Fatal Exposure

by Gail Barrett

  Parker dropped his gaze to the photo, not knowing what to think. He could hardly criticize Hoffman for making a mistake. He’d made plenty of errors of his own. But deliberately concealing that Brynn was his stepdaughter... It wasn’t a minor detail. Parker couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

  And why hadn’t Brynn told him who Hoffman was? She knew he ran that camp. What kind of game was she trying to play?

  Hoffman opened his desk drawer again. He pulled out a bulging accordion folder and slid it across the desk. “I’d like you to help me find her. Quietly, off the record. We’ll ask her about your brother when we bring her in, but, frankly, you shouldn’t get your hopes up about that. Even if she remembers, she’ll probably lie.”

  “Right.” Aware that the Colonel was waiting for an answer, Parker managed a nod. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will. I respect that about you, Parker. I took a chance on you back when you were a rookie, and you haven’t let me down so far.”

  “I appreciate that.” Hoffman had been one of the few officers willing to go out on a limb and vouch for Parker when his father’s criminal activities had threatened to sink his budding career. And he hadn’t stopped there. He’d helped Parker make detective, followed his progress through the force. And when Parker had applied to join the homicide cold case squad, he’d made sure that he got in.

  The Colonel cleared his throat. “I’ve done some preliminary research and found out that she has an agent, Joan Kellogg. The agent lives in Old Town Alexandria. You might start your inquiries there.”

  “I will.”

  “Report your progress directly to me. I don’t want any risk of this leaking to the press. Those damned hyenas are already out for blood. And with her high profile, we’d have reporters hounding us from around the globe. We’ll release a public statement after we bring her in. Now you’re dismissed.”

  “Yes, sir.” Parker stuck the newspaper into the file and rose. Still dumbfounded by the bombshell, he crossed the office, the industrial carpet absorbing his steps.

  “Oh, and Detective?”

  Parker turned around.

  “I mean what I said. Leave that other case alone. If word gets out...”

  Parker would lose his job. “I understand.”

  “Good. Now get to work.”

  Parker exited the C.I.D. chief’s office. Ignoring the curious gazes of his fellow officers, he made his way back to the older section of the building and his cubicle on the sixth floor.

  Brynn Elliot was Hoffman’s stepdaughter.

  What the hell was going on?

  Feeling completely off-kilter, he tossed the file onto his desk and slumped into his chair. He stared at the stains on the ceiling, the Colonel’s words still spinning through his mind. Then, determined to get some answers, he opened the accordion folder, pulled out the contents and began to read.

  The file chronicled Brynn’s childhood from kindergarten on, which was when her father had died. It contained elementary school report cards, notes from parent–teacher conferences and psychologists’ reports. By middle school it included records of truancy and repeated attempts to run away.

  And every report stated the same thing. Around age seven, when her widowed mother had remarried, Brynn had become angry, unstable. A liar, but stated in more socially acceptable terms. She disrupted class, picked fights with her classmates and refused to do her work. And her problems worsened as she aged—stealing, skipping school, running away from home. The documents didn’t leave room for doubt. The Colonel’s stepdaughter, Brynn Katherine Hoffman, had been a severely troubled child.

  Was she any more trustworthy as an adult?

  Parker’s doubts increasing, he worked his way through the file. He read articles about the C.I.D. chief. The groundbreaking ceremony at High Rock Camp. Interviews with Hoffman about his stepdaughter. His public pleas for her to come home. Photos of him receiving awards the camp had won. A photo op with Senator Riggs.

  An hour later, his head pounding with a vengeance, Parker shoved the file aside. He leaned back in his chair and massaged his eyes, unable to deny the facts. The evidence supported Hoffman’s allegations about Brynn. She had a volatile history. She’d run away, resisted everyone’s efforts to help her and refused to tell the truth. All the experts agreed.

