get her thoughts and emotions together. It was obvious she needed to do both. She was visibly shaking, her teeth chattering as she walked up the first three steps. She reached the fourth and swayed, grabbing the railing with blood-stained hands.
He touched her back, steadying her. “Want to sit down for a minute?”
“I’m fine.”
“You look a little shaky.”
“I am, but I’m not going to fall on my face or tumble down the stairs and break my neck. The kids need me.”
“It’s okay to be upset, Cassie,” he said.
“I didn’t think I needed permission, but thanks.”
“Your sarcasm is charming,” he responded. The best thing he could offer her was something to focus on besides the blood on her hands and on her shirt, the bruise on her cheek, the memory of whatever she’d been through before he’d arrived.
“Thanks for trying,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and offering a wan smile. “But a sparring match isn’t going to distract me. Not when I can smell the blood on my hands. Not when I can still hear the glass shattering, see Officer Anderson falling.”
“You’ll feel better once you get cleaned up,” he said, and she shook her head.
“No. I won’t. I’m not going to feel better until I hear that Officer Anderson is going to be okay.” She reached the top of the stairs, paused outside the bathroom. “But, I’m going to get cleaned up, anyway. I told Virginia to tell the kids everything was okay and keep them in their rooms. I don’t want any of them to see me like this.” She plucked at her shirt and frowned.
“Good idea. We don’t want them any more scared than they already are,” he responded, knowing that she was more concerned about that then about herself and the trauma she’d been through.
“Exactly.” She stepped into the bathroom, flicked on the light. She didn’t turn on the water. Just stood staring at the chipped sink as if she didn’t quite know what she was supposed to do there.

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