by Debra Webb
“Take all the time you need.” He stepped back from her bedroom doorway. “I’ll brew coffee.”
Jana rushed through her morning routine in record time and hurried to the kitchen to find him leaning against her counter, legs crossed at the ankle.
He raised his mug of coffee. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“Don’t say things like that.” They barely knew each other. He was far too forward. He made her feel off balance. She didn’t like that feeling.
“Why not? It’s a habit I picked up from my mom.”
“No offense to your mom.” Jana had no idea what to do with those sorts of remarks, delivered with such casual confidence. “Endearments like that are too familiar.”
“Even for old college friends?”
“Coffee.” It was the only safe response. Caffeine would get her brain firing on all cylinders. She headed for the cabinet where she stored travel mugs and filled one, leaving just enough space for sugar and a splash of cream. “I really don’t appreciate you coming into my house unannounced.”
His gaze locked with hers. “Let me walk you through it again. I called. You didn’t answer. I knocked and rang the bell. You didn’t answer. I let myself in to check on you, per the job you hired me to do. That’s all.” He tipped his head toward the coffee pot. “Except for that.”
Okay, so she couldn’t take exception with him doing his job. She took a long swallow of her coffee. He stared at her, those intense blue eyes analyzing, though his lips quirked as if he was holding back a smile.
“Why are you looking at me that way?”
“What way?” He sipped his coffee, visibly amused.
“As if you’re enjoying a joke at my expense.” She did not like him catching her in bed. It was embarrassing and completely unsettling.
“I’m just thinking, you don’t seem the type to oversleep.”
She reminded herself that excellent observation skills were an asset in his line of work. “You’d be right about that.” It surprised her to realize that despite the abrupt and inappropriate wake up call, she’d slept well enough to feel refreshed. “At any rate, can we go, please?”
“Don’t you want something to eat first?”
“No.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. Sleep was a good start, but her appetite had yet to make a comeback. “I would like to get this over with.”
Going through her dad’s office was going to be damned tough. She’d tried at least three other times in the past two weeks. First, she simply couldn’t. The second time meetings had gotten in the way. Finally, day before yesterday, Camille had needed her. Nothing and no one was getting in the way this time.
To her surprise, Dylan rinsed out his coffee mug, placed it in the dishwasher, and then shut off the coffeemaker. He snagged her car keys from her hand, his fingers tracing hers with the move. “Let’s roll.”
The tingle that zinged up her arm made her frown. “That’s annoying.” She was not happy with his insistence on taking control of everything... including her.
“What?” he asked, opening the door to the garage and waiting for her to go ahead of him.
“The way you take charge as if I’m too helpless to do anything for myself.”
“I thought opening doors was still the way things were done down here.”
She inhaled a deep breath, reached for patience. “Not that. You’re far too comfortable with my things. With me,” she blurted, unable to contain her frustration. He’d been in her house. He’d caught her sleeping. She didn’t like his... presumptuousness.
“Goes with the job,” he said while she armed the security system. “I make it my business to know everything about my assignment and how to take care of them.”
Rather than debate his attitude further and waste even more time, she climbed into the passenger seat of her car and kept her annoyance to herself as he backed out of the garage and guided the car onto the street. If—big if—she really had been the target of that shooting, she needed him.
To find her dad’s killer she needed him.
She had wanted help and he had arrived. “When we get to the capitol, I’ll sign you in as a guest. Anyone who asks will hear the old friend/university library line.”
“Do you work with anyone who knew you in college?”
“Not directly.”
He kept his eyes on the traffic.
“You knew that.” Why had he asked if he knew the answer?
“I suspected as much.”
“How?” She refused to volunteer more information until she had better answers. Her whole life was under public scrutiny day in and day out. Why it bothered her so that this man had dug into her personal life escaped her. “In the event you haven’t figured it out yet, my social life has nothing to do with my dad’s murder.”
“It could. The Claytons are the equivalent of local celebrities. Like the Kennedys of Austin.”
She scoffed at the idea as she directed him into her assigned parking space.
He cut the engine and turned to face her. “It’s true. When I’m assigned to a case, I get a photo and a case file. For you, I’m glad it’s electronic. Your connections and history, along with your dad’s, could fill a library.”
“I see.” She unbuckled her seat belt. “And did any of the information lead you toward someone who might have motive to murder my dad?”
His vivid blue eyes kept her glued to her seat. “I’ve just started looking. Before that drive-by, I was pretty much convinced your theory was wrong.”
Her first thought was that she would love nothing more than to slap that cocky face of his. His determination to irritate her had no bounds. Then, she just wanted to urge him to hurry up and find the killer. Without the truth she couldn’t make the world see her dad hadn’t let them down. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
“Hang on.” He flipped the key fob into his palm. “What’s our game plan? What exactly are you looking for in the office?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I’m hoping to know it when I see it. There has to be something that will give us a lead. I’m up on every issue he had before him.” Except for the one he’d suggested in his letter he’d kept hidden from her. On a level too deep to discuss with a stranger, the idea that her dad hadn’t told her everything hurt more than she cared to say.