  And everything Parker knew about Hoffman backed that evidence up. He waged a tireless war on crime. His reputation was superb. He’d even fought for additional funding to beef up this homicide cold case squad, determined that no murder, no matter how old, would remain unsolved. And no one had done more than he had for at-risk youth.

  Whereas Brynn...

  Parker opened his eyes on a sigh. She’d obviously concealed the truth from him. To be fair, she probably didn’t know he worked for her stepfather. Parker’s business card only listed his rank—detective—not the office where he worked. And even if she nosed around, asking questions, no one would give that information out. But she knew her stepfather ran that camp. He’d founded the place for her sake! So why hadn’t she told him that?

  Unless she had a hidden agenda...

  He stilled. Was that what this was about? Was she using him to carry out a personal vendetta against the Colonel? Was she investigating that Walker girl’s death, hoping to uncover some sort of wrongdoing that would bring her stepfather down?

  And what if she was? Could he honestly help her damage the Colonel’s career? Hoffman had supported him, giving him a chance to prove himself when he was a rookie, despite his father’s crimes. How could Parker betray that trust?

  Feeling manipulated from both sides, he slipped the file folder into his desk, snapped off his desk lamp and rose. Then he stalked through the nearly empty office, his heavy footsteps echoing in the gloom.

  He knew what he should do. He should tell Hoffman the truth—that he’d already located Brynn—and let him handle her. That way there’d be no ambiguities, no subterfuge or guilt. He’d just follow the Colonel’s orders and turn her in.

  But he couldn’t erase that niggle of doubt. Because the truth was, the Colonel had misled him before. He’d withheld information about Brynn when they’d found that photo in Tommy’s shoe. And even if his intentions had been altruistic, even if he regretted his actions now, Hoffman had clearly lied.

  And what if Brynn was right? What if those irregularities in the Walker girl’s file signified something bad? What if the C.I.D. chief was hiding something important, suppressing details about her death—just as he’d hidden his relationship with Brynn? Could Parker take that chance?

  He pushed open the door to the parking lot and stepped outside. Still thinking hard, he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and headed across the deserted lot toward his truck. On the surface, the case seemed straightforward. Erin Walker had suffered a relapse, taken drugs and died, just as the autopsy said.

  But Hoffman couldn’t afford any scandals. That camp was the cornerstone of his budding political career. At the slightest whiff of any wrongdoing, Senator Riggs would withdraw his support, and Hoffman would go from rising political star to pariah overnight.

  Which provided Hoffman a motive to keep anything unflattering from coming to light.

  But did Parker dare defy the Colonel’s order and continue to investigate this death? He’d have to lie to his boss about his activities. He’d have to hide his relationship with Brynn. He’d risk arousing the anger of the dead girl’s parents, the wrath of a powerful senator. If he got caught, his career would end.

  He’d also have to deceive Brynn. Because if she learned that he worked for her stepfather—and that he’d asked him to bring her in—she’d never trust him again.

  And he’d give up his chance to discover the truth about Tommy’s death.

  He unlocked his truck, feeling trapped. Because if he was going to be brutally honest, there was another factor at work—beyond his sworn duty to an innocent victim, beyond his loyalty to Hoffman, beyond his promise to find out how his brother had died. />
  The truth was that he liked Brynn Elliot—or whatever her real name was. And not only because of the unruly attraction tying his gut in knots. He admired her amazing talent, her attempts to help those runaway kids.

  And damn it, he wanted to believe her, no matter what proof Hoffman tossed his way. He wanted to believe that she’d cared about Tommy, that she understood his loss and pain, that the compassion in her eyes was genuine.

  Grimacing at his gullibility, he climbed into his truck and slammed the door. She’d gotten to him, all right. But both Brynn and the Colonel were keeping secrets.

  And he’d be damned if he’d play the fool.

  Chapter 6

  Something had changed between them overnight.

  Brynn slid an uneasy glance at Parker’s profile as he drove them through the mountains of western Maryland toward High Rock Camp. He’d sat in brooding silence since he’d picked her up an hour earlier, his lean hands cradling the wheel, his jaw bunched tighter than a boxer’s fist. And when he’d looked her way, he’d eyed her with an alert kind of stillness, a wary intensity that set off warning bells in her head.

