Stalked

by Lisa Hughey

  “Got it, Rule Boy.”

  Alex huffed out a breath. “See you in a few.”

  He headed toward the enormous craftsman style house. The garden beyond the gate overflowed with water features and lush green tropical plants. The mini-Zen garden near the porch was a surprise too. The peaceful atmosphere was at odds with the intel he had regarding Mrs. Nguyen.

  He glanced around the carefully maintained oasis and then vaulted up the stairs and knocked on the door. After a significant pause, the door opened to reveal a tiny Asian woman. “Come in, Deputy Marshal Saunders.” She’d lost most of her accent but hints remained in slightly dropped Rs. “Let’s keep this interview to a minimum.”

  He could see hints of Kita in the shape of Mrs. Nguyen’s eyes and the keen intelligence that lingered in her stare. But her demeanor was cold, even judgmental.

  “Answer my questions honestly and we should be done fairly quickly.”

  “She didn’t want to come in,” she sneered.

  So she had been watching. Odd. Because Alex hadn’t mentioned Kita.

  “If you’re referring to Ms. Kim—”

  “Bah,” she hissed.

  Alex watched her closely. “She is conducting a separate interview.”

  Joyce Nguyen’s eyes widened. “This is about Bobby?”

  He was pleased she didn’t pretend an ignorance. “Yes.”

  Alex glanced around curiously. So this was where Kita grew up? While the exterior was peaceful and tranquil, the interior was sparse. The bare wood floors had tatami mats. Ornate rosewood sofas carved with ancient symbols were grouped around a low coffee table. Bold red silk cushions had scattered pillows with some birds on them.

  An earthenware tea pot with an iron handle rested on a rectangular serving platter. Steam gently swirled in the air.

  “Be seated.”

  Alex sat on the hard cushion of the couch. He pulled out a small recorder. “If you agree, I’d like to tape our conversation.”

  Her hand like a blade, she made a sharp cutting motion. “Makes no difference.”

  “State your name and occupation.”

  They went through the standard identifying questions with Joyce Nguyen responding as minimally as possible. But Alex didn’t get the sense she was trying to be obstructionist. She just didn’t like to waste words.

  Joyce Nguyen. Professor of Graduate Asian Studies for a small liberal arts university. Sixty years old. She was first generation American of Vietnamese and Chinese descent. She had retaken her maiden name when her husband died. Kita’s father had been Vietnamese and Scottish of all things.

  “How do you know Judge Adams?”

  “Neighbor.”

  She poured a single cup of tea. Her stare was defiant as she sipped. Alex raised his eyebrows.

  “And how long have you and Mr. Adams been engaged in sexual relations?”

  “None of your business.”

  “How long has your affair been active?”

  Her face flat, she stared him down, refusing to answer.

  “Ms. Nguyen, perhaps you’re unaware but this is a federal investigation regarding threats made against the judge.”

  For the first time, she showed some emotion. “Is Bobby okay?” She leaned forward in her seat, her tea steaming and unforgotten.

  “There have been several attempts, which the US Marshals were able to stop with the help of Kita.”

  “Is Bobby okay?”

  “Your daughter was injured in the first attempt.” Alex’s temper boiled over. “Does that matter at all?”

  “I don’t see how that information is relative to your questions.”

  Alex had to forcibly rein in his anger. “You are correct.” Thank God Kita had gotten away from this cold, cold woman. “The judge is fine. For now.”

  Her relief was visible.

  “Do you have any reason to harm him?”

  “Of course not.”

  “And are you aware of anyone who might wish him harm?”

  “Everyone loves Bobby.”

  Alex resisted the real urge to put his fist through the decorative shoji screen. He pulled out his business card and handed it to the woman, trying hard not to let their fingers brush.

  “If you think of anything that could help our investigation, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

  “Show yourself out.”

  Alex hesitated, wanting to defend Kita, wanting to berate this cold woman about her treatment of a young girl.

  Instead, he hustled out of the dark house, wonder swirling in his gut. How had Kita turned out so normal? So warm? So full of light?

