Brutal Obsession (The Safeguard Series, Book One) (16 page)

Ashlyn tamped down the rage that was boiling inside of her. She understood what Keane was saying, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. What was she going to do with her time? Watch game shows and daytime television? She hadn’t seen a soap opera since she was in middle school and stayed home sick. She didn’t even watch television for anything other than the news and some occasional background noise while cooking dinner. Read? She only ever had time for law journals and case law that could aid her in court. As for something relaxing like knitting, she’d most likely end up stabbing herself with the damn needles.

She didn’t have a life outside these walls.

Ashlyn slowly sank down in her desk chair and rested her forehead in the palms of her hands. She loved her chosen profession. She remembered the time her father had given her a gavel as a child and she’d sat on a sofa similar to the one in her office pretending to rule in favor of the prosecutor every time. Being an attorney had been all she’d ever wanted and now here she was left…with nothing. When was the last time she’d actually laughed at a good joke in the bar? Hell, when was the last time she’d been in a bar?

“Ashlyn—”

“Don’t.”

Keane had been about to give her platitudes, but she didn’t need them. Not now. She also had the answer to her question and she had to wonder if she’d sequestered herself away by design. Five years ago she hadn’t been this neurotic or set in her ways. She’d been spontaneous and had the best three months of her life in California, but she’d left it behind because it hadn’t been in her grand plan…Keane hadn’t been a part of her plan. He’d been a distraction.

Ashlyn reached for the additional files she’d kept, feeling the need for something—anything—to do while she was hidden away like a scared rabbit. That also wasn’t in her nature, but it wasn’t as if she had a choice. She’d rather be alive next month with another case in front of her than to be just another casualty, as Keane put it. She shoved the files, notepad, pen, and a couple of books from her bookshelf that would tide her over until she was back at work. She tried to convince herself that it wouldn’t be that bad, but she failed as she finally fastened the bag.

“I’m ready,” Ashlyn announced, her voice coming out a little too loud. “See? No technology.”

“I spoke with Coulter a few minutes ago,” Keane told her as they headed for Ashlyn’s office door. Mia and Parker were nowhere in sight, most likely in the break room refilling their coffee mugs to get them through the remainder of the day. Ashlyn had spoken to Gina in general about what was taking place, but she wouldn’t be in for another hour or so. She was going to need all the rest she could get to deal with the chaos, including the media. Hmmm. Ashlyn second-guessed her decision not to call her parents. She would be in dutch if they got caught unprepared. She didn’t want them hearing from anyone else that she’d stepped down from such a high-profile case. Keane’s voice pulled her out of going over and over all the things she should be doing instead of walking out of this office building headed to God knows where. “They are going to comb through every inch of surveillance footage they can find of your place in hopes of catching sight of someone who doesn’t belong there.”

“And if it’s someone who actually lives in the building?” Ashlyn asked, stepping into the elevator but pressing the button for the third floor instead of the basement parking garage. She leaned her shoulder against the laminated wall, thinking she just might fall into bed and sleep the time away. The coffee she’d had earlier had long since faded from her system. “I’m to the point I’m suspecting everyone after the things Agent Coulter said.”

“You mean Victor?” Keane asked as he straightened out his jacket. It was a casual blazer he’d borrowed from Jack, not wanting to enter the building with his weapon visible. It was a little tight in the shoulders, but it would do until they got back to the car. “Coulter is just doing his job. He won’t eliminate anyone that could even remotely be guilty, even your friends. It’s his job to find the culprit even if he has to do it based on the process of elimination.”

Ashlyn mulled over what Keane had just said, another crack splitting open. Her friends were her colleagues. She worked hard to stand out. It was what she was good at. That was her life. So why, then, was she seeing just how alone she really was?

She was just tired. That was all. Agent Coulter would eventually make an arrest, Keane would go back to his new life in Florida, and Ashlyn would have her work back. She wouldn’t look at their past with regret, because what made her think either one of them had changed? She obviously hadn’t and he was just as determined as she was.

“Good morning, Ruth,” Ashlyn said as they walked off the elevator and turned to their right, through the glass doors. Chief Garner had half of the entire third floor to himself and his staff. The other half housed the administration section—a monumental government bureaucracy that went with the United States Attorney’s Office in Washington, D.C. She wasn’t surprised to see Ruth in so early, considering all the cases that had been weighing down Garner’s department. “Is he in?”

“Yes, his vehicle was parked in his normal spot,” Ruth replied, stepping out from behind her desk. Her fifty-year-old body was in better shape than any other woman in this building. Ashlyn half suspected Garner had picked her as his administrative assistant for that very reason. She was obsessed with Pilates and tried to convince anyone who would listen how good it was for the body. Ashlyn was envious and wouldn’t be surprised if the woman outlived them all. “I was just about to go and make him a cup of coffee before disturbing his morning routine. Would you like one?”

“No, thank you,” Ashlyn replied, not wanting to go into details as to why. Rumors would be flying around within the hour once Mia and Parker filed copies of the motions she’d spent all night working on and word got out that she’d transferred the Glasson case to Bishop, a relatively junior attorney. “Is it all right if I go right in?”

