Girl Three (25 page)

Nina looked less excited. “That’s the good news. But knowing that man’s blood type isn’t going to help us unless we can get a blood sample from your suspects.”

“Or DNA,” Jessie said, still hopeful.

Nina lifted her shoulders and frowned. “We could back into it that way, and get a blood type from the DNA. But DNA testing would take a while, especially considering I’d have to sneak it through. Flagging a test like that as ‘priority’ would raise a lot of questions.”

“I understand.” Jessie propped her elbow on the console and rested her head in her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Nina said. “I hate that this is so hard for you. But you’re getting closer to the truth about Sam’s life. Some of the things you’re finding out might be better understood over time.”

“Or not,” Jessie said. “I’m filling in the years that might’ve been better left blank. And I still can’t figure out which person killed her.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I have this unsettled feeling.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I’ve looked that person in the eyes, and didn’t see a murderer.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jessie took Nina back to work and headed toward Sam’s place to meet Michael. She smiled, wondering what he had planned for them, then realized it didn’t matter. The idea of spending time with him was exciting enough.

She crossed town, approaching the Capitol, its dome looming larger as she neared the center of the city. The trip was taking longer than she’d thought it would thanks to numerous red lights. As she waited at one of them, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen.

Michael.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” he said. Only one word and Jessie was grinning. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Okay. Sore and bruised, but bearable thanks to Advil.”

“Where are you?” he asked with a smile in his voice.

“I just had lunch with my friend Nina. Now I’m driving back to Sam’s.” She glanced at the clock. “I’m supposed to meet you in thirty-five minutes, right? Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who shows up way too early.” She was smiling, too.

“Actually, I’m worried I might be late. Where are you specifically?”

“Driving up Pennsylvania Avenue, not far from the Capitol.”

“I’m not far from there myself How about meeting me in front of the Newseum at 6th and Pennsylvania? Park in the underground garage off 6th Street—my treat—and I’ll pick you up.”

“Aren’t you a big spender?”

“Thanks for noticing,” he teased. “Look for me in a white Acura MDX. One more thing…what are you wearing?” He sounded more playful than creepy.

“A heavy coat.”

“If that’s all, then this could get interesting.”

He had her tingling already.

“And boots and pants and a sweater,” she said.

“And a hat?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect,” he said.

“What did you have in mind?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I love surprises.”
As long as they don’t come in the form of huge black SUVs that try to run me over.
“I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

It had been so long since she’d met a man she was interested in that she barely recognized the unique flutter of excitement in her stomach.

She made her way to 6th Street, near Philippe’s condo, which happened to be right across the street from the Newseum. After parking in the garage, she walked to the front of the Newseum and read some of today’s headlines in the array of newspaper front pages from across the nation and throughout the world that were displayed in glass-topped cases. A friendly tap on a car horn caught her attention. She turned to see Michael, waiting by the curb in his SUV.

Jessie hurried over and got in. He kissed her on her cheek and she caught the faint, fiery scent of his cologne. She hadn’t expected him to be dressed in faded jeans and hiking boots. “So this is the look of an incognito security consultant?” She skimmed her fingers over the sleeve of his light fleece jacket.

“You like it?”

Yes.
She nodded. “The rugged look suits you as much as your
Men in Black
getup.”

“Thanks.” He lowered his eyebrows. “I think.”

They drove through the city and headed northwest, their conversation casual and easy.

“You said you were a former left-fielder. Where did you play baseball?” Jessie asked.

“You’re not going to like this.” He shook his head, grinning. “I played for Virginia Tech.”

“Hmm,” she said with mock disapproval, since she’d gone to UVA, their rival school. “A Hokie.”

He flashed a disarming white smile.

“This can’t turn out well,” she teased. “Did you want to go pro?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “But I wasn’t good enough. So I went to grad school instead.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“No, impressed.” She gave him an exaggerated once-over. “I mean, all that and brains, too?”

