The Scarlet Pepper (27 page)

“
J
ACK?
Wake up.”

He was slumped down in the plastic chair in the waiting room. His arms were crossed over his chest. His head, tilted at an awkward angle, rested on his shoulder. How he’d managed to fall asleep with the commotion erupting all around him, I couldn’t imagine.

“Jack?” I lightly touched his arm.

He stretched. The chair creaked as his weight shifted.

He took one look at me and shot, fully awake, to his feet. “What’s wrong? What’s going on? Kelly’s not—”

“Kelly’s condition is unchanged. Manny won’t listen to me.” Tears sprang to my eyes.

I should have pushed harder, asked more questions. My voice broke as I told Jack, “Another reporter has been murdered.”

“My God. What happened? Which reporter?”

I couldn’t answer. I had to get out of there. I started to run back toward the bank of elevators.

Jack followed. “Talk to me, Casey. I mean it.”

I flapped my hands as tears rolled down my cheeks. I felt as helpless now as I did when I was six years old. I couldn’t stop the murders.

And damn it, I didn’t want to cry.

Jack grabbed my shoulders, pulled me into his arms, and held me against his chest. I wrapped my arms around him and held on as if my life depended on his embrace.

I’d spent so much energy not trusting him, not letting him get close. And for what purpose? To protect me from getting hurt? I felt more alone and hurt now than ever before. I needed Jack. Desperately.

I don’t know if I lifted my head or if Jack lowered his. Perhaps we met somewhere in the middle. His lips pressed against mine with a fierce need.

I responded with a neediness of my own.

The antiseptic hospital corridor, D.C., and the world, for that matter, melted away. Everything I was, every hope, dream, fear, and insecurity, poured into that kiss.

The moment lasted a lifetime and was over too soon. Pain stabbed me in the chest as our lips parted.

“What was that about?” I whispered.

“Us,” he answered.

As much as I liked how that sounded, this wasn’t the time for there to be an “us.” Another reporter had been killed because I’d not asked enough questions. I pushed at Jack’s shoulder to get him to back up.

A mistake.

My knees had gone all watery on me. My legs buckled, and I started to fall.

Jack caught my shoulders.

“I…um…”

“Come on,” Jack said. “Let’s get out of here.”

From dangerous stud to just dangerous, Jack transformed into a warrior on high alert as we exited the hospital. The lights in the adjacent parking structure glowed an eerie yellow as we crossed several rows of cars and followed a ramp up one level.

Wheels squealing, a car rounded a corner.

Jack grabbed me and pushed me between two parked SUVs. The car whipped past us. And kept going.

“Just a careless driver,” Jack said. “My car’s over there.”

He pointed to a battered Jeep. Its faded red paint had been completely worn off in several spots. The fenders were dented. The soft top had a rip that had been meticulously mended.

“A Prius would be more economical,” I said.

He smiled and shook his head.

“Where are we going?” I asked after climbing into the Jeep’s passenger seat. “I have to be at the White House in about an hour.”

“I know. I do, too. I’m taking you home.”

“Good. I need to shower and change.”

On the ride through the quiet D.C. streets, Jack got on his phone to one of his Secret Service buddies.

As he talked, I sat on the edge of the passenger seat. My nerves were perched at the edge as well.

“What? What did he say?” I demanded as soon as he hit the phone’s “end” button. “What did you find out?”

Jack tossed his phone to the Jeep’s dashboard and turned a corner before answering.

“Simon Matthews was found dead in his apartment a few hours ago.”

“Matthews?” I pressed my fingers to my lips as I pictured the young reporter with those thick glasses peering at me from over his laptop. “Everyone has been saying that he was vying to become the next Griffon Parker.”

“It won’t happen now. The police still need to do an autopsy. At the moment, though, it looks as if he was poisoned. His computer was smashed.”

“He didn’t work for
Media Today
. Manny will have to listen to me now.”

“I learned something else,” he said as he pulled to a stop in front of my brownstone apartment. “They found the car that hit Kelly. The bastard drove it to a secluded boat landing on the Potomac and set it on fire. The license plate,
which was registered to a blue Nissan, matched the plate you saw on the black town car.”

“I can’t believe someone would do that. Kelly had said that someone was following her, but I didn’t see anyone on the drive over to the Botanic Garden,” I said as I opened the passenger door and slid out of the Jeep.

Jack followed. “The police still don’t have a description of the driver. But they’re pushing hard to find an eyewitness, a security camera along the route, anything.”

“Have they questioned Frank Lispon regarding his whereabouts yesterday?” I asked.

“Sorry, Casey, he’s not even on the police’s or the Secret Service’s radar. It may make good reading for a thriller—press secretary cracks and goes on a killing spree, knocking off the White House press corps—but it’s not real.”

“He’s not targeting everyone in the press corps, just the ones who were on the verge of finding Kelly’s birth father.”

I pulled out my keys to the front door. Jack stood beside me, a pillar of strength when I felt ready to collapse. His kiss still tasted fresh on my mouth. I wanted to forget the harvest, the murders, all of it, and wrap my arms around him and kiss him forever. Just thinking about it left me more than a little dizzy.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

“You let me in.”

ALYSSA WAS STILL ASLEEP AND WOULD BE FOR
another half hour. Jack waited on the sofa in the living room while I went upstairs, took a quick shower, changed into my best work clothes, and pulled my hair into a ponytail.

When I came back down the stairs, Jack followed me into the kitchen. “I’m making oatmeal and toast,” I said. “Would you like some?”

“No. Thank you, but no. I’ll pick up something at the White House.” He hightailed it out of the kitchen as if pursued by wolves.

