by Lois Richer
“Yes.” Fergus MacArthur held up a police artist’s sketch Chloe had helped with the night before. “A composite. Not much to go on. So far he’s an unknown to us, but at least we’ve got something.”
“Not that it’s of much use,” Agent Darcy Lanner scoffed as she unbuttoned her jacket. “With the surgical mask, this could be me.”
“For your sake I hope not.” Brendan pulled the door open for the second time, blinked when he saw his boss. “Is anything wrong?”
“Not that I know of. Just checking to make sure Mrs. Tanner is all right with this.” Duncan Dorne stepped through the doorway and shoved it closed behind him. “You did explain that the FBI is not guaranteeing anything?”
“I told her all of it. But we didn’t give the kids the whole story. They know enough for now. We’ll tell them more on a need-to-know basis.” He surveyed his boss’s face, knowing something didn’t sit well with the man. “She has to leave for work shortly. Fergus will go with Kyle, Darcy with Madison.”
“Anything after school?”
Brendan nodded. “Kyle has a lit group. Maddy has soccer practice.”
“Hey, weren’t you coaching some team?”
“Soccer. Yes. In fact I’m Madison’s coach. But I won’t be there today.” Brendan paused when he heard footsteps on the stairs. “Chloe, this is my boss, Duncan Dorne. He wanted to make sure you’re okay with the plan.”
She glanced from Brendan to the older man, nodded once. “I’ve been assured that my children will be watched full-time. That’s my biggest concern.”
His boss stared at her for a few moments, obviously stunned by her beauty. Finally he cleared his throat. “It won’t bother you to have Brendan sleep in the house?”
She shook her head. “He can use the den again. It’s no problem. As long as the kids are safe.”
“We’ll do what we can.” He introduced the two agents.
Chloe called the kids. At the rumble overhead, Dorne winced, then rushed into speech.
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to station someone in the house while you’re away. If our perp happens by, we’ll nab him and everything will be fine.”
Fairly certain it wasn’t going to go down like that, Brendan waited. Dorne always had something up his sleeve. He would reveal it only when he was ready.
“That’s fine. Tell them to help themselves to coffee, or whatever. There’s some leftover soup and cake in the fridge.” She turned, watched Kyle follow Madison down the stairs and lifted a hand to smooth her daughter’s flyaway curls. “I have to get going. Have a good day, you two.”
“We will.” Maddy threw her arms around her mother’s neck and hugged tightly. “Will Mrs. Mills be here when we come home?”
“I don’t know.” Chloe blinked, looked to Brendan for confirmation.
“Give me her number,” he said. “I’ll talk to her, see how she feels about the situation.”
“All right. I know she needs the money, so if it’s possible, I’d prefer not to cut her time. It’s hard to find a reliable sitter like her.” Chloe scribbled the number on a pad by the phone and handed it to him. “Have a good day, Kyle,” she said, brushing her lips against the top of his head.
“Aw, Mom,” he complained, obviously embarrassed in front of the watching men. “We’re gonna be fine.”
“Of course you are.” She drew a coat out of the closet, slid it on, picked up her purse and took a last look at her kids.
Brendan wanted to reassure her that they’d be fine, but he couldn’t. Nobody knew what today held for each of them. He could only ask God to protect them from whatever threat was out there. While the other agents got to know their charges, he and Chloe left the house.
“We’ll take my vehicle,” he told her as they stepped outside. “I’d prefer it if you put yours inside your garage. Duncan had it returned.”
She stared at him for a moment then nodded. “Okay.” Once she’d driven the van into the space and closed the garage door, they walked to his SUV. Brendan held the door, waited while she seated herself and fastened the seat belt.
“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with your van,” he told her once they were moving down the street. “It’s just that I know exactly how this one handles.” In case I need to make some quick moves. He glanced sideways, realized he needn’t have been so careful. From the tight pinch of her lips, Chloe understood exactly what he hadn’t said.
“Don’t you usually work a twelve-hour shift?” he asked.
