LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

dropped his chin slightly. “Your father is gone, pumpkin. He wouldn’t want you to risk your life by staying here out of sentimentality.”

      “It’s not sentimentality,” she replied. “It would be too hard to pack up and move. Besides, if Boyd is on base and watching, then he’d know where I was going.”

      Patrick frowned. “I don’t like it.”

      “Neither do I,” Westley said.

      Felicity’s gaze whipped to him. Figures he’d side with her uncle.

      Westley held up a hand as if to ward off an argument from her. “But Felicity is correct. Any move would draw more attention to her. Dakota will be staying with her, and I’ll be close by at all times.”

      She smiled reassuringly at Patrick. “See. I’ll be taken care of.” It grated to say that. She could take care of herself. But then again...if she’d truly been Boyd’s intended target last night at the kennels, she clearly needed the backup.

      “If you’re sure.” Patrick rubbed the back of his neck. “I could stay here with you.”

      “No!” She practically shouted the word and then grimaced at the sound of panic in her voice. The last thing she wanted was to have her uncle fussing over her. He’d be pushy like her mother. “I mean...no, thank you. I don’t want to put you out. I’ll be fine.”

      Patrick glanced around and then his gaze settled back on her. “You have my number. If you need me for anything, you ring me. I’ll check in with you often.”

      Deciding that was as good as she’d get, she nodded. “That would be great. I’ll call if I need to.”

      “All right, then.” Patrick narrowed his gaze on Westley. He spared Dakota a parting glance and a shudder, then said, “Promise me you won’t let anything happen to her.”

      “I promise.”

      Westley’s deep voice wrapped around her. He was a man who kept his promises, but how could he make this one when there was no guarantee he could keep it?

      * * *

      Felicity eyed the Office of Special Investigations. They were here to bring the key to Agent Steffen, though she wasn’t sure that it mattered. She doubted Ian would know what the key unlocked.

      They’d driven over in her two-door compact car with Dakota sitting on the back seat. Westley hadn’t balked when Felicity had climbed into the driver’s seat. She’d been half-convinced she’d have to argue with him to drive her own car, but instead he’d relaxed into the passenger seat after adjusting it to accommodate his long legs. His wide shoulders took up the whole seat and hovered close to her shoulder. If she leaned a little to the right, they’d be touching, which made her hyperaware of every bump in the road.

      She’d parked in front of the building and now she hesitated. She hadn’t been to her father’s office since his death. Memories threatened to swamp her. She fought them back with as much energy as she could spare, afraid if she didn’t keep them at bay she’d drown.

      She forced herself to slip out of the car and meet Westley and Dakota on the sidewalk. She noticed that Westley’s gaze scanned the area, his hands on his utility belt, before he gave her a nod to indicate she should go ahead of him.

      The receptionist smiled softly at her with sadness filling her eyes. Felicity had known her since she was ten. The tears were hot on the back of her throat. She could feel Westley’s gaze, but she didn’t dare look at him or the tears would start flowing. She had to be strong. They had a killer to catch. And a mystery to solve.

      She led the way down the hall. The building was quiet on this late Sunday afternoon. The carpet beneath their feet snagged at Dakota’s nails.

      Felicity stopped short outside a closed door halfway down the hall. Her father’s name still graced the name plaque. A spasm of longing hit her. On a whim, she slipped the key from beneath her uniform jacket and took off the necklace.

      “Worth a try,” she murmured at Westley’s questioning look. She put the key in the lock. It didn’t fit. She hadn’t really expected it to. If the key was so important that her father went to the trouble of hiding it in a secret compartment in his desk, it wouldn’t be so mundane as to be a key to his office.

      “Is the door locked?” Westley asked.

      She tried the handle. It opened easily. She stepped inside and breathed in. She knew it was a trick of her mind, but she inhaled the lingering scent of her dad’s citrus aftershave. Her heart ached and grief twisted in her belly.

      The office walls had been stripped of the framed photos and certificates that had once decorated the space. The desk was bare and the filing cabinet drawers were open and empty. She wasn’t sure why seeing the space so barren left her feeling empty and grief-stricken.

      She guessed the reality that he was truly gone couldn’t be denied here. At home, his things were still touchable, as if waiting for his return. Maybe her uncle was right. Maybe she was staying in the house out of sentiment.

      Her friend Rae Fallon, a rookie fighter pilot, needed a roommate. Maybe Felicity should consider moving into Rae’s apartment.

      She shrugged off her thoughts. Right now, she and Westley had a task to do. She couldn’t let herself fall down a rabbit hole of sorrow.

      Turning to leave, she bumped into Westley. His hands steadied her. She couldn’t deny she liked the way warmth seeped through her jacket to touch her skin. She looked into his eyes. The compassion in his gaze brought on a burn of tears. She blinked to keep them at bay.

      “It’s okay to grieve,” he said. “You’ve been so strong this past month.”

      “I grieve,” she said. “In private.” Where no one could judge her for the noisy sobs and the red-rimmed eyes.

      “I want you to know you don’t have to keep everything in all the time,” he said.

      She shrugged away his hands. “You sound like a shrink.”

      His mouth lifted at one corner. “Doling out advice I was given a long time ago.”

      She recalled he’d mentioned his father had passed on. “How old were you when your father died?”

      Westley stepped back, his expression closing like a door in her face. “Seventeen.”

      “Had he been ill?” she asked gently.

      “Let’s just say things weren’t good and leave it at that.” He gestured toward the door. “We need to see Ian.”

      Obviously, Westley had no intention of sharing his past with her. To him, she was an assignment. Nothing more. She couldn’t help disappointment from burrowing deep inside, even though she knew it was silly of her to feel anything where Westley was concerned. Better for them both to remain detached.

      Westley moved to the exit with Dakota at his side. He stopped in the doorway, looking both ways before allowing her to exit in front of him.

      They knocked on Ian’s office door. It whipped open and Ian’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Is something wrong?”

      “We think we found something important,” Felicity said and showed him the key while explaining about the secret compartment in her father’s home desk.

      He waved them inside the office and examined the key. “You have no idea what the key opens?”

      “None,” she and Westley said in unison. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder facing the older man.

      “Neither do I.” Ian handed the key back to Felicity. “It could be nothing.”

      She frowned. “But why would he hide this then?”

      “I don’t think that’s relevant to your father’s murder. For all we know the key could have been in the desk for years. The piece was an antique when he bought it, right?”

Скачать книгу