“Shouldn’t we start with the scene of the crime?”
Jana swallowed back the emotion choking her. Sorrow seemed to fill every cell in her body, weighing her down. “I—I’m not sure,” she said. Seeing his expression turn cool and aloof at the emotion in her voice, she gathered herself. Her personal pain would wait until justice was served. “The police report says there was no sign of a struggle and no sign of a break in. I think Dad knew his killer, which isn’t surprising. After three decades in office he knew a lot of people and considered most of them friends. I thought it would be best to start in his office. Since our offices are closed until Monday, it seemed the right place to start.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
After all, the idea that his killer was a genuinely close friend was unthinkable. Still, there was no avoiding searching his study eventually. “He was a good man.” She blotted her eyes with a tissue. Thinking of her dad in the past tense made her ache. “This isn’t easy for me. We were very close as a family and closer still after my mother died. I apologize if my emotions make you uncomfortable.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said with a quick shrug.
She thought of the actions he’d taken in their brief acquaintance, and of the bullet they’d retrieved from her purse. Despite finding him difficult to some degree on a personal level, she was grateful he was here. Showing the proper respect and gratitude for his assistance was important.
She and Dylan were in this together now.
Jana was right about the waterworks making him uncomfortable. Since his ex screwed him over, Dylan had zero tolerance for emotional outbursts. Tears didn’t get a job done. As true as that was, he
had to get it through his thick skull that Jana wasn’t his ex or a potential date, she was his client. She was in a bad place right now and he needed to remember that each time his body longed to comfort her. Not smart, man.
He followed her through security, keeping his responses short and friendly as she introduced him. The woman seemed to know everyone by first name. She accepted sympathy and greetings from them all no matter their position at the capitol. She even asked the janitor about a traditional Thanksgiving recipe.
Dylan reevaluated her as they made their way up to the senator’s office. On paper she was involved with more groups than anyone could be and stay sane. At least from his perspective. He suspected it wasn’t for show or to give various charities and organizations a political name to drop. Jana Clayton seemed to be the real deal when it came to giving of herself. More surprising, everyone she introduced him to thanked him for coming to lend her support and to honor the senator. In his experience, people didn’t care that much unless it was earned. The file didn’t say anything about a significant other or inseparable girlfriend in her life and that struck him as odd. Not that it really mattered. He was curious more than anything else.
Dangerous territory, Parker.
Her hands trembled as she unlocked the door to the suite of offices, but she squared her shoulders as she walked into the reception area. He followed her, locking the door behind them.
“I don’t want any surprises,” he explained when she sent a questioning look his way. “This building is busier than I expected this close to Thanksgiving.”
“Everyone’s preparing for the next legislative session. If they finish early, they extend their holiday time off. Our office is the only one closed right now.” She exhaled a big breath and indicated the door beyond the receptionist’s desk. “That’s my dad’s office. Mine is to the left of his, and Sam’s is to the right.”
“Got it.” He’d never given politics or the legislative process much thought until now. “I’ll start in here, you can go through your dad’s things. We’re looking for anything that doesn’t fit. Is there a particular person or issue that comes to mind?”
Pretty green eyes about to spill over again, she shook her head and left the small reception area for her dad’s office.
Concentrating on the task before him, he surveyed the reception area. The high-end furnishings managed to give off a lived-in feel. There was nothing pretentious about the senator’s suite of offices. Dylan turned on the computer at the receptionist’s desk, but it was password protected. Moving on, he surveyed the personal pictures scattered about the room. The military and civilian honors framed on the walls struck a smart balance between bragging rights and credentials that gave visitors confidence in the senator.
In the other room, he heard the little hiccups and catches of Jana’s sorrow. He took all the time he could with the reception area, but came up empty of anything incriminating or questionable. Damn it. The logical next step was to get in there and help her. In public, he could play the supporting role, but privately, he dreaded it. Too bad. It was time to man up. Gritting his teeth, he walked in and stopped short.
“Holy hell. What did you do?” She was behind the big executive desk, sitting on the floor under the window. The contents of a large file drawer were scattered around her like paper snow drifts.
“The drawer stuck,” she said defensively.
The battle had been the quietest fight between a woman and a drawer he’d ever heard. He carefully stepped closer, wary of her now since she’d already taken her anger or frustration out on an inanimate object. He dropped to one knee, just out of reach. “This isn’t the best way to conduct a covert search.”
“I don’t care about being covert.” Her chin came up, daring him to argue. “I’m looking for the truth.”
At this point he hoped to find a stash of whiskey to ease their mutual discomfort. The woman sitting amid the mess on the floor didn’t bear any resemblance to a professional going through her dad’s effects. She looked sad and sweet and in fierce need of strong arms around her. Forcing his mind off the idea, he picked up the closest file labeled personal notes.
“I’ve been through that one,” she grumbled.
