by Cara Putman
“Looks like we lost them.” He settled back against the seat, but Hayden noticed his gaze kept moving between the mirrors.
She tried to relax, but her neck had knotted again.
“Who would follow us?”
“I don’t know. Could be whoever’s harassing me.”
Hayden nodded. “No one knew I was with you.” How could they? She hadn’t known until an hour before they boarded. Her phone beeped at her, and she pulled it out. A voice mail from work? Why call hours after the working day ended?
She rubbed her forehead and temples. It could wait until she was in the privacy of her town house. “Have you tried Emilie since we landed?”
“Still nothing.”
“She must have let her phone die.” She would believe that until she didn’t have a choice. Then a thought crept over her. What if the article on Miguel’s murder had caught the wrong person’s attention? She started ticking through the times she’d felt like her home or work offices had been disrupted. Then there was Gerard’s office destruction a week ago and Angela’s termination. Add in Gerard’s client visit and “accident,” and Hayden felt the urgency building. His death was anything but an accident, and when you added in her rental’s brake failure, it felt like a sinister force was out to keep her from this case. Something bigger was happening, and she didn’t know what, why—or if it had swept up Emilie as well.
“Ease up, Hayden.”
She startled and looked at Andrew. “What?”
“You’re about to push through the floorboard. This vehicle might not be much, but I like it.”
Hayden glanced down at her feet. “Sorry.” She pushed out a breath and forced her attention to him. “You asked about harassment earlier. I’d like to help if I can.”
He shrugged while keeping his gaze locked away. Then he seemed to reach a decision. “Someone’s threatening to reveal my other job, and people I care about will be hurt.”
“Your other job?”
He ignored her question. “I’ve spent two weeks tracking them. I can’t even tell you what part of the country they live in, but they must be good with a computer.”
Hayden thought about that. Often her biggest worries involved the unknown, but maybe it could feel smaller if she helped him attack the problem. “What’s the biggest harm that comes from this revelation?”
“My father might lose his appointment to the Senate.”
The extremeness of the reaction got her attention. She studied the profile of the man she’d come to respect and considered what she knew about him. His actions earlier at the detention center had confirmed he fiercely defended those he knew. Their time at the Cherry Blossom Festival had revealed a different side, and his work on the kids’ festival showed his desire to improve lives in even small ways. None of those seemed designed to create the extreme reaction of resigning. “The congressman should be fiercely proud of the work you do. What could you do that has those consequences?”
Andrew briefly glanced at her. “Do you read the op-ed page?”
“In the newspaper?” Hayden shook her head. “If it’s not easily seen on my phone or computer, I don’t pay much attention.”
“Unfortunately, the people that matter aren’t like you. They start their days on the op-ed page and work around the paper from there.” He thumped the steering wheel a couple times, then blew out a breath. “I’m political cartoonist Roger Walters.”
Hayden stared at him blankly. “Sorry, who?”
“I draw a weekly political cartoon that’s syndicated to papers around the country, including one of the big Washington papers.” Andrew slowed as a light turned yellow. “I’ve used the pseudonym since college, but someone’s figured it out and plans to reveal my identity Monday. They’ve e-mailed, texted, and called me for two weeks, and I can’t ID them. My editor assures me no one at the paper said anything, and I’ve talked to the few friends who know my alter ego.”
“I’m sorry.” Hayden could see from Andrew’s clenched jaw and tight stance that this was incredibly important to him. “Help me understand why this would be a terrible thing.”
“These cartoons are my way of telling the world what I think about politics. The ridiculousness of it, the parts that are inane. This week I drew the caricature of my dad that accompanied a profile piece.”
“In the Washington Post? I saw that cartoon, it was good.”
“Sure, but do you think my dad liked it? He thinks I quit cartooning back in college. And he’s never understood why drawing was important to me. In fact, he ordered me to give it up.”
Hayden got it. It was hard when parents couldn’t understand an important part of your life. “So why didn’t you?”
“It gave me a voice and an outlet.” He glanced at her as he took the King Street exit and headed toward Old Town.
“But why would this be catastrophic for your dad? It’s not as though you’ve done something illegal or immoral.”
“He’ll be publicly humiliated.” He groaned. “My parents keep up the image of the perfect family, but it’s far from the reality. I was mostly raised by nannies, with the occasional parental appearance.”
Silence settled over the car until Hayden pointed to the cloverleaf of grass on the off-ramp. “One time I saw a couple deer in that space. It scared me to death. What on earth were deer doing in the middle of an urban area two hundred feet from a major interstate?” She placed a hand on his arm and felt him stiffen.
“Not all of us fit the normal molds, Andrew. This is an important part of who you are. Your parents love you.” He snorted, but she pressed on. “They might not show it well, but all parents love their kids. They just do. They’ll understand—but you should tell your dad before he finds out from someone else.”
Andrew’s jaw clenched even tighter.
“Take the proactive stance. Beat whoever is threatening you to the announcement. If your cartoons are as popular as it sounds, a lot of people would be interested in knowing the man behind the pencil.”
