Executive Protection

by Jennifer Morey

  He could clearly see the twelfth-floor ballroom of the historic building across the street. There was an event taking place right now. People sat at tables that faced the front of the room, some kind of business presentation taking place. The hotel hadn’t wasted any time cleaning the space up and reopening for scheduled events. He couldn’t see the projection screen, but he did see a raised platform where a podium might be placed, where his mother had stood.

  It gave him a helpless feeling, a sick feeling, to stand here as the shooter had, taking aim at his mother. He clenched his fists.

  Examining the window frame, he leaned close, looking for trace evidence. The shooter would have had to open the window to take his shots. The agents would have searched for fingerprints. Seeing nothing telling, he turned his attention to the floor, crouching to scan every square millimeter.

  Nothing. The agents wouldn’t have left anything behind.

  Standing, he faced the office once more. Well, he’d had to confirm it and he had; there was nothing here.

  Going to the door, he opened it a little. The janitor cart was still there. Other than that, the hall was empty. He stepped through the yellow tape and shut the door. When he turned, he saw the janitor emerge from the men’s bathroom, a fortyish African American man with salt-and-pepper hair.

  “I thought you all finished up in there,” he said.

  “We did. Just had to check something.”

  “You catch that man yet?”

  Thad shook his head.

  “Didn’t think so. I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask me to go make an ID. Haven’t yet.”

  Thad’s mind went on full alert. “You saw the shooter?”

  “Yeah, well, least I think I did. Saw him leave the office much the way you just did, minus the tape, of course. Thought it was odd, considering that the space is vacant and all.”

  “You described the man to an agent?”

  “Oh, yeah, and an artist drew up a picture of him.”

  The feds had an artist’s sketch of the shooter. Why were they keeping it a secret? Why wasn’t the picture on the news? Prickles of foreboding trickled up his spine.

  “When did you talk to the agents?”

  “After I heard what happened, I told my boss, who contacted someone. Then they came to me the day after the shooting.”

  Thad hadn’t heard about that. No one had told him. He doubted his mother even knew. She would have mentioned something like that. His feeling that there was something wrong with the investigation intensified.

  “What did the man look like?” he asked.

  The man’s brow furrowed. “You haven’t seen the picture?”

  “No. I was just moved to the case today. That’s why I came by.”

  He hesitated, obviously questioning the validity of Thad’s statement. “He was a little shorter than you. Brown eyes. Wore a hat the day I saw him. Short hair. Fit guy.”

  Thad would give anything to see the artist’s sketch. “Did you talk to him?”

  “I said hello but he just walked down the hall.”

  “Have you seen him again?” Thad asked.

  “Just that one time. You have any leads?”

  “No. Thank you.” Thad turned to leave, full of bombarding questions and the sixth sense that the description was familiar.

  * * *

  Thad went straight to Darcy at the station.

  “You’re kidding,” Darcy said after he finished telling him what the janitor had revealed. They’d gone into a conference room for this conversation.

  “Do you think Chief Thomas knows?” Darcy asked.

  Thad stared at him, thinking the possibility was real. He didn’t have to answer. “What if the shooter has already been identified?” Darcy asked the question that plagued Thad.

  “I don’t know.” They could at least have an idea of possible suspects. “The description matches Cam Harmon.”

  Darcy cursed, as frustrated as Thad over the information that had been withheld and wondering how much more there was. “What about Jaden?”

  “Maybe they’re working together. Leaving the window open, helping him to get into the estate, since dating Lucy didn’t work.”

  “Right. Except there’s a problem with that theory. Why date Kate’s nurse to get close to Kate?”

  It did seem to be a stretch. But it was too coincidental. “Maybe she’d bring him to her room one day or night. It would have been a way around security.”

  Lucy had met Cam right after Kate was shot. Cam could have gone to the hospital before the day Thad had seen him there, cased it out and decided to use Lucy. He may have seen how well the two were getting along. And then Lucy had been hired as Kate’s home care nurse and she’d stopped seeing Cam. Was Cam now working his way in through Jaden?

  “Do you think we should tell Chief Thomas?” Darcy asked.

  “Yes. If he does nothing, then we know he’s in on it.”

  “In on what? An assassination attempt? How many people want her dead?”

  If several people were involved in a conspiracy to kill a potential presidential candidate, this was bigger than he imagined.

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Thad left the conference room.

  “Get ready for a flogging,” Darcy said from behind him.

  Thad glanced back, catching his meaning. Going to the chief would reveal he and Darcy hadn’t done as ordered and steered clear of the investigation. But Thad didn’t care. He’d do anything to protect his mother.

  Reaching Wade’s office, he knocked on the glass. The chief looked up and waved them to enter.

  Thad did, and Darcy closed the door behind them.

  “I thought you were taking a leave, Winston,” Chief Thomas said without looking up from the papers on his desk.

  “Something’s come up.”

  Removing his reading glasses, Wade eyed him with disapproval.

  “The FBI has an artist’s sketch of the shooter,” Darcy announced.