He glanced at her, looking pleased and a little embarrassed.

“What did you study?”

“Behavioral science,” he said. “Now if I could only apply what I learned to myself…”

“I understand. It’s so much easier to try to fix everyone else, isn’t it?”

He nodded. They rode quietly for several miles. “Where are we headed?” she asked.

“Someplace beautiful.”

Jessie smiled, thinking they were already there. The hilly countryside had become dense with barren trees and evergreens, the sprawl of the city far behind them. She couldn’t help but think of home.

“Here we are,” he said as he turned onto a road leading to a large building compatible with the landscape.

“Great Falls?”

“Have you been here before?”

“No, I read the sign.” She winked.

Michael pulled the Acura into a parking space in the mostly empty lot.

“Doesn’t look like this is a January attraction,” she said.

“But the falls look awesome now. At least, I think so.” He got out and opened her door.

She grabbed her hat and joined him. It was freezing, but the sky had cleared to a brilliant blue, the sun shining.

“I come out here several times a year. To relax and think about things. The winter falls calm me most. Something about the way they don’t freeze, like they’re determined to have their way, despite the temperature.” His eyes shimmered in the sunlight. “But ice builds up in the still parts of the river. The contrast of the white ice and the moody green shade of the water is almost…” He smoothed his fingers down a lock of her hair and tugged gently on the end. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

Jessie looked at him self-consciously, then glanced away.

“Come see for yourself.”

They put on their gloves and walked beyond the Visitor Center, past a sign that read Overlook 1. He took her hand as they hiked down a short trail that led to a dirt viewing platform. Jessie imagined that during peak season, they would have passed lots of others along the trail. But today, she and Michael were the only ones in this section of the park.

When they got to the viewing area, she gazed at the rumbling waterfalls, the scene looking just as Michael had painted it in her imagination. Rushing water fell over steep, jagged rocks, some with snow in their crevices. White froth bubbled from ethereally green water where ice had formed a cottony network away from the current, and looked like cumulous clouds.

“It’s breathtaking,” she said.

He smiled, looking pleased. “It gets better.” He led her up a rocky grade to a fenced area where she had a more panoramic view. They stood silently for a few minutes, mesmerized by the scenery, him nestled close behind her.

“What an awesome surprise,” she said, facing him.

The breeze blew her hair across her eyes. He pulled off his gloves and put them in his pocket. With warm fingers against cool skin and a slow, gentle motion, he swept his fingertips across her forehead and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Jessie shivered, but not from the cold.

“Where’s your hat?” he asked.

She pulled the dark green cloche from her coat pocket. Michael took it and put it on her head. He lifted her chin and kissed her lightly. “I knew you would only make this view more amazing.”

“Likewise.” Jessie bowed her head, unable to meet his eyes.

He led her to the fence that bordered the overlook and she faced him as he gazed out onto the falls. There was a gentle serenity in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, but behind them, she still saw tension. She wondered about the things he’d seen during his time in the Secret Service, and about the good and bad times that had shaped his life.

Michael swept his hands beneath her arms and lifted her onto the fence. Jessie winced at the pain in her shoulder and sat uneasily. She glanced behind her at the sharp rocks and the angry water below. They’d passed signs that warned about climbing on the fences and the danger of falling. If she pitched backward, she’d plunge into the river and be swept away by the violent current. A shock of fear ricocheted through her.

“Don’t worry,” he said.

He must’ve seen the panic in her eyes. Moving closer, he took her in his arms, nudged her knees apart, and held her close. “Trust me.”

His breath warmed her face and she focused on his mouth, longing to kiss him again. “I do.”

His lips touched hers with chilly softness, his fingers twined in her hair. She drew him closer, the threat of danger heightening her senses.

He deepened their kiss, tempting her with each velvety wisp of his tongue. Her heart thrummed with adrenaline and desire. Michael splayed his hand across her back, pressing her tightly against him. She wrapped her legs around his body as tingling heat swirled through her like the water swirling below.

