The General's Secretary

by Debby Giusti

  Lillie’s cheeks burned when she realized she had drifted to sleep and had been dreaming about Dawson.

  He took her hand in his own and rubbed his fingers over hers, which made her flesh feel alive and brought delightful tingles to her neck.

  Their exit appeared in the distance. Dawson squeezed her fingers before he released her hand to make the turn. Once off the exit ramp, he steered the car along the back road that led past the Hi-Way Motel.

  They were back to where they had been yesterday morning. He was the cop, and Lillie was a witness in the investigation.

  What had she been thinking? As soon as the investigation was over, Dawson would be working on something else, and maybe in the future he’d be reassigned to another military post far away from Fort Rickman and Freemont.

  She pulled her hand through her hair, chastising herself for being so foolish. She wasn’t made to share life with a man. Especially a good man like Dawson.

  She had her job, her house and a future working at Fort Rickman. She didn’t need anything else. But when she looked at Dawson again, she realized she was deluding herself. A happily ever after was what every girl dreamed of having in her life. Although not every dream came true.

  Surely, Lillie was asking too much.

  * * *

  Dawson had a hard time keeping his eyes on the road with Lillie sitting next to him. He flicked his gaze toward her when she wasn’t looking and studied the fullness of her lips. It made him want to pull to the side of the road and take her in his arms. Which, of course, he didn’t do, nor would he while the investigation was still in progress.

  Besides, Lillie wasn’t interested in him except for the help he could provide in finding out about her mother’s death, which she had mentioned more than once. Although during dinner she had seemed to relax and enjoy herself. When she laughed, his own mood lightened as if they were connected and nothing could pull them apart. Foolish of him to think that way.

  She had drifted off to sleep, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching for her hand. At the time, it seemed such a natural response after their day together.

  Passing the Hi-Way Motel brought back memories of yesterday morning. Granger had hidden Billy Everett’s picture in a spot where Dawson had failed to look. Now it appeared the redhead might be involved.

  The train trestle appeared overhead. Dawson squinted into the darkness, trying to see what was hanging from the bridge.

  He lifted his foot off the accelerator. Blood rushed to his neck. Adrenaline, mixed with a chilling fear, turned his veins to ice.

  A boulder, large, gray, deadly, dropped from overhead.

  He swerved. The huge rock crashed against the edge of his right fender with a loud whack.

  Feeling the car lurch, Lillie gasped. Her hand reached protectively for the dashboard.

  Dawson pulled to the curb. Throwing open the door, he stepped into the night, his eyes searching the bridge for any sign of the person or persons who had hurled the giant boulder.

  Seeing nothing except the pine trees that bordered the road, he rounded the car and studied the deep dent in his front fender.

  Lillie watched him through the window, her eyes wide. Dawson’s stomach sickened, realizing if he hadn’t swerved, the rock would have shattered the windshield and crashed into Lillie.

  He turned away, unable to look at her, because all he could see was her bloodied body and the terrible what-could-have-been consequences of the falling rock.

  The car door opened. She stepped onto the pavement and stared up at the now-empty trestle. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?”

  He swallowed down the bile that had filled his throat. “Rocks don’t drop from the sky or from train trestles.”

  Pulling his phone from his pocket, Dawson tapped in a series of digits. “I’m calling Pritchard. The entire area needs to be searched.”

  To his credit, the police officer promised to be there within a few minutes. Dawson didn’t want Lillie to wait in the open for the cruiser, not when she was a target. He slipped his arm over her shoulders, as if his closeness would offer protection.

  “You need to get in the car,” he said. “Hunker down in the seat. I’ll stay out here until Pritchard arrives.”

  “You’re worried someone’s still in the area?”

  “He’s probably long gone by now.” Dawson smiled, trying to make light of the situation yet knowing full well that Lillie saw beyond his attempt to soft-pedal the deadly seriousness of what had happened. “I just want to keep you safe.”

  He squeezed her shoulder and opened the door. She hesitated before slipping onto the leather seat, then hit the lock and smiled weakly when he gave her a thumbs-up through the window.

  With determined steps, Dawson walked to the rear of his Camry and felt under the fender. A siren sounded, approaching from town. He brushed off his hands as the police sedan pulled to the side of the road. Pritchard stepped onto the pavement.

  A second car braked to a stop. Pritchard instructed the two officers who emerged from the cruiser to climb the rise and look for anything that might indicate a person had been on the trestle.

  Once they hustled off, the lead cop approached Dawson. Still sitting in the front seat, Lillie glanced at Pritchard over her shoulder.

  “Evening, ma’am,” he said through the window.

  Turning back to Dawson, he raised his brow. “You folks out for a nighttime drive?”

  “We were coming back from Atlanta.”

  “Something happening in the city I should know about?”

  Dawson didn’t want to divulge anything. At least not yet. If and when he pulled the pieces of this very strange case together in some type of order, maybe then he’d be more forthcoming.

  “We went out for dinner.”

