Hearts in the Crosshairs (4 page)

The lines of his mouth were straight and sober, though his eyes still radiated sympathy. “I don’t want to intrude on your schedule, but if you’d like frequent updates, I’m open to that. I can meet with you as often as you want.”

“Thank you.” She hated the tremor in her voice. If Brendon were here, he’d know exactly what to do, and how often to ask the EPU to brief them. But if Brendon were alive, he would probably be governor, not Jillian. And he certainly wouldn’t feel vulnerable and insecure right now. She straightened her shoulders. “Let’s meet twice a week. Tuesday and Friday.”

“Sure. Is this time good for you? I could come to your office in the statehouse earlier in the day, if you’d prefer it.”

Jillian shook her head. “I’d rather meet here, if you don’t mind. It’s more private. Of course…” She looked up at him, suddenly aware that she might be inconveniencing him. “I don’t want to prolong your workday. If it’s easier for you—”

“Six o’clock will be fine, Governor. Whatever suits you best. And of course, we’ll notify you immediately if something important comes up.”

She nodded slowly. “Thank you. Dave—” She stopped and looked away. It seemed wrong, all of a sudden, for her to call him by his first name. “I’m sorry. Detective.”

“Please.
Dave.
I’m comfortable with that if you are.”

“All right.” She inhaled in an effort to compose herself. He’d told her twice now, so she would use his given name and not feel guilty. “It’s good to have someone who’s not steeped in politics to discuss this with. Everyone at the statehouse is talking about it. They all have their theories as to who wants me dead.”

“Who do they suggest?” he asked.

Her laugh came out higher pitched than normal. “Oh, lobbyists, criminals I prosecuted, someone even suggested a jilted boyfriend from my past. But I don’t have any of those.”

“Not a one?”

“Brendon was my first and only love.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Genuine love, I mean.”

Dave’s gentle smile drew another blush from her.

“That’s nice,” he said softly. “But there could be an unbal
anced man out there who imagines himself in love with you. Have you ever had anyone follow you? Maybe even while you were married, or when you were dating Brendon?”

She tried to ease the eerie feeling away by smoothing down a wrinkle in her skirt. “A stalker? I don’t think so.”

“Good. We think it’s more likely someone with a professional grudge—either political or legal.”

Which could encompass hundreds of people. The field of suspects was wide open. Some people would think it was hopeless, but Jillian didn’t believe that. She’d never believed, as many people did, that the events of life were random. But would Dave understand that? She hesitated to mention it, but he needed to understand her mindset if he hoped to protect her.

“Dave, there’s one thing you should know about me.”

“What’s that?” He watched her closely, and she suddenly felt that his interest went deeper than just a professional curiosity. She pushed the thought away.

“I believe in God. If there is someone out there who wants to kill me, he won’t succeed unless God lets him. And if my assassination is part of God’s plan, then there’s nothing you and the whole of the Maine State Police can do to prevent it.”

Their gazes locked for a long moment, and at last he broke the silence.

“I understand.”

She relaxed, sinking back against the leather padding. “Do you? You don’t think I’m too fatalistic?”

“Not at all.”

“Some people do, so I’ve…I’ve stopped trying to explain it to them.”

His eyes spilled compassion, and she knew she’d found an ally.

“Can you consider me a partner in solving this case?” she asked. “I want to be more than a spectator, and certainly more than the victim.”

“Of course.” He stood and extended his hand to her. She took it, enjoying the warmth of his strong grasp.

“Thank you again for coming. I’ll see you Tuesday evening,” she said.

“I’ll look forward to it, and I’ll call your office if anything comes up before then.”

She watched him leave. His dark hair was cropped quite short in the back—shorter than Brendon’s preferred style. It suited him very well. He turned at the door and nodded with a quick smile.

“Good night,” she said.

If she were anyone but the governor…But she was the governor.

A
week later, Dave drove back to the office half an hour before his Friday meeting with Jillian. He just had time to shave in the men’s room before heading over to the Blaine House. He wished he had better news for her. The EPU’s lack of progress on the shooting case would soon become an embarrassment.

He’d effectively ruled out her former law partners and most of her Senate colleagues. The unit’s list of people to check up on still included more than a hundred names, and the possibility remained that the shooter was an unknown who hadn’t even hit their radar yet.

He hung his down jacket in his locker and took out his electric razor. A minute later, Carl Millbridge, an EPU detective with ten years’ seniority over Dave, came in and trudged to his locker. Carl never saw things eye to eye with Dave, but they usually gave each other a wide berth and went on with their duties effectively ignoring each other.

“Howdy, Carl,” Dave said over the buzz of his razor.

Carl glanced at him. “Got a date?”

“Not exactly.” Dave suddenly felt self-conscious about shaving for his meeting with the governor. “I’m getting together with some buddies from my old Marine unit.” It was actually the truth. Two of the men who had served under Dave in Iraq
would meet him at the Chinese buffet in a couple of hours. Let Carl think that was the reason for his careful grooming—though he’d never shave twice in one day for those guys. Dave shut off the razor and blew the whiskers from the blades.