“Usually. But I’ve put in a lot of overtime recently and my boss doesn’t like paying overtime. He told me to come in late today so I’ll only work eight hours.”
Brendan made a mental note to check that out. Maybe her boss knew something about last night and that’s why he’d suggested she come in later. It was tenuous but he would check out everything.
“You look good in white,” he told her sincerely. “I notice you don’t opt for the colored uniforms like some of the others.”
She made a face. “I had a very sour teacher when I did my practical work,” she explained. “Ms. Hartwig left an indelible impression on my brain about the virtues of white uniforms and fighting the germ battle. I did have a couple of blue uniforms a while ago but didn’t like them. I guess I’m too old to change. Besides, the white ones were on sale.”
“You’re not that old,” he argued, surprised when she laughed. “Okay, how old are you?”
“You’re not supposed to ever ask a woman her age,” she countered as a tiny smile lifted the edges of her lips. “Didn’t your mother teach you that?”
“You obviously don’t know my mother well.” Brendan found himself waiting for the grin, enjoying the sparkle in her blue eyes. “Fiona uses every chance she gets to tell the world how hard it is for a woman of fifty-seven to have two grown sons and no grandchildren. Not that it stops her from buying every noisy toy on the market—because it doesn’t. She’s got closets full of toys and is just waiting to dump them on Quinn or me, whichever of us produces a child first.”
“She sounds wonderful.” Like a mother, Chloe wanted to say.
“She is. And I’m lucky to have her, I know that. It’s just that her constant reminders about grandchildren wear a little thin sometimes. I’m only twenty-nine. I’m not collecting any old-age checks yet.”
“Twenty-nine,” Chloe repeated, a smile twitching at her mouth. “A mere babe.”
“As compared to what? Thirty? Thirty-one?”
Her smile expanded to a full blown grin.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. You’re very kind to say it, but I know you’re just being polite.”
“Okay, this has gone on long enough. Exactly how old are you Methuselah—er, Chloe?” He turned the SUV into the staff parking area and pulled into a spot. After shutting off the engine, Brendan tilted his head to stare at her. “Well?”
“Thirty-four, if you must know.” Her voice held a bit of a challenge.
“Oh, no!” He held his hand against his heart, pretended to be faint. “Five whole years older than me—actually four-and-a-half because my birthday’s coming up. Should I go get a wheelchair?”
She tossed him an exasperated glance, reached for the door handle. “I think my life experience in those four years makes me ages older than you.”
He stopped her by the simple expedient of placing his hand on her arm. “No way,” he insisted, holding her gaze with his own. “I’ve seen things, done things that would turn you grey. So forget about the superiority gig. I’m not buying. Don’t open that door,” he warned softly.
Her eyebrows rose. “Why?”
“Just stay put.” He completed a quick survey that told him nothing looked out of place. Brendan climbed out of his vehicle and walked around to her side while noting every detail of the lot. “Here we go.” He opened her door, reached out to help her down.
Chloe scorned his hand. “I’m not that old.” Her cheeks felt hot.
He tried to
suppress his laughter, seriously tried. But it was impossible.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded, walking beside him into the building.
“You. One minute you’re mature and experienced, the next minute you’re too young to need any help. Okay, little girl, what’s the routine?”
She explained as they rode up to her floor. Brendan memorized the schedule she’d work then planted his butt on a chair near the nursing station. When she went into a room, he went, too. When Chloe went for supplies, lunch and coffee, he followed. He teased her patients unmercifully. He kidded and joked with the rest of the staff. It was fun—for him.
“They’re all speculating about us now,” she hissed around 3:00 p.m. “Can’t you just sit there and quietly watch? No one’s going to attack me here.”
He lifted one eyebrow, hoping to remind her that someone already had. “I have to do my job, you have to do yours. Don’t worry, I won’t get in your way.”
