Nanny 911. Julie Miller
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sniper’s rifle secured over her shoulder. She was over at the windows now, trailing her fingers along the chrome trim.
Louis Nolan had followed her to the windows, his bushy silver brows knitted together with the same perplexed interest plaguing Quinn. “They’d have to rappel from the roof and cut a hole in the glass to get through that way.”
She nodded, studying the seam of the window from top to bottom. “It could be done. I could do it.”
“Unless you had a fear of heights,” Louis teased.
“Fortunately, I don’t.”
“I’ll bet you don’t fear much, do you, darlin’?”
The blonde officer’s cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink. Carrying numerous deadly weapons and crawling across his furniture didn’t fluster her, but a darlin’ from a good ol’ Texas charmer did?
Quinn stopped the conversation. This wasn’t the time for Louis’s flirting. Or his own scientific observations. “I think we’d see the evidence if someone had come through the window. Beyond the fact that it’s tempered, shatterproof glass and the condensation outside from the freezing temperatures would make any kind of traction for your climber almost impossible, there’s no way to replace that specific kind of window overnight.”
She turned her wide green eyes from Louis, seeming to understand his facts better than his COO’s flirting. “Is there another exit to the roof besides the stairwell next to the elevators? Anything with direct access to your office?”
“No.”
She tipped her chin up toward the ceiling “What kind of duct work do you have running up there?”
Officer Murdock was definitely an odd sort of woman, certainly nothing like the polished beauty of his executive assistant, Elise, or any of the other poised and tailored belles he escorted to society events. “Standard issue, I suppose. Although the access panels do have sensors to monitor whenever one opens or closes.”
Michael Cutler seemed to think she was onto something. He looked up at the air-return grate over Quinn’s desk. “Murdock. Call Taylor down and scout it out. Looks like there’s more than one way to get into your office, Quinn. The right perp could even lower the package through that grate without ever setting foot in here.”
The bothersome blonde paused by the desk on her way out the door. “Couldn’t the break-in be something more simple? Like, someone you know—someone who wouldn’t raise any suspicions if they were caught on camera walking into your office?”
Quinn bristled at the accusation. “The people who work at GSS are family to me. I surround myself with people I trust without question.”
“Well, that’s a problem, then, isn’t it?” She flipped her ponytail behind her back, looking up at him with an earnest warning. “You may be trusting the wrong guy.”
“Randy, go.”
Her captain’s brusque command finally moved her out of the room. “Sorry. Climbing into the rafters now, sir.”
Apparently, Louis’s interest in waiting for answers on the break-in—or for the promised text message—waned once she’d left the room. “I’ll be in my office if you need me,” he excused himself, “and do call as soon as you find out anything.”
“Randy?” Quinn asked after they’d both gone and he was alone in the office with Michael.
“Miranda Murdock.” The police captain shook his head, as if Quinn’s wasn’t the first curious reaction the SWAT sharpshooter had garnered from the people she met. “Believe me, what she lacks in tact, she makes up for in sheer determination. There’s not a task I’ve given her yet that she hasn’t accomplished.”
“Other than successful public relations.”
“She’s raw talent. Maybe a little too eager to get the job done at times. She matched the highest score for sharpshooting on the KCPD training range.”
“You have faith in her.”
“She wouldn’t be on my team if I didn’t.”
“Quinn?” The familiar knock at his door told Quinn that his assistant, Elise, had an important message for him.
“What is it?”
Elise tucked her dark hair behind one ear, hesitating as she walked into the room. Quinn braced for whatever unpleasant bit of news she had to share. “The current nanny has gotten wind of the threat against Fiona and wants to quit.”
He adjusted his glasses at his temple, snapping before he could contain a flash of temper. “I’m having a Mary Poppins moment here. How many nannies do I have to go through to get one who’ll stay?”
“She’s afraid, Quinn.”
“There’s a guard with Fiona at all times,” he argued.
“Yes, but not with the nanny,” Elise patiently pointed out. “Quinn, she has every right to be concerned for her safety. The guard’s first duty would be to Fiona, not her.”
Where was the loyalty to his family? The sense of responsibility? The devotion to his daughter? She was the fourth woman he’d hired this year—after firing the one he’d caught drinking at the house, and the one who thought spanking his three-year-old was an option, and filing charges against the one who’d tried to sell pictures of his daughter to a local tabloid. “Where is she now? I’ll double her pay if she stays.”
“Um…”
“Daddy!” Quinn understood Elise’s hesitation when the tiny dark-haired beauty who looked so like her late mother ran into his office.
“Hey, baby.” Quinn knelt down to catch Fiona as she launched herself into his arms. He scooped her up and kissed her cool, wind-whipped cheek as her long, thin fingers wound around his neck. “How’s my little princess today?”
“’Kay.” Even though she couldn’t read yet, he turned her away from the hateful note on his desk and bounced her on his hip. Fiona batted away the gloves that were clipped to the sleeves of her coat and held up her well-loved, oft-mended hand-sewn doll. Fiona’s bottom lip pouted out as she pointed to the bandage taped to the doll’s knee. “Petwa has a boo-boo.”
Quinn pulled up the cloth leg and kissed it, suspecting he’d find a similar first-aid job under the knee of Fiona’s corduroy pants. Although the initial flush of her cheeks had concerned him, he was relieved to see that Maria, the nanny du jour, had at least taken the time to dress his daughter properly for the winter weather and brush her curling dark locks back into a neat ponytail before abandoning her.
“There. She’ll be all fine now.” Stealing another kiss from Fiona’s sweet, round cheek, Quinn set her down and pulled off her hat and coat. He nodded toward the specially stocked toy box he kept behind the counter of the kitchenette at the far end of his office suite. “Okay, honey. You run and play for a few minutes while I talk to Elise.”
“’Kay, Daddy.”
He waited until the box was open and the search had begun for a favorite toy before he turned his attention to his assistant. He didn’t have to ask for an explanation. “The nanny didn’t call,” Elise told him. “She dropped Fiona off with me downstairs and left. I couldn’t convince her to stay.”
Quinn unbuttoned his jacket, unhooked the collar of his starched white shirt and loosened his tie, feeling too trapped from unseen forces and ill-timed inconveniences to maintain his civilized facade. He paced down to see with his own eyes that Fiona was happy and secure, playing doctor on her doll with a plastic stethoscope and thermometer.
He came back, scratching his fingers through his own dark hair. He needed to think. He needed answers. Now. “Can you watch her, Elise? I have work to do. I don’t want to leave until I resolve this threat.”
Elise’s mouth opened and closed twice