Safe Harbor. Hope White
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a safe, quiet place.
“Miss Harris, it’s going to get awfully loud in here as more police personnel show up. How about I take you to another room where it’s quiet?”
She slowly raised her head and pinned him with brilliant amber-colored eyes. He stopped breathing for a second, so affected by the devastation he read there.
“Nice to meet you,” he recovered, and extended his hand, figuring he had to try.
She studied it for a second, then reached out and accepted his gesture. Her trembling fingers were cold and fragile as she clasped his hand. And he prayed to God that he could do right by this one.
She searched his eyes as if wanting to say something but couldn’t get the words out.
Male voices boomed from the outlying office and her fingers squeezed his hand.
“Let’s get you out of here.” He stood and helped her up. She was petite, probably five-three, and a floral scent drifted from her hair.
“It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you.” He positioned her on his left side so when they walked out of the closet she wouldn’t be assaulted by the bloody image of Edward Lange.
She hugged her midsection with her free arm, but wouldn’t let go of his right hand. He put his left arm around her shoulder to shield her from the frenetic crime scene.
“Is this okay?” he said.
She nodded that it was, grabbed her messenger bag and flung it over her shoulder.
Someone barked an order from the office and her shoulders jerked.
“See what I mean? Loud,” he said.
As he led her out of the closet, the half dozen men froze at the sight of Alex and Miss Harris deliberately crossing the room.
“Detective Donovan, I think—”
“Don’t,” Alex snapped.
He didn’t know who’d spoken and didn’t care. Alex needed to get the witness out of this room and away from the violent scene as quickly as possible. As they passed, all eyes were on the red-haired, traumatized beauty. She kept her head down, eyes focused on the carpet a few feet in front of her.
They crossed the threshold into the hallway and he spotted pocket doors. Hopefully he could find another room with pocket doors so he could close her off from the chaos.
He escorted her down the hall to a TV room in the back of the house and slid the pocket doors shut.
“How’s this?” He led her to a thick-cushioned sofa.
She sat down, still clinging to his hand, so he sat next to her. He wanted to be out there assisting with the crime scene, but he wouldn’t leave her alone. Maybe they could call a female sheriff’s deputy to keep her company. Surely a woman would be better at comforting a terrified female witness.
Clutching his hand, she sighed and leaned against his shoulder. For a brief second it reminded him of Jessica, how she’d leaned against him when they’d watched movies. Despair ripped through Alex’s chest, followed by guilt.
Get your head in the game, Alex.
This woman’s life could be in danger, which meant the sooner they found the killer the sooner she’d be safe.
“Is he...dead?”
Her voice was throaty, deeper than he’d imagined.
“Yes,” he answered.
She shook her head and a tear trailed down her cheek. He nearly reached out to wipe it away, but caught himself.
“Was there anyone else in the house besides you, Mr. Lange and the intruder?”
“Not that I know of.”
“No bodyguards?”
“No.”
Which puzzled Alex because he thought bodyguards followed Lange everywhere.
“Can you talk about what happened, Miss Harris?” he asked.
She shook her head. A few minutes passed in companionable silence. It had been a long time since Alex held a woman like this. He didn’t have much interest in romance after Jessica’s death.
“Nicole,” she said, breaking the silence. “Please call me Nicole.” She clung to her messenger bag in her lap. “I wasn’t supposed to be here.”
“Then why were you here?”
“I’m a personal assistant. I was filling in for a friend.”
“Had you worked with Mr. Lange before?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re not his regular assistant?”
She shook her head no.
“Did you hear what happened?”
She squeezed his hand, but didn’t answer. He should have known it was too soon to ask, but the killer was out there, maybe still on the property if he hadn’t found what he was looking for in Edward’s office.
Alex wouldn’t push Nicole. Most of the time if you pushed a witness they either pushed back or shut down completely. He felt lucky she was talking to him after what she’d just experienced.
They gazed out the back window at the lake, the setting sun peeking through the evergreens in the distance.
The pocket door slid open, breaking the peaceful moment. A man in a dark suit, white shirt and maroon tie marched across the room, blocking their view. The guy looked like a Fed.
“This the witness?” the suit demanded.
“And you are?” Alex countered.
“Special Agent Richard Banks with the FBI,” he said, flashing his ID. The stern-faced, broad-shouldered agent was in his mid-forties, and definitely all business.
“What’s the FBI’s interest in this case?” Alex asked.
“We’ll discuss that later. So, this is Nicole Harris?”
“Yes.” Alex wished Banks would lower the volume a few notches.
Instead, he directed his attention to Nicole. “Ma’am, can you tell me what happened tonight?”
She shook her head and stared out the window with a detached expression. Banks studied her as if trying to determine if her shock was real or an act.
“You found her in the closet?” he asked Alex.
“Yes.”
“Did she hear anything?”
“She hasn’t been able to talk about it.”
Banks clenched his jaw and glared at Nicole.
“Did the driver see anything?” Alex redirected.
“One of my agents is interviewing him.”
“What about the bodyguards? Where were they?” Alex said.
“Don’t know. The house is empty except for the witness and the victim. It’s imperative that I interview her ASAP.”
“She’s obviously not ready to talk about it.”
“When will she be able to talk about it?”
The guy was being a class A jerk. Alex glanced at Nicole. She still stared blindly out the window, her cheeks even more pale than they were a minute ago.
“I don’t have time for this,” Banks said. “Ma’am, you’ll need to come with me, if nothing else, for your own protection.”
The guy seriously needed a crash course in sensitivity.
She snapped her attention to Agent Banks. “My protection? Do you think