by Liz Johnson
“How long have you been here?”
Jeremy glanced at his watch. “Not long. A couple of hours.”
She couldn’t contain the snicker that came out of her mouth. “What have you been doing for a couple of hours?”
“Thinking mostly.”
“About what?”
His lips pursed to the side, his eyes narrowing. “Just wondering what brought that helicopter down.”
She stared directly into his eyes, wondering if they were thinking the same things about the crash. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t heard Kit’s last words, so how could they be? But what if he had other information? He’d probably seen the helicopter after the crash. He was looking into the reasons behind it. Maybe he could be useful.
The leg in the brace spasmed violently beneath her blanket, reminding her of her own weakness. But it didn’t matter. She was going to find out what happened, what caused her sister’s death. After all, Heather had done nothing during the crash to save her sister. She’d been useless. And Kit deserved more than that. Solving this case was Heather’s only way to begin making up for that failure.
What if she stayed away from the investigation like Nate had ordered and they never found out why Kit had lost her life? What if they lost crucial time thinking it was nothing more than an accident? What if they never named a true culprit?
Heather couldn’t live with herself if she let that happen. And the only way to make sure it didn’t was to do her own investigating. Kit was too important to leave it up to someone Heather didn’t know.
“How much do you know about the crash?” He looked around the room, trying to keep from meeting her gaze, so she pushed again. “I’m a big girl. I deserve to know the truth, don’t you think?”
A little wobble of his head followed his shrug. Still not looking into her eyes, he said, “My contact at the FAA says it looks like the wires to the cyclic were disengaged.”
“The cyclic?”
“The joystick-type thing that controls the helicopter. It’s called a cyclic, and the wires to it appeared to be partially severed.”
The pilot had said something about the cyclic losing power, hadn’t he? Apparently Jeremy knew about helicopters, and he had a contact with the FAA. Two things she didn’t have. Yes, he could definitely be useful.
But how to get him to share his information? The sheriff’s office probably wouldn’t like an FBI agent poking around in the case…especially since she didn’t actually have authorization from the FBI to investigate.
She choked on an unexpected breath, at the memory of Nate’s last words to her. She was supposed to let Deputy Latham and the FAA do the investigating on this case.
Not likely.
That was her sister who had been buried. And she wasn’t going to back away quietly. No matter what Nate said.
He just didn’t need to know. Which meant he didn’t need to know about the attack by the homeless man either. He’d go into overprotective mode and insist on having her guarded around the clock. She’d never get any investigating done that way.
“What are you thinking about the crash? Do you think those wires were cut on purpose? Was the chopper sabotaged?” she finally asked.
As though she hadn’t asked the last questions, he said, “I’m wondering why that homeless man was in here. Targeting you.”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
“Did he say anything?”
Heather dove into the foggy recesses of her mind until she could see and almost smell the man next to her bed. His lips moved, but what had he said? “Put the tube in the line. Get the fix.”
“Put the tube in the line? Get the fix? As in put the tube of drugs in your IV line and he’d get a fix?”
“His hands were shaking really badly. He had to have been in withdrawal. Someone must have told him that if he gave me the overdose, they would get him more drugs.”
Jeremy nodded in agreement. “That sounds about right.”
A coughing fit caught her off guard, and she wrapped her arms around her middle. The searing pain in her shoulder as she tried to reach for the water cup on her bedside table made her groan, and Jeremy jumped to help her.
“Here. Drink this.” He pressed the straw to her lips, and she gulped greedily. His hands belonged to someone who worked hard, and she studied his knuckles, worn and weathered. “Better?” he asked, pulling the straw away, but keeping it at the ready in case she needed another swallow.
“I think so.” She only managed a mumble, angry with her inability to care for herself. Her knee throbbed, and suddenly she ached all over. Bruises that she’d successfully ignored until now screamed at her. And her brain nearly mutinied under the pressure that was growing beneath her temples.
What if she couldn’t do it? What if she couldn’t figure out what had happened? What if she physically could not bring the person responsible for Kit’s death to justice?
If she couldn’t solve the case, she didn’t deserve to be an FBI agent. And she certainly didn’t deserve to be part of her family. A family still in mourning.
Until she brought justice to Kit’s killer, she didn’t deserve to grieve. And if she never grieved, her heart might never heal.
Latham had leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful, arms folded across his chest. His eyes seemed to look right through her, focused on an unseen target. Heather recognized the look on his face. She’d seen it from Nate and Myles, another FBI coworker. She’d probably even made it herself a few times. He was solving a case deep in his mind.
And if she didn’t join him, she’d fall too far behind to ever take the lead.
With a bum leg and strict orders to steer clear of the investigation, cutting herself off from most of her resources, she’d never crack the case on her own. At least with him, she’d have access to all of his connections, research and mobility.
And he needed her. Needed her insight into Kit, and what she said after the helicopter went down. They could help each other.
