Debby Giusti - Plain Danger

“No, ma’am, but I wanted to apologize for my comments.”

“Which comments are you referring to?” She squared her shoulders in a defensive gesture he had half expected after his earlier outburst.

“My comments about Senator Kingsley.” Not that they weren’t true. Still, he hated hearing the cool aloofness in her voice.

She stepped closer. “Evidently I said something wrong, something that upset you. Let me assure you that I’m not the senator.”

He pointed a finger back at himself. “I in no way thought you were.”

“Nor do I put words in his mouth.”

“Actually...” Tyler hesitated. “If you write his speeches, that’s exactly what you do.”

She frowned.

He wasn’t making points.

“Senator Kingsley is quite explicit on what he wants covered in each speech,” she said with an icy stare. “His policies are exactly that—his policies. They reflect his opinions and what he believes to be true and do not reflect the way I think or feel.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I admire all who defend our nation, Agent Zimmerman. They sacrifice greatly. Many give their lives for our security. I am indebted to their service, as the entire nation should be.”

“Then we see eye-to-eye on that point, but I still hope you’ll accept my apology.”

“Of course.”

He handed her his business card. “Some of the crime scene personnel will remain on-site for a while. I’m heading to post. My phone will be on if you think of anything else.”

“I’ve told you everything.”

“Yes, ma’am, but I’m sure you’re anxious and concerned. Keep your doors and windows locked. Be alert to any danger.”

Her stiffness crumbled. She drew her hand to her neck. “Y-you’re worrying me.”

Which he hadn’t intended to do. “I just want to ensure that you use caution.”

“Thank you for your concern.”

When he’d entered the house the first time, his focus was on the murdered soldier and on finding information. Now that the immediate urgency was over, he paused to glance at the expansive living area with two brick fireplaces, tall ceilings and hand-hewn hardwood floors.

“Your home is beautiful.”

“My father’s home,” she corrected. “I still feel like an outsider.”

“In time, that should change.”

Her face softened for a moment, exposing a vulnerability he hadn’t expected. Then she pulled in a quick breath and returned to her former polite, but somewhat perturbed, self.

“I hope the investigation is wrapped up quickly, Agent Zimmerman.”

“It will be.” Tyler sounded more optimistic than he felt. “My cell’s always on. You can call me if you hear anything worrisome. I’m home most nights by seven.”

“Bailey’s a good watchdog.”

“I’m sure he is.”

Tyler started for the door.

A phone rang. Carrie reached for her cell and checked the caller identification. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s the senator’s office.”

“You notified Washington?”

She quirked her brow. “Did you want me to keep the soldier’s death secret?”

“Of course not.” He opened the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

He hurried off the porch and started across the front lawn on his way home. Phillips waved from his sedan as he and Inman pulled onto Amish Road and headed back to town.

Tyler needed coffee and a shower before he drove to post, but he couldn’t get past the churning in his gut, knowing Carrie York was on the phone to DC.

This case came with baggage. Not what he needed or wanted. He had to focus on the investigation instead of getting into a war of words with the senator’s speechwriter whose arrival in Freemont felt suspect.

Was Carrie York an innocent bystander? Or was she somehow involved in the soldier’s death?

* * *

After the congestion and traffic in DC, driving along the gentle, rolling hills and fertile farmland was a refreshing change of pace for Carrie. Some of the anxiety she’d felt through the night had ebbed by the time she arrived downtown.

She parked her car behind the lawyer’s office and hurried inside. George Gates had been nice enough yesterday when he gave her the keys to her father’s house as well as the information about Bailey and the kennel where the dog had been boarded. Everything had seemed like a dream, especially when she realized the huge white home with Greek columns had belonged to her father.

Thankfully the dog’s frisky playfulness and demand for attention had filled the expansive house with activity that added warmth and welcome to what could have been a difficult homecoming. She and Bailey had quickly become fast friends, and she was grateful for his attention. The pup had stayed close by her side, until he’d whined to go out shortly after midnight.

All too soon, the initial charm of the historic home had been marred by the discovery of Corporal Fellows’s body. She hoped the lawyer would provide some clue to the soldier’s death, which was the first question she asked George Gates once they’d exchanged pleasantries and she’d taken a seat in the chair across from his desk.

The lawyer was midforties, with whitened teeth, bushy eyebrows and a ruddy complexion that made her wonder if he frequented a tanning salon.

“I heard something had happened along Amish Road,” he said, his voice somber. “Although I wasn’t sure if the information I received was accurate. So you’re saying a soldier was killed behind Jeff’s house?”

“In the open field but close to the woods. As you can imagine, I’m upset and confused. Is there something you failed to tell me about my father?”

Surprise registered on his puffy face. “Surely you’re not implying your father was involved in anything that would lead to a soldier’s death.”

“You tell me.”

“Jeff was a good man, Carrie. He did a lot for Freemont and was well respected. The Harris family has been a part of this town’s history since the early 1800s. Your father inherited the house and property from his maiden aunt some years back. He worked hard to restore the home to its former beauty, and since then, he’s been a pillar of the town.”

“Pillars can crumble.”

He laughed off the comment. “I told you someone has expressed an interest in buying the property. It’s something to consider. You’re probably eager to return to Washington. I can handle the paperwork and expedite the sale.”

She held up her hand. “It’s too soon, George. I’m not ready to sell.”

“You’re upset, no doubt, about what happened last night. Take a few days to think it over. I’m sure the offer will please you.”

“I came here today to find out more about my father’s estate and especially his property. You didn’t mention the trailer he rented.”

“My mistake. You were tired yesterday. I hesitated taking up more of your time.”

He taped a manila envelope on his desk. “A plat of the property is inside. Your father owned a hundred and twenty acres and the house. He rented out a trailer, usually to one of the soldiers from post. Almost half of his land is prime farmland. The rest is wooded.”

“And you have an interested buyer for both the land and the house?”

“That’s correct.”

“Can you assure me the property won’t be cut up for development?”

“I’m not sure what the buyer’s plan would be, but it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with at this point.”

She leaned closer. “But it is my concern, George. I don’t want to disrupt the beauty of the Amish community.”

“Yes, of course. I understand.”

Did he? Carrie wasn’t sure about George Gates or his too-accommodating responses.

By the time she shook his hand in farewell, she had even more questions about her father, his past and her future.