  “Long way for a meal.” Pritchard stared at Dawson with dark eyes. “Ms. Beaumont is a witness in a murder investigation. Seems strange you’d ask her out on a date.”

  “It wasn’t a date.”

  Lillie stepped from the car and joined the men.

  “How was Atlanta, ma’am?”

  Dawson kept his gaze fixed on the trestle. Pritchard was fishing, trying to get Lillie to divulge the real reason they had been in the city.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Getting away from Freemont for the day was good for both of us.”

  “Sir,” one of the officers called down to Pritchard. “We found a gum wrapper.”

  “Bag it.” Pritchard glanced at Dawson. “Although a gum wrapper doesn’t prove anyone was lying in wait.”

  Dawson tensed. “The boulder couldn’t have dropped on its own.”

  Frustrated with the small-town cop who seemed to have his own agenda, Dawson stooped down and felt under the fender of his car.

  “Looking for something?” Pritchard asked.

  “A hunch. That’s all.” Dawson’s fingers touched something small and metallic. He yanked the attachment free and stood to examine the device in the light from the police cruiser.

  “What is it?” Lillie asked.

  Dawson turned it over in his hand. “A magnetic GPS tracking device.”

  She raised her brow. “They followed us from Atlanta.”

  Pritchard stepped closer. “Someone thought you were doing more than enjoying a good meal.”

  Dawson didn’t respond to the cop. He was looking at Lillie. No wonder the killer had been able to pinpoint their whereabouts and the exact moment when they drove under the trestle.

  The rock had missed the windshield, but only barely. Dawson had to make sure from now on nothing hurt Lillie. Not an out-of-control SUV or a hurled boulder or a killer who seemed to have her in his sights.

  * * *

  Lillie waited in the Camry while Pritchard and the two other
officers returned to their squad cars. Worry strained Dawson’s face when he slid into the seat next to her.

  He gave her a tepid smile that did nothing to lift her spirits. No matter where they turned, the killer—or killers—seemed one step ahead of them.

  “I gave Pritchard the tracking device.” Dawson started the engine and pulled onto the roadway. “He’ll try to determine who purchased it and where.”

  “I don’t see how they’ll be able to find the buyer. In fact, I doubt we’ll ever know who’s behind all this.”

  Dawson held out his hand. She placed hers in his, buoyed by the warmth of his touch.

  “Finding the GPS system was a plus for our side. No doubt they hoped to keep track of our movements for days.”

  “How long has it been attached to your car?”

  “Probably not more than a few hours. We were inside the prison for quite a while. The parking lot was accessible to anyone who happened by.” He squeezed her hand. “The important thing is that you’re safe.”

  “And tired. I’ll be glad to get home.”

  “With everything that’s happened, I don’t want you to stay in your house tonight. You can get a room on post in the Lodge.”

  She sighed. “I know you’re thinking of my own well-being, but I want to go home.”

  “You want everything to go back to how it was just a few days ago.”

  Dawson was right. That was exactly what she wanted.

  “What about your foster parents?” he asked. “You said they live in the country. The killer or killers might not look for you there.”

  “Or they might and then my foster parents would be placed in danger. Besides, I don’t want them to know what happened. They rarely leave their farm, so I’m sure they haven’t heard about Granger’s death yet.”

  “Hasn’t the story run in the local papers?”

  “The Sunday edition went to press a few days ago. The next issue won’t be out until Wednesday.”

  “Your parents deserve to know what happened, Lillie. Call them and ask if you can stay until Monday morning. By then, this might be behind us.”

  “I think you’re being overly optimistic.”

  “Please, Lillie, if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Dawson’s concern touched her deeply, and an unexpected lump formed in her throat. He sounded sincere, but she was a witness in his father’s murder investigation, which was probably the reason he was worried about her safety.

  No matter what he had meant by the comment, she knew complying with his request was the wisest and safest thing to do.

  “Drive me home, Dawson. I need to pack a few items, no matter where I stay tonight.”

  He smiled. “Now you’re being smart.”

  Lillie didn’t feel smart. She felt trapped in the middle of a huge maze. Glancing at Dawson, she wondered if he felt the same way.

  Once his father’s murder was solved, he would move on to the next case. Where would that leave Lillie? At home in her little house with only the memory of the CID agent who had made her feel safe.

  ELEVEN

  Dawson was relieved when Lillie agreed to spend the rest of the weekend with her foster family, although she insisted he also spend the night there.

  “They have a guest room,” she told him. “And my mother’s a great cook.”

  The thought of another home-cooked meal was tempting. An even stronger draw was getting to know the folks who had taken Lillie in as a child. They had to be good people.

  The cop side of him hoped they might provide additional information about her mother’s death and Granger’s trial. He also hoped Lillie would let down her guard and share some of her own struggle with him.

  Dawson pulled into the driveway of her own small, secluded home. The crime-scene tape had been removed from the front porch, but they still entered her house through the kitchen, as if the spot where Granger had died was consecrated ground upon which neither of them wanted to tread.