  Kita ascended the steps to Marsh’s childhood home. A soft smile of remembrance curved her lips at the carved pumpkins lining the steps, the hay bales on the porch, along with a stuffed scarecrow and bundles of cornstalks.

  One of the many things she loved about Colleen Adams’s house was the sense of warmth and welcome that wrapped around her like a big warm wool sweater. Before she could ring the bell, the front door flung open.

  “Kita!” Colleen Adams enveloped her in a hug and squeezed tightly. “I’ve missed you, honey.”

  She was surrounded in a cloud of White Linen perfume, instantly winging her back to that horrible night in the hospital. The cold, the lights, the noise, and then Colleen and Marsh had come and saved her.

  Kita knew those hours had shaped her. She longed to be able to do that, to be that person for someone else. She wasn’t warm like Mrs. Adams but she burned with the desire to give someone else the gift of safety she’d been given.

  Colleen curled her arm around Kita’s shoulders and practically dragged her inside. “I want to hear all about how things are going. You haven’t been by for Sunday dinner in at least a month.”

  Remorse nagged at Kita. “Sorry, I’ve been working at this shelter and— “

  “Honey, I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty.” Her voice softened and she patted Kita’s shoulder. “I just miss catching up with you—and Marsh.”

  Marsh. She was going to have to see if Colleen had any information about her son. But first, she had to focus on the situation regarding the judge.

  Kita followed her surrogate mother into the kitchen. The rest of the house was more formal, more stuffy with antiques and fancy rugs and family portraits, but the hub of the home was Colleen Adams’s kitchen. Warm, butter-yellow walls and brilliant white trim framed the room. A spacious island with amber hanging lights and smooth granite countertops was where she and Marsh had eaten breakfast years ago.

  The kitchen table was one of those old farm tables with spindled legs and a honey gold finish. An amber glass bowl with gourds and mini pumpkins sat in the middle of the table, and the calendar beside the phone was turned to October, depicting a goofy cat with a knitted pumpkin stalk cap on its head.

  “You want some tea?”

  “Sure.” Kita headed toward the ancient Aga range. “But I can get it.”

  “Nonsense.” Colleen tied an apron at her waist and bustled around, setting up the kettle and a little ceramic plate with sesame tea cookies, Kita’s favorite. “Let me spoil you a bit.”

  A happy warmth settled over Kita as they chatted about everyday things. Colleen’s garden association, her weekly coffee with a group of DC’s movers and shakers, and the upcoming election.

  Kita dreaded bringing this up, not wanting to cause her honorary mother any distress, but she had to ask. There must be some horrible reason that the judge made Colleen engage with him on a monthly basis.

  Her stomach curdled at the thought of upsetting Colleen.

  “You going to tell me why you’re here in the middle of a workday?”

  Kita flushed. “I, ah, need to ask you a question about the judge.” This was harder than she thought.

  Colleen sighed heavily, but she met Kita’s gaze head-on. Her lips curved in a bittersweet smile but there was no apology on her face or in her voice. “My relationship with Bobby is…complicated.”

  Colle
en had kicked the judge out years ago. Kita didn’t understand. But she kept silent.

  “He is not a man for commitment.”

  Kita snorted. She slapped her fingers over her mouth. “Sorry.”

  Colleen’s laugh was like a pretty tinkling waterfall. “I am well aware of my ex-husband’s faults. But he is a generous and absolutely gifted lover.” She threaded her spindly fingers together, and her hands seemed more fragile than Kita remembered.

  Now Colleen flushed. Her gently lined face turned a deep red. “And so once a month, we have an assignation. At the Hay-Adams. It’s romantic and lovely and there are no expectations on either side.”

  Colleen was clearly at peace with her choices. So who was Kita to judge her? But with a self-aware clarity, she realized that she wasn’t cut out for that kind of relationship. “Um, okay.” But her lack of understanding must have come through.

  “Oh, honey.” Colleen brushed a hand over Kita’s shoulder as if touching her could impart the reasons why she had sex with her cheating ex on a regular basis. “Perhaps one day you’ll understand, but I certainly hope not.”

