The General's Secretary

by Debby Giusti

“Not at this time.”

  “Keep me abreast of the situation.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  The general nodded to his aide. “Morning, Mark.” He then headed through another door that led to his inner office suite.

  Lillie pulled out her desk chair. Before she sat down, the outer door opened again, and Karl Nelson hustled into the office. Forty-something and slightly out of breath, the head of Nelson Construction smacked of small-town wealth in his hand-tailored suit, starched white shirt and red tie.

  “I’m early for my appointment with the general, Lillie.” Five-ten and wearing twenty extra pounds, Karl approached her desk. “I heard about the shooting. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Mr. Nelson, but I wish I could say the same for Granger Ford.”

  Karl harrumphed. “The man was a murderer. He never should have been released from prison. In my opinion, he received his due.”

  Dawson flinched. “I beg to differ, sir.”

  Lillie’s stomach tightened. If only Dawson could shrug off the comment and not let the contractor get under his skin.

  “What’s that?” Karl turned, as if only now realizing the CID agent was in the room.

  “Granger Ford was recently released from prison, Mr. Nelson, because of new DNA testing that proved the trial was a mockery of justice.”

  So much for hoping everyone would get along. Glancing from Dawson to Nelson, Lillie felt like a drop of water on a hot iron.

  Dawson pointed his finger at the contractor. “People in this town stood by and allowed an innocent man to go to jail.”

  Nelson’s eyes narrowed. Before he could respond, the door to the inner office suite opened.

  General Cameron stood in the doorway, his hand outstretched. “Glad you stopped by early, Karl. We’ll have more time to go over the plans for the new museum.”

  The construction company owner shrugged off his displeasure with Dawson, returned the handshake and followed the general into his inner office.

  Once the door closed behind them, Lillie looked at Dawson, willing him to understand she needed to get to work. “You’d better go.”

  Digging in his pocket, he pulled out Granger’s key and dropped it into her hand. “I’ll stop by later this afternoon and follow you home after work.”

  Before she could object, he was gone, leaving her stomach in knots and her nerves stretched thin. She glanced through the window as he hurried along the sidewalk to his car.

  Handsome though he was, Lillie needed to realize the special agent was trouble, and right now, she had more than enough to last a lifetime.

  FIVE

  Leaving post headquarters, Dawson glanced up at the second-story corner suite. In deference to the general, he should have kept his comment about Granger to himself, but he had bristled when the construction tycoon claimed the ex-con had deserved to die.

  Dawson had blurted out his objection not just because Granger had been his dad, but because false rhetoric, like idle gossip, could be deadly. Dawson had experienced it firsthand with the hateful words spread around Cotton Grove when he was growing up.

  Just like Lillie, Dawson had closed the door to his past. In fact, he had slammed it shut and walked away. Only now Granger’s death had cracked it open again.

  As he walked past Lillie’s car, he thought again of the pretty secretary. High cheekbones. Expressive brows. Emerald eyes that seemed to look beneath the surface and see into the parts of him he closed off from the world. Could she look deep enough to uncover the real person behind the badge?

  Did she see a man who wanted to know the truth about his father? Or a man who still harbored ill feelings toward the one person he had needed most when he was growing up?

  Sliding behind the wheel of his Camry, Dawson shook his head ever so slightly. As a kid, instead of listening to his mother’s constant bashing of his absentee dad, Dawson had created an imaginary bigger-than-life hero.

  That false bubble had burst when Granger was convicted of murder. From then on, Dawson had become his own man and no longer held on to the flawed belief that his father loved him. Like folks said, love was overrated. At least that’s what Dawson told himself.

  Now, with the emotional upheaval rumbling through his gut since he had gotten the call about the shooting, he wasn’t sure of how he felt about Granger, and while Lillie was in a completely different class, he didn’t know how he felt about her either.

  Dawson tried to refocus his attention on the investigation. Instead he kept seeing Lillie, dressed in blood-spattered pajamas and tugging nervously at her silky locks.

  Once he arrived at CID headquarters, he poured two cups of coffee and headed for Jamison’s office. He needed to brief him on what had happened at the secretary’s home and then explain a rather complicated situation that could have bearing on his future.

  The sergeant who had recruited Dawson into the military had insisted army entrance forms mirror each recruit’s legal birth certificate. If Dawson’s mother had failed to provide his father’s name, then as far as the sergeant was concerned, Dawson’s military paperwork needed to duplicate that same lack of information, even if Dawson had been willing to provide a name.

  All of which Dawson would explain to the chief on Monday. Since Jamison was in charge during Wilson’s absence, he needed to be brought up to date as well.

  “Thanks for taking the call this morning,” Jamison said when Dawson handed him the cup of coffee.

  “Not a problem.”

  Jamison took a long slug of the hot brew before asking, “How’s the secretary?”

  “Back at work.”

  Raising his brow, Jamison asked, “You okay?”

  Dawson nodded. “I’m fine. Just need to get a few things off my chest.”

  “You’ve got my attention.”

