Hearts in the Crosshairs (9 page)

D
ave drove in silence as they merged onto the interstate, trying not to convey his fury.

“Please don’t take me to the hospital.” Jillian sat forward and leaned on the back of the front seat.

Dave looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You need to have your ankle checked.”

“It’s not serious. I’ll ice it when we get home. Besides, if we go to EMMC, we’ll be there a couple of hours. You know we will. And there’s only one of you to protect me now.”

She was right about the extra time at the hospital, though Dave was sure the staff would expedite the governor’s visit. But security would be tricky, even with the Bangor P.D. on alert.

“We could have your personal physician meet us at the Blaine House,” Dave said.

Jillian frowned. “I’d hate to get her out so late. It’s after nine o’clock now. It’ll be eleven before we reach Augusta, won’t it?”

Dave glanced at the dashboard clock. “Nearly. But you’ve got to see a doctor tonight. That’s imperative. If it’s worse than you think—”

“Okay. Put the word out for Dr. St. Pierre.” She settled back beside the senator.

“Are you sure, Jillian?” Armstrong asked. “I don’t mind going to the hospital with you.”

Dave noted the strain in the old man’s voice. Taking Joe Armstrong with them to another public place could pose problems, especially if he was upset.

“I’d rather go home and see my own doctor,” Jillian said calmly. “Besides, this will get you home before midnight. If we stopped at the hospital, who knows when we’d get to bed?”

Dave fished out his cell phone and punched in the colonel’s emergency line.

“Hutchins! Where are you? More to the point, where’s Bronte?”

Dave almost smiled, in spite of the circumstances. Before the inauguration, Stephanie Drake had suggested the code name for the governor at one of their unit briefings. “Charlotte Bronte wrote Jane Eyre, and Jane was a governess.” Stephanie was dead serious when she said it, but everyone in the briefing room had cracked up. The code name stuck.

“We’re on I-95 and heading straight to Augusta. Could you please inform the Bangor police and Eastern Maine Medical that we’re not stopping? The passenger prefers her own physician.”

“Browne says she’s not seriously injured.”

“No, just a twisted ankle.”

“Is Armstrong with you?”

Dave winced. The officers were supposed to use a code name for the senator, as well, but you couldn’t correct the colonel on something like that.

“Yes, sir. All’s well with him.”

“All right. We’ll contact Bangor P.D. and the hospital,” Smith said.

“Thank you. And if you could give the doctor a ring and see if she’s available for a house call this evening…”

“Will do.”

Dave closed his phone, dropped it into the cup holder and was silent for the rest of the drive.

Stephanie Drake was waiting at the Blaine House when they arrived an hour and a half later, to act as Jillian’s personal guard for the night. Three other EPU officers and four state troopers had also turned out to ensure Jillian’s safe return.

Dave leaped out of the SUV and pushed past Bob Caruthers to get to Jillian’s door. He helped her out and bent to pick her up.

“I can walk,” Jillian said with a laugh.

Dave merely glanced at her, making it clear that she would not be walking anywhere on his watch.

She gave in, and the officers surrounded Dave as he lifted her and quickly took her in through the family entrance and down the hall to the sunroom. He couldn’t help but notice how it felt to have her arms entwined around his neck as he carried her, and it took all the strength he had not to look into her eyes. He gently put her down on the sofa, where Dr. St. Pierre was already waiting for her.

The doctor bent over her, gently probing her ankle. Stephanie sat close to Jillian, holding the governor’s purse and bulletproof vest. Another EPU member, Tom Rawls, stood unobtrusively at the other hall door to the room.

“Where did the senator go?” Dave asked.

Bob nodded to the doorway across the hall. “In the family dining room, having a drink.”

Dave arched his eyebrows.

“High-test coffee laced with cooking sherry,” Bob said.

Apparently, the senator had gotten around Jillian’s prohibition rules. “Is he driving himself home?”

“I can take him.”

“Probably a good idea,” Dave said. “Have another officer go along to deliver his car and ride back with you.”

“Sure. I think he wants to wait until the doctor gives the official word that the governor’s all right,” Bob said.

Jillian sat up, fumbling with her evening shoes. With Steph
anie and the doctor supporting her, she stood and hobbled toward him.

“Let’s ice that right away,” Dr. St. Pierre said, looking at Stephanie.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get an ice bag and take it upstairs immediately.”

“And you need to stay off it, Governor. I’m not sure I want you walking up those stairs.”

Dave stepped forward. Jillian’s pale face went a becoming shade of rose. “I’d like to say good-night to Senator Armstrong. He hasn’t left, has he?”

“No, ma’am. Bob Caruthers will take him home after you’ve seen him.”

Bob hurried across to the dining room, and a moment later Joe appeared with him in the doorway.

“What’s the verdict, Doctor?” he boomed.

Dr. St. Pierre smiled at him. “I think the governor’s assessment was accurate. It’s not serious, but she needs to elevate it, ice it, and rest for a couple of days.”

“Joe, thank you so much for going with me tonight.” Jillian held out her hands to him and he grasped them.

“I enjoyed it right up until the finale.”

“Me too. Did you get your coffee?” Jillian glanced anxiously at Bob.

“Yes, I did. And now you need your rest.”

“I do apologize for the way the evening ended. Will you call me tomorrow?”

Joe’s eyes softened as he patted her hands. “Of course. I’ll want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’ll expect your call,” Jillian said. She turned to Dave and held up her hand before he could approach her. “I think I’ve been carried enough for one night. Stephanie, will you help me walk up the stairs? I’m sure I can manage. Thank you,
everyone, for your help tonight. Perhaps this nightmare is finally over.”