  Kita’s throat tightened.

  “Can I ask why this subject came up?”

  Kita’s world had literally tilted on its axis in the past few minutes so she blurted out the cause for her visit. “Well the judge is receiving threats, so we’re—”

  “Is Bobby okay?” Colleen’s bony fingers gripped Kita’s wrist like a boa constrictor squeezing prey. Her voice had risen and her whole body quivered with worry.

  “He’s fine.” Kita patted Colleen’s fingers. “We’re taking good care of him. But we’re looking for anyone who might have a grudge against him.”

  “And you’re checking out all the women he….”

  Now Kita really flushed. “Yes.”

  Thankfully, at that moment, the doorbell chimed.

  “I’ll get it.” Kita said, “I should probably get going any way.”

  But Colleen followed close behind her. Kita peered through the security peephole. Alex.

  “It’s my partner.” Kita opened the door.

  “How you doing?” he asked before she could get a word out. There was something in his voice. The concern on his face was for her. He seemed to be one step away from grabbing her.

  Kita blinked. So much emotion vibrated in the simple question. “Fine.” She turned and introduced the two of them.

  Colleen shook Alex’s hand, a melancholy smile on her face. “Well.” She sighed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’d always hoped that one day…you and Marsh.” She fluttered her hand in front of her face. “Well, that’s a good nevermind now.”

  Colleen glanced between her and Alex.

  What? “Oh, we’re just—”

  “I see exactly what you are.” Colleen squeezed Kita in a great big tight warm hug. Her arms still represented that haven of security and protection.

  Then Colleen grabbed up Alex in a hug. “You take care of my girl now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Alex’s brow crinkled in a clearly puzzled expression.

  Colleen stepped back, ran her gaze over Alex one more time. Then she nodded. “When you and Marsh come for Sunday dinner, bring your friend.”

  Perfect. Colleen Adams had given her the perfect segue into asking about Marsh without drawing any undue attention.

  “Have you talked to him lately?” Kita asked, not wanting to alarm his mother but her worry continued to grow.

  “Not in a few weeks.” Colleen gave her a puzzled look. “Haven’t you?”

  “Ah, we’ve been on conflicting assignments for the last month. I’ve barely seen him.” As in not at all.

  “You and your secret projects.” Colleen nipped the deadhead off a bright yellow mum.

  Beside her Alex stiffened.

  She clutched the browned petals in a gentle fist. “Keep the judge safe, honey.”

  “We will.”

  “Love you.”

  That awkward moment happened every time Colleen Adams expressed her feelings. And feeling like she was still that seventeen-year-old abuse victim with a broken wrist and battered face, Kita ducked at the outright show of affection. “Ah, love you too.”

  Chapter 16

  The car ride to their last interview was silent. Alex had too many thoughts running through his brain after their interviews.

  “Last on the list,” Kita finally said.

  “We should probably compare notes on our interviews.” Shit, he’d like to forget his conversation with her mother.

  “Sure.” She shifted in the front seat of the government-issued sedan.

  “Thoughts on Colleen Adams.”

  “Not a suspect,” Kita clipped out, no hesitation. “What about Joyce Nguyen?”

  “Not a suspect either.” Alex hesitated.

  “Spit it out.”

  “The only time she showed any emotion was when she found out the judge was in danger.” He wanted to apologize for her mother. He wanted to go back and give her a piece of his mind. To take her to task for clearly not caring about her daughter. She had known Kita was at the Adams’s house but she hadn’t asked about her at all. Hadn’t even blinked when he’d told her Kita had been injured.

  Joyce Nguyen’s frigid attitude nearly gave him frostbite.

  When they’d pulled away from the curb after the interviews, Alex had noted Kita’s lingering look at her childhood home. She’d returned Colleen Adams’s affection awkwardly, but her final act had been one inscrutable glance at her mother’s garden.

  He burned with the need to touch Kita, to soothe her. Except it was really about soothing himself. Her mother’s defiance and indifference touched off a foreign emotion. The desire to shield her from motherly rejection was strong. Except he knew what she’d say. She could take care of herself. And he knew that, he did, but he couldn’t help but wish that she would let him in.

