Calculated Vendetta. Jodie Bailey
if he was going to move forward with the path God had laid out for him. Besides, there was no reason to start anything now, not when he was about to head out to start selection for the Special Missions Unit that would take him far from here.
Right now, though, with her sitting rigid and traumatized several yards away, all he wanted to do was erase the past three months and let her lean on him. He wanted to give her a silent promise she’d be safe as long as he was around. Somehow he could chase all the monsters away, even as he fought them himself. But he could make such a promise for only a short time.
Still, he was going to stick close for these next two weeks. Surely, he could keep his rational mind about him, if it meant keeping her out of danger. Because if the laptop really was hers, she was tied to John’s murder. Either John had stolen her laptop or his killer had, which meant she was close to this. A person who was capable of the kind of brutality that had ended John’s life wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to Casey. The one thing he couldn’t puzzle out was why. What was on her laptop, what did Casey know, that tied all of this together? And why had they left it behind?
One of the officers in the group by the front door broke away and headed for a nearby squad car, his gait familiar. His step stuttered, and a slight grin quirked his mouth. He diverted course and headed toward Travis. “Heath. That’s not you, is it?”
The smile didn’t fit anything about this day, but battlefield conditions drew out the need for anything to relieve the tension. Travis hopped off the truck with an answering grin. “Brewer. You left behind army green for police blue?”
“Something like that.” Marcus Brewer clasped Travis’s hand in a tight grip and slapped him on the shoulder. “More like my wife was done after my four years were up. Didn’t like the moving once we had the first kid. She decided we ought to settle here so she could be close to her family. It’s a long way from Fort Hood, though. Those were good times.”
They had been good times, when both of them had been green in the army at their first duty station, heady with new soldier swagger. “And so long ago at this point, I almost can’t remember most of it.”
Marcus laughed. “You got that right. But one thing I’ll never forget. You never had a shortage of very pretty dates.” He glanced at Casey, then turned to Travis, his eyebrow arched. “Some things never change.”
“Casey’s a friend.”
“Sure. Right. And I’ve got eyes that can’t see.” Marcus hitched his thumbs into his belt. “What are you doing way out here in the middle of a crime scene?”
“John and I served together a few years ago, and Casey was interviewing him for a story. Thought I’d ride along.”
“Good thing you did.”
Travis bit the inside of his cheek. The comment brought a wave of gratitude he hadn’t expected. Last night, the idea to tag along with Casey had been an impulse driven by the image of her under attack and possibly a little misplaced jealousy. Turned out to have been the right call. He didn’t want to imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t been with her this afternoon.
With a glance over his shoulder at Casey, Marcus leaned closer to Travis, his expression grim. “Look, your friend?” He scratched his cheek, his gaze never leaving Travis’s. “Keep an eye on her. She might have trouble headed her way.”
The first time Travis had jumped out of an airplane, he’d stood in the door certain his stomach was going to abandon him by bottoming out through his boots. Right now, the same sensation leaped on him with a vengeance.
The laptop. They’d figured out it was Casey’s. Somehow, they suspected her.
He tensed for the fight, sending a silent thank-you to God he’d come here with her. If she’d been alone, there would be no alibi. “Number one, Marcus, I did CPR on John. I know...” He swallowed hard against the still-vivid vision. “I saw his injuries. Casey’s not capable.” He held up a hand to halt whatever Marcus started to say. “Number two, she was with a friend last night, at work this morning and with me this afternoon. She never had a chance to do this.”
Marcus thunked a finger against Travis’s forehead, the same way he used to do when Travis was getting stupid as a young private. “You done playing defense attorney yet?”
Fine, so he’d jumped the gun. The idea of Casey in handcuffs was a little too much to handle. He gave a stiff nod.
“I doubt someone as tiny as her could have manhandled the victim into that chair. But there’s enough evidence to warrant a few extra questions.” Arching an eyebrow, Marcus surveyed the area and lowered his voice again. “I saw the report. The two of you were mugged last night. At gunpoint. After she had dinner with the victim. Her laptop was stolen and one matching its description is inside the house next to a dead man. So either this is a crazy coincidence, or she’s in some kind of trouble. My man, stay close to her. And if you’re a praying person, start. Because you and I both know how rare a coincidence like this would be. That girl over there? She’s probably about to be in some real trouble, and the police are the least of her worries.”
“Thank you.” Casey’s hand shook slightly as she took the grande green tea from the barista’s hand and turned to find a seat. Even now, hours after watching John Winslow take his last breath, hours after watching Travis’s frantic attempt to pump life into the man, her nerves still refused to settle. Death overseas was one horrible thing. Death on the home front held a shock value all its own.
Without waiting for Travis, she drifted into the corner of the funky little coffeehouse she usually frequented with Kristin. The familiar warm fragrance of fresh coffee and gourmet chocolates brought a little bit of peace, but Casey wished she had a whole lot more. She sought out the table farthest from the front door, her back to the wall and her peripheral vision capturing the narrow hallway leading to a small enclosed courtyard. Nobody was sneaking up on her. Not in reality and not in her imagination.
Even here, Casey felt exposed, as though everyone from the barista to the solitary man sitting at the table by the front window was watching, waiting for her to...
To what? Breathe normally again? It was certain she wouldn’t be doing that anytime soon. And it was certain shock would dog her deep into the night, keeping her awake when she desperately tried to grasp sleep.
Fighting the chill inside her was futile. Distraction was the only place to hide, so she opened her laptop. Somehow, she couldn’t help but think—especially after all the pointed questions the police had asked—John’s death lay at her feet because of her article, which meant combing through every note she’d taken.
Travis slid out the bright red chair across from her and moved it to the side so he faced the café at a right angle to her. He put his huge cup of coffee onto the metal table, glancing around the room as he sat. He’d showered at his apartment while Casey ran more updates on her new laptop in the apartment complex’s business center. Now a dark blue T-shirt emblazoned with the Denver Broncos logo hugged his chest in place of the gray one he’d worn earlier.
He stretched his arms out to his sides, pulling his T-shirt tight across his chest. “This place is so tiny, I think I could touch both walls with my fingertips.”
Casey smiled, unable to hold on to her anger at him in view of all they’d witnessed today. Bless Travis. This was what she needed. Normalcy. Conversation devoid of dead men and beatings.
She shuddered and pushed the laptop aside, forcing herself to focus on the bright yellow wall covered with vintage concert posters. “You’ve never been here?”
“I’ve rarely been downtown. No reason to, really. It’s...cute.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not bad. Just cute.” He flashed her a grin that telegraphed how hard he was trying to make everything all better