Justifiable Risk (18 page)

The SBI agent visually scanned her body and his gaze lingered near her feet. “Do you carry a throw-down?”

“No.”

“Do you mind if I check?”

The question rankled but she would’ve asked it if she’d been investigating this case. “Help yourself.” If she had used a throw-down, she would’ve gotten rid of it ASAP. That was crooked cop 101.

Agent Long patted Greer’s body in the usual places a gun might be concealed and concluded at her ankles. “Thanks. I realize this is unpleasant for you.”

“I want to know who killed my friend and shot the sergeant. If that means inconveniencing me a little, so be it. Anything else?”

“Actually—” A light tap sounded at the door and an SBI criminalist entered the room. “I’d like to swab your hands for a GSR test.”

“I’m not comfortable with that. Those tests aren’t dependable. I’m sure you’ve read the studies. I handle my weapon every day and fire it at least once a month.” The FBI had discontinued gunshot-residue tests several years ago because of unreliability. Handling a weapon, even a clean one, could result in trace amounts of GSR transfer.

“I’ll take that into consideration. It’s just for a preliminary finding.”

“Then why didn’t you test everybody else before they left?”

“Sergeant Fluharty didn’t accuse one of them of shooting him. He accused
you
.”

Long was right and she hated it. If she refused, she’d look guilty and he could probably convince a judge to give him a warrant to compel her cooperation. On the other hand, if the test was positive, it could be damning. Sometimes she hated the nuances of the law, but they kept cops and lawyers in business. She reluctantly extended her arms and the lab tech swabbed the thumb and forefinger area of both hands.

“One last question, Detective Ellis.
Did
you shoot Tom Merritt or Sergeant Fluharty?”

Greer met his stare. “No, sir, I did not.”

“Very well, that’s all I have for now. I’ll follow up later if necessary.”

Greer checked on Sergeant Fluharty and exited the room. When she stepped outside, Eva and Bessie were still in the waiting area. Eva was resting her head on Bessie’s shoulder and looked as though she’d been crying.

“Are you okay?” she asked Eva. They both stood as she approached and put on what Greer considered their strong faces.

Eva wiped her eyes. “Fine, and you? What was all that about?”

Bessie didn’t waste any time getting her two cents in. “It’s about blaming somebody for this mess. But it won’t be my girl. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Jeez, Bessie, defensive much? The man is just doing his job. I’d do the same thing if I was in his shoes.” Her aunt’s protectiveness warmed Greer, and for the first time since Clare’s death, she missed the closeness they used to share. “But I do love how you look after me.”

Eva stared at her in disbelief. “They actually think you might have something to do with Tom’s death and Fluharty’s shooting? You risked your life to save me and Tom.”

“Exactly,” Bessie said.

“Look, we’re all exhausted. Let’s get out of here.” She placed a hand on the small of Eva’s back, looped her arm though Bessie’s, and guided them toward the door. “Walk us out?”

Bessie accompanied Eva and Greer to the exit and turned to her. “Don’t worry about what Fluharty said in there. He’s out of it. Go home and get some rest.”

“I’ll try. I’d like to invite Eva to stay at the house for a few days, until things settle down, if it’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is, honey. She’s always welcome. Besides, we have to take care of each other.” Bessie gave them both a parting hug. “I’ll be late tonight. I’m meeting with the evening shift before I come home. There should be enough leftover lasagna for dinner.”

“Thanks.” The drive back to the motel and the few minutes it took Eva to throw some clothes into an overnight bag were too quiet—none of her usual questions or speculation about the case. Maybe Bessie should’ve checked her out for a delayed reaction to the violence before they left the hospital.

As they got back in the car, Greer asked, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Fine.” But the silence continued until they arrived at the house.

When Straw Dog and Frisky jumped enthusiastically for their homecoming greetings, Greer seized the opportunity to divert Eva’s attention from the day’s events. “Would you feed these guys while I scrounge through the fridge for that lasagna Bessie mentioned?”

