Protection Detail. Shirlee McCoy
and we’ve got a toddler who hasn’t been sleeping well.” Juan Gomez’s mother had died, and he’d been crying out for her for the past two nights. “I was dead to the world until I heard the guy on the porch.”
“Do you think your assistant heard anything?”
“Not until I screamed.”
“She came outside then? Did she see your assailant?” he asked.
“She didn’t come outside, and I don’t think she saw anything. She turned on a light, and it distracted the guy. I ran into the woods, and he followed.” She shuddered.
“Do you think he was here for you?”
“If he was, I’ve got no idea why. He had a duffle and—” She remembered the smell of gasoline clinging to him or to the bag.
“What?” Gavin prodded as he led her up the front steps and onto the wide porch that wrapped around the sides of the house. She’d be hanging flower baskets soon. Destiny had been looking forward to that. She’d never had a yard or a garden, and being at All Our Kids was allowing her an opportunity to test out her green thumb.
It was so much easier to think about that than to think about Michael dead and Harland wounded. To think about someone shooting two of the nicest men Cassie had ever met.
“Cassie?” Gavin touched her shoulder, and she realized she was standing in front of the door, hand on the knob.
“Gasoline. When I walked outside I smelled it.”
He frowned. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” he muttered. “We found something at the crime scene. I think it might belong to one of your kids.”
“What?” Her heart thundered in her chest, her mouth dry with fear. She didn’t think she was going to like what he had to say, but she wanted him to say it, anyway.
He pulled a bag out of his coat pocket and holding it up so she could see what was inside. A blue mitten. Hand-knit. Child-size.
She knew who it belonged to.
David.
“Do you recognize it?” Gavin asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. She’d seen the mittens earlier that day, tucked into David’s pocket when she’d brought him to the doctor. Somehow, at some point, one of them had ended up near the crime scene.
Had one of the kids witnessed a murder?
“Whose is it?”
“David’s, but he’s the one who has the flu. He’s been in bed all night.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I was sleeping in a chair beside him.”
“Someone had the mitten on. Whoever it was may have seen what happened at Jeffries place.”
“You think that’s why the guy was on the porch?”
“You said you smelled gasoline. It’s possible the murderer saw the witness and came after him.”
“And planned to burn the house down with all of us in it?” she asked, her voice shaking. She hated that, hated being afraid. She was, though. The kids were her responsibility. They counted on her, trusted her in a way they often hadn’t been able to trust other adults. “I need to check on everyone. Make sure they’re okay.” She opened the door, ran inside.
Gavin said something, but she couldn’t hear past the pulse of blood in her ears.
Voices carried from the kitchen. Kid voices. A man. Virginia—her voice high-pitched and shaky. From the sound of things, she was currently in full-out panic.
“We’re going to keep the kids safe,” Gavin said, his voice mixing with all the others.
She stopped, pivoting around to face him so quickly that he nearly walked into her. She was face to chest with him, staring at his coat and the K-9 insignia on it.
“I appreciate that,” she said, stepping back so she could look into his face, into his dark blue eyes. “But when all is said and done, they’re my responsibility. They’re counting on me to keep them safe. Not the police. Not your K-9 team. If one of them was outside tonight and witnessed Michael’s murder...” She swallowed a hard knot of grief and fear, forced herself to continue. “I haven’t done my job.”
“Kids do lots of things we can’t control. You can’t beat yourself up if one of them snuck out.”
“Sure I can,” she replied, shifting her gaze from Gavin to his dog, because she didn’t want to keep looking into his eyes, didn’t want to see the sympathy there.
“You can, but you shouldn’t.”
She would, anyway. That’s the way things were when a person mothered kids. She didn’t bother explaining, just headed toward the kitchen. Gavin followed. She didn’t have to look to know it. She could hear his dog’s feet padding on the wood floor, smell the scent of pine needles and outdoors.
She stepped into the kitchen, bracing herself for what she knew she’d find.
It was as chaotic as she’d imagined.
Destiny stood with her head in the open refrigerator, a bottle of chocolate milk in her hand. Little David sat bleary-eyed at the table. Rachel, Axel, Tommy and Kent huddled near the stove. Lila sat under the table, her thumb in her mouth, a blanket pulled around her shoulders.
And then there was Virginia.
She sat next to David, eyes closed, tears streaming down her face as she hugged Juan, the toddler, close. Two police officers stood to either side of her. One held a cup of water and seemed intent on shoving it into Virginia’s hand.
“She’s dead,” Virginia moaned. “I know she is. Dead and all of these children are just going to miss her so much. She’s—”
“Standing right here, Virginia,” Cassie cut in.
Virginia’s eyes flew open and she jumped up, the chair nearly tipping over.
“You’re alive!” she cried, rushing forward and throwing her free arm around Cassie. “I heard you scream and I thought the worst.”
“I’m fine. Sorry for scaring you.”
“Scaring me? You took a dozen years off my life.”
“Sorry about that, too,” Cassie responded.
“What happened?” Virginia asked, bouncing Juan on her hip. The poor little guy’s eyes were wet from tears, his face red. He reached for Cassie, and she took him, kissing his soft cheek and murmuring the kind of comfort she figured a mother would offer.
She didn’t know.
She’d never had a mother.
Just a father who’d had little use for her and a grandma who’d been too busy growing pot in her backyard and selling drugs from her living room to pay much attention to Cassie.
“Nothing that I want to discuss in front of the kids,” she responded, smiling brightly at Destiny. The teenager wasn’t buying it. She took a sip of chocolate milk and scowled.
“Adults always have secrets. It’s stupid.”
“No secrets, Destiny. Just a need to have a little quiet. It’s so loud in here, I can barely hear myself think,” Cassie said. “Would you mind helping Virginia get everyone tucked back into bed while I speak with the police?”
“Yes,” Destiny snapped. “I would mind.”
But, she crouched and reached for Lila’s hand, pulling her out from under the table with a gentleness that belied her angry expression.
“I’ll do my best