Suddenly she wanted to tell Latham everything she knew. Tell him about the crash and Kit’s worries. Tell him that she knew the helicopter going down wasn’t an accident. But what if he wasn’t willing to help her? What if he didn’t want an injured agent trailing after him for weeks or maybe months? She had to get his word, had to get him to agree.
Swallowing thickly, she closed her eyes for a moment. “There’s more,” she said.
“What is it?” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, an eager light filling his eyes.
“First I have to get your word that you’ll help me.”
His eyebrows clenched together, and he sat back into his chair. “Are you in trouble?”
“Not the way that you mean. My sister died in that crash.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
Heather swallowed again, the sound seeming to fill the whole room. “I owe it to her to see this investigation through. I need to know what happened, I need to know who’s responsible.”
His face relaxed. “Sure. I’ll keep you in the loop every step.”
“That’s not enough. I want to be at the front of the investigation.”
He glanced at the enormous brace covering her leg, and when his gaze lifted, his eyes filled with bewilderment as he let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re kidding, right? How could you possibly be on the ground investigating? You’re not exactly mobile.”
“I know,” she conceded. “That’s why I’ll need your help. You could help me get around, take me whenever you’re going to be looking into anything related to the crash. In exchange, I’ll give you all the details from the crash, and tell you anything you want to know about my sister.”
“So you think the crash had something to do with your sister?”
“I’m sure of it.” She reached out to touch him, ignoring the sting in her shoulder. His forearm jumped when her fingers brushed the dark hairs growing there. “I can help you. I need to help you.”
He scrubbe
d open palms over his face, eyes still squinting. “No. You need to be at home recovering. You’ve been through a traumatic experience. I get that.”
“No, you don’t! What would you do if it was your sister?” Desperation made her voice jump half an octave, and she took a calming breath.
His nose wrinkled as he took a deep breath as well. Something like regret flickered across his face and disappeared in an instant. “I understand. Please trust me. I do. But this isn’t healthy for you, physically or emotionally. You need to recuperate. Do something to keep your mind off your sister.”
“Like helping you with the investigation.”
His shoulders rose and fell, but the sigh was silent. “Like reading a book.”
“Please. I can help you. I have information that might be helpful.”
Frown lines crinkled around his eyes. “You know I could arrest you for hindering an ongoing investigation if you don’t tell me what you know, if you don’t share with me whatever it is that makes you so sure this crash was about your sister.”
“I know. But I also know that you need me. And I need you.”
He stood, pacing the small room with purposeful strides. “I just don’t know.” He sighed, running long fingers through his hair. Head bowed, he turned slightly to look at her.
“I know what I’m asking. I know it won’t be easy. For either of us. But I have to do this for my sister. And you need the information that I have. Besides, when I tell you what I know, I think you’re going to have a bigger case than you realize.”
“But you’ve just been through major surgery.”
“I’m also a special agent with the FBI. I can handle this. I won’t slow you down. Much.”
“Why don’t you just ask your friends in the Bureau to get involved?” he asked. “I bet they’d work with you. Give you the information you want. Help you launch your own investigation.”
“I can’t.” She couldn’t hold his gaze when she continued. “My Special Agent in Charge told me to rest. He ordered me to stay out of it.”
Latham’s face turned smug. “Smart guy. Listen to him.”
She squinted at him, praying that he would understand her heart in just that moment. She’d been broken. This was her only hope at healing. “You know I can’t. Let me help you. We’ll solve this case together.”
He remained silent for several moments, running his palms over his cheeks and stretching his facial skin. Finally he nodded. “All right. Tell me what you know.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat and pushing the pain in her heart to the side, Heather said, “Kit was a Deputy D.A. here in Portland. She handled some pretty major cases.”
“I know.”
“After the chopper crashed, Kit was still conscious.” Jeremy suddenly looked very interested. Sliding back into the plastic chair, he leaned closer. “She told me—” Heather swallowed thickly again, blinking away the moisture threatening to pool in the corners of her eyes. “Just before she died, she told me…to follow the drugs.”
“What drugs?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe she was getting ready to prosecute a case involving drugs. But whatever drugs she was talking about, she believed they had something to do with the crash. She was convinced of it or she wouldn’t have said anything. I’m sure of it.”
“So you think the chopper was tampered with to cause a crash to kill your sister so she couldn’t prosecute this case?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, but his face remained unreadable. “What about you? Do you think that poisoning attack with the IV was connected to Kit’s case?”
“Well, it could be a coincidence that a guy stumbled into my hospital room and tried to kill me with a mess of street drugs while talking about getting his own fix just five days after I almost died in a crash—a crash that killed my sister, who believed the reason behind the crash was illegal drugs.”
“But…”
“But I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Me, neither.” His eyes turned a softer shade of brown, and he squeezed her hand. “You’re in some serious trouble.”
THREE
“Mom, I’m fine. Really. You can take off. Nora is going to come by and check on me every day after work.”