  Dawson quickly filled Jamison in on the shooting and the man who had run Lillie off the road. “Her safety’s an issue, but she’s more concerned about the new Fort Rickman Museum and whether negative publicity about the shooting could impact donations.”

  “A lot of high rollers will be on post Wednesday along with their checkbooks.”

  “That’s the problem. You’ve heard of Karl Nelson?”

  “As in Nelson Construction Company? He’s a local hero. Evidently his father did a lot to foster relations between Fort Rickman and the local community. Once he passed on, Karl took over. Nelson money has put Freemont on the map.”

  Dawson nodded. “I had a little run-in with Karl this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “He made a negative comment about Granger.” Dawson shrugged. “I set him straight.”

  The corners of Jamison’s mouth twitched. “I’m sure you were respectful and handled the situation with great diplomacy.”

  “I wanted to jab my finger in his pudgy midriff and tell him to drop and give me fifty push-ups.”

  Jamison chuckled. “He’s probably harmless, but my advice would be to temper your remarks when you’re in the general’s office.”

  “Roger that.” Dawson downed the rest of his coffee and threw the paper cup in the trash.

  “There’s something else we need to discuss.” He pulled in a deep breath and then explained the tightrope he was walking by investigating a case in which he had a personal interest.

  Jamison pursed his lips once Dawson had finished speaking. “I’m not sure what the old man will say on Monday. Wilson likes everything done by the book, but he knows we’re down two agents. I was tied up with another case, and anything involving the general’s secretary, in my opinion, could become high profile. When the call came in, we needed someone from post to represent the military. You were the only agent available.”

  Dawson nodded. “Which sounds well and good today, but the chief might see it in a t
otally different light come Monday.”

  “I’ll take the heat.”

  Dawson held up his hand. “I don’t want you involved, Jamison. This rests on my shoulders.”

  “But I was the one who assigned you to the case. We’ll let the Freemont police handle the investigation while you ensure Ms. Beaumont’s safety. If Wilson wants to make a change come Monday, so be it, but until then your job is to keep her safe.”

  “I want to be up front about everything,” Dawson said.

  “Which you have been.”

  “There’s one other thing. My father’s name was not on my birth certificate. If my relationship to the victim becomes public knowledge, I don’t want anyone to think I tried to falsify military records.”

  “We’ll handle that problem when we need to. For right now, focus on security for the general’s secretary.”

  Dawson let out a frustrated breath as he left Jamison’s office. He was treading in treacherous waters, especially where Lillie Beaumont was concerned. Keeping her safe meant keeping her under surveillance. Not a difficult task on the surface, but one that could force him to ignore the emotional pull she had on his heart.

  Maybe the delay would work to Dawson’s advantage. Over the weekend, more facts could come to light. He was probably being overly optimistic, but anything could develop in the next forty-eight hours.

  All he had to do was keep Lillie safe until then, but when he returned to her office later that afternoon, the only person he found was the general’s aide.

  On more than one occasion, Dawson had seen the rather egotistic captain at the club, throwing his weight around and demanding faster service because of his connections with the general. Evidently, the aide didn’t realize he had silver bars on his shoulders instead of stars.

  “When did Lillie leave?” Dawson asked as he spied her empty desk.

  The aide checked his watch. “Probably twenty minutes ago.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “Only that she needed to check on a few things that may have played into the murder.”

  Dawson’s gut tightened. Someone had run Lillie off the road this morning and placed her life in danger. The last thing she needed was to snoop around in a homicide investigation.

  To his credit, the captain’s face showed the concern he must not have realized earlier. “I...I thought she was meeting you.”

  “What did she say, exactly?”

  “Something about unlocking the answers to what had happened.”

  Dawson never should have given her the key. More than likely Granger wouldn’t have had access to the facilities on post, which Lillie would have realized. She must have driven back to town.

  Dawson wasn’t sure what he would find in Freemont, but one thing was certain. He had to find Lillie before trouble found her.

  * * *

  Lillie needed to discover what Granger’s key unlocked. Confident Dawson planned to follow her home after work, she wanted to distance herself from the CID agent with whom she had already shared too much. She didn’t want anyone getting too close, which he seemed to do whenever they were together.

  Case in point, she had ended up in his arms this morning. Lulled by his warmth, she had felt secure in his protective embrace. Even the masculine scent of his aftershave played havoc with her normal control. No matter how she reacted emotionally to the CID agent, she didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone.

  Earlier, she had planned to take a long lunch break to investigate on her own, but with only a few workdays until the big donors would be on post, the last-minute details for the kickoff event for the Fort Rickman Museum required attention.

  Lillie had produced a program for the ceremony, which General Cameron needed to review before the end of the workday. She had stayed at her desk throughout the lunch hour to ensure the task was completed on time. She had also contacted the various organizations on post taking part in the special event and asked for a confirmation of the number of people participating.

  When she had finally cleared her desk, Lillie bid Captain Banks a hasty goodbye and briefly explained her reason for leaving early. An incoming call captured his attention and allowed her to get away without having to share additional information.

