Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4) (9 page)

“And no doctor would have either.”

Fallyn glanced at him. “Which means?”

Tony scrubbed his face with a hand. “Pure speculation, but maybe someone intentionally gave her that big dose of Perisoladol.”

Her blood ran cold. The implication was staggering. She couldn’t believe it, even as the words left her mouth. “My sister might have been murdered.”

Chapter Six

Fallyn led the charge down the long hallway of the Hart Senate Office building after they made it through several layers of security. Her quick strides scorched the floor. She could get those long legs moving when she put her mind to it, even in those damn heels.

She swung a left at the end of the corridor. Two doors down she stopped, gave the doorknob a flick and marched into an office. Bam. She was in. Tony followed her, shutting the door behind him.

A young woman, probably not even of drinking age, with short dark hair and a cute face sat at the reception desk, phone to her ear. As she spoke, a series of beeps and rings from the other lines echoed in the office. The young woman pressed two fingers into her forehead.

Busy day. Not unusual, Tony supposed, since they’d just lost the woman who ran this office.

He glanced around at the muted gray walls and oiled white trim. The place had a beachy feel. Kinda struck him as odd for a senator’s office, yet the Heather Pasche neatness and tidiness were present.

“Yes, ma’am.” the girl said into the phone while Fallyn hovered. “Thank you. I will have Jordan call you as soon as she’s back.”

She hung up. “I’m so sorry.”

She tapped buttons on the phone, silencing the other two ringing lines and looked up, her gaze landing on Fallyn, her dead boss’s twin.

If this girl didn’t know Heather had a twin, well, she might be thinking a ghost just wandered in because her mouth slid open and hung for a few seconds.

“Oh my God,” she said.

Fallyn stuck her hand out. “Fallyn Pasche. Heather’s sister. We haven’t met. You must be the intern.”

The young woman stared at Fallyn, her eyes glued to her face, mesmerized. With Fallyn’s hand hanging in midair, the intern’s gawking stare would have them sticking the landing in awkward territory.

Tony stepped up, gently pressed his hand against Fallyn’s wrist while he cleared his throat. The intern dragged her gaze to Tony.

“I’m Tony Gerard. Supreme Court security and a friend of Fallyn’s. She needs access to Heather’s office.”

“Oh, um…”

“Yes,” Fallyn said, not missing a beat at him throwing his job title in there. “Heather has personal items that are missing. I think they’re probably in her desk.”

“I, uh.” The intern pinched her nose. Her badge ID read Emily. “Wow. I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

Fallyn’s tone was downright frosty. “Excuse me?”

The intern winced, obviously realizing she’d just shot down a grieving sister. “Ooh, that was bad. I’m sorry.”

If Tony were a sighing man, he’d offer up the mother of all sighs. This kid? Way out of her league. What the hell were these people doing leaving a college kid alone after the death of a United States senator. One more time, he glanced around the small office, hoping someone might pop out of one of the closed doors—most likely offices—and rescue the intern.

Nope. No one popping. Unless he considered Fallyn’s red face and her head about to blow off. He held up a hand. “Is Jordan available?”

The intern snatched up the phone. “Jordan.
Yes
. She’s in the cafeteria, having lunch with her dad. Let me call her.”

Repressed energy flew off Fallyn, lacing the air, filling the small space with all that impatience, and nearly knocked Tony on his ass. He’d give her credit because she wanted to push by, get on with her