“You making any headway on the inauguration day shooting?” Carl asked.

“Some. Not much.”

Carl nodded. “Same here. Who’d you talk to today?”

“Lobbyists, mostly.”

“Lucky you. I got the cons and ex-cons.”

“Sounds like fun. Have you filed your reports yet?” Dave wondered if he’d have time to scan them before going to the Blaine House.

“Why do you ask?” Carl sounded annoyed.

“No reason,” Dave said.

“It’s late—thought I’d put them in the system tomorrow morning. But I can tell you right now, I didn’t get any breaks.”

Carl slammed his locker shut and headed for the door. Dave watched him go, wondering if anyone got along with Carl. He stashed his razor in his locker and did a quick mirror check. What was he worried about? Jillian wouldn’t care if he arrived with mussed hair. If he could give her the news she wanted to hear, she wouldn’t care when he’d last shaved, either. He was a little surprised that he’d taken so much trouble with his appearance. But part of him wasn’t surprised at all. Not one bit.

“So, you’re not going home this weekend?” Naomi asked.

Jillian looked up from the legal pad where she’d jotted notes about next week’s schedule. “No, I thought I’d stay here.” Though she missed the house she and Brendon had bought together.

“You’ve worked hard all week. It wouldn’t hurt to have a couple of days at home.”

Jillian shrugged. “The EPU thinks I’m safer here.”

“They can’t make you stay so that it’s easier for them.”

“No, but I don’t like to cause them extra headaches.”

Naomi made a face Jillian called her “froufrou face.” Usually it meant that Naomi thought she was being too picky.

“Jillian! These people work for you, not the other way around. Their job entails keeping you safe wherever you go. If you want to spend a weekend at home, it’s their duty to pack up and go with you.”

Jillian pulled out a smile for her old friend. “I have to disagree with you on part of that. I
do
work for them. I work for
all
the people of Maine. If my going home means they have to put in longer hours and spend time away from their families—”

Naomi threw her hands in the air with a snort. “Listen to you! They’ll put in just as many hours, whether you’re here in Augusta or fifteen miles down the road in Belgrade. And while we’re on the subject, I think you’ve skipped enough social events. You haven’t had any problems in the ten days since inauguration day. Will you be going to the reception at Fort Western next weekend, or is that scrubbed, too?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Jillian leaned her elbows on her desk and rested her chin on her hands, eyeing her friend uneasily. “I’ll let you know after I talk to the EPU agent.”

“It doesn’t seem fair that you won the election and now you have to give up your social life.”

Naomi’s attitude surprised Jillian—she wasn’t usually so opinionated. When Jillian had entered private legal practice, she’d hired her childhood school chum as a secretary, snatching Naomi away from her job as a waitress. Naomi had soon learned to keep the office running smoothly, just the way Jillian liked it. And Naomi willingly stayed with her when she went into the Maine Senate, managing her home office. Jillian felt an obligation to Naomi. They’d gone through a lot together. Naomi might not be the most government-savvy secretary in
Augusta, but she did the job and was loyal, supporting Jillian to the hilt. That was worth a lot.

And now she’d decided to bring Naomi along as personal assistant, to live with her in the Blaine House and handle her social calendar. But Naomi had changed since they’d come to Augusta. In their schooldays, she’d been a mousy girl who never quite edged into the “in crowd.” She’d always seemed grateful and surprised that Jillian offered her friendship. Now she seemed more daring, less inhibited. Jillian wasn’t sure she liked her friend’s transformation. Was it because she’d always taken the lead, and Naomi had followed without question? If so, that certainly didn’t paint a pretty picture of her as Naomi’s friend.

Naomi smiled. “Sorry. Guess I’m getting antsy. I take about a hundred calls a day from people wanting you to appear at their events.”

“You’ll have to keep telling them no for the time being, I guess.”

Movement at the doorway claimed her attention, and she turned to see Detective Browne on the threshold.

“Detective Hutchins is here, ma’am.”

Naomi rose and gathered her notepad and pen. “I’ll skedaddle. Do you want coffee sent in?”

“Yes, thanks.”

Naomi nodded. “See you at dinner.”

As Jillian stood, her stomach fluttered. Tuesday and Friday evenings, when she shared thirty minutes with the rugged detective, had become bright spots in her week. She barely knew Dave Hutchins, and again she wondered if she’d placed too much importance on the time she spent with him. She’d have to be careful not to let her appreciation of the EPU’s work transfer to an illogical crush on the investigator.

Dave stood to one side in the hallway and let Naomi exit. To Jillian’s surprise, Naomi stopped and looked him over.

“You must be the detective who reports to Jillian on the investigation.”

“Uh, yes. I’m David Hutchins.”

They shook hands. “Pleased to meet you. I’m the governor’s personal assistant, Naomi Plante.”

“Miss Plante.” Dave bowed his head slightly. Jillian was sure he knew exactly who Naomi was.

Still Naomi lingered. “One of the detectives talked to me last week about the shooting. Your unit is doing a great job, based on what I’ve seen here at the Blaine House. Of course, I can’t speak for Jillian’s safety outside this house.”

