Colorado Crime Scene. Cindi Myers
shifted, as if there was any way to get comfortable on the receiving end of a grilling from his boss. “After the president’s death, I went to the kitchen to question the staff,” he said.
“You weren’t alone.”
“No, sir.”
“Witnesses say you were with a woman. Who was that?”
“Her name is Morgan. Morgan Westfield. She’s a magazine writer.”
He could sense Blessing grow more alert, like a hound on the scent of a quarry. “Any relation to the dishwasher?”
“He’s her brother. Though I didn’t know that when I went into the kitchen.”
“How do you know Ms. Westfield?”
“We met in the lobby of her hotel the day before yesterday. I recognized her from some of the surveillance videos from the races and decided to follow her.”
“Do you think she’s involved in the bombings somehow? Perhaps she and her brother are part of this cell we’re looking for.”
Luke shook his head. “I followed her because I wasn’t sure of anything at that point. I just wanted to check her out.” Not the entire truth but close enough. “But now I’m convinced she was at the races for her job and nothing else.”
“And you know this how?”
“Everything she told me checked out. She’s at the races on assignment for Road Bike Magazine, and she’s blogging for a website, CyclingPro.com.” Though he hadn’t contacted anyone at the magazine to verify that. Was he letting his attraction to Morgan—his desire for her to be innocent—get in the way of doing his job?
“What was she doing with you last night?”
“We sat together at dinner. She followed me into the kitchen.”
Blessing’s face betrayed no emotion, but Luke could sense his skepticism. “Go on.”
“I recognized the man who was carrying out the garbage as one of our suspects. I spoke to him and he pulled a gun. I pulled my weapon and returned his fire. He fled out the door.”
“Is that all?”
“No, sir.” The truth was bound to come out sooner or later, if it hadn’t already. Half a dozen people had been working in the kitchen last night and team members had interviewed all of them. “As I pulled my weapon, Ms. Westfield shoved me out of the way. We both fell to the floor, which gave the suspect time to flee.”
“Why did she push you?”
“She didn’t understand why I was shooting. She saw my gun and panicked.”
“Or she knew exactly what you were doing and acted to stop you.”
“Yes, sir. That is a possibility.” One he couldn’t idly set aside. He was trained to be skeptical and suspicious. He couldn’t set that training aside because of his attraction to Morgan.
“You realize what you’ve done, Renfro?” Blessing’s voice held a sharp edge; Luke felt the cut. He said nothing but forced himself to look his boss in the eye.
“At worst, you’ve become involved with the very person you’re supposed to bring to justice. At best, you’ve endangered a civilian and jeopardized this investigation.”
“Yes, sir.” Luke held himself rigid.
“I expect better of you. You’re not some randy teenager controlled by your hormones. If this woman is guilty, she’s playing you for a fool and possibly using you to help her commit acts of terrorism. If she’s innocent, she’s interfering with a critical investigation. You’re here to work, Renfro, not enjoy yourself.”
“Yes, sir.”
A knock on the conference room door preempted anything else Blessing was about to say. “Come in,” he barked.
Wade entered the room. As he passed, he gave Luke a sympathetic look. “You asked to see the local papers,” he said to Blessing.
“Sir, may I get back to work now?” Luke asked, seeing his chance for escape.
“Yes, go,” Blessing said. He unfolded the first newspaper on the stack. “But remember your focus here. Don’t let yourself get distracted again.”
“Yes, sir.” Luke started toward the door. He had his hand on the knob when Blessing barked his name again.
“Renfro!”
Luke turned, heart pounding. “Yes, sir?”
“How do you explain this?” Blessing turned the paper to face Luke, who stared at the picture at the bottom of the page, of him and Morgan standing in the bus shelter, wrapped in a passionate kiss. Love Amidst the Chaos, read the caption.
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