An Informal Introduction (Informal Romance Book 3)

by Heather Gray

  One of the agents advanced and held out his hand to shake. He cut an imposing figure with his tall frame and broad shoulders. His angular face sported a scar near his right eyebrow, drawing her attention to green eyes. He wasn’t a bad-looking man. He might even have been handsome were it not for the scowl. She didn’t take it personally, though. After all, he was Secret Service. A scowl was practically part of the uniform.

  Lily, already gloved up, took the offered hand. As soon as he released it, though, she removed her gloves and dropped them in the wastebasket before pulling on new ones. He quirked an eyebrow before looking at the other two agents. “Go on. Do as she says. I’ll wait till you’re back.”

  After they left, he returned his attention to her. “I’m Agent Whitehall. I’m responsible for Mr. Taylor’s safety while he’s here at the hospital.”

  Had he been in charge earlier in the day when the shooting occurred? Lily pursed her lips. Could he be trusted with her patient’s wellbeing? Surely he’d been vetted, but still… “Was it an assassination attempt?”

  Not an ounce of emotion showed on the planes of his face. “I’m not able to comment on that at this time.”

  “Why so much security for a candidate? He doesn’t even have his party’s nomination yet.”

  Without rolling his eyes, the agent gave the impression of having done just that. “Secret Service takes over security for all major candidates one hundred and twenty days prior to election. Exceptions to that rule can be made by executive order only.”

  “We’re more than a hundred and twenty days out. So executive order…” Had the president been aware of a threat against Taylor’s life? “Was he under your protection at the time of the shooting?”

  Agent Whitehall frowned and offered a brief shake of his head. “Your man here is almost a shoo-in for the Republican nomination, and if he gets that, he’ll be running against an incumbent president. It would reflect poorly on the current administration — and that president — if every reasonable measure was not taken to secure Mr. Taylor’s safety and complete recovery.”

  Of course. It was political.

  Lily shook her head and shoved her curiosity back into its box. “I don’t care about his politics, and I don’t care about yours. People coming and going from this room are strictly limited for his health. The more people in and out, the more germs he’s exposed to, the greater the chance of infection. MRSA is not something you want to play with.”

  Agent Whitehall gave her a curt nod. “Two agents are stationed outside the ICU entrance, two in the conference room, and one in the hallway outside Mr. Taylor’s room. I am the only one who will be allowed into his room. No matter what anybody else tells you, they’re not authorized to be in here.”

  “Family?”

  “Mother died years ago. Father is flying in. No wife or children. He has two brothers, but they’ll wait to hear from their dad before deciding whether or not to make the trip.”

  Hopefully the father wasn’t the overbearing type. Not that she wasn’t used to dealing with all sorts of family members, but Lily didn’t relish the thought of a high-maintenance parent in addition to her patient’s weapon-carrying shadows. She retrieved the blood pressure cuff from its hook.

  Whitehall stared her down, steel in his eyes. “You’re to speak to no one about Mr. Taylor. Not even your pet goldfish is to know you are acting as his nurse; is that understood?”

  Agent Whitehall was an intimidating specimen, but he was in her domain, and she wasn’t cowed. “If you want to stay on the unit, I suggest you go scrub in.”

  He didn’t budge.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t have a goldfish.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched.

  Caleb’s phone dragged him from his daytime slumber. He didn’t recognize the caller ID and answered with a gruff, “What?”

  “Trooper Graham?”

  Sitting up in bed and rubbing a hand roughly over his eyes, Caleb tried to make his words civil. “That’s me.”

  “This is Rick Peters down at the impound lot. We had another break-in, this time in broad daylight. Nobody saw anything, and the cameras caught squat.”

  “How do you know the place was broken into, then?”

  “I did like you suggested and requested an around-the-clock K9 presence. They went nuts. When the officer and I got to the scene, we couldn’t find anything, but the dogs were all gathered at a spot along the fence line and barking like they’d caught the scent of a juicy steak.”