“But what about during the day? What if you need something? Shouldn’t I stay a little longer?”
Heather looked into green eyes so much like Kit’s, and a pang of sadness shot through her stomach. She almost dropped the half smile she’d pasted on her face. Reaching for her mom’s hand, she squeezed it gently. “I’m okay. I have crutches to get around the apartment. A couple kids from the church youth group are going to pick up food and groceries for me. There’s really nothing else I need. I’m really glad that you came, but you have a life back in Sacramento.”
And I have a case to solve.
Her mom’s gray hair bobbed around her ears, as she gave her oldest daughter a solid once-over. “I wish your dad didn’t have to get back to the base to get his unit ready to deploy. He’d talk you into letting us stay.”
The corner of Heather’s mouth lifted slowly. “No he wouldn’t. He’d tell you that you raised a tough girl and that I’ll never get better if you coddle me.”
Her mom nodded and chuckled. “You’re probably right.”
Heather’s eyes locked with her mom’s, and she squeezed the older woman’s hand. “I love you. Both of you.”
“We love you, too, sweetie.” Her mom leaned down to kiss the top of Heather’s head, softly patting her hair. “If you need me, just call. I don’t mind coming back. Whatever you need.”
“Have a safe flight. Thanks!” Heather called from her seat on the couch, just before her mom disappeared behind the closed door. Her leg propped on the cushions beside her and head resting on the back of the sofa, she stared at the ceiling. She’d been home from the hospital just two days, but already the walls were beginning to close in.
She had to get out of the condo and start working on the case. Thinking about Kit’s killer walking around free was driving her crazy. The trouble was she hadn’t heard from Jeremy since he’d agreed to help her.
Apparently she was going to have to make the first move. Reaching for her phone, she nearly rolled off the couch when it rang at ear-piercing volume before she touched it. Apparently her mom thought her injury also made her deaf.
“Sloan.”
“Well, that’s some greeting,” said the voice on the other end of the line.
“Nate? What’s going on?”
Her supervisor’s tone was a little too light when he said, “Just calling to check on you. Nora said I have to make sure that you’re doing okay, especially since your mom left today.”
“She’s been gone literally five minutes. I’m fine.” She sounded grumpier than she meant to, but something told her he wasn’t just calling to check in. “Now spill it. Why’d you really call?”
In typical Nate fashion, he switched topics the moment the questions were directed at him. “I talked with personnel today. You’re going to have to be inactive with the Bureau for anywhere from six weeks to three months.”
“Three months! You’re kidding, right?” He was teasing. He had to be. There was no way she could spend three months on the couch. At least she’d have time to wrap up Kit’s case.
“Sorry, kid. It might only be a few weeks, but you’ll have to do a lot of physical therapy and then be cleared by the doctor to be reinstated.”
But what if the case wrapped up in just a few weeks? How would she fill her three months then? “Can’t I at least get behind a desk? I can still do paperwork. I have two fully—well, mostly—functioning arms. I can write reports. Do research. Man the phones. Whatever you need. I just can’t sit on a couch for that long.”
“I know this isn’t any fun. It’s not fun for me either. I’m going to have to put up with the coffee that Myles or James makes for who knows how long. That’s just rotten. I may even have to go out looking for a new barista agent for t
he office just to get some good joe.”
Heather knew her laugh was exactly what he wanted, but she couldn’t hold it back. “Or you could make your own coffee.”
“What’s the point of being the SAC if I have to make it myself?”
Just in case they were on the edge of getting too familiar, every so often, Nate would throw out a reminder that he was the Special Agent in Charge of the Portland office. “As always, excellent point, sir.”
“Nice try. No amount of brownnosing is going to get you behind a desk any sooner.” He paused, and she could almost see his face turning serious. “Just take care of yourself, okay? Lay low. Get some rest, and get healed. We need you back in the office. Functioning at a hundred percent.”
“Sure. Okay.” Or not so much.
“I’m serious, Sloan.” His tone took on a quality not unlike her mom’s angry voice.
“Yes, sir. I’ll keep my head down and I won’t take any unnecessary chances with my health.” And that’s the truth. Any risks I take to find Kit’s killer are entirely necessary.
“Good. Nora will be by tonight. She broke our date to make sure you’re okay. I hope you appreciate the pain that I’m going through so my fiancée can check up on you.”
She chuckled again before hanging up. She could feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at her. The drugs made her so groggy, but she couldn’t seem to sleep soundly. Maybe a nap would help.
Immediately her phone rang again, and she nearly chucked it across the room, which would have been torture to retrieve. Fumbling it between stiff fingers, she managed to flip it back open. “Yes?” she said, nearly out of breath.
“Heather?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Latham—sorry—Jeremy.”
“Do you have any news?”
He paused for a moment, and she thought she could hear a voice coming through the radio in his car. “I just got a call from my friend Tony with the Portland P.D. He thinks there may be a body in the morgue that’s of interest to us.”