He trailed kisses across her cheek. “I want you,” he murmured.

She shuddered as his breath warmed her ear.

“But not in a stolen moment.” He took her earlobe between his teeth and tugged gently. She combed her fingers through his hair, clutching the length of it.

He kissed her tenderly and whispered, “Soon.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Michael paced the living area of his Swann Street apartment, his steps clipped and restless. “Thanks, man,” he said to his contact. He pressed his phone between his shoulder and his ear. “I think.”

He disconnected the call, never doubting the information his contact had just given him. The guy was straight up—an MPD homicide detective and a good friend. Michael had known him for years, always gotten reliable intel from him, and trusted him to have his back.

He settled in front of the window and stared into the darkness.

Ian Alden was dead.

Light glowed behind the blinds in the windows of Sam’s townhouse. Jessie had been there since they’d gotten back from Great Falls. Michael had hated to drop her off at her car, hated to pretend he had a business meeting scheduled. On the drive back, the closer they had gotten to the city, the more paranoid he became. He’d totally disregarded Croft’s contract, but he didn’t regret it one bit. His fantasy afternoon had ended too soon, and he and Jessie had gone their separate ways.

Pressure built inside him as he imagined the crisp smell of her perfume, the silkiness of her hair, the feel of her lips on his.

Soon.

The news about Ian might already have leaked, but Michael wanted to be the one to break it to Jessie, to let her know what had happened and how it related to Sam’s death. As far as he could tell, she wasn’t aware that Ian had died.

He turned away from the window and stared at the displays on the electronic equipment that flanked the wall next to him. Images and numbers and multicolored blinking lights. Overkill, as far as he was concerned, but Croft had installed the equipment before he’d hired Michael for Sam’s detail, and all of it had been in place and operational when he moved into the apartment. At the time, he’d been happy to have the resources. In hindsight, the setup should’ve warned him that his assignment to Sam would be more challenging than he’d expected. And it had been.

Then she’d been murdered.

And then came Jessie.

Michael had to protect her. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and sucked in his breath until his lungs fought his ribs for more room.

Damn.

He put on his coat and headed outside, the bitter wind blowing in his face. Within minutes, he was at Sam’s townhouse.

Jessie came to the door quickly after he rang the bell. As hard as he tried to focus, he couldn’t help but notice the way her jeans fit—not too tight but tight enough—and the way she made the most basic clothes sexy.

She opened the front door a crack, the wrought-iron gate between them. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

Michael jammed his hands in his pockets. “No,” he said. “I needed to see you.”

She tucked her chin and gave him a demure smile.

“I have news,” he said, “but it’s not good.”

The smile left her face.

“Ian Alden is dead.”

Jessie’s eyes widened, and she pressed her fingers to her lips. “How do you know that?” Her fingers muffled her words.

A gust of wind blew against the door, pushing it open farther. “Can I come in?” he asked.

She nodded. “Sure. I’m sorry, I’m just shocked.” She took several small steps backward.

He ducked inside, closing the door against the cold. “A buddy of mine is a homicide detective for the MPD. He called me about Ian.”

Her face went white. “Homicide? Someone killed him?”

“Let’s sit down and talk about this. It’s kind of a sensitive conversation to have out in the foyer.”

“Sure. I’m not thinking straight.” Jessie took his hand and led him into the living room. She sank onto one end of the couch and Michael sat next to her. “Tell me the whole story.”

He took off his coat and tossed it onto a chair. “I don’t know the whole story yet. Nobody does. But I’m going to find out all that I can, as soon as I can.”

…

Jessie studied Michael, noticing a more determined set to his jaw and an added glint of intensity in his eyes. She grabbed one of the throw pillows and hugged it tightly.

“About an hour ago, Helena found Ian in the lab at his practice,” he said. “Dead from some kind of drug, with a suicide letter nearby.”