  Once inside, Lillie headed to her room, while Dawson lounged on the couch. He closed his eyes and felt the tension that had built up over the past two days ease.

  A nice place to call home. Surprised by the thought that came unbidden, he stood, realizing he had become much too comfortable. Lillie appeared soon thereafter with an overnight bag in hand, which he took from her and carried to his car.

  Driving through Freemont, Dawson kept watch in his rearview mirror to ensure they weren’t being followed. As an added precaution, he made a series of turns and checked for any sign of a white SUV. Once he was certain they were on their own, he followed Lillie’s promptings and eventually headed west into the rural farmland.

  Lillie directed him along a number of back roads. Hopefully, the rather difficult-to-find location of the McKinney farm would keep trouble at bay, or at least prevent anyone who wasn’t familiar with the area from finding her.

  “My mother will like you,” Lillie said when Freemont was far behind them.

  “What about your dad?”

  “He’ll want to know what you do and why you’re with his daughter. Mom will be more direct. She’ll think we’re dating. If the conversation turns to weddings, just play dumb.”

  He laughed. “She thinks it’s time for her daughter to find a husband?”

  Lillie smiled. “In her day, women married young. She’s afraid I’ll be a spinster for life.”

  Dawson turned his gaze to Lillie’s long legs and slender body and tried not to chuckle at her foster mother’s concern for her daughter’s future. The only reason Lillie wasn’t taken was because she hadn’t found the right guy.

  At least, he hoped she didn’t have someone waiting in the wings. Or stationed at another army post.

  Shoving the thought aside, he said, “So what happens if they ask about my intentions for their daughter?”

  Lillie glanced at him, her lips smiling and her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “If they go that far, I’ll step in and rescue you. They mean well, but they can both be overly exuberant.”

  “You’re lucky, Lillie.”

  She raised her brow and stared back at him. “You mean because they took me in?”

  “Because they love you.”

  She bit her lip. “Sometimes I think I didn’t appreciate them enough growing up.” She was quiet for a long moment and then asked, “How’s your relationship with your mom?”

  He weighed his answer. “It’s hard to explain. She always tried to justify the mistakes she made in life.”

  Lillie shifted in her seat. He could feel her gaze. “You weren’t a mistake, Dawson.”

  “My mother claimed falling in love with Granger was the problem. She expended too much effort trying to convince herself she didn’t love him and that he wasn’t worthy of her love.”

  “How did that affect you?”

  “If my father wasn’t worthy, I figured I wasn’t either. I kept hoping my dad would come back to Cotton Grove and take me away with him.”

  Lillie arched a brow. “Did he ever return?”

  “Only once. One of my friends saw him with my mom. I was in school at the time. I thought he’d pull me out of class, but he didn’t.”

  “From what Leonard Simpson said, your mom didn’t want Granger in your life.”

  Dawson swallowed, hoping to end a conversation that was headed where he didn’t want to go.

  “Did you ever ask her about your dad?” Lillie pressed.

  “I learned early on not to bring up his name.”

  “Where’s your mom now?”

  “Still in Cotton Grove. She works for a local grocery chain.”

  “But you don’t talk to her?”

  He shrugged. “I call her at Christmas and hol
idays.”

  Dawson kept his gaze on the road, and they rode in silence until Lillie indicated the next turn and then pointed to a small farmhouse that sat on a rise in the distance. Floodlights illuminated the two-story white structure and a portion of the long driveway and expansive front yard.

  Two wooden rockers sat on the porch.

  Dawson parked next to the house and helped Lillie from the car, wondering how the welcome home would play out. “Maybe you should have called your parents.”

  “I did when I was packing,” Lillie said. “They’re expecting us.”

  Dawson should have felt relieved. He grabbed Lillie’s overnight bag and headed for the front door, concerned he had made a mistake by agreeing to stay the night.

  The door opened before they climbed onto the porch and a short woman with a round face, welcoming grin and arms held wide stepped from the house. “Hello, darlin’. Daddy and I were just saying we thought you should be arriving any minute.”

  After Lillie hugged her mother, she moved aside and motioned Dawson forward. Without waiting for an introduction, Mrs. McKinney wrapped him in a bear hug that made him smile.

  A man, probably in his early seventies, with gray hair and a sun-dried face, came onto the porch. His arms were extended equally as wide as his wife’s had been.

  “How’s my little girl?” he said, embracing Lillie. “Now that you’ve got that good job on post, we don’t see you enough, honey.”

  Lillie kissed his cheek. “You and Mother can always come to visit me in Freemont.”

  “You know we’re homebodies.” Her father stretched out his hand. “Who’s this young man?”

  Lillie smiled at Dawson, who returned the older man’s handshake. “Dawson Timmons, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Thanks for bringing Lillie home to us. Come in out of the cold.” Her father took Lillie’s bag and motioned both of them inside.

  Mrs. McKinney patted Dawson’s arm. “Lillie said you had dinner in Atlanta, but I hope you saved room for dessert. I baked a chocolate cake earlier today.”