“Sure.” Eva followed Greer’s instructions and busied herself preparing the dogs’ food. The more she interacted with the two bundles of energy, the more animated she became. “They’re amazing creatures, aren’t they?”

“They’re little food and emotion absorbers. It’s uncanny the way they pick up on feelings and do their best to comfort. Do you have pets?”

Eva shook her head. “I travel too much. I couldn’t put them through the trauma of having the one they love leave constantly for long periods of time. I know how that feels.”

Eva looked sad and far away. Were they still talking about pets? Maybe the past had desensitized her to the effects her life of constant rambling had on those around her. “How do you know about being left?”

Eva drew a couple of deep breaths as if she might not answer. “My father was a journalist. He volunteered for any assignment that took him somewhere new. I was too young to understand that his leaving had nothing to do with me, so it felt very personal. Mother tried to compensate for his absence, but I could tell it affected her.”

“I’m sorry.” Why would Eva follow in a profession that had obviously caused her so much pain? “My wise and nosy aunt would say that staying put doesn’t ensure loyalty or love. So I guess the opposite is also true.”

“Maybe, but I worry that I’m like him, constantly on the move, not committing to anything but my job. The personal life I want doesn’t seem possible.”

“You can always change your mind. Just because you’ve done things one way doesn’t mean you have to continue if it doesn’t work for you.” She stroked Frisky and Straw Dog lovingly on the head. “These guys will be the ones leaving me pretty soon. Bessie takes them in, nurses them back to health, and finds them a good home. It’s hard to see them go.”

“Bessie’s very sweet—what she said about taking care of each other.”

“My aunt is a caretaker, in case you hadn’t noticed. She believes we were put on this earth to help one another. If she finds an opportunity to do that, she makes it her mission. She’d probably adopt the needy population of New Hope and move them onto this land if she could—make them her extended family.”

“That kind of caring must make you feel very loved.”

Bessie had probably sacrificed a lot early in life to nurture her after her parents died. But Bessie didn’t dwell on the past. She and Ruth had given her every advantage they could. “Yes, I always knew they loved me.”

The kitchen grew quiet again as Greer placed the warm lasagna on the table, along with toasted garlic bread and a salad. As the tangy fragrances of tomato sauce and garlic filled the air, she poured them each a glass of wine and invited Eva to sit. “I know it’ll be hard, but you should try to eat, at least a little.”

Eva took a couple of gulps of wine and returned the glass to the table with a shaking hand. She pushed the lasagna and salad around on the plate with her fork but didn’t taste either. “Have you ever killed anybody?”

“Not directly.” Greer regretted her answer immediately. “If you mean in the line of duty, the answer is no. I’ve been lucky.”

“I was trying to imagine what it would feel like to hold another person’s life in your hands and know you were about to end it. What would flash through your mind? Would you consciously choose or would you decide without thinking in the immediacy of the moment?” Eva’s voice sounded strained, as if she was on the verge of tears.

“Don’t think about those things tonight, Eva. You’ve been through a lot.”

“That’s what I did today, you know. I ended another person’s life.” She pushed her plate away and rose from the table. “I have to talk to his family.”

“Eva, don’t do this to yourself. Go upstairs and take a long bath while I clean up down here. Then we’ll discuss this more. Will you do that for me?”

“Did he have a family?”

Greer considered which would be worse, to have no one from whom to seek absolution or to face the loved ones left behind. Each was its own special hell. Her answer wouldn’t comfort Eva. “No, Tom had no family and he wasn’t married.”

Eva’s eyes filled with tears as she looked toward the stairs and back at Greer. Her expression was like a lost child, unsure what to do next. “Where should I go?”

“The second floor’s all yours. Pick any room you like. They both have en suite bathrooms. I’ll be up in a few minutes to check on you.”