  “Huh. This is different than last time, right?” Sleep was gone and Caleb was alert. The cogwheels in his mind picked up speed.

  “Yeah. Last time they cut through the fence, wrecked the cars, and made an all-out mess. This time, if not for the dogs, we’d be clueless that someone had been in here.”

  “Why call me? You think it’s related to my car? Maybe they were after something else altogether.”

  “I’ve been running this lot for more than a decade. Aside from a couple of petty attempts here and there, these are the only two break-ins I’ve ever had. That don’t say coincidence to me.”

  “Me, either.” Messy job the first time. Too tidy the second time. The break-in was hired out for the first go-round, and the amateurs made a shamble of things. Whoever paid them decided to do it himself the next time and was more careful — or skilled — at the task. The perp hadn’t been aware that dogs had been brought in, which at least meant no one at the impound lot was in his pocket.

  “All right,” Caleb said. “I’m on it.”

  “Malik, this is Caleb Graham. I was given your name as the tech-in-charge. I’m calling to check progress on a late model maroon car delivered to y’all earlier in the week.”

  “I was just reviewing the notes.” The tech’s voice came through the phone. “Are you coming down, or do you want a verbal report?”

  “Verbal’s fine.” He wanted answers; he didn’t care how he got them. “Tell me what you know.”

  “We haven’t gotten to it.”

  Caleb bit back his frustration. Why’d the guy even ask what kind of report he wanted? “You still have it, though, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Locked down tight in the garage and still sealed in plastic, but a triple homicide and two vehicular manslaughter cases are ahead of you. It’ll be a little while before we make it to your car, but it’s secure until then.”

  “There was a second break-in at the impound lot, and it’s likely that’s the car they were after. We need to figure out what the thieves want sooner rather than later.”

  Malik sighed. “You and everybody else. I’m doing the best I can.”

  Caleb decided the easiest way to accomplish something would be to get the captain on his side. He walked into the station two hours before his shift and approached her office. Captain Browning glanced up and scowled at him. “Come in.”

  After he closed the door behind him, he settled into one of the uncomfortable chairs across from her. “You know the pothole case, right?”

  She nodded.

  “The impound lot was broken into and every similar car was forced open. That one happened to be locked in a garage the thieves didn’t get to.”

  Her eyebrow moved upward in that don’t-you-dare-waste-my-time way of hers.

  “Rick runs the lot, and he went over the car on his own then again with me. We couldn’t find anything. I had it transferred to the crime lab so their techs could give it a once-over.”

  The eyebrow climbed higher. “Overstepping yourself a bit, don’t you think?”

  “Rick brought in dogs after the first break-in. He got hit again today, but the perp left no evidence and isn’t showing up on camera anywhere. The only way he knew was because the dogs went ballistic. This guy wasn’t sloppy like the last one.”

  The eyebrow lowered back to its normal resting place. “Whoever is behind this hired an amateur the first time and either hired a pro for the second go-round or decided to do it himself. Or herself.”

  Caleb ga
ve a brief nod. “I wondered if you could light a fire under the folks at the crime lab for me.”

  Captain Browning scowled. “Did the kids you caught in the car admit to anything?”

  He shook his head. “Mum’s the word. They confessed to the drugs and stealing the car, but if anything else is going on, they’re not telling. If the techs at the lab find me some leverage, I might be able to push them.”

  “Hm.” Her eyes pierced him. “Is that in your job description?”

  “I’m doing what needs to be done. Why delegate when I’m perfectly capable?” He stood.

  “Let me make some calls.”

  “Thank you, Captain. By the way, has the arson investigator learned anything?”

  Her words were a guttural growl. “Amateur arson. It’s looking less like a professional job and more like some idiot had too much to drink and exercised extremely bad judgment. Accelerant was cheap tequila you can get at any liquor store. Ignition source is in question, but they’re still working the case.”