“Of course,” Ruth granted with a smile, “you know he has an open door policy. No one ever seems to take advantage of that, though. Besides, he doesn’t have an appointment until nine o’clock this morning.”

And that is where Ruth became a bulldog. Everyone underneath Chief Garner was well aware of the open door policy, but they still checked with Ruth to ensure he wasn’t in a meeting. She ran his schedule tighter than a gnat’s ass.

“I won’t be long,” Ashlyn informed Keane, stepping away from the desk and knocking lightly on the door. “Chief?”

Two attorneys chose that moment to walk down the hall, their voices raised so that Ashlyn couldn’t hear if Garner had called out. She knocked again and then opened the door slowly in case Ruth had been wrong about him being alone. No one was in the guest chair and music was playing softly in the background. She stepped forward when she saw Jarod at his desk, his chair turned so that she couldn’t see his face.

“Chief Garner, I wanted to update you on…” Ashlyn’s voice faded as something sinister began to register. There was a copper odor in the air and one she’d ever only smelled once before. No. This couldn’t be happening. The room became somewhat stifling as she took another hesitant step forward, not wanting to accept what her mind was telling her. She’d left the door open behind her, but didn’t want to call out to Keane for fear of looking like a scared, foolish child. She’d been up too long, that was all. Everything was fine. “Chief?”

Jarod didn’t answer. Ashlyn’s chest started to burn as she struggled for air and the pulsating sound of blood pounded through her ears. He was fine. He had to be. He didn’t hear her come in, that was all. She took another tentative step toward the desk chair, walking slowly in an arch so she could confirm her suspicions.

Ashlyn covered her mouth in horror as she finally caught sight of Jarod’s face…his lifeless eyes wide with fear and his mouth open in a silent scream that no one had heard. Blood was everywhere—soaking his shirt, down into the chair, and even pooled underneath the wheels. His throat had been slit to the point she wasn’t sure how his head was still attached to his body. The arterial spray had arched across the entire bookshelf behind his desk and now the LED display of the Bose system was partially obscured by drying remnants.

Jarod Garner was dead.

In his own office.

And it was her fault.

Ashlyn jumped in fear and screamed when strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.

“Ash, it’s me,” Keane said soothingly, pulling her into his arms. “Don’t look. We need to call Coulter and we don’t want to contaminate the scene any further.”

Ashlyn tried to tell him what she’d found, her brain not quite processing that he was seeing the same thing. His words finally penetrated, but all that was seared into her mind was the message Garner’s killer had left behind. She rested her forehead against Keane’s chest as he gathered her close. Nothing could erase what she saw. The monitor on Garner’s desk had been bright white, a Word document chosen to display in a large font of words no one could miss. It was burned onto the screen.

ASHLYN IS MINE

*

He smiled tenderly
as he watched her being escorted down the hallway, wishing he could comfort her. He longed to tell her that he was taking care of the loose threads trying to strangle their love. She would understand once she’d had time to erase that unpleasant scene from her mind.

He hadn’t expected her to be the one to find the body.

Maybe it was for the best.

It had been his gift to her, after all.

He kept his smile in place when Agent Coulter came up to ask him questions, which he was delighted to answer. Time would pass, necessary chores had to be done, and only then would he be free to go to her.

His love. His gift from God.

‡

K
eane and Ashlyn
had arrived at a quaint two-bedroom home located in Annapolis, Maryland by mid-afternoon. The trip had included a vehicle change and even Keane had dropped his burner for another in his duffle. Jack had pulled into the garage backward and had the door closing behind them before he’d turned off the engine. Once the few bags they had brought were unloaded into the main house, he’d left alone via the same way they’d arrived—quietly and gracefully.

The single story ranch was sparsely decorated with only one overwhelming feature—the security setup was totally over the top. The living room had a large table with several monitors showing perimeter camera feeds and access point alarm status as either green or red.

There were wrought iron bars covering all the windows and doorways. An assailant would need a tank to break down one of the three security doors with deadbolts and barricade bars anchored into the walls and floor. Keane suspected this had once been a drug house from the amount of security it was utilizing. He’d seen this type of hardening before. The police had to use armored vehicles with battering rams to gain entrance. No one was going to slip into this house undetected.

Calvert had done well with setting Ashlyn up in a safe house within a couple hours driving distance of D.C. They’d done their best to thwart any possible way to track their progress, from changing vehicles in a specific parking garage that had no cameras to witness exchanges to using emergency vehicle U-turns while driving busy underpasses. They even included driving out of the tunnel using the maintenance access that could provide them coverage from prying overhead eyes of any type of drone camera. Keane was confident that Ashlyn’s stalker had no idea where she was or any way to track her.

It needed to stay that way.

Keane had been made aware that Coen and Sawyer had landed during the time they’d still been at the office answering Special Agent Coulter’s questions. They’d been setting up and securing the perimeter of the safe house at which he and Ashlyn were now staying. They had come nowhere near the U.S. Attorney’s Building in D.C. Coulter came to the same conclusion as Keane—whoever had murdered Jarod Garner worked in the building and had special access.