Killer Insight. Virginia Vaughan
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they were done, and Ross turned to leave. “I’m heading back out to the abduction site. I’ll let you know if we find anything. I’ll also have those files we talked about sent to the B&B.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
Bryce extended his hand and shook Ross’s. “I appreciate all you’re doing,” he said, and he meant it. Ross hadn’t had to go to bat for him with the chief and allow him to bring in the FBI, but he had and he was always fair enough to look at all the leads before making any conclusions. Bryce wished all the officers on the force showed the same restraint.
The nurse arrived and gave her something to help her pain, and Lucy seemed to rest better after that. Once she was sleeping soundly, Bryce slipped from the room and took up guard duty outside her door.
He passed the time by continuing to try to reach his brother and looking up the details of Danny’s death. Something about the expression on Lucy’s face when she’d told him about the car crash had left him wondering. He was sure she’d been hesitating, holding something back, and he feared the worst as he scoured the internet for news about the crash that had killed Danny and a family in a van.
He found articles on the crash from the previous year. A family of four, including two children, were killed when another driver had barreled through a traffic light and crashed into them. The driver of the car was also killed, and found to be under the influence of prescription medication at the time of the crash.
So that was what she hadn’t wanted to tell him. Danny had been abusing prescription meds. Bryce sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as weariness weighed heavily on him. He’d known too many men, good men, who’d succumbed to addiction after suffering injuries in the service. As far as he’d known, Danny’s injuries during his last combat mission hadn’t been severe, certainly nothing that would have prevented him from returning after recovery. But he’d decided it was time to leave military life and focus on a career in law. The last time Bryce had spoken to Danny, he’d been excited about graduating law school and being hired by a criminal defense firm. He’d also been excited about planning a life with Lucy.
How easily it had all faded away.
He clicked on an image on his phone of him and Meghan taken only a few days after he’d returned home from his last mission as an SOA operator. It had been a rescue mission at an embassy and people had died, people he’d sent in to help the embassy workers. In an instant, his decision had cost three families their husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. It was a burden he had to live with, and one he didn’t shoulder lightly.
He would look after Lucy because he owed it to her for the danger he’d placed her in. But he had to be careful too. He recalled how enamored Meghan had been with the lovely brunette FBI agent. She’d already texted him twice since he’d left her at her friend’s house to check on her, and that was only after gushing about Lucy to her friend for several minutes after she’d arrived.
Yes, Lucy was turning out to be a fierce, amazingly strong federal agent, but that was all she could ever be in their lives. The press had called his SOA team heroes for acting to save lives, but his own government had labeled him insubordinate for not obeying their command to stand down and ignore the tragedy unfolding at the embassy. Lucy was a government agent, and Bryce had learned the hard way that his government could not be trusted—therefore Lucy could not be trusted.
No matter how her eyes seemed to twinkle at him.
Bryce arrived at the hospital the next morning carrying a suitcase. “I stopped by the B&B and asked Mrs. Ferguson to pack you some clothes from your room. I hope that’s okay.”
It was more than okay. It was wonderful, and Lucy was grateful he’d thought of it. She slipped from the hospital gown into a pair of jeans and a blouse and was finally starting to feel like a person again. She stared at herself in the mirror and saw a stranger staring back at her. The big ugly bruise took up one side of her face, and a busted lip completed the look.
The beating had been severe, and it was a blessing she hadn’t sustained more than a mild concussion. Thinking about what might have been had been enough to keep her awake all night. Even now it made her stomach roll. She’d come to town to catch a killer, not to become his next victim.
“Thank you for the clothes,” she told Bryce as she emerged from the bathroom where she’d changed. Last night the police had confiscated her running shoes for evidence, but Mrs. Ferguson had remembered to include another pair in the bag. She slipped them on, grimacing at the action. Her entire body ached from her ordeal, and she noticed Bryce didn’t miss her grunts of pain.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t be staying here?” he asked her.
She waved off his concerns. “I’m fine. Just a little sore. Getting out and moving will certainly help.” That and the massive bottle of Tylenol she planned to keep with her at all times. The doctor had prescribed her painkillers, but she was hesitant to use them unless absolutely necessary. She wanted to be as alert as possible, and she’d tried to avoid strong painkillers ever since discovering Danny’s addiction to them.
Bryce helped her slip into her jacket, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulders seemed to take up all her space, yet his hands were gentle as he helped her. It was strange to her that ever since hearing his daughter tell her that she would be okay because her dad was a marine, she had felt safer whenever he was around.
She shook off those feelings. She’d come here for a purpose, and it wasn’t to cozy up to Bryce Tippitt. She couldn’t even think about such things, not after what she’d been through with Danny. She had to keep her head about her and not get lulled into a sense of comfort. For all she knew, Bryce knew his brother was guilty and was grasping at straws to pin his crimes on another man. It was essential that she maintain her objectivity.
“I think we should head to the floral shop first,” she said. She’d jotted down the name of the shop that bore the logo on the threatening note. “It was Busy Bee Flowers. Are you familiar with that shop?”
“Of course. I know right where it is.”
“Good. Let’s go then.”
She was glad to get out of the hospital and ready to stop feeling like such an invalid. Wearing normal clothes certainly helped, but working out the kinks in her joints would make her feel better too.
The hospital insisted on forcing her to use a wheelchair until they reached the front doors. She hated it—one more reason she was glad to get out of there.
“I’ve already driven my pickup to the front doors,” Bryce said as he wheeled her toward them. “A buddy of mine was able to replace the shattered back glass first thing this morning.” He stopped abruptly.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, glancing at the front doors. A group of people stood on the front stoop, blocking the path between the door and his truck. She spotted several cameras and knew they were the press. “What should we do?”
“We can find another way out, but I’ll have to get my truck sometime.”
“I can’t ignore them forever. Let’s just go through them. Let them have their photo op.”
He nodded and pushed her toward the door. Once it slid open, the group turned and started snapping photos. Microphones were pushed into her face, and people shouted questions at her.
She ignored them, keeping her head down as Bryce opened the passenger door to his truck and helped her inside, leaving the wheelchair on the sidewalk. She was grateful for his calm manner and the hand on her back to keep her steady. She’d thought she could handle this, but the flashes of light and the shouting were unbearable. She was thankful when he slammed the door shut. She covered her face as he walked around, climbed into the driver’s seat and took off.
It was all too reminiscent of the days after