If she only knew his jollity was a facade for the despair he’d always felt in hospitals. Brendan found it doubly hard to be cheerful every time he looked at the mayor, lying unconscious in that bed. Someone was trying to kill Maxwell Vance and he knew they weren’t about to give up yet.
By the end of Chloe’s day, Brendan was bone weary. Perhaps it was from watching her so closely; perhaps it was because this was not his usual line of work. Or perhaps it was the reminder that kept bubbling up from his brain that Madison and Kyle’s future depended on him keeping Chloe safe.
“You’re sure Mrs. Mills doesn’t mind?” she asked, repeating an earlier question he’d dodged.
“Actually, she wasn’t able to make it today.”
Chloe frowned. “Why?”
He debated how to tell her that the woman who had charge of her children didn’t want to be involved. One look at her face and Brendan knew he owed her the truth.
“I’m not asking her to be involved,” she insisted, her mouth pressed into a tight line. “I’m asking her to watch out for my kids.” After a moment she heaved a sigh. “I guess there’s nothing I can do about that now. At least I’m thankful they’re not alone.”
“I know it’s hard,” he soothed, wishing he could catch this guy and free her from the worry. “But hopefully it won’t take long.”
“Why do you say that? Did you see some sign of him today?”
He shook his head wishing he hadn’t put it quite that way. “No, I just meant he can’t hide forever. This is Colorado Springs, after all. Not New York City.”
“Sam said I was supposed to sign a statement today.”
“He’ll show up. I briefed him this morning.”
“Oh.” She said nothing more as he drove her home and pulled into the driveway. Brendan recognized the man walking down the block as one of their agents. He paused a moment, received a thumbs-up and continued toward the house. Chloe sorted through the mail left in her box.
“I was really hoping Steve would have sent Kyle a note,” she told him when he asked what she was looking for. “They were supposed to do something together on the weekend. Kyle will be furious if he cancels again. Maybe this is it. It’s addressed to me.” She tore open the envelope, slid out a piece of paper.
Half-turned to scan the street, Brendan barely caught her swift intake of surprise. He whirled around, stared at the piece of paper she’d dropped.
I’m watching you.
Without thinking, he hurried Chloe into the house, sent another agent to recover the paper, snatched the envelope from her hand using a tissue.
Somehow this guy had gotten to her despite their precautions. Proof positive that he was not going away.
Chapter Eight
“You’re sure this is okay?” Chloe glanced around the soccer field.
“Stick close to the agents,” Brendan told her quietly. “Don’t go anywhere without them. It’s unlikely he’d show up here because there are too many people, but be careful anyway.”
“Okay.” She took her place on the bleachers and pretended that she felt safe, secure. It wasn’t true. At home, with Brendan nearby, she felt moderately protected. Out here she felt vulnerable.
“Second to last practice before our big game,” Brendan told the team. “I want to go through each of our plays, make sure we’re working solidly together. That okay with you, Coach?”
“Makes sense to me, Coach.” Buddy Jeffers nodded, stepping back to let Brendan take the lead.
“Your daughter’s pretty good,” Agent Darcy murmured when Madison took possession and tucked the ball down the field for the third time. “She’s got a real feel for the game.”
“She loves it,” Chloe told her, smiling as her daughter cheered for her teammates, who worked a maneuver to steal the ball.
“You’re fortunate with your kids. I’ve seen a lot of single-parent families whose kids aren’t half as sweet as these. No wonder Brendan’s always talking about them.”
“He is?” Chloe blinked, surprised by the information. “I didn’t know.”
“Oh, yeah. You’d think they were his own the way he goes on. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you, but he’s ordered a bag for Kyle.”
“A bag?” She glanced down the field at her son standing on the sidelines of Madison’s team, prepared to do whatever Brendan told him to.
“A boxing bag. Bren thinks the boy has some buried anger that needs an outlet. They were talking one night. When Kyle found out Brendan got those muscles from working out with a bag, he was really impressed. Next thing I heard Brendan on the phone, ordering one.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say.