Dave watched as Jillian made her way slowly up the stairs, still able to feel her in his arms, the warmth of her against him.

Dave caught only a few hours of restless sleep. He rose early and shaved, ignoring the dark circles under his eyes. At EPU headquarters, he filed his report, then read those submitted by the other officers at the scene of the shooting.

Lieutenant Wilson came in shortly after seven. The fact that he was in the office on a Sunday morning underscored the gravity of the situation.

“Good job last night, Hutchins.” Wilson clapped him on the shoulder. “Has the
Today Show
called you yet?”

Dave stared up at him, speechless, aware that he probably looked as savvy as a half-witted raccoon.

Wilson laughed. “You’re a hero. The receptionist just told me she’s getting a gazillion calls from the media.”

Dave gritted his teeth. He certainly didn’t feel like a hero. “I won’t have to do a press conference, will I?”

“We’ll let Mark Payson handle it. But it wouldn’t surprise me if all the networks sent camera crews here to interview you.”

“I’ll be in the field, doing my job.”

Wilson shrugged. “Hey, a little good publicity wouldn’t hurt the unit any. But we’ll try to keep them off your back.”

“Will I be suspended?”

“It’s customary to give an officer leave after a shooting, until the investigation is complete.”

“I need to be working on this, sir.”

“I’ll speak to the colonel,” Wilson said. “The governor’s requested to see you this afternoon.”

Dave’s stomach did a little flip. “At the Blaine House?”

“Yes. Gutsy woman. She insists on going to her statehouse
office tomorrow. And she says the ankle’s only giving her a few twinges this morning.”

“Good. I see we’ve ID’d the shooter. She’ll have a lot of questions, though.”

“Like ‘Why?’”

“Yes,” Dave said, “and whether he acted alone.”

Wilson frowned. “Well, he can’t tell us that now.”

To Dave’s surprise, Jillian was in the sunroom when he arrived at four in the afternoon. She was seated at the piano playing softly, wearing a long-sleeved ivory top and a print skirt. Stephanie sat near the windows. Dave paused in the doorway, listening. Beethoven, if he wasn’t mistaken. He watched her hands glide skillfully over the keys. The governor was good, no question about that.

When the melody wound down in a quiet finale, Dave and Stephanie both applauded.

Jillian rose, flushing a bit and smiling apologetically. “I’ve wanted to try this piano for the past month, and never found a moment when there was no one around. Not that you two are ‘no one.’” Her blush deepened. “I guess the concert last night got to me.”

“That was wonderful.” Stephanie stood and stepped forward. “I had no idea you could play.”

Jillian tossed her head. “Mom made me practice way after I wanted to stop. She was very disappointed when I quit after high school.”

“You should play more often,” Dave said. Her playing had warmed his heart even more than the stirring orchestral music they’d heard the evening before.

“You two are sworn to silence.” Jillian glared at them both, but her eyes twinkled. “It’s a state secret. I don’t want to be railroaded into playing at some function or other.”

Dave was glad she could tease them, glad that her thoughts weren’t mired in the tragedy of the shooting.

“Naomi must know what a good pianist you are,” Stephanie mused. “She never said a word, though.”

“Oh, yes. She came to our house after school every day for years, until her mom got off work, and she heard me suffer through practice every afternoon. She hated it as much as I did, I think. It meant we couldn’t play or ride bikes until I was finished.” Jillian carefully closed the keyboard.

“Naomi Plante was in your class, wasn’t she?” Dave tried to recall what he’d read in her background file.

Jillian nodded. “Her mom was a single parent, and she made an after-school child care arrangement with my mother that lasted about five years.”

“You must have grown close,” Stephanie said.

Jillian shrugged. “Somewhat. We’re alike in a lot of ways, and yet we’re very different. But we’ve stayed friends for all this time.”

Stephanie smiled. “Well, I know you have business to discuss. Your mother should be here soon. I’ll make rounds through the family quarters before she and Naomi get here. Would you like coffee? I can put in a request for you.”

Jillian arched her eyebrows at Dave. “How about it? I think I’d like a cup.”

“Sure,” he said.

“In my office upstairs, please,” Jillian told Stephanie, who nodded and left the room.

“How’s the ankle?” Dave asked.

“Not bad. If not for the circumstances last night, I probably would have ignored it.” They went into the hallway and walked to the staircase. “Did you get to church today?” she asked.

“Yes.” He’d gone to church that morning after filing his report, and the service had calmed him somewhat, but he’d
slipped out during the final prayer to avoid people’s questions. “I guess you were kept busy here.”

She made a face. “Yes. This morning the doctor came by again, then the department spokesman and Colonel Smith. But next week I’m going to church for sure. I want my routine back.”

“I hope you can have it.”

“Colonel Smith gave me the lowdown this morning, but I suppose the unit has been busy all day.”

“Yes,” Dave said. “Every member but me.”

“Oh. Why is that?”

In the upper hallway, he opened the office door for her and followed her inside. “It’s standard procedure. I’m officially off duty until the case is reviewed.”

She pulled over one of the comfortable leather chairs. Dave hung his jacket on the back of his, and they sat down next to each other.

“You killed the man,” she said, “but everyone knows you did it for me. You were doing your job, I mean.”

“Yes. The colonel assures me I have nothing to worry about. The review is a formality. It makes you a little nervous, though, until the internal investigation is over.”

Even now, thinking about those few seconds when he’d realized the man intended to kill Jillian sent a tremor through him.

“Jillian, I owe you an apology. That man should never have been anywhere near you.”

“You saved my life, Dave.” She gazed intently into his eyes. “I want to thank you for that, but words seem so inadequate.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m glad I was there, but still, I—”