  Once in her car, she pulled Granger’s key from her pocket. What would it unlock, and what secrets would be revealed about the past? Torn between learning the truth and keeping the past hidden, Lillie jammed it back in her pocket.

  Lillie had learned at a young age to protect her heart and had vowed to never allow herself to be vulnerable again. Granger’s death forced her to rethink the past, something she hadn’t wanted to do.

  This morning, she had watched Dawson through her office window as he hustled to his car. Penny for your thoughts. The old adage had come to mind when he stopped on the sidewalk and glanced up at the window where she stood.

  Surely with the tinted panes he hadn’t noticed her staring down at him. Nor had he realized the way her heart tightened in her chest. Before she allowed herself to explore the reason for the internal reaction, she had returned to her desk, intent on focusing on her work instead of the CID agent.

  Except here she was hours later, drifting back to his blue eye and blond hair and strong arms that had comforted her this morning.

  She shook her head, sending the thought of his strength fleeing, and concentrated instead on the twisting road she needed to follow into town.

  Freemont had grown recently with the influx of military to the area. The south side, closest to post, had rapidly spread into an assortment of fly-by-night businesses that catered to soldiers. Used-car dealerships, pawnshops and bars now populated the outskirts of the Georgia town.

  A bowling alley and pool hall complex appeared ahead, housed in a prefabricated warehouse that took up most of the block. She found a parking space on the street and, remembering Dawson’s warning earlier, locked her doors before she hurried along the sidewalk toward Southside Lanes.

  The neon lights inside the building beckoned a welcome that couldn’t cover the smell of stale beer and dirty socks. Bowling balls crashed against the lineup of pins, filling the air with the ding-ding-ding of the scoreboards. The clerk, mid-thirty-something and as many pounds overweight, stood behind the counter and talked to two guys, who from their buzz haircuts were obviously military.

  Lillie stepped into the women’s locker room, lifted by a sense of euphoria when she spied a row of lockers along one wall. She tried the key in the various locks, but none opened.

  Realizing Granger wouldn’t have used the women’s locker room, she retraced her steps to the main bowling area. The two military guys had selected their balls and were warming up on a distant lane. The clerk had left the counter unmanned, and the only other patrons were focused on the scoreboard and their games.

  Walking quickly, Lillie eased through the open doorway into the men’s area and tried the key in the nearby lockers, discouraged when they also failed to open.

  Footsteps sounded behind her. Lillie tensed. Her heart hammered in her chest.

  “Hey, lady,” a deep voice bellowed. “What are you doing?”

  Her hands shaking, she dropped the key in her pocket. “I, ah...I thought this was the ladies’ room.”

  Lowering her head, Lillie brushed past the indignant bowler and hurried toward the door, only to walk into the wide body of the clerk.

  He grabbed her arm and glared down at her. “What were you doing?”

  She tried to wrench free of his grasp. “I...I thought this was the ladies’ room.”

  The other man followed her out. “She was fooling around with the lockers.”

  The clerk’s hold tightened on her arm. “Maybe we should call the cops.”

  Things were going from bad to worse. “No, please, I was here last week, an
d I thought I’d left my hairbrush in the locker I used. For some reason, I got mixed up and went in the men’s area.”

  “Open your purse,” the clerk demanded.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. We’ve had things stolen out of the lockers recently. What did you take?”

  Lillie stared indignantly back at the clerk, attempting to appear defiant rather than afraid. Her job. Her reputation. So much was at stake.

  “I told you what happened,” she insisted.

  “And I told you to open your purse.”

  The man gripped her arm even more tightly, and he pushed her forward toward a small office. “That’s it, lady. Maybe you’ll be more responsive when you talk to the police.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  Relief buckled her knees as Lillie recognized the voice and turned to see Dawson holding up his CID identification and leveling an intense gaze at the clerk.

  “Someone’s stealing from our customers. We found this woman in the men’s locker room. She refuses to open her purse so I can see if she’s taken anything.”

  “I’m sure there’s been a mix-up.” Dawson’s calm voice appeared to ease the tension in the clerk’s stance. “Release her arm, and she’ll open her purse.” Dawson raised his brow at Lillie.

  “Of course I will,” she said quickly, relieved when the clerk dropped his hand.

  Lillie followed Dawson’s suggestion and removed her wallet and a package of tissues so the clerk could view the few items that remained in her handbag.

  “As I told you,” Lillie said, feeling confident again with Dawson at her side, “I walked into the wrong locker room. My mind was somewhere else.”

  The clerk didn’t seem totally satisfied with her explanation and, once again, Dawson came to her aid.

  “A perfectly logical mistake.” He smiled at the clerk. “I’ll ensure the lady finds her way out. Call Fort Rickman CID if you ever have trouble with military personnel here at the bowling alley.”

  He slipped his card into the clerk’s open hand. “We work closely with the local police. In fact, I was with Sergeant Pritchard this morning. You probably know him.”