  Caleb winced. He wasn’t sure which was worse: being the target of a planned attack or the victim of a random crime. As a cop, neither sat well, but the latter chaffed a bit more. “Does that mean I’m no longer on the suspect list?”

  “That’s outside my jurisdiction.” She gave the barest hint of a smile.

  He made a move for the door.

  “About what I said that day… That is to say, when I named suspects…”

  He’d never seen his captain at a loss for words, but he could guess what she was trying to say. “You were angry.”

  “It wasn’t rational to suspect Flannigan. I knew it at the time. I just…” Her voice broke. “What if my kids had been home?” She dropped her gaze and lined up the pens on her desktop. When she looked up again, the old captain — full of unbridled confidence — was back in place. “I’m surprised the folks at the crime lab gave you the time of day.”

  “I might have bluffed a little.”

  She still wasn’t done with him. “How is Sebastian working out?”

  “Ask me in a week.”

  He shut the door behind him and headed toward the locker room.

  “Hey, Graham, what are you doing here so early? Our shift doesn’t start for a while yet, I thought.”

  “I could say the same about you, Sebastian. Why are you here so early in the day?”

  “Eager to learn, my man. Eager to learn.”

  A quick glance at the clock told Caleb his shift was coming up sooner than he’d realized. “I’m going to step out for a bit. I’ll be back in time for roll call.”

  He jogged out to his truck and drove the half mile down the road to a deli he’d found. After he’d ordered, his fingers flew across the keys, pulling up Lily’s number as he sat down to wait for his order.

  Her voicemail kicked on, and he listened to the musical sound of her voice. “You reached me, but I’m not here. Tell me what you want, and I’ll think about calling you back. Now go be a blessing to someone today.”

  The message evoked a smile he didn’t bother to fight. “Hey, Lily, it’s Caleb. I thought I’d say hi before I go on-shift. I hope you’ve had a good day.”

  When his sandwich arrived, he devoured it then returned to the station, resigned to what was most assuredly going to be a long night with Sebastian riding shotgun.

  Caleb’s alarm woke him the next afternoon. He rose, ready to tackle the day… and to see Lily. She hadn’t called or even texted the night before, and worry gnawed at his gut.

  I get that women aren’t wired like men, Lord, but I’m not used to insecurity. The chemistry is there, and it’s strong. Help her understand we’re meant to be. And if I’m wrong about this, then, well… then I don’t know. Help me accept it, I guess, because I’m not going to want to.

  Caleb climbed down the stairs and greeted his mom. “How’s your day been so far?” He tipped his hat to Bernice and Gertrude. “Ladies.”

  Ma smiled at him. “Just fine, dear. Why in your uniform so early? Are you going to let me feed you before you leave?”

  Bernice spoke up. “Gertrude hasn’t been able to stop talking about that young lady of yours. So charming and kind. She’d make a wonderful mother, that one.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell her Gertrude thinks so.” He’d expected his mom’s friends to take up her campaign, but he’d fooled himself into thinking they’d take a more subtle approach. He should have known better.

  Bernice wasn’t done, though. “Has Gertrude ever told you the story of how she and her husband met?”

  He’d never heard Gertrude tell any story, but that wasn’t the best time to say so.

  “They met at a dance on base one night and married a week later. Quite the whirlwind romance.”

  “What about you, Bernice? How did you and the late Mr. Pinceer meet?”

  “Oh, we were sufficiently boring, I’m afraid.” Color filled Bernice’s cheeks. “He courted me for several months before my father gave consent. Tradition was important to my folks.”

  Caleb was willing to bet his breakfast that there was more to the story than his mother’s friend admitted to, but he’d let her keep her secrets. For now. He’d tuck it away in his arsenal in case she and the talkative Gertrude ever cornered Lily in conversation gain.

  With that pleasant thought, he kissed his mother on the cheek. “I’m leaving early so I can stop by the hospital on my way in.”