“Pen. I use a pen.”
“Exactly.” She smiled at him. “They will be fascinated by the process, and knowing who you are will make your cartoons more important. People will value your perspective and what you have to say.”
He nodded, then slowed to a stop at a stoplight and glanced her way. “You might be right. It would be best if he heard it from me.”
“Think about it. Pray about it. Don’t they always say the best defense is a good offense? Take away the power of revealing you.”
He turned back to the road and pushed out a breath. “I’ll call my editor tonight. We could get the word out Saturday.” He moved his head from side to side as if loosening the tension in his neck. “I’ve spent two weeks wondering when I’d get the next call or text. Not knowing who’s behind this makes it hard to fight back.”
“So don’t fight. Just bring it all into the light.”
Justice tended to work better when everything was out in the open.
CHAPTER 42
Andrew executed a couple turns, then pulled in front of her town house. The brick facade had never looked better. She turned to open the Jeep’s door, only to see Andrew was already there and opening it. All looked quiet in the dark, but her stomach still clenched as she wondered if Emilie waited inside.
Hayden accepted Andrew’s hand as she stepped out of the Jeep, warmth flooding her at his chivalrous gesture. She glanced around the street, but didn’t see Emilie’s car. That in itself didn’t concern her; sometimes they parked a block or two away and walked to the house. She hurried up the sidewalk, her Wonder Woman key ring clutched in her hand. The soft scent of her neighbor’s dogwood perfumed the air as she fit the key into the lock.
Before she could turn the key, the door eased open.
“Em?”
Only the echo of her voice responded as unease slithered up her spine.
Hayden slipped into the living area and set down her attaché case. Her heels tapped across the floor as she ente
red the kitchen. The marble countertops were clean, with none of the telltale piles of chaos Emilie usually left. Hayden poked her head out the back door to confirm that her roommate wasn’t stargazing at the patio table.
Andrew took the stairs to Emilie’s space and Hayden followed, her heart climbing her throat.
“Emilie, are you all right?”
Silence.
The stillness felt eerie. Unnatural. If Emilie were here, she’d have one of the Fab Four playing on her speakers, not loud enough to bother Hayden, but loud enough to fill her rooms. Hayden flipped on a light and called again. “Em? You’re worrying me . . .”
Andrew muttered a soft curse as he stepped into the bedroom. “Someone’s trashed the room.”
Hayden glanced in. In addition to the piles of clothes on the floor, books had been tossed from bookshelves around the room.
“Oh, Em.” Hayden wrapped her arms around her middle but couldn’t stop the chill seeping through her. “I should check upstairs.”
When she reached her office, the mess in Emilie’s room seemed tidy by comparison. Every piece of paper had been pulled out and tossed on the floor, her books thrown on top. Her bedroom was in similar shape; even her mattress was flipped off the box spring and sitting cockeyed on the bedframe.
Andrew’s arm snaked around her, and she sank against him as he pulled out his phone. “911? I have a crime to report.”
Hayden shivered on her front stoop as a police vehicle pulled up in front of the town house without sirens or blazing lights. Andrew paced in the small front yard.
He strode toward her and joined her as the officers stepped from the vehicle. The one on the passenger side had a hand on her service revolver and studied them cautiously. The one by the driver’s door spoke first.
“We had a 911 call regarding a possible home invasion and missing person.”
Andrew nodded. “I called it in. My cousin is missing and someone searched her rooms.”
“I’m Hayden McCarthy, I live here. The front door was unlocked and open when I got home half an hour ago, and my roommate’s car isn’t here.” Hayden rubbed her arms. “I’m really worried.”
The officers moved from the car and stalked up the walk. The driver stuck his hand out. “I’m Officer John Stanfield. Have you checked the house?”
“Yes. We did a quick search.”
Officer Stanfield kept a sharp eye on them, stance loose yet alert. “Explain again why you called us?” He wasn’t rude, just efficient.
“We’ve been away all day, and my roommate left us both lots of messages and texts. Now she’s not here and the house is trashed.” Hayden forced herself to stop, take a breath, and try to collect her thoughts. She had stood in front of juries, for goodness’ sake, she could do this.
Andrew stepped toward her. “Her name is Emilie Wesley, and she’s also my cousin. She’s an investigative reporter and an attorney who works with domestic violence victims.”
“Okay.” The officer jotted a note.
Hayden unclasped her hands. “She was nervous about reactions to a story she wrote.”
Andrew placed his arm around her shoulders. “The disaster in her room and Hayden’s worries me. Add in the way the front door wasn’t locked or shut, and something happened to my cousin.”
“I’ve tried to reach her since we got back in town.” Should Hayden mention they were followed from the airport? It only mattered if Emilie was somehow involved in something Andrew was working on. Her thoughts swirled in a muddied mix. How could Andrew be tied to Miguel’s murder? Because that was the only way everything fit. Andrew had been at the detention center, but he didn’t know about Miguel before the ride to the airport.
“Did you touch anything?”
Hayden shook her head. “We were careful to leave everything as we found it.”