  Wade’s hard eyes moved to him. “And how, might I ask, do you know this?”

  “I went to the vacant office where the gunman made his shots,” Thad said. “I ran into a janitor there, who told me he saw a man leaving the office the night of the shooting. He gave a description.”

  “I thought I told you not to investigate that case.” Wade stood, anger beginning to brew and storm over his brow.

  “He shot my mother,” Thad said simply. Did he really expect him not to investigate? When Wade didn’t dispute that point, Darcy went on.

  “There’s more. We think the shooter could be Cam Harmon.”

  “Cam Harmon.” Wade looked as if he were searching his memory.

  “The man Lucy Sinclair met online after my mother was shot,” Thad reminded him, wondering if Wade had truly forgotten or if he was deliberately minimizing this.

  “Online?” Wade questioned. “How would Harmon have known she was on a dating site?”

  Thad had already considered that. “He could have heard her talking when she was away from Kate’s room.” The security would be too tight there, and Lucy wouldn’t have been alert to someone spying on her.

  The chief nodded haphazardly, not really buying the likelihood. But he leaned on his desk with his hands. “All right. I’ll pass this along to the FBI. On one condition.”

  He had Thad’s undivided attention. Would he really pass the information along?

  “You stop investigating the shooting,” Chief Thomas said. “I can’t keep having to tell you that. You must leave it up to the feds. Understood?”

  “Understood,” Thad said. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Get out of my office.”

  Darcy led Thad out into the main office area, where talking and the tapping of keyboards echo
ed off the high ceiling and nearly bare walls.

  When they were out of sight of Chief Thomas, Darcy stopped. “How do we know if he tells the feds?”

  “We wait to hear about an arrest.”

  Darcy nodded, not satisfied. “Where’s Lucy?”

  “At the estate.” Where she was safe. Unless Jaden had something to do with all of this and he and Darcy had just sent agents after the wrong man...

  * * *

  On Friday in early March, Lucy almost forgot her hair appointment and had rushed out of the estate. Now leaving the salon with bouncing, shining auburn hair, she walked toward her car. Haircuts always made her day.

  Speaking of day, it was beautiful outside. Not a cloud in the sky and it had warmed into the sixties. She breathed in the fresh air. Reaching her Subaru, she was about to open her door when a man called, “Lucy?”

  Immediately recognizing the voice, Lucy turned.

  Cam stood in a navy blue suit, brown eyes and cropped blond hair a good disguise for the kind of man he truly was.

  “Do I need a restraining order?” she asked him.

  He put his hands up. “No. I just want to talk.”

  Her pulse knocked her rib cage as she opened her car door. He always said that. “Leave me alone.”

  She looked around the parking lot. There were a few other people walking to and from the strip mall where her salon was located. He’d be foolish to try something now.

  “I’m sorry for the way things turned out between us.”

  His apology held an eerie tone. They barely knew each other and he made it sound as though they’d been together for months, maybe even years.

  “All that talk about stay-at-home moms.” He grunted a laugh. “It was stupid.”

  Of him? She couldn’t argue there.

  “I’m going to leave you alone for a while, okay? Give you some distance. Then maybe a few months from now, we can try again.”

  He made her sick to her stomach. “No means no, Cam,” she said. “I don’t want to see you again. Ever.” She leaned toward him and pointed her finger. “That means never. How much clearer do I need to make it?” What was it going to take before he finally left her alone?

  His gaze remained steady on her. And then he stepped forward.

  Lucy opened the Subaru door and sat on the driver’s seat. But as she pulled the door to close it, Cam took hold of the door frame. Forcing it open wider, he stepped into the open space and crouched with eyes that gleamed menace.

  “How much clearer do I have to make it, Lucy?” he asked.

  She dug into her purse for her cell phone.

  “You and I will be together again,” he said. “If I have to lock you in a room, I will.”

  Real panic began to rear up inside her. She believed he would do that—if given the chance. “You’re crazy.” She retrieved her phone and navigated to the keypad.

  Cam gripped her wrist and pried the phone from her hand, throwing it to the floor on the passenger side.

  When she turned to him, he grinned. “I always get what I want. And I want you.”

  “Go to hell, you psychotic bastard!” she hissed. Provoking him like this probably wasn’t wise, but she’d be damned if she was going to let him treat her like this! She leaned over, stretching her body to reach for her phone.

  Cam grabbed her hair and pulled her back. With his other hand, he pushed her back against the seat. His face contorted with rage, brown eyes feral and mouth pressed tight.

  She cried out in pain, the force of his grip on her hair stinging her scalp.

  “I’m tired of you talking back to me. You’re going to learn how to do what I say, and when. Do you hear me?”

  Dear God, the man was certifiably insane! “Get your hands off me!”

  His jaw clenched and his eyes flared with uncontrollable rage.

  “Is everything okay?” an old woman’s voice interrupted.

  Cam turned his head and Lucy saw the elderly woman in a long floral dress with an old-fashioned white purse hooked over her elbow. The smartphone in her hand hinted to a little twenty-first century spunk.

