Linus couldn’t let her rush in to make a call she might regret. “But what if she’s involved? We don’t want to alert her to what we’ve figured out.”
“Joan?”
“Yes, Joan. Or Scott, or Doug, or someone. Somebody is behind this—probably someone from your office with a code for the copier and access to your files. Somebody killed Fletcher. They’ve already come after you in various ways.”
“Why do you think they killed Fletcher tonight?” Julia’s voice trembled. “They’d bothered him before, obviously, but what flipped their switch from burglary to murder? Do you think, when I called Fletcher earlier today—” She swallowed hard, and tears filled her voice. “Do you think that’s what set them off?”
All day, Linus had fought against the urge to comfort Julia. She needed him now. She looked at his hand close to hers. Now he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Listen, Julia—nothing about Fletcher’s death was your fault. Whoever has been after Fletcher must have had a reason for not killing him sooner, but if they were planning this, whether you called him today or something else happened tomorrow, he was mixed up in something you didn’t start. Your phone call didn’t cause his death. It was already going to happen.”
Julia sagged toward his shoulder as she fought a hard battle against the tears that seemed so determined to fall. She gulped air and looked up at him. “Fletcher died because he got mixed up in this.” She blinked and worked her mouth against the distasteful words. “I’m mixed up in this. Am I next?”
“No.” Linus slid one arm around her, as if by holding her tight enough he could keep their anonymous enemies from tearing her away from him. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.” It was a promise he knew he wasn’t qualified to make, but what else was there? He had told himself not to hold her either, yet he couldn’t bring himself to let go—not when she clung to him like she needed him.
“So, what are we going to do?” She sniffled after a long pause.
As if in answer, the flight attendant began her preflight speech.
“Turn off your electronic devices,” Linus whispered.
Julia looked down at Joan’s number and turned off the phone. “I hope that was the right choice.”
“We change planes in Atlanta. Let’s try to sort through what we know. If we decide then to get in touch with Joan, you can text her while we’re on the ground. In the meantime, explain to me how these copier codes work. I need to understand what you think happened.”
“It’s simple. All the lawyers have a printer in their office. Most documents we print in our offices. When we need copies of an original document, we use our codes on the main copier. Each lawyer has their own code. Joan can access the copier record of who prints how many copies and when.”
As she spoke, Linus flipped through the file again, past the pages with the gray streaks, to the few with the tiny smudge. “These pages are numbered consecutively.”
“Exactly. When I printed them off, they all had streaks from the drum on my printer. Somebody pulled out my pages with the streaks and got rid of them. They made copies of another set on the central copier, and replaced them with these. That’s why these don’t have gray streaks, but they’re still numbered the same way.”
“So, the intruder knew what they were doing. They knew the numbers on the pages they wanted to swap out. Assuming the copies were made the same weekend as the break-in, you’re suggesting the intruder brought his own originals, made copies on Joan’s copier, and then put those copies in the file?”
“Precisely.”
“But why make the copies?” Linus couldn’t sort out the reasoning behind it. “Why not just replace the pages with their originals?”
Julia touched the pages and smiled a wry smile. “As part of our commitment to environmental causes, our office uses only 100 percent post-consumer recycled paper. It has a slight greenish tinge to it. If he wanted to make everything look the same, he’d need to copy his documents onto the office paper.”
“Ah, now I understand. I suppose I should have let you call Joan.”
“No, you were right to stop me. I can’t be certain that she’s not involved in this somehow. Besides that, when I called Fletcher—” she swallowed “—well, he was murdered after I talked to him. Maybe I can figure out a way to text Joan and ask who made copies that night, without letting on to why I’m asking.”
Another confusing element irked him. “What’s the difference between these pages and the ones you printed off on your computer?” He couldn’t make much sense of the complex engine design specifications.
“I don’t know. They all look the same to me.”
“So why go to all the trouble—”
“Wait.” Julia grabbed his wrist and leaned closer still. “The file.” She pointed to the stack of papers with her other hand. “I printed those pages off from the file Fletcher sent me. The file.”
Linus nodded solemnly, repeating the words she’d heard on the beach. “I don’t want to have to hurt you. I just need the file.” His breath caught as he stared into her wide eyes. “Do you still have the email from Fletcher?”
“I should. I never delete anything.”
Linus looked down at her phone, which she’d turned off.
She looked at it as well. “I can check my email files over the phone. How long are we on the ground in Atlanta?”
“A little over an hour. That should give you time to text Joan and check your messages.”
Julia still held his arm at the wrist, but now she slid her hand toward his until their fingers laced together. “Pray,” she requested in a small voice, “that we’ll have time and that we’ll find what we’re looking for and end this.”
Linus didn’t hesitate. As the plane took off into the night sky, he held Julia’s hand secure in his and prayed that God would see them through everything, and keep the duchess safe.
