A shadow fell across the interior of her car as someone tapped on the driver window.
Andrea’s shriek ricocheted off the windshield. She jumped sideways, away from the driver’s-side door and the steely eyes of the man peering in.
“Doc, it’s just me.” The voice, colored in concern, drifted toward her on a wave of familiarity. A craggy, sun-weathered face peered into the window, a sunwashed black Dale Earnhardt baseball cap pulled low over faded blond hair and concerned gray-blue eyes. “You okay in there?”
Andrea swallowed a cry of relief. “Dutch.” She pressed a hand to her chest to force her heart back into its rightful place.
The older man stepped back as she pushed the car door open and stepped out on shaky legs. He grasped her elbow to steady her as she gripped the top of the door and tried to find her wayward composure. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Dutch had shown up in the parking lot of her building a couple of months ago, looking for work to help him get back on his feet. When the center grew busier as more units redeployed from overseas, he picked up the pace, showing up several days a week, right on schedule, to sweep the floors and neaten the parking lot. Andrea had no idea where he slept at night, but most of his days were spent drifting up and down this end of Victory Drive, rain or shine, picking up cans and bottles or helping shop owners with odd jobs.
“I’m fine. At least now that you’re here.” Thank God for Dutch. She’d all but forgotten it was Friday, one of his regular days to drop by.
Dutch slipped his cap back and scratched his hairline. “Whatcha mean by now that I’m here?”
Andrea jiggled the keys in her pocket and gripped her bag tighter as they neared the front of the building, only half hearing Dutch’s question. At the door, she ran her hand over her name etched there, the tangible mark of a dream years in the making. There was no way she’d let a hulking monster with a camera scare her away from her calling.
Still, as she stared through the glass at the lobby floor where she’d clawed desperately for freedom last night, her stomach tightened. It had seemed like a million miles across that floor at the time, but it was more like two feet in reality. It was amazing how fear could wreak havoc on perception.
“Doc?” Dutch’s deep Southern drawl drew her out of the vision of angry eyes and a menacing figure.
The keys jingled like bells as she pulled them from her pocket. “It’s nothing.” It took all of her strength to keep her hand from trembling as she unlocked the door. Once they were inside, half the battle was over. She’d done it. Crossed the threshold and not lost her senses doing it. Still, nothing could stop her from staring back through the window at the trees.
“Well, now.” Dutch glanced around the exposed lobby, pulling on his earlobe. “Looks like you don’t—” He stopped, eyes focused on the floor, head tipped to one side.
“What’s the matter?” Andrea followed his gaze and instantly landed on what had caught his attention.
“What is that?” Dutch knelt and studied the rust-colored smudges near the door. “Is that blood?” His head came up, jaw set. “Did somebody hurt you?” He stood and squared off as though prepared to protect her from giant robots.
“I’m fine.” She forced nonchalance into her voice. “If you want to know the truth, I drew that blood.”
Dutch took a step back. “What did you do? I’m not ’bout to be in here mopping up evidence, am I?”
Laughter bubbled up at the suspicion in his stance. “I didn’t kill one of my patients, if that’s what you’re thinking. And the police have come and gone, so you can do whatever you’d like.”
“Well, if it’s not your blood, then whose is it?” He didn’t quite believe her.
“I wish I knew. A man came in here and tried to take one of my files.” And me, if he could. She dared not say that aloud. She might find herself with a homeless man as a permanent bodyguard. “I kicked him in the face and he left.”
“One of your patient files? Which one?”
“You know I can’t tell you who my clients are.”
For a moment, it seemed he was going to ask again, then he changed course. “You kicked a man in the teeth? Was he a big guy?”
“Huge.”
“Always knew you had scrap in you, Doc.” Dutch chuckled and headed for the supply room, shaking his head. “You can take care of yourself, can’t you?”
Yes, she could. But that was something she didn’t want to have to prove again soon.
The door opened, scraping adrenaline against her raw nerves. That had to stop, or she’d fall to pieces.
A short, balding man stepped in, his purple uniform polo tucked into too-tight khaki pants. “Miss Andrea.” He extended a disposable cup of coffee to her.
She took the cup and smiled, the warmth of fresh-brewed coffee seeping into her fingers, up her arm and into her soul. Every morning, Mr. Miller stepped in right behind her with a cup of coffee and a dose of cheer. Just when she thought she was alone in this, God reminded her she had people looking out for her. “Mr. Miller. Always faithful with the coffee.”
“Always.” His grin nearly split his round face in two before it faded and he jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward his gas station next door. “My evening shift guy says he saw the police over here last night. You okay?”
“She kicked a man in the teeth,” Dutch called from the supply room.
Mr. Miller took a step back and nearly fell out the door as it opened again.
Josh slipped in behind the smaller man, nodding at her as he did.
This time, when her fingers tingled, it had nothing to do with fear. That needed to stop, too.
Glancing at Josh, Mr. Miller recovered his footing and stepped sideways from the man who was his physical opposite. Then he looked back at Andrea. “You kicked a man in the teeth?”