Eva retrieved her overnight bag from the entry and started toward the stairs. Her guilt hung like a yoke around her neck. She didn’t know how to handle her culpability in Tom’s death or how to seek forgiveness—if such a thing was even possible.

As she slowly ascended the stairs, Greer asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” But her answer sounded hollow.

Eva reached the second-floor landing and looked at the similar bedroom suites on either side. One contained pictures and personal items and had a more lived-in look. She chose the one with a simple cream-colored duvet, white sheer curtains, and no sign of personal touches. After she pulled a robe from her bag, she headed for the bathroom and thought about her earlier conversation with Greer as hot water filled the tub and steam coated the large mirror.

What would she have done if she’d known Tom would die this afternoon? She certainly wouldn’t have asked him to go with her to meet the informant. But what if she’d known only seconds before the shooting? Could she have done anything to prevent it? Would she have risked her own life to save his? She wondered how law enforcement or military personnel made such a decision in a fraction of a second, then lived with it forever.

It had only been four months since Paul’s death, Tom had died at her side today, and someone was probably targeting her. One of those things was enough to put her on edge, but she’d hit an ill-fated trifecta. Talking with Greer about her father and love had made her more anxious. She usually gathered information through personal chats, not disseminated it. But something about this one nibbled at her beliefs about her life and choices.

Eva stripped and settled into the hot water, enduring the prickly sting as partial justice for her failings. She couldn’t name anyone, aside from her brothers, that she was certain she’d risk her life for. She felt a responsibility, but not a real connection, to every person she’d interviewed in the course of her work. If she was honest, she’d never had the sort of connection she’d witnessed between Greer and Bessie or her friends with their partners. She couldn’t even maintain a relationship with a pet because she wasn’t home long enough.

She remembered the hundreds of times her father had left the family in search of the next big story, promising the current trip would be his last. As a child she blamed herself for not being enough to hold him. In adulthood, she realized his dreams and his demons had driven him from place to place. Some people just weren’t suited to domestic life. Eva couldn’t imagine doing to a partner what her father constantly did to her mother. As a compromise, she didn’t get involved.

But maybe Greer was right. Her father’s departures didn’t mean he loved his wife or children any less. He came back for a reason; maybe that was his definition of love. She’d assumed her lifestyle prohibited a fully committed and loving relationship. That premise was based on a model that appeared to have flaws. Perhaps she abandoned her sexual liaisons so she wouldn’t become too invested. What if her job was only an excuse to keep from getting hurt?

Eva splashed water on her face and relaxed into the huge soaker tub. It couldn’t be that simple. She kept her trysts short and uncomplicated to protect lovers from the uncertainties and disappointments of her life—at least that’s what she told herself. She closed her eyes and prayed the warm water would dissolve the emotional distress of today. Her guilt over Tom’s death and her unflattering personal history weighted her down like an anchor.

*

As Eva sluggishly climbed the stairs, Greer tried to reconcile the emotionally burdened woman with the confident, fearless reporter she’d been dealing with. This story didn’t feature some anonymous person gunned down in an old warehouse. Not only had Eva known and liked Tom Merritt, she’d been standing beside him when he was killed. Was Eva even more drained because she’d probably been the intended target?

Greer was angry at herself for not insisting that Eva take her to the meeting. If she’d been closer, she might’ve been able to prevent Tom’s death. All the seemingly unrelated bits of the case that hadn’t yet fallen into place confused her. She wanted to help Eva, but her own emotions were frayed, her control tentative. However, naked fear had settled closest to her heart—fear that someone would harm Eva and she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

This woman, with the energy of an overcaffeinated teenager and the determination of a marine on a mission, was beginning to matter to her. Greer panicked again and her chest tightened. Eva, not Tom, could be dead. She didn’t know Eva well enough to
care
about her. But beneath her finely honed defenses she experienced a flicker of hope when she saw Eva, desire when they were near, and arousal when they touched. God, how could this have happened?