Margaret Daley - Bodyguard Reunion

A knock cut through the sudden silence in the room as Mary and Paul listened to Chloe’s conversation with Detective Rob Matthews. Paul started for the door.

“Don’t! Let me.” Sliding her phone into her pocket, then drawing her gun, Chloe hurried to cut him off. He stopped, his eyes huge as he looked from her to Mary.

“There was a problem at the limo. Someone knocked out the driver and slashed the tires.” Chloe clasped the handle and motioned for Paul and Mary to stand in the corner, out of the line of fire. When they had moved, she asked, “Who is it?”

“T.J. here. It looks like it’s going to rain.” His deep, husky voice penetrated the barrier of wood between them.

The smooth sound of his words sent relief through her—and something else, a flutter deep in her stomach. She dismissed the reaction, chalking it up to being glad he was all right. She couldn’t afford to fall for T.J. again. She unlocked the door and swung it open while keeping her gun ready at her side.

T.J. helped the stunned driver into the room as Chloe shut the door and threw the lock—not that it would stop someone really determined to get inside. In fact, she could probably pick the lock in under a minute.

Mary rushed from the corner with Paul right behind her. When she reached the driver, she waved her hand toward the nearest chair. “I’ve had some first-aid training. Let me check him.”

The Zimmermans tended to the man, who responded to Mary’s questions about how he felt as she looked into his eyes, then examined the back of his head. When she probed with her fingertips, the young man winced.

“How long until the police and paramedics arrive?” T.J. asked Chloe, drawing her attention to him.

“I called a friend, Rob Matthews, who is on duty and will send some patrol officers. He’s on his way, too, but they’ll get here first. Maybe ten minutes out. Does the driver know what happened?”

“He was groggy. I wanted to get in here before questioning him. I kept thinking it might have been a diversion.”

“It’s been quiet.”

Mary crossed the room to the counter where there was a sink and wetted some paper towels. As she made her way back to the driver, Paul walked over to them, his color pale.

“What’s going on?” His voice wavered.

“Not sure. At best, another harassment.” T.J. started for the driver and Mary.

“And the worst?” Paul followed.

“The attacker is out there waiting to do something else, most likely to you and your wife.”

T.J.’s declaration caused Paul to falter.

Chloe grasped his arm and steadied him. “That’s why we’re here. To protect you and Mary.” She looked toward T.J. and was comforted he was her partner. He exuded a self-assurance that would keep the Zimmermans as composed as possible under the circumstances. She’d discovered that was important when events turned bad.

“What should we do?” Paul asked Chloe.

“Pray. The police are on the way. They’ll check the surrounding area and the church. Right now it’s best if we stay in here until we’re given the all-clear sign from them.” She schooled her voice into a calm, even tone.

“How are we getting back to the house?”

“I’ll ask my detective friend to take us. The driver needs to be checked out by a doctor. The paramedics coming will take care of him. From the looks of it, he might have a concussion.”

As T.J. paused next to the driver, Mary finished tending to the man with her limited resources. Chloe moved with Paul toward the trio. She needed to know what had happened to the driver.

“I think he’ll be fine. He’s coherent.” Mary backed away while Paul wrapped his arms around her.

“Did you see who did this to you, Ben?” T.J. sat in a chair in front of the young man, whose dazed look had cleared.

Ben Johnson leaned against the table, cradling his head in one hand. “Not really. That parking space was one of the few left after I dropped y’all in front.” Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he rubbed his fingers across his forehead. “I parked and sat in the car for a while before I decided to use the restroom. I came into the church, found the men’s room then went back to the limo.”

“Did you see anyone in the parking lot?”

“A large man came out of the restroom as I was going in, but otherwise no one else. I heard the general rumble from the auditorium and saw people down the hall toward the front of the church—I guess in the foyer.”

“Can you describe the man coming out of the bathroom?” T.J. gripped the back of his chair.

“Big. Maybe six and a half feet. Dark hair. That’s all I can remember. I wasn’t really paying attention. The boss doesn’t like us away from the limo for long. I was only gone five minutes.” Ben swept his gaze across the group.

Chloe stepped next to T.J. “What happened when you went back to the car?”

“I saw the slashed tires on the left side and hurried to see how bad the damage was. All I could think was how mad my boss would be. The next thing I know someone hit me over the head. Everything is fuzzy after that. I vaguely remember being dumped in the trunk. I must have passed out.”

“So you don’t know where your attacker came from?” T.J. asked the driver, but he looked at Chloe.

She tore her gaze away and focused on Ben.

He squinted and stared off into space for a moment. “He must have come from behind the car next to the limo on the right side. I think.”

“But you aren’t sure?” Chloe asked as though she and T.J. had silently agreed to take turns with the questions.

“No. It happened fast.”

“Can you describe the car on your right?” T.J. rose suddenly, invading her space.

Ben’s eyes lit up. “Yes. I may not remember people, but I do remember what they drive. It was a red Mustang, last year’s model. A beauty. The car gleamed.”

“Anything else?” Chloe moved back several steps, her heartbeat increasing from T.J.’s nearness.

“There was a pine-tree air refresher hanging from the rearview mirror. I love the smell of pine.”

Chloe’s cell phone rang. She walked toward the window that overlooked the front of the church and answered a call from Rob. “What’s going on?” Outside, three patrol cars pulled up to the entrance.

“The officers are there and will check out the church. I’ll meet them there in ten with my partner. They’ll let me know when it’s safe for you all to come out.”

“Thanks. We’re in the room above the auditorium in front. I’ll be able to see you pull up.”

T.J. joined her as she put her cell back into her pocket. He looked at the police fanning out and heading into the building. “We don’t have much to go on.”

“Do you think the driver could be involved?”

“I don’t think he’s lying. There are no big tells. But some people are quite good at lying.”

His shoulder brushed against hers when he shifted. The casual touch zipped through her, making her acutely aware of the man beside her at the window—almost as if only days had passed since they had been together instead of years. It disconcerted her, and she had to fight to think what she needed to say. “So I’ll have Kyra check the company and driver out. But I don’t see how the description of the car next to the limo will produce anything.”

“While you were on the phone, Ben remembered the last three numbers of the license plate. It’s probably nothing, but we should tell your detective friend about the Mustang.”

“In other words, we’re no closer to who or why someone is after the Zimmermans. Ben referred to the assailant as ‘he.’ Does he think it was a man who attacked him?”

“I didn’t ask. I will, but Ben is over six feet tall and a hefty guy. To knock him out and stick him into the trunk would take someone large and capable of managing that physically.”