  Her raised eyebrow said it all. The hospital was in the opposite direction from his station. “Visiting someone?”

  He tweaked the tip of her nose. “Stay out of it, Ma.”

  “Me? Interfere? Never!” Her laughter chased him out the front door.

  On his way, Caleb pulled into the mall’s main parking lot and trailed the line of cars snaking around the white-lined spaces, heading instead into the underground parking garage. It was a popular mall feature. Summer or winter, people liked to avoid the weather.

  Once he got through the last bit of security, the guard allowed him through the heavy metal door. “Second door on the right.”

  Marching down the hall, Caleb was anxious to be done there and on to his next destination — the hospital.

  The instant Caleb opened the door to the drab white-walled room, Nick spoke. “You called a meet. What’s up?”

  Still standing, Caleb tugged a flash drive from his pocket and slid it across the table. “My final report.”

  “You sure you got everything you need?”

  Caleb nodded. “I need to stay on until the transportation hearing. I owe her that.”

  Nick’s head bobbed. “Sure. No problem. How are you liking the undercover work?”

  “I’m not. I don’t like deceiving people. Straight-up investigation is what I signed on for, not this.”

  “This situation came up unexpectedly, and your background was too perfect to pass up. Undercover won’t be a regular part of what you do for the attorney general. Covert, sure. Clandestine, occasionally. Undercover — not so much.”

  “It would have been nice to be informed that the woman you had me investigating lived…” Caleb leaned in. “On. My. Street.”

  Nick threw his hands up. “I thought you’d figure that one out on my own. I can’t help it if you’re Mr. Antisocial.”

  “What about the relationship between the transportation chief and Captain Browning? Did you ever plan on telling me that?”

  A frown tugged down the corners of Nick’s mouth. “It was need-to-know.”

  “Right.” Sarcasm gave the word a polished veneer.

  “This isn’t about you and me. This is politics.”

  Caleb grimaced.

  “I trust you to be unbiased, but the twenty pairs of eyes that are going to go over these reports with a fine-tooth comb won’t. No prior knowledge means an objective report. If anyone has even an inkling of a doubt about it, your report will be considered biased and will end up tossed out with the trash.”

  “Which is what the chief’s going to w
ant, I’m sure.”

  Nick grinned, and his eyes lit up. “That’s my battle.”

  His friend’s animation was contagious. “You’ve always loved a good fight.” The time had arrived to go fishing. “Had Flannigan been blessed with the foresight to realize you would one day be gunning for him, he’d never have taken a single step toward the wrong side of the law.”

  Nick didn’t take the bait. “We good?”

  “Yeah. Let me stay with this one at least to the hearings. As soon as I’m free and clear, I’ll let you know, and you can officially welcome me to your investigative team and give me some real work. This driving around all night looking for speeders and weavers…”

  “Don’t knock it. Chasing down one of those weavers got you Lily, didn’t it?”

  “I’m still working on that one.”

  Caleb started to turn the doorknob when Nick stopped him. “Catch ne news lately?” Expectation etched its way into Nick’s question.

  “No. It’s called sleep. You should try it sometime.”

  “There’s been a high-profile shooting in the District. The media’s on it, but Secret Service and the FBI are silent. No press release yet, but unless I miss my guess, the vic’s either going to be at Georgetown or your girl’s hospital. I wouldn’t be averse to you sharing it with me if you learn anything from her.”

  The remainder of the drive to the hospital was uneventful. The radio filled him in on the shooting, but details were sketchy at best, and no word on the victim’s condition or location was released. The increased security in the lobby, however, answered the where question.

  When he got to the ICU floor, a glance inside the waiting room told him it was empty; not unusual for the pre-dinner hour, he supposed. He approached the doors to the unit, but two men in suits and with earpieces gave him pause.

  “I’m here to speak with one of the nurses. Do I ring through like normal, or do I tell the two of you?”