Executive Protection(3)

Darcy answered with a dry grin and then asked, “What do you want to do next? Anything you need me to do?”

“What you do best.” Thad gave his friend a pat on the back of his shoulder.

“I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“Thanks, Darcy.” Thad turned for the door.

“Hey, you still coming over to watch the hockey game tonight?” Darcy asked as Thad reached the door.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” His friend was having a hard time dealing with the finalization of his divorce. Darcy was too much of a man to admit he needed a friend right now, but he did need one, and Thad would do what he could to support him.

Thad was halfway to the exit when Chief Thomas appeared ahead of him.

“Winston,” Wade Thomas said. “In my office.”

Boy, when Darcy was right, he was right. Thad followed the average-height man of a considerable girth. Fifty-three years old, he had thick, gray hair and wore glasses.

The chief walked around his cluttered desk and sat his heavy frame down. The lighting in here was dim. Everyone joked about how Chief Thomas was a vampire. He claimed his eyes were sensitive to light and that was why he only had one floor lamp on in his office and kept the blinds shut over windows that faced the sea of cubicles where all the detectives worked.

“How’s your mother doing?” he asked.

“She’s going to recover. Thanks for asking.”

He dropped a newspaper on top of a stack of folders, the headline reading something about the attempt on the former vice president.

“Kate Winston may be your mother, but she’s also a prominent political figure. The media is going to stay on this story until the shooter is captured.”

“I’m good at avoiding the media,” Thad said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. But then he said, “Darcy told me you’re getting some pressure from the feds.” Wade didn’t take orders from outside his jurisdiction well.

“They’re going to handle the case,” Wade said, his voice dripping with resentment.

“I know.” He took pity on the man. His hands were tied just like Thad’s and Darcy’s.

“I’m concerned that you’ll try and solve it on your own,” Wade said.

The pressure must be heavy for him to push this so hard. “Why so much security?”

“The shooter isn’t caught. That’s embarrassing for the Secret Service. They told me hands off or else, and I believe them...as should you.”

“The Secret Service told you that?” Thad would try to fish for information. “I thought it was the FBI investigators who were keeping things tight.”

Frustration made Chief Thomas shake his head. “The rumor mill around here is like a bad virus. I’m sure they’re working together.”

“But excluding us.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Chief Thomas said.

“I just—”

“I know you, Winston.” Chief Thomas cut him off. “You don’t lack initiative and that sometimes gets you into trouble.”

He’d taken initiative to catch the man who’d tried to kill his mother. “It’s my mother.”

“You can take all the time you need helping her recover. I hear it may take her a few weeks before she’s 100 percent. Beyond that, leave it up to the feds.”

Thad stopped himself from arguing. Chief Thomas was following orders.

“Are we clear?” Chief Thomas asked.

“We’re clear.” Clear that Wade Thomas could not find out what he and Darcy did to investigate the shooting.

Wade stared at him for several seconds, not believing. If Thad’s poker face wasn’t working, he couldn’t tell.

“If that’s all, I’d like to go see my mother,” he said to get out of there.

“That’s all for now.”

Thad nodded once and turned, vowing to be extra careful not to clue Wade into anything. He’d fallen short in that duty once. He’d be damned if he’d fall short again.


* * *

Lucy Sinclair looked forward to coming to work every day. She loved being on her feet at Duke University Hospital, helping patients recover from whatever had put them there. Talking to them, getting to know a little about their lives. Except when they died, of course. No nurse she’d ever met enjoyed that part of the job. Today was a good day because nobody was going to die.

Her smartphone vibrated. Stopping on her way to Kate Winston’s room, she removed the phone from her uniform pocket and leaned against the hallway wall to get out of the way of a gurney being rolled toward an operating room. Lifting one white New Balance walking shoe, she propped it up on the wall behind her and navigated to the new message on her phone, smiling when she recognized the name. Cameo Harmon. Or Cam as he called himself, the new man she’d met online who had exciting potential. She’d gone on two dates with him this week. He called and texted her every day. A man who gave a girl that much attention had to be interested. That put him on the top of her list of eligible bachelors.

A sales director for a data management company, her first impression of him was that he was a hard worker with a vibrant personality. She supposed he got that from being a salesman. Her mother had cautioned her about that. She said salesmen couldn’t be trusted because they were like actors. They acted their lives out instead of living in reality. But Cam was nice and successful—and not bad-looking.