  Had he spoken to her stepfather? Had he learned something damaging about her past? Nerves tightened in her belly at the thought. Exactly what had happened to cause this tension, she didn’t know. But it had erased the bond they’d begun forging between them. That tentative trust was gone.

  But what could she do? She couldn’t back out of their agreement. She had too many enemies to fight this war alone. And to have any chance of exposing the truth about her stepfather, she needed Parker’s help.

  He slanted her a sideways glance, his mesmerizing eyes so like Tommy’s that her heart made a little flip. And that was another problem right there. Bad enough that he had the power to arrest her. Worse that he appealed to her in a decidedly carnal way. His rumbling, low-pitched voice, the potent magnetism of his handsome face evoked thoughts she had no business entertaining right now. And his resemblance to Tommy disconcerted her completely, bringing back a flood of regrets.

  Still badly unsettled, she turned her face toward the windshield; the colorful trees lining the two-lane road barely registered as they sped by. She couldn’t think about the past right now. She couldn’t keep agonizing over Tommy’s death. She had to focus on discovering what had happened to Erin Walker. Because if what she dreaded proved true, she had more blood than Tommy’s on her hands.

  “We’re almost there,” Parker said, his deep voice drawing her attention back to him. “So how do you want to play this?”

  Inhaling deeply to quiet her nerves, she turned her thoughts to the task ahead. “We’d better keep it simple so we don’t goof up. Let’s say we’re the parents of a troubled teenager, and we want to check their program out.”

  He quirked a brow, his hot, dark gaze scrambling her pulse. “Aren’t you young to have a teenage daughter?”

  “Not technically. I’m twenty-eight.” But there was no point raising scrutiny they didn’t need. “We can make her our niece instead. Her parents died in a car accident, and we have custody.”

  “Name?”

  “Amber. She’s fifteen. She’s been sneaking out of the house at night and running around with a fast crowd. And we just found pot in her room. If they ask us anything else, let me handle it. We won’t contradict each other that way.”

  “You’re good at making things up.”

  Good at lying, he meant. She pulled her gaze back to the windshield, determined to ignore a nasty little stab of hurt. It didn’t matter what Parker thought. No one had ever believed her—not her teachers, not the social workers who’d paraded through her childhood and definitely not the police. So why should she expect anything different from him? Just because he was Tommy’s brother, just because they had this mind-boggling chemistry ricocheting between them didn’t mean he was on her side.

  Besides, he was right. Living on the streets, she’d had to reinvent herself continually to survive.

  “I’ve been around a lot of runaways,” she said by way of explanation. “I know the profile well.”

  Parker didn’t answer. He just continued to watch her, scrutinizing her with those wary eyes. Cop eyes. Eyes that took in every detail but gave nothing of his thoughts away. She turned her face toward the passenger-side window again. He was dangerous, all right. And no matter how tempted she was to trust him, she couldn’t forget that fact.

  Seconds later, they crested a hill and the sign for High Rock Camp came into view. Brynn leaned forward, her heart beating double-time as Parker turned in at the gravel drive. The gate hung ajar. The guard shack stood unmanned, allowing them to pass unimpeded into the camp. But the security camera mounted on the high, steel fence took her aback. She hadn’t expected to be caught on film.

  They drove past the gate, then followed a meandering track through the woods, gravel crunching under their tires. A squirrel bounded into their path. Leaves fluttered from the trees, doing cartwheels across the truck. A quarter mile later they reached a one-story log building bearing an office sign. Parker pulled into the parking lot beside it and stopped.

  And suddenly, a clammy sweat broke out on her brow. Dread slithered through her veins, the terror she’d suppressed for years surfacing again. She’d entered her stepfather’s world. But she was older now. Smarter. Far less vulnerable.

  And she would never suffer that abuse again.