“All right. Wait here with Officer Thompson, and I’ll do a sweep.” Officer Stanfield squared his shoulders and, after exchanging a look with his partner, headed inside. His footsteps echoed as his partner pulled out a slim notebook.
Hayden sank onto the front stoop and buried her face in her hands. Lord, help us find Emilie and have a good laugh over our worry.
Officer Thompson opened her notebook to a blank page and looked at Hayden. “Mind repeating your concerns for me?”
A niggle of unease pricked Hayden as she retold what she’d said.
“Thompson, get in here.” The abrupt bark seemed to startle the officer as much as it jolted Hayden.
“Stay here.”
The minutes ticked by as Andrew and Hayden lingered outside the front door. Within fifteen minutes the original two police officers had been joined by four more, their squad cars filling the narrow brick street. None of them paid her any attention as they hurried downstairs, two carrying bags.
Every episode of NCIS, CSI, and Law & Order she’d ever watched filled her mind. What could the officers think they’d find?
Her phone rang, and she jumped. She scrambled to pull it out, and saw Emilie’s name on the ID. “Hello?”
Nothing but silence reached her ear. “Emilie? Can you hear me?”
Andrew, standing next to her, grabbed the phone. “Em, where are you?”
A moment later he grunted. “She’s not answering.” He hurried toward the stairs, and Hayden followed in time to see Andrew grab the nearest officer. “Hayden just got a call from Emilie’s phone, but Emilie couldn’t talk to us. Can you trace the call?”
The officer brushed Andrew off, but took the phone. “I’ll see what we can do.”
A man in plain clothes stepped up to Hayden. “I’m Detective Peter Harlan, miss. Would you both come downstairs?” He turned and made his way toward the steps without waiting to see what she’d do.
Hayden glanced at Andrew, who motioned her to follow the detective as he led the way downstairs and into Emilie’s bedroom.
Hayden had always loved the room, with its French country feel. A pale-blue loveseat sat against white walls and carpet. The bed was pushed against the far wall of the next room and covered with a creamy voile duvet. The faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air from the collection of half-burned candles that rested on a tray.
Two officers worked around the chaos of books, while another held a phone in a plastic bag.
The detective watched her closely. “When was the last time you saw Emilie?”
“Two nights ago.” Hayden waited for him to take out a notebook, jot a notation of some sort, but he simply watched her as if weighing each word. “I left town early yesterday morning and got home just before we called 911.”
“Was that the last time you talked to her?”
Hayden swallowed and tried to think. “We talked for a few minutes last night. She seemed fine, and then this morning she started leaving messages for me, but I was in meetings. I knew I’d see her tonight.”
“She did the same with me.” Andrew met the detective’s gaze. “We ran into a delay in Texas, and by the time we got a plane and were headed back, Emilie wasn’t answering my calls.”
“What were you doing in Texas?”
Hayden bit her lower lip as she considered him. “I’m an attorney. I had a deposition related to a case.”
“My father asked me to accompany him on business. Although Hayden and I were acquainted, neither of us knew that the other would show up at the same place the same day.”
Hayden found it interesting that Andrew didn’t mention who his father was in a situation where it might expedite matters.
“We put out a BOLO for your roommate,” the detective said. “I just received word she’s been found.”
Hayden almost sagged with relief. “Where is she?”
“At George Washington University Hospital.”
“The hospital?”
“She was in a car accident. I’ll have an officer drive you there.”
“What about the town house?” Should she leave while officers crawled all over the space? Could she stop them from looking
wherever they wanted? She didn’t have anything to hide, but what about Emilie? Did she have sensitive research stashed somewhere?
“A uniformed officer will be here until you return.” He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “I’ll be in touch, but if you think of anything I should be aware of . . .”
“Thank you.” A minute later she and Andrew were in the back of a squad car crossing the river. He held her hand for the minutes it took to reach the hospital and she drew strength from him. No one was at the information desk, so she and Andrew followed the signs to the emergency room, an officer trailing behind.
The stale, antiseptic aroma assaulted her, and she closed her eyes. The receptionist in the emergency room looked harried as she talked with a young woman cradling a listless toddler. Several people sat scattered across the large waiting area. None was Emilie.
CHAPTER 43
FRIDAY, APRIL 14
Andrew approached the information desk in the ER, a cold knowing filling him. “I’m here to see my cousin, Emilie Wesley.”
The elderly volunteer stared him up and down, an appraising look in his eye. “I’m guessing you don’t have proof you’re her cousin. HIPAA won’t let me tell you anything without more information.”
“I’m her only relative in town, because Congressman Wesley is traveling and Mom is at some function.”
“I’m afraid I need more than your word.”
“Sir, I’m her roommate.” Hayden gave him a sweet smile, one that Andrew wished she would turn his direction. “A police officer drove us from the town house I share with Emilie, where they are investigating a break-in that could be tied to why she’s here. Can you please let us see her and make sure she’s okay?”
“Who did you say brought you?”
“Someone with the Alexandria City force.” Hayden shot a worried look at Andrew.