* * *
By the time they reached Atlanta, Julia had decided precisely how to word her request to Joan. She sent a message asking the secretary to let her know who had used the copier the weekend of the break-in and how many copies each person had made.
With that much taken care of, Julia scrolled back through her old saved email files. “It’s not there,” she concluded unhappily after scrolling through several pages of messages from two years before.
“What do you mean? You can’t access your old emails from your phone?”
“No, I can. I did. I’ve found all sorts of other things from that time period, even a few other emails related to that case, but nothing from Fletcher.”
“Nothing?” Linus sounded as suspicious as she felt. “Where did they go?”
“At some point, someone must have logged into my email account and deleted it. I certainly didn’t delete it. I save everything, remember? Besides, if I wanted to get rid of something, I’d have deleted a lot of these other frivolous messages long before I’d trash an important file.”
Linus wanted to be certain he understood how her email account worked. “How could someone else log into your email? They could have done that from any computer?”
“If they had my password.”
“How could they have gotten your password?”
Julia shook her head. “I check my email all the time. They could have watched me log in at a coffee shop, at the library—any time I logged in, if they were standing close enough to see my fingers hit the keys—”
“Or if they recorded an image of your fingers striking the keys—”
“Anyone with a telephoto lens could have captured me logging in through the window to my office at home, then picked through the images until they had all the keystrokes in order.” She let out a frustrated huff of air, then clicked a few keys.
“What now?”
“I’m changing my password so they can’t g
et in again.” She hesitated. “Alpha numeric,” she murmured, then looked up at him. “When’s your birthday?”
“October twenty-fifth.”
“What year?”
He told her.
She smiled a rather sweet smile. “You’re two years older than I am.” Then she punched the numbers into her computer. “And you’re my new password.”
“Are you sure you’ll remember that?”
“Will you?”
“Yes, but it’s my birthday. And anyway, aren’t passwords supposed to be private?”
“I trust you.” She met his eyes.
Linus swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “I have a criminal record, you know.”
Julia’s breath caught. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t even know what I did.”
“What did you do?”
Linus looked ashamed, his stubbled chin bent sideways, half rugged, half adorable. “Stupid things.”
“Like what?
“After my parents died I fell in with a rough crowd for a while. I knew how to pick locks. Breaking into things was my way of gaining acceptance. Even though I never personally stole anything, I still got caught. I could still lose my position in the guard if it comes up during a review for any future infringement.”
Julia looked back down at her phone. “It’s not fair. Somebody broke into my email and deleted my file. They’ve gotten away with it, but you’re still bound by mistakes from years ago.”
“They’re not going to get away with it,” Linus said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. If the perp had already deleted the file, why would they come after you on the beach to ask for it again? You had to download it to print it off, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but did I save it?” She pinched her forehead. “My desktop computer at work has been replaced since then. I backed up all my files onto my laptop before I transferred them. If I saved the file, it might still be on my laptop—if I saved it.”
“The laptop in your suite at the palace?” Linus confirmed.
“Yes.”
“Which has been in Lydia since before the break-in at your house?”
“Yes.”
Linus pulled out his phone. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to call the royal guard and tell them to secure your laptop at headquarters.”
“You don’t think it’s safe inside my suite at the palace?”
“At this point—” Linus’s Adam’s apple bobbed again as he swallowed “—I don’t want to take any chances. I don’t understand that engine design, but somebody thinks this file is worth killing over. We need to figure out why.”
NINE
Julia awoke in daylight and blinked, disoriented. What day was it? They’d skipped a day during their flight, or flown right through it, the fifteen-odd hours they’d spent into the air combining with the time zones they’d passed through to make it midafternoon or so. Now she wasn’t sure where they were in the air, but her dry throat and cramped legs told her she’d been sleeping on the plane for a long time. Surely they were nearly to their destination.
She took a deep breath and lifted her head, discovering to her horror that she’d slumped against Linus’s shoulder at some point during her slumber.
Had he noticed? She backed away just far enough so that she could see his face.
He slept, the bruise above his eye more visible than before with his lids closed, its sickly green a sign of healing and a tiny testament to one fraction of all he’d done for her. She felt a surge of affection charge through her and a foreign tenderness at the sight of the sleeping guard. He’d brought her so much comfort since he’d been a part of her life.
There was no doubt in her mind that she wouldn’t have made it this far without Linus at her side. More than that, she wished she could keep him at her side. Perhaps she could find a way to word her feelings so that Monica would request to have Linus assigned to guard her more often. Could she do that in such a way that Monica would attribute her preference to Linus’s competence and not any attraction she felt for the guard?