“You’re not upset, are you? Brendan didn’t mean anything. It’s just that he can’t help trying to help. He’s got a big heart, that guy.”
“Yes, he does,” Chloe agreed, watching as the FBI agent in question tousled her son’s hair and accepted the water bottle he was handed. “I don’t know how we can ever thank you and your coworkers for looking after us so well.”
“No thanks needed. It’s our job.” Darcy leaned forward, tapped the agent in front of her on the shoulder. “Check out three o’clock,” Chloe heard her whisper.
“Hello.” A vivacious redheaded woman climbed up to face Chloe, her perfectly coiffed hair glistening in the sunshine. “I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Fiona Montgomery. I thought I’d come and see what my son has been up to. I’ve been back three days and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him, which is highly unusual given my apple pie.”
“My fault, I’m afraid.” Chloe nodded. “And yes, I remember you. Your son coaches my daughter Madison’s soccer team. The boy in blue running beside Brendan is my son Kyle.”
“Really.” Fiona scanned Chloe from the top of her head to her sneaker-clad feet. “You’re a lovely woman, my dear.” She twisted to survey the field, found Brendan and waved. “Very lovely. And you have children. Now isn’t that interesting?” She wiggled into the seat beside Chloe, grinned at her. “I’ve heard about you.”
“From whom?” Chloe recalled some talk she’d overheard about Fiona Montgomery that claimed she was a bit of a gossip.
“Oh, lots of people. You’re a nurse, right?”
“Yes.”
“Such a noble occupation. Not like mine. Running a café isn’t at all noble. Mostly it’s hard work. But I love it.”
“I’ve heard about the Stagecoach Café. Your food has a reputation.”
“A good one, I hope. Excuse me.” Fiona giggled, then reached into her pocket for the ringing cell phone. “Yes, I’m here. Seven cheesecakes? But they should have ordered ahead of time. All right, on my way.” She stuffed the phone back in her jacket and grinned at Chloe. “Not a moment to myself. If this keeps up I’ll need another cruise soon.”
Chloe didn’t know what to say to that so she remained silent.
“I must go, my dear. But please do tell Brendan to call me. Tell him I said he’s to bring you and the youngsters to the café and I’ll treat you all to huge pieces of my apple pie,
with ice cream. He’s a glutton for apple pie, but I suppose you know that already.”
Chloe grinned and nodded.
“Yes, well, leopards can’t change their spots. Not that I’d want him to, of course. Brendan is his own man and I’m proud of that. Nice to see you again, dear. Bye.” She fluttered a hand, then was off across the field, punching holes in the grass with her fashionable heels.
Chloe stared at the sky. Fiona sparkled with life, embraced everyone around her in that same excited glow. The Montgomery and Vance families were well-known for their close ties, but until this moment Chloe hadn’t realized just how close Brendan was to his mother. She thought of her own father, whom she hadn’t seen since he’d walked out on them. She compared total disinterest in both her and his grandchildren with Fiona’s intrinsic curiosity. Fiona wouldn’t be blasé about her grandchildren. In fact, Brendan had said she could hardly wait, that she bought toys in anticipation.
“Is anything wrong?”
She blinked, found Brendan’s face mere inches from her own. “What?”
“We finished the practice. I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages. You didn’t respond. I wondered if something was wrong.” He twisted to scan the area then returned his stare to her. “Did you see something?”
Chloe shook her head, rose and accepted his helping hand as she climbed down from the bleachers. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Then it must have been my mother.” He kept her hand in his when they reached the ground, where he stared into her face.
“In a way. I was just thinking how nice it must be for you to have her nearby.” She followed him to the parking area where Kyle and Madison waited with Darcy and Fergus. “She said to stop by and she’d feed us apple pie, with ice cream.”
“She invited you and the kids to the Stagecoach, did she? Bribery. I might have known. That woman will never change.”
“What do you mean?” She matched her steps to his, curious about the resigned look that had washed over his face.
“My mother,” he confessed staring at his feet, “is matchmaking.”
