Murder on the Mountain. Cassie Miles
of her older brother’s death three years ago. He’d been a Marine. In harm’s way.
“Setting up an official response team is an exciting project,” David said. “On paper, it looks like a snap. The problems come in dealing with all these authoritative personalities. Like the general, for example. His plan is always the same—Send in the Marines.”
“Like my brother,” she said. “He was a Marine.”
“No kidding,” David said. “Mine, too.”
“So you know that the Marines are well trained for crisis.”
“If it’s a military crisis, yes. But there’s so much more to consider. RJ with her financial expertise brings a whole different perspective.”
The aroma of brewing coffee filled the kitchen. “What do finances have to do with homeland security?”
“If you close down the money spigot, the terrorists are left high and dry.”
The coffee was done, and she poured a mug for David. “Thanks for the explanation. It’s nice to have some idea about what’s going on.”
“Simulations are only half of what we’re doing. There’s also going to be team-building stuff.”
“So you’ll all learn to like one another?”
“That’s too much to hope for,” he said with a wry grin. “We’ll be doing well if we don’t all kill one another by the end of the week.”
He grabbed his coffee and disappeared into the lower level. Julia probably should have followed him. There were daily reports she needed to file, but they weren’t due until morning and that computer work would give her something to do while watching the monitors.
In spite of the coffee, it was nine o’clock when she fell into bed exhausted. Her alarm was set for three, when she was scheduled to take her shift at the monitors.
When she closed her eyes, her thoughts immediately flashed on Paul Hemmings. In her mind, she saw his chocolate eyes and the deep dimples in his cheeks. And his body. His large muscular body.
Her arms wrapped tightly around her pillow, and she imagined what it would be like to embrace him. It would take at least three pillows for that simulation.
It wasn’t safe to feel this way. If only he hadn’t asked her out, she could dream about Paul without regret. But he wanted to see her again, and that might be her undoing.
THE NEXT MORNING, everyone was up early except for the general, which seemed odd for a military man who ought to be accustomed to morning exercises. Julia was a bit worried when she stood outside the locked door of the general’s bedroom and knocked. “Sir? Are you awake?”
She pressed her ear against the door and listened. There was no sound from inside.
Though she hated to disturb his privacy, Julia unlocked the door to the general’s bedroom.
He was flat on his bed, dressed in his uniform with medals and ribbons arrayed across his chest. In his right hand was his Colt Double Eagle handgun. General Harrison Naylor had shot himself in the head.
Chapter Three
Early Sunday morning, Paul had the girls loaded in the Explorer and on their way to another practice session at the ice-skating rink near Vail. The kids had a performance tonight, and their coach wanted to use every possible minute on the ice for practice.
When they passed the spot on the highway where they had been flagged down yesterday, both girls stared in silence through the car windows. Though Paul had gotten them away from the scene of the accident before the emergency rescue team went into action, they knew what had happened. Word spread fast in their community. Though they were close to Vail, they were separate. Redding was the kind of town where everybody knew everything.
“Daddy?” Jennifer, his nine-year-old, sounded subdued. “That man in the crashed-up car died, didn’t he?”
Like every parent, he wished to shield his kids from death and tragedy. There was no easy way to talk about these things. “Yes, Jennifer. The man died.”
“But you tried to rescue him.”
“I tried, but I was too late. It was a very bad accident.”
From the back seat, seven-year-old Lily piped up, “It’s okay, Daddy. I love you.”
“Me, too.” Jennifer reached over and patted his arm.
“I love you back.” Apparently, they’d decided that he needed comforting, and he appreciated their effort. His daughters weren’t always so sweet and sensitive. These two adorable, black-haired girls with porcelain complexions could be hell on wheels. “Have I ever mentioned that you kids are pretty amazing?”
“Yes,” Lily said firmly. “I’m very pretty.”
Jennifer groaned. “That’s not what he meant, dorkface.”
“Is too.”
“Is not.”
So much for sweet and sensitive.
“Daddy,” Jennifer whined, “you’ve got to make Lily change clothes before we get to the rink. Nobody wears their performance outfits to practice.”
“I do,” said Lily. “I look like a figure-skater princess.”
“You’re a cow!” Jennifer leaned around the seat to snarl. “I don’t even want to be your sister.”
“Daddy, make her stop.”
Jennifer went louder. “She’s sooo embarrassing.”
Paul pulled onto the shoulder of the road and slammed the car into Park. He took a sip of black coffee from a thermal mug that never managed to keep the liquid hotter than tepid. From the CD player came the music that Jennifer was using for her latest figure-skating routine. “I Enjoy Being a Girl.”
“We can’t stop here,” Jennifer said desperately. “We’re going to be late. Again.”
“We got to hurry,” Lily echoed. “I have to practice my double axel.”
“You wish! You can’t do a double.”
“Can too.”
“Not. Not. Not.”
Not for the first time, Paul wished his daughters had been interested in a sport he could get excited about. Skiing or rock climbing or mountain biking. If they had to strap on ice skates, why the hell couldn’t they play hockey?
He waited until the car was quiet except for the perky music from the CD, then aimed a stern look at Jennifer, whose rosebud mouth pulled down in a frown. “Don’t ever say that you don’t want to be Lily’s sister.”
“But she’s—”
“Never say it. We’re family. You. Me. And Lily.”
“And Mommy,” Jennifer added.
“Right.” Wherever Mommy was. His ex-wife had taken off before Lily was out of diapers and didn’t stay in touch. “We’re family. Understand?”
“I guess.” She flung herself against the seat and stared straight ahead through the windshield.
He peered into the rear where Lily, the self-proclaimed princess, plucked at the silver spangles on the leotard she wore under her parka. “Why are you wearing your fancy outfit to practice?”
“Coach Megan wanted to see it before tonight.”
“Show it to her, then change into your other clothes. I don’t want those sparkles to get ruined.” That scrap of fabric had cost a pretty penny. “Promise you’ll do that.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He nodded. “Both of you.