She’d be mortified if Monica got the impression she’d fallen for the man—more embarrassed still if Linus guessed at her feelings. He’d never given her any indication that he felt anything toward her. If he knew she had feelings for him, he might feel uncomfortable guarding her.
The thought pricked her heart. What were her feelings, exactly? How was she supposed to interact with her bodyguard? Could she count him among her friends? He’d certainly been a friend to her over these past several days, but then, it was his job to keep her out of danger. She doubted anything in his job description required him to remember her favorite flavor of bottled water.
Nor was he likely required to hold her while she sobbed over her ransacked house, or to recite the twenty-fifth Psalm to her while she was afraid.
Linus had done those things out of the goodness of his heart. He had a very good heart.
If Monica asked, Julia could tell her she appreciated that Linus understood her—understood her preferences, whether it was her favorite beverage or letting her have the seat by the window on the plane. Monica would understand that much, surely.
In the meantime, she could see the Grecian islands outside her window. They’d be landing in Lydia soon. She needed to stop thinking about Linus and starting thinking about her sister. How was she ever going to explain everything to Monica without worrying her more?
* * *
Linus hoisted their carry-on bags over his shoulder. His fellow guards knew what time to expect them. Given all the threats against Julia of late, he knew they’d be ready.
Was Julia ready? She looked rumpled, her eyes haunted by the fears that dogged them. He wished he could pull her into his arms, but it wasn’t his place. And there wasn’t time.
Julia lingered in the seat row, staring intently at the screen on her phone.
Had she heard from Joan? Linus stepped closer.
“Joan sent me three different codes for the weekend of the break-in. Some of those could be legitimate copies, though.”
“There were six pages in your file with the smudge,” Linus noted. “How many copies are associated with each code?”
“One has over two hundred copies. The other two have eight and ten. Now who belongs to each code?” Julia scrolled down through the message on the tiny screen. “Scott Gordon made ten copies.”
“Who made the other eight?”
“Doug Palmer.”
“Doug’s familiar with your files as well, isn’t he?”
“Both of them are. It could be either of them.”
“And they’re both around six-two, one-eighty?”
Julia’s face had paled, but she nodded.
“Have either of them ever mentioned any martial arts experience, military training, an interest in hand-to-hand combat, anything like that?”
Julia blew out a slow breath as she shook her head.
“We’ve got to narrow this down. What about the file? How much has it been handled, aside from the two of us touching it on the flight?”
“I read through everything in the file drawer, looking for any clues,” Julia confessed.
“That’s all?”
“All that I know of.”
“That’s not too much contamination. We could still find some decent prints,” Linus resolved.
“Wouldn’t the perpetrator have worn gloves?”
“He may have tried to. But if he had to open the file, pull out the pages that were originally there, and replace them with the copies he’d made, he may have had a very difficult time doing so using gloves. If he removed them, even in a brief moment of frustration, we could get a print, or enough of a partial print to narrow down our target between Scott and Doug.” The
n Linus almost laughed. “Of course, we’d need prints from Scott and Doug to do that.”
“Joan can send them to us.”
“Joan has their fingerprints on file?”
“The law office has everyone’s prints on an electronic database. We work with too many criminal cases—you’d be surprised how often our fingerprints are needed for things. I’ll text Joan and ask her to send the prints for everyone at the office.”
“Great idea. I’ll give you the email address for an investigators, and Joan can send the prints directly to them You can text her in the car on the way to the palace.” Linus looked down the aisle and realized nearly everyone else had left the plane. “Let’s get going. The other guards will be waiting for us.”
As Linus had hoped, his fellow guards had arrived in force to escort the duchess safely back to the palace. Jason headed the envoy that had arrived to whisk them away. While Galen loaded their bags into the waiting car, Linus stepped closer to Jason and spoke in low tones, filling in his supervisor on what they’d learned, as well as the need to lift fingerprints from the Seattle Electronics vs. Pendleton file. He handed over the papers gently, praying that they hadn’t obscured what few clues they might be able to find.
* * *
“You really don’t have to carry that,” Julia assured Linus as he hauled her bag all the way inside her suite for her. “It’s not that heavy.”
“Then it isn’t too much of a burden for me to carry it for you.” He grinned back at her.
She couldn’t argue against his point—not without insulting his strength or his courtesy, neither of which she wanted to question. So she smiled resignedly and thanked him.
Returning to the palace had been emotionally draining. She’d embraced her sister and nephew and made plans to eat dinner with them in a couple of hours. Pleased as she was to see them again, she couldn’t help thinking that Monica looked as though she’d lost weight. And she’d never been anything but slender to begin with.
Linus broke through her worried thoughts. “Sam’s going to be your guard for the rest of this shift. You’ll be sure to page him if you need anything?” He placed her bag on a bench near the door and turned to face her.
Defending the Duchess Page 10
