By Her Side. Kathryn Springer
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tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.
It was a promise Felicity had clung to over the years. As a high-school sophomore, when she’d attended a Washington D.C. young journalist’s conference. When she’d left for college. When Jeremy had hired her to work at the Dispatch.
And after she’d received the threatening letters.
God was with her. He’d protect her. Like Chris had said, one minute at a time. Trusting Him.
Chris. A little dismayed that her thoughts had returned to him, Felicity tried to replace him by skimming an article on her desk. After reading the same sentence three times, she gave up. He stubbornly remained in her memory. Typical of a Hamilton, she thought wryly. They did have a tendency to make an impression.
It was strange that she hadn’t seen him around Hamilton Media before. Nora dropped by on a regular basis to say hello but Felicity had never seen Chris. She didn’t see him on Sunday mornings at Northside Community Church, either, where the rest of the Hamilton family worshipped. From the simple statement he’d made about trusting God, it was clear that he was a believer, but maybe his shift only allowed him time to attend the Sunday evening services that Northside Community offered.
She frowned, tracing her pen along the margin of the article. It wasn’t unusual for her to see the officers at circuit court. Maybe she’d caught a glimpse of him there at some point and hadn’t realized who he was.
Right. Like you would have forgotten him!
Felicity shook the pesky thought away. She was focused on her career and so far nothing—or no one—had distracted her. Hopefully now that he’d interviewed her, Chris would set Tim’s mind at ease that there wasn’t anything the police could do about the letters and she could continue to report the news. And she and this particular officer—all right, this particular attractive officer—wouldn’t be crossing paths again.
Chapter Three
Chris didn’t make it to the revolving door at the front entrance of Hamilton Media before Tim intercepted him.
“What’s the verdict?”
Chris plowed his fingers through his hair. “Anonymous stalker. Angry. Intelligent.” A bad combination. “My guess is that he’s familiar enough with the legal system to know that if I knocked on his door and hauled him in right now, he’d be out in time to have lunch at Betty’s Bakeshoppe. His threats are subtle but definitely escalating. At this point, he’s trying to scare her.”
And it wasn’t working.
Remembering Felicity’s calm response to the situation rekindled the respect he’d had for her during the interview.
“So it’s nothing to worry about. He’ll lose interest.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I know we don’t have much to go on, but I’d like to do some follow-up anyway.”
“Tell me this isn’t going to mean more bad publicity for the company.”
Tim’s comment made Chris’s back teeth grind together. “Is that what this interview was about? Protecting the company?”
Tim’s eyes held no apology. “Of course I’m concerned about Felicity, but you know as well as I do that when the Observer printed the story about Jeremy a few weeks ago, it was sending a message. Anything that happens at Hamilton Media—and to our family—is fair game. It’s news. And I refuse to become fodder for the Observer’s gossip column.”
Chris wasn’t exactly thrilled by the possibility either but in his mind, Felicity’s safety outweighed the cost of negative publicity.
“Felicity isn’t taking this very seriously, either. Someone has to.” Someone had to protect her.
“I’ll talk to Dad,” Tim said, as if that settled it.
Chris sent up a silent prayer for patience. “This isn’t Dad’s decision,” he pointed out. “You asked me to talk to Felicity as a police officer. I’m on duty. I write a report, file it and then I decide the best way to go from here.”
They hadn’t had a stare-down contest since they were kids, when they needed something to kill time on long car rides or while they waited for dinner. When he’d gone up against Jeremy, Jeremy was always the hands-down champion but it could go either way between Tim and himself.
This time he won. So he was twenty-seven years old. It still felt good.
Tim smiled faintly. “Whatever you think is best, Officer Hamilton. I wouldn’t want you to arrest me for—”
“Obstruction,” Chris said helpfully.
“Right.” Tim gave him a mocking salute but there was a glint of laughter in his eyes. “I better get back to work. One of us has to keep Hamilton Media at the top.”
Chris knew it wasn’t a deliberate cut but he still felt the sting. He knew that Tim would discuss the situation with their father but for once Wallace wouldn’t have the final say. Felicity’s stalker wasn’t just Hamilton Media business anymore. It was police business. And, depending on Chris’s decision, another wedge that had the potential to drive him and his dad further apart.
“You’re still here? Did someone do something about the funky traffic lights at the corner yet?” Felicity swept past him and was several yards away before he realized she’d asked him a question.
He caught up to her in two easy strides.
“Where are you off to, Lois?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “There’s a guy in blue tights I have to interview. Kind of strange if you ask me. Spandex isn’t the most comfortable fabric.”
“I’ll take your word for that.” Chris grinned.
Felicity headed toward the parking lot, skirted around the police car and slanted a look at him when he remained at her side. “Is this a police escort, Officer Hamilton?”
“Just walking a lady to her car.” Power walking a lady to her car. In spite of the oppressive August heat, Felicity moved in fifth gear. And not a hair out of place, either.
“It’s broad daylight,” Felicity said, with just a touch of exasperation. “I’m sure I’ll be…”
She stopped so abruptly that Chris slammed into her. The momentum pushed Felicity forward and instinctively Chris reached out to steady her. His hands wrapped around her arms and she winced.
“Okay, maybe I should be interviewing you instead of the guy in the blue tights. Maybe you’re the superhero.”
“Sorry. My Kevlar vest.” Chris’s lips twitched. “And I hate to disappoint you, but I’m only bulletproof when I’m wearing it.”
“This is why I don’t wear heels,” Felicity grumbled as she pulled off one leather shoe and inspected it.
“So that’s why you stopped. You have a flat.”
Felicity twisted around to face him and the movement brought her into close range. So close he could see that her velvety brown irises were ringed with copper.
“No, I stopped because of that.”
Chris followed the direction she was pointing and his gaze settled on a baby-blue Cadillac straight off the set of Happy Days.
He would have whistled his appreciation except for one thing. Both back tires had been slashed.
Felicity pushed her shoe back on and headed over to survey the damage. Anger surged up and crested inside her. She dug into the pocket of her linen blazer for a caramel candy. Popping it into her mouth, she looked from the tires to Chris, who was prowling around the car. The humor had vanished from his eyes and his mouth had flattened into a grim line. He looked every inch the police officer.
“Don’t kids have