He didn’t bother to reply. Quickly, he flipped through handwritten cards and letters from constituents and associates and then returned the file to the desk drawer. After going through a few more he decided either the senator was as respected and beloved as Jana claimed, or the hate mail was filed in a different place.
He picked up another file as she finished it, but at her dark look, he simply put it back in the drawer. Choosing to leave her to it, he stood and searched the rest of the office. He checked behind picture frames and books, under drawers and chairs for anything from a secret catch to a listening device. He checked the air vents as well as anything else that budged.
The place appeared to be clean.
“He wasn’t a spy,” Jana said when he stood in the middle of the room and gazed up at the light fixture.
Turning, he met her gaze. “Everyone has a skeleton or two in the closet.”
“Do tell.”
He was sorely tempted. If nothing else, his past might shock her into not being so vulnerable in front of him. “Another time.” He considered the thick stack of papers she’d gathered to one side. All signs of the earlier paper storm were gone. “Did you find anything helpful?”
She stared forlornly at the stack. “Who knows? Nothing has a red flag with a dire warning or explanation. I’ll take a closer look at home where there’s less chance of being interrupted.”
“Did he ever receive hate mail?” Dylan studied the room again, from the ceiling to the floor. They were missing something.
She nodded. “He and Rose, his receptionist, went through it once a month and filed it appropriately as to whether it was crank mail or a potential threat.”
“Where?” He hadn’t seen any kind of file like that in the outer office or in here. “They didn’t report it?”
“The few that were filed he kept in his study. As for reporting any of it, I only remember one time. It was a death threat,” Jana said, leading the way back to the reception area. “That was years ago and it turned out to be nothing.”
“Tell me again why you’re taking that mountain of paperwork home?”
“These are papers he would want me to have. Some are things I need to organize for whoever is appointed to fulfill his term.” She sat down at the receptionist’s keyboard and entered a password. The desktop monitor lit up with a standard sunset screen saver and one column of file folders marching down the left side.
Dylan leaned over her shoulder as she opened each folder. He had her print out the last few pages of her dad’s schedule and tucked the sheets into his back pocket. He was about to ask her to download the contents of another file to his jump drive when a key rattled in the door lock. The noise startled Jana, but he held his position, one hand on the back of her chair as they faced the new arrival.
“Sam!” The name popped out of her a little too brightly. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
The older man sent her a strained smile. Dressed casually, he looked like he should be on the golf course rather than in a senator’s office. “Jerry told me you’d come in. With a friend,” he added, his dark eyes measuring Dylan.
“Sam Maguire, this is a friend of mine from the university, Dylan Parker.” She turned to Dylan. “Sam is Dad’s chief of staff.”
“A pleasure,” Dylan said, extending a hand. The other man’s palm was dry, the grip firm, but his expression and posture didn’t come close to friendly.
“Likewise,” Sam said. Turning a sympathetic look to Jana, he continued. “What in the world happened yesterday? I saw the news...” He shook his head as worry lined his face. “Are you all right? I tried calling you last night.”
Jana visibly braced. “Sorry I missed your call. I wasn’t injured, but I was totally exhausted so I went to bed early.”
Maguire nodded thoughtfully. “I spoke to the detective in charge of the investigation. They have no idea who was responsible for the shooting much less why.”
Dylan could have told him that. The cops were wasting their time with the investigation.
“I’m sure they’ll do their best to catch them.” Jana cleared her throat. “I was just going through a few papers. What brings you in today? I thought the offices were to remain closed until Monday.”
“I left my golfing glove.” Maguire jerked his head toward the door to his own office. “You should be at home taking it easy, honey. You don’t have to be in any rush to clean out your dad’s office or your own. There’ll be plenty of time for that after the governor announces his decision.”
She clasped her hands together in her lap and sighed. “I needed to get out of the house so I thought I’d get a head start on things here.”
“The University of Texas has requested some material,” Dylan said, using their cover story to fill the awkward gap that followed Jana’s explanation. “They’re creating a Senator Clayton memorial section in the library.”
Maguire looked from Dylan to Jana, who nodded quickly. “I see,” he said noncommittally.
“Rose kept images of his awards.” Jana explained. “I thought that was the most efficient...”
“Of course, honey. I’ll just grab my golf glove and leave you to it.”
So Dylan had been right about the golf course. Maybe golfing was Maguire’s way of relaxing. Then again, politicians were known to hold conferences in some mighty strange places.
The chief of staff ducked into his office. When he returned he waved the glove, and then hesitated before taking his leave. “Remember, you don’t have to do this now and whatever you need, you have friends and family here ready to step up and help.”
“Thanks.” Jana’s voice cracked and she snatched a tissue to dab at her eyes.
From his position at her side, Dylan noticed she wasn’t actually weeping this time.
Chapter Three
When Sam’s footsteps had faded down the hallway, Jana got up and locked the door again. She’d heard there was an anger stage in the grief cycle, and while what currently burned through her veins wasn’t precisely related to grief, it felt good to feel something different.