“We’re doing everything possible to protect Governor Goff, no matter where she is.”

Dave’s stock line, Jillian supposed, but she saw them in action day after day. The detectives surrounding her were diligent, to the point that their vigilance sometimes annoyed her. She could never drop her guard without feeling someone was watching or listening. But since their goal was to protect her, she couldn’t think of a way to improve the situation.

That didn’t mean she was ever one hundred percent safe. As the officers had told her more than once, her life depended in large part on Jillian observing the basic rules the EPU had laid down for her.

Dave came into the office, smiling as his gaze met hers. “Governor.”

“Dave, thanks for coming.” The next few minutes would be almost private, with only Detective Browne outside the door.

Dave’s smile indicated what she might perceive as more than a dutiful greeting or respect for her office. His evident pleasure in seeing her sent a ripple of anticipation through Jillian, and she reminded herself again that this was business.

She held out her hand and he grasped it. “I’ve ordered a coffee tray.”

“Great,” he said, their hands clasped just a moment longer than necessary.

She resumed her seat behind the desk, and he pulled a chair in to the opposite side. She wished she’d sat beside him as she had last week, but the truth was, being that close to him had become almost too enjoyable. She needed to focus on the fact that people were trying to kill her, not that Dave had strong, masculine hands or beautiful brown eyes.

“Well, here we are.” She smiled in chagrin. “Same old, same old?”

“I’m afraid so. We’ve managed to eliminate some suspects and tentatively rule out others. But the possibilities are still huge.”

“So, what are we focusing on today?”

“Let’s revisit one of the routine questions.” He fixed her with a sober gaze. “Who is angry with you?”

She raised her shoulders in a helpless shrug.

“Think back. Before the inauguration. Before the election, even. Is there anyone who might feel you stood in their way?”

She dragged her mind back over meetings, cases and causes. “I honestly can’t think of anyone.”

“All right, let’s take a different tack. Who would benefit from your death?”

Memories of the chaos swirling around her after Brendon’s accident made her feel a bit queasy. As great as her loss had been, she’d benefited in some ways from her husband’s passing. Not just tangible things, like his life insurance. She’d stepped into his Senate seat in Augusta quite easily. She’d gained his political position and the prestige that went with it. Was someone out there hoping to take that away from her?

“Your mother would inherit your estate,” he said gently.

“Yes, but…” She felt the blood drain from her face. “You couldn’t possibly consider my mother a suspect.”

“No, I don’t. Not seriously. But as a matter of course, the EPU has done a thorough background check on her. I hope you understand.”

She pulled in a careful breath. Her legal training told her this was the standard path of an investigation. Spouses and other close relatives were always at the top of the list.

“I do, but you must understand how heartless it feels from where I sit.” She put her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. “Forgive me. I never realized how draining a legal investigation is for the victim.”

“You’ve had to hold it together constantly while you tend to your other duties—it must be exhausting.”

“Exactly.” She flashed him a weak smile. “I try not to think about this during the day—it’s too distracting. But when I come home at night, it all rushes back to me and I can’t think of anything else.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure my visits don’t help.”

“Actually, they do. When you’re here, I put things back in perspective. It reminds me of all that your unit is doing to put an end to the questions and…the fear.” She caught herself, realizing she hadn’t meant to reveal so much to him. But it was so easy to talk to Dave. Too easy.

“You’re afraid then?”

“Most of the time, I just keep working. But once in a while it strikes me, and I feel almost paranoid. Someone’s out there watching me.” She tossed her head and laughed. “That’s silly, I guess. I mean,
everyone’s
watching me.”

He sat forward, leaning on the desk. “Governor…” The way he said it, soft and caressing, made her title sound almost like a treasured name. “We’re doing everything we can. Everything. And part of that is asking you these difficult questions.”

Tears sprang into her eyes, and she looked away from his compelling gaze. “I know. Thank you.”

“I hope it will help you to know we’ve also done a deep
background on your personal assistant, and we don’t feel she was involved in this.”

“I should think not.”

“No. But we had to be sure. She’s close to you.”

Jillian nodded. “Thanks. But Naomi wouldn’t benefit from my death. Quite the opposite. And if she wanted to harm me, she’d have much better opportunities than a public press conference.” A soft tap at the door drew her attention. “There’s our coffee. Come in,” she called.

Beth, one of the kitchen staffers, entered with the tray and set it carefully on Jillian’s desk.

“Would you like me to pour, ma’am?”

“No, thank you, we’re fine.”

Beth nodded, smiled and turned to where Andrew Browne still held the door for her. Jillian felt as though she’d just been curtsied to.

The door closed and she looked at Dave. “I’m sorry, but I’m still not used to all this.” She waved a hand, encompassing more than just her comfortable office.

His eyes crinkled with humor. “You’ll get used to it. Just keep reminding yourself that it’s temporary.”

“Right. Four years.” She lifted the coffeepot and poured for him. She’d had to become an instant hostess when she took up residence in the Blaine House. Though she felt she was off to a good start in steering Maine, she still felt somewhat inadequate in the social realm of her role. “Now, where were we?”