  “Is this man bothering you, honey?” she asked Lucy.

  Obviously he was with his meaty hand clenching her hair. The old woman must have known it.

  Cam let go of her hair and stood.

  “Do I need to call the police?” the old woman asked in her frail voice, her thumb poised over the phone that she must have prepared with the numbers 9-1-1.

  With limited options, Cam looked down at Lucy. “We’ll be seeing each other real soon.”

  She refrained from replying with a threat of her own and he strode away.

  Nearly slumping with relief, Lucy got out of her car, a tremble running through her body. The old woman approached.

  Lucy put her hand on top of the open door. “Thank you so much.”

  “Should I call the police, honey? That man should be reported.”

  “No. He won’t bother me again.” Uncertainty shrouded that claim. We’ll be seeing each other real soon....

  “All right, if you’re sure. If it were me, I’d report it.”

  “I already did.” To Thad.

  The old woman turned to her big, long Lincoln town car. “Young men these days.” She shook her curly, short, gray-haired head. “Aren’t what they used to be.” She looked at Lucy as she opened her car door. “I pity you.”

  Lucy smiled. “There are a few good ones left.”

  When Thad’s face came to mind, her smile slowly faded.

  * * *

  After Thad left the station, he drove to find Cam. He wasn’t at work, so he drove to his residence and waited. Now he saw him arrive and park in the driveway. Not long after that, another car appeared, this one parking in the street.

  Thad recognized Jaden when the driver got out and wasn’t surprised. He and Cam were working together.

  He waited for almost a half hour before Jaden left the house. He seemed agitated. So agitated that he didn’t notice Thad in his car. He also didn’t notice him following.

  A few minutes later, Thad parked in the street two doors down from Jaden’s place of residence, an average neighborhood of thirty-year-old homes. Jaden didn’t make it inside. What must be his wife opened the door and started yelling at him. Thad rolled his windows down. He heard her shouting from here, but couldn’t discern what she said.

  He shouted something back and she began beating on his chest. This time Thad could hear what she yelled.

  “Stay the hell away from me!”

  He took hold of her wrists to stop her from hitting him but didn’t hurt her. When she pulled back, he let her go and stood on the front porch step, the front door open.

  Then his wife reappeared with a suitcase that she hefted out the door. Jaden stepped out of the way of the tumbling luggage. It rolled off the steps and onto the lawn.

  The Secret Service agent was having problems at home. How complicated were they? Was this a typical failing marriage or was more going on?

  Jaden’s wife slammed the front door shut. Jaden stood there for a while as though undecided over what to do. Then he lifted the suitcase and took it to his car.

  * * *

  That evening, Thad waited in the guesthouse, made available to the security team for whatever needs they had during their work. There were two other agents in the kitchen, no doubt wondering why he was waiting for Jaden.

  Finally Jaden arrived, fifteen minutes late. He saw Thad and stopped.

  “I need to talk to you,” Thad said, standing from the living room chair.

  “If this is about that window...”

  “It isn’t. Let’s go into the parlor.” Thad went to the small room off the entry and living room and waited just inside for Jaden
to pass him.

  Closing the double doors, seeing the two agents watching from the kitchen table, he faced Jaden, who stood in front of a two-chair sitting area.

  “Having trouble at home?” Thad asked.

  The caught look and lengthy hesitation revealed enough. “I don’t have to talk to you about that.”

  No, but he’d have to talk to someone about it soon. Divorce was reportable when you had a security clearance. “I saw you with Cam Harmon today.”

  Anxiety flickered in Jaden’s eyes before he masked it.

  “I was going to go have a word with him when I saw you drive up,” Thad said. “Imagine my surprise.”

  “So I know Cam. Big deal.” He walked to the window that overlooked the front yard of the guesthouse.

  “How did you meet him?”

  Jaden didn’t answer, only continued to peer through the window, the sun setting and casting shadows.

  “Have the two of you been friends long?” Thad persisted.

  Again, Jaden refused to respond, but turned to face him.

  “Maybe you just met, like right after my mother was shot?”

  Jaden folded his hulking arms and smirked, still without engaging in the one-sided conversation.

  “Are you helping Cam kill my mother?”

  “No.” His firm answer held some truth to it.

  “What are you doing with him, then?”

  Lowering his arms, Jaden stepped forward, stopping close to Thad so that they were eye to eye. “If I were you, I’d back off.”

  “Or what?”

  “Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong is going to get you in big trouble.”

  “With who? You?” And who else?

  Jaden didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the door and left Thad standing there.

  * * *

  Lucy helped Kate stretch in preparation for her afternoon physical therapy exercises. Now Saturday, a week into March, Kate was slowly getting stronger. She’d also noticed something preoccupied Lucy again, and this time it wasn’t Thad.

  “You might as well tell me what happened,” Kate said, trying yet another tactic. Asking her what was wrong hadn’t worked. Neither had asking what had her so quiet.