  Beating down the instinctive panic, she climbed out of the truck and shut the door. Then she forced herself to inhale, taking long, steadying gulps of the mountain air. A cardinal whistled overhead. A stream gurgled nearby. She turned her attention to the office, the freshly painted logs and flower boxes brimming with chrysanthemums giving it a tidy, welcoming look.

  The setting was tranquil. Picturesque. Perfect. But then, her stepfather always had excelled at creating the right facade.

  Still trying to calm her heart rate, she waited for Parker to join her, then started up the flagstone path. But he caught hold of her arm and tugged her to a halt before she’d taken a dozen steps. Startled, she tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “We’re concerned parents, right?”

  “So?” This close, she could trace the razor stubble emerging on his jaw, the intriguing hollow at the base of his muscled throat, his disturbingly sexual mouth. The woodsy scent of his aftershave teased her senses, disquieting her even more.

  “So we need to look the part.” He linked their hands, and the feel of his warm, calloused skin set off a rush of heat in her blood. Then he pulled her into motion, adjusting his pace to hers. She was still trying to regain her equilibrium as they neared the office door.

  Appearances, she reminded herself firmly. They were only playing a part. But the banked strength in his massive hand, the coiled power in his easy strides, had the oddest effect—making her feel sheltered, protected. Safe.

  Which didn’t make the least bit of sense. Parker was a cop, and he clearly distrusted her. So why did she have this insane urge to burrow against him and let his broad shoulders shield her from harm?

  At the door, he released her hand. More off balance than she cared to acknowledge, she swept past him and went inside. Then she stopped and glanced around, determined to quit worrying about Parker, quash the intense dread threatening to consume her and concentrate on the reason they were here—finding out the truth behind Erin’s death.

  The office looked like an upscale lodge. A huge stone fireplace dominated one wall. Thick wooden beams yawned overhead. Generously sized leather armchairs surrounded a coffee table made of antlers, while a Western rug covered the wide-planked floor, adding splashes of color to the muted room. Nature sounds fluted over the sound system, the soft chirping of birds and a splashing stream designed to calm.

  A blonde woman about Brynn’s age rose from the corner desk, a gracious smile on her face. She wore a white silk blouse, a classic pencil skirt. She had her hair pulled up in a sleek chignon. “May I help you?” she
asked in a pleasant voice.

  “We hope so,” Parker said. He shot the receptionist a lazy smile that completely transformed his face, making him look younger, friendlier and far, far sexier. Brynn blinked at him in surprise. When he put on the charm, he was a lethally attractive man.

  “We’d like information about your camp,” he added.

  A blush crept up the receptionist’s cheeks. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see if Mrs. Gibson is available.” She flashed Parker another smile, then padded across the rug to an adjacent office and tapped on the door. When a woman called out, she slipped inside.

  Still stunned by the change in Parker, Brynn wandered across the room, needing to put some distance between them to clear her mind. So what if he’d poured on the charm? So what if that wicked smile made her heart pound and sparked an avalanche of lust in her blood? She was here to investigate a young girl’s death, not ogle Parker McCall—no matter how gorgeous he was.

  Determined to conquer her wayward reactions, she circuited the room, studying photographs of teenagers engaged in typical camp pursuits—hiking through the woods, riding a zip line over a canyon, climbing rocks and paddling canoes. There were other shots of them at work—cooking, erecting tents, building a campfire and clearing trails. The last few photos showed overjoyed parents reuniting with their kids, relief in their teary eyes.

  Brynn’s heart twisted, a sudden yearning curling inside her, a longing she’d buried for years. As a child, she would have bartered her soul for parents like that—parents who actually cared.

  Appalled at the direction of her thoughts, she crossed her arms. What was wrong with her today? Coming even this close to her stepfather had stripped away her defenses, making her vulnerable in ways she couldn’t afford. She had to stay alert and concentrate on investigating Erin Walker’s death. This could be her only chance to get the proof she needed to stop her stepfather’s abuse.