Once I’d finished heating the oatmeal and had the toast safely buttered on my plate, Jack leaned into the kitchen to survey the danger. Finding none, he crossed the room and poured himself a cup of coffee I’d brewed, smelling it before taking a tentative sip.

“Not bad,” he said as he sat down at the small maple kitchen table with me.

“I’m not a complete disaster in the kitchen,” I said as he smiled into his coffee mug. “Nothing was destroyed the other night. The fire department didn’t have to be called.”

“Good for you. Set that bar high.” He set down his coffee mug. “Something’s been bothering me about what happened yesterday. How do we know the town car that hit Kelly wasn’t aiming for you?”

“Because…”

I didn’t have an answer for that.

Jack did. “You’re the one who’s been asking questions.”

“Not that many!”

“Did Kelly find yew branches in her backyard?” he was quick to ask.

“No, but she was getting threatening phone calls. I overheard one of the calls.”

“So you both were at risk. She gets the calls. You get the branches in your yard. I don’t like it, Casey.”

“Actually, after you left the other night I received a threatening phone call, too.”

“You did? Casey! Why didn’t you call me?”

“I called Manny. He traced the number. So far he’s hit a dead end. The call came from a throwaway cell phone.”

Jack took several deep breaths before asking, “What did the caller say?”

“He—I think it was a he—told me to stay out of the garden or else I’d end up at the bottom of the compost pile. Well, that’s not happening. I’m not going to stay out of the garden.”

Jack held his coffee mug so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You and Kelly are both at risk. But while she’ll be well protected in the ICU, you are a walking target.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

“First we’re going to the White House. That’s the safest place for you right now. And then—” He hesitated. “Damn it, whoever’s doing this is getting desperate. The police will move swiftly, but I’m afraid they’re going to end up pushing our killer to strike again. And soon. When that happens, I’m afraid the killer will come straight for you.”

“And Kelly’s father.”

“Yes, his life is in danger, too.”

“He may have already gotten Annie,” I said. “I can’t let anyone else get hurt or killed. I have to do something, Jack.”

“I hate to say this, but I think you’re right. Stay at the White House. It’s the safest place for you. No, let me finish. While there, use your contacts with the gardening volunteers and find out everything you can about Francesca’s scandal and Kelly’s birth father.”

Jack was encouraging me to ask questions? “Do you think Francesca and Kelly are somehow connected?”

“I don’t know. We don’t even know if that’s the reason Parker and Matthews were killed, but we need to find out. The police and the Secret Service are focusing on searching for a mental or a terrorist who has a grudge against the White House press coverage. For all we know, that’s the motive. But if it’s not, if someone is killing in order to keep a scandal from becoming public, then anyone connected to that scandal is in danger. The fastest way to stop what’s happening is to expose the secret that the killer is desperate to hide. Kill the motive, we stop the murders.”

“I like that plan.” I quickly swallowed the last of my orange juice and grabbed my backpack. “Let’s go.”

IT DIDN’T MATTER THAT I HAD NO SLEEP. I FELT
alert and ready for anything.

“I know that the White House’s security is second to none,” I told Jack after he accompanied me through the White House’s iron gates, “but I have a bad feeling something is going to happen at the harvest.”

Jack stopped abruptly in the middle of the small parking lot near the East Wing. “The Secret Service will be on the South Lawn in full force to protect the First Lady and everyone else. What could happen?”

“I don’t know. Just the other day the killer dropped that fake suicide note in my garden.”

“You mean the First Lady’s garden,” Jack corrected.

“Smart aleck. Of course that’s what I mean. Everyone who was in the garden the day I found the note is going to be back today. Except perhaps for Annie. I pray she’s okay.”

“I do, too. Look, I trust your instincts. I’ll talk with Thatch and Bryce about having some extra guys down there. If anyone lifts a finger the wrong way, the Secret Service will see it.”

“Really? You trust my instincts? After my disastrous training session, I thought you’d do the opposite of whatever I said.”

“That training session? Didn’t I tell you already? There was no possible way you could have passed.”

“No, you didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh, I meant to. I remember—you were on the phone that day, and I only had a few minutes before I needed to herd another group of staffers out to the training center. Well, I’m telling you now. Thatch threw everything at you, including the kitchen sink.”

“He did? Why?”

“I don’t know. To embarrass you? To discourage you from getting involved in our work? We occasionally do no-win training sessions like that. They encourage us to think outside the box, to keep us alert. We know that any given training session could be an impossible one. You didn’t.”

“Then why were you upset with me that day?” I asked.

“I wasn’t upset with you. I was upset with Thatch for pulling such a dirty trick. I tried to catch up with you afterward, but you left so quickly.”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same thing? I was embarrassed.”

We had to move when a car pulled into the parking lot.

“Why didn’t you call me after that?” I asked. “I thought we were friends. Friends call each other.”

“You could have called me,” he countered. And then he smiled. “Listen to us bicker. Between the training sessions and traveling with President Bradley, I barely had time to change my shirt before we were off to another location. Believe me, I’d much rather have dinner at your house than shovel down a cold take-out meal in a plastic container.”

“That’s not a smart choice. My cooking doesn’t get much better than it did the other day.”

“It’s what I want.”

I was speechless.

“You can do this,” he whispered and brushed a brief kiss against my lips before heading off toward the West Wing, where the Secret Service offices were housed.

What did Jack want?

Me
?

Really?

I couldn’t believe it. No man in his right mind would willingly want to eat my cooking, especially after having tasted it.

He had to be lying.

Only, Jack never lied.
Honey child, the only man a woman can truly trust is her daddy
, Aunt Alba had once told me.

“No, Aunt Alba, you’re wrong,” I said as I headed toward the North Portico and the grounds office below it.

Trust wasn’t an award presented to only a select few, but a gift I needed to learn to give to myself.

It had become too dangerous not to.