Josh chuckled, but that only made Mr. Miller glance back and forth between the two of them.
Dutch reappeared and started when he saw Josh. “Who are you?” The way he gripped the broom handle, it looked like he might just charge.
Andrea held up her hands, hoping to head off any misplaced protection. “Okay, everybody. I’m not used to three handsome men in my lobby at once.” Especially one in particular.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Josh winked at her.
Please, Lord, now is not the time to blush. She cleared her throat, made introductions then took charge of her small band of defenders. “Mr. Miller, I’m okay. Someone tried to rob me, but it’s fine now. The police are looking into it. Hopefully, it was an isolated incident.” Hopefully. But she doubted it. So did Josh, based on the set of his jaw.
Mr. Miller studied her as Dutch went back to sweeping in the corner. “Maybe I should aim a few of my security cameras your way. Make sure there’s always eyes on the place.” He nodded. “I’ll have all of my shifts keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I do.” He laid a hand on her arm, which made Josh straighten slightly. Like he should be jealous of someone old enough to be her father. “I want to. Having you next door is so much nicer than having that check-cashing place here gouging soldiers.” He patted her arm, aimed a slight smile at Josh, then stepped for the door. “I should go. It’s payroll day.” He nodded at Dutch. “You coming to my place next?”
Dutch tossed a slight wave from where he leaned on his broom handle. “An hour or so?”
With an answering wave, Mr. Miller tripped on the threshold as he stepped out. “See you on Monday, Ms. Andrea.”
Josh arched an eyebrow.
Yes, Mr. Miller was awkward, but nobody treated her better. Except maybe Dutch. Her forehead wrinkled. She certainly had eclectic neighbors. “What brings you by so early?” she asked Josh. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Command gave us a four-day weekend now because we were doing an extended training exercise over the Fourth of July holiday.”
&n
bsp; “Convenient.” Andrea let herself meet his eyes and wished she hadn’t. Something about him blurred the straight edges of her life until she wasn’t quite sure if she was fifteen or thirty-two.
“Still don’t know who you are.” Dutch’s broom ceased its swishing as he drew closer.
Josh extended his hand. “Josh Walker.”
“Dutch.”
The men sized each other up as they shook, seemed to come to some agreement and parted.
Dutch drifted back to the closet and reappeared seconds later, sans broom. “Think I’ll go see what Mr. Miller needs. You two look like you need to talk.” Without further explanation, he slipped out the door.
“What was that?” Andrea asked as she led Josh into her office and watched as he took in the room.
“What?”
“That. Between you and Dutch.”
“Guy conversation.”
“So you’re friends now?”
“For life.” Josh grinned and leaned against her desk, his smile fading. “How long have you known him?”
Andrea sucked her upper lip between her teeth and studied the popcorn ceiling. Odd time to think of it, but she should have removed that before she moved in. “A couple of months. He does odd jobs for several businesses on Victory. For Mr. Miller, too.”
“And how long have you known Miller?”
“Since I moved in. Six months or so.” She tipped her coffee cup toward Josh. “Every day, like clockwork, he brings me coffee from his gas station next door. Why?” But even as she said it, she knew. “You suspect them?”
“I think everybody’s up to something right now. Don’t you?”
She hadn’t thought about it. “No. And especially not them.” Rounding her desk, she dropped into her chair and waited for him to sit in one across from her. “Have you stopped to think you’re the most likely suspect?” She unlocked the desk drawer and grabbed Wade’s file, slipping it onto the desk like it was explosive. And who knew? It might be.
“I have.” He nodded toward the folder. “You left that here last night? Unguarded?”
“Safest place for it. The police were here and, for all anyone knew, they were watching.” She flipped open the folder and stared down at the first page. It was easier than looking at Josh.
“You took the pictures to the police?”
She nodded, flipping through the folder to find Wade’s release of information form. Last night she’d realized that talking to the person he trusted the most—the one to whom he’d given permission to access his patient information—might yield a clue. It was a sheet she rarely glanced at, because it only supplied clerical details.
Her finger stilled when she located the form, then tapped the name penned there in Wade’s precise handwriting. What exactly was going on here?
*
“What is it?”
Andrea’s face paled and her eyebrows drew together so tightly they had to make her forehead ache.
Closing the file, she tapped the corner against her desk blotter. “You brought Wade here because he wanted help. But you also said Wade told you to come here if anything ever happened to him. Don’t you find that odd?”
“Guys coming and going from deployment say a lot of things like that.”
She shook her head, then held the folder out to him.
It was a fight to keep his face neutral as he grasped the thick packet, careful not to get his fingers anywhere near hers. The last thing he needed was to touch her and set crazy thoughts to racing again.
The manila folder lay heavy in his hands, the name Cameron, Wade typed neatly on a tab above what he assumed was a reference number. “Why give this to me?”
“Open it.”
“I can’t look at this, and you know it.” Heat flushed Josh’s face. He wasn’t a therapist or a lawyer, but everyone knew about confidentiality between a counselor and a patient. The idea that Andrea would breach that for any reason plummeted his respect for her about seven pegs, and with that drop came a sense of disappointment deeper than any he should feel. He stood and dropped the folder on her desk, ignoring her confusion. “You could have your license yanked for violating confidentiality.” Which presented a whole other dilemma for him. Did he tell someone? Or did he protect her?
“Sit down, Josh.” Her tone held authority and maybe even anger. “I should hope you’d know me better than that.” With a flick of her wrist, she flipped open the file, paged through, and jammed her finger onto a printed sheet. “Wade cleared you as the only other person who could put eyes on his file.”
Everything froze. Even the small clock on a low cherry bookshelf seemed to tick slower. “Why would Cameron choose me? I’m nobody to the kid, other than his first sergeant. There’s every reason not to want his chain of command to be given access to his records. In certain instances, what’s in here could wreck his career. It doesn’t make sense.” Josh sank into the chair and slid the file closer, scanning the release of records form and noting the slash through a previous name and his name etched in its place with precise print. “You’re sure he did this?”
“I’m no handwriting analyst, but he’s the one who filled out all of the other paperwork, and the handwriting all seems to be the same.”
“Why?”
“Couldn’t tell you. He never once mentioned you in any of his sessions. I’d have remembered hearing your name if he had.”
She’d have recognized his name, just like he’d have known hers anywhere. Did that mean she’d given him more than a passing thought over the years? Josh shook his head. That would be way too much to hope.
Andrea blushed a deep red and straightened a few pens on her desk into a neat row before she cleared her throat. “I never give the administrative pages more than a cursory glance, because that’s more up Grace’s alley. My receptionist. It’s the stuff she enters into the computer, and unless there’s a reason, I prefer not to go digging there. It can color my judgments, make me jump to conclusions.”
“So you just now noticed?”
She looked startled at the straightforward question, like it wasn’t the direction she’d expected him to go. “This is the first time I’ve opened the file in a couple of months. For some reason, he gave you permission to look into it. That makes you the only other eyes I have, because unless he’s threatened to hurt himself or someone else or the authorities bring me a court order, nobody else can see it.” She tapped a finger on the edge of her desk. “It’s just me and you on this.”
The folder nearly slipped from his fingers. It almost sounded as if the words meant more than they sounded like on the surface.
Great. Now his mind was playing tricks on him. He couldn’t get lost in the subtext of every word she said—not if he had any chance of protecting her. He hoped there wouldn’t be more danger, but something in his gut wouldn’t quiet down. It was a sixth sense developed over four tours overseas, and it had never done him wrong before.
What he needed was distance, to get out of her presence, to put his head on straight before he did something stupid like lean across that desk and kiss her.
Because that wouldn’t help matters at all.
“I’m guessing I can’t take this home with me.” Josh tried to keep the hope out of his voice.
“’Fraid not. I’m not so all-fire sure this is about anything in there, not after getting those pictures, but our visitor last night was a little too hot to get his hands on that file, which makes it the only hope I have of finding out what’s going on here. It’s not leaving my sight.”
“You’re planning to keep it with you?” His fight response marched double-time. Didn’t she know how stupid that was? “All it takes is someone to track you down—”
“And what? If anybody wants it that badly, they’ll break in here first. Since they didn’t try last night, it adds credence to my doubts about what they’re really after.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in the burgundy leather chair. “Like I already said, that file’s a cover for somet
hing else. Something to do with me.” Her voice wavered on that last sentence. Andrea might be all bravado up front, but the memory of what had happened—and probably of what could happen—frightened her. It was clear she didn’t want him to know that, though.
“Let me keep it.” Josh gripped the folder so tightly the cardstock popped in protest. “They’ll never suspect—”
Andrea rocketed out of her chair like she intended to come across the desk and snatch the file from his hands. “You’re not listening to me. Is this the typical ‘hero’ tactic? Do you play movies in your head while women speak so you don’t have to hear what we say? It’s clear from those pictures they will come after me regardless. You putting yourself in the middle of this any more than you already are only puts you in danger, too.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” There was no way Andrea would ever understand what drove him. And he sure wasn’t about to tell her now. She’d break even the tenuous tie that bound them and never speak to him again.
“I don’t doubt that. But I also don’t intend to let you get caught in the crossfire.”
He gripped the file and stood, looking down at her, his throat tight with emotions he couldn’t define, though exasperation was probably highest on the list. “Too late.” Without looking back, he stalked to the door and vanished into the lobby.
*
Andrea glanced at her cell phone and winced. Nearly lunchtime. With Grace on vacation, she’d made the calls to her Friday appointments and canceled them last night, unsure if anyone would even be allowed in the building today. With no sessions, the day dragged on without mercy. It had been a vain hope that patient-free time would let her catch up on paperwork, but yesterday’s stress had scattered her thinking and twisted her mind to such an extent that even the smallest task took an eternity to complete.
Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 Page 65