  Kita rubbed her wrist. “Same with Colleen.”

  Alex couldn’t help but be surprised. The guy certainly maintained a loyal stable of sexual conquests. “So the randy old judge apparently inspires devotion in women. A staggering amount.” Conversely, he’d been a pain in Alex’s ass from the moment they’d met.

  “Yeah. Weird.”

  He’d seen the clear affection between Marsh Adams’s mother and Kita. “You sure you’re objective enough?” They couldn’t afford to overlook a potential suspect because she had an emotional connection to one of the suspects.

  “Colleen Adams taught me everything about self-acceptance and being strong. She taught me to stick up for myself. To defend myself. She gave me the tools to become the person I am today, so fuck you very much. She has more integrity in her pinky than most people have in their entire body. And she would never, ever harm someone, including, it turns out, her ex-husband.”

  And there was the fighting spirit that irritated him and intrigued him at the same time. “Fair enough.”

  “And another thing, wait…what?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t compromised.”

  “Seriously?” She twisted in her seat, her face a mask of annoyance.

  “I trust your judgement.”

  All her gruff anger disintegrated. “Okay. Ah, thank you.”

  Alex grinned. “I feel like you aren’t typically at a loss for words.”

  “Yeah, no.” She smiled sheepishly. “Not usually. By the way, sorry about the weirdness at the end. She wants to see me happy.”

  Alex was pleased she had someone looking out for her. Especially since her biological mother was a complete bitch.

  However, he definitely didn’t want to discuss Colleen Adams’s not-so-veiled references to them. As if she had some sort of couple-sniffing radar and knew they had slept together.

  He liked Kita. Yeah, the sex had been smoking hot. But they were totally wrong for each other. Even if in bed they communicated on a completely different plane.

  “It’s all good.” He stopped befor
e the conversation could get more awkward. But he did wonder, “What’s the deal with you and Marsh Adams?”

  “Friends,” she said quickly.

  “That’s it?” He didn’t know why he didn’t let it go but the urge to press her didn’t fade.

  “He’s like my older brother.” Kita didn’t fidget. Her hands rested casually in her lap. “Surely you can understand that.”

  Alex cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

  “He looks out for me.”

  Alex felt the pang of regret all the way to his toes. He hadn’t looked out for his brother. And that decision had shaped their lives. While he’d become a rule-follower, Andrew was the daredevil.

  It turned out Drew had liked the rush even at nine years old. He’d never outgrown it. These days he was in the Rangers. Half the time Alex didn’t even know where in the world Drew was, and the other half he catalogued new scars and injuries and hoped his brother didn’t get himself killed. Being less than a year apart, you would think they’d be closer. Their mother blamed Alex, and he blamed himself too.

  For every crazy thing his brother had done, Alex tried to compensate by being even more straitlaced. Which didn’t work. But he tried. Drew prodded Alex to let go more often and Alex cautioned his brother to think before he jumped.

  Their relationship had never been the same since the accident.

  “Where’d you go?” Kita tilted her head at him.

  The last thing he wanted to do was explain his mixed emotions about his brother. “Let’s go see the honorable Ms. Nichols.”

  They had called the congresswoman’s office and she’d agreed to fit them into her busy schedule. Her staff’s attitude had been borderline antagonistic, one assumed because neither Kita nor Alex were her constituents and they had no political pull for her upcoming campaign. Since she was cooperating, minimally, he’d leave it alone for now. But if she stonewalled them, Alex could make things difficult for her. Just because she served in the House of Representatives didn’t mean that she was exempt from answering their questions.

  They were meeting at a diner a few blocks away from the Sofitel on 15th. The congresswoman was attending a luncheon at the hotel. She blocked out twenty minutes of her time. She’d suggested the diner, away from the hotel dining room and Le Bar, which was still considered a meeting place for DC’s influential and influenced. He guessed she didn’t want to be seen with them. Explaining that she had to answer questions from federal marshals likely wasn’t high on the list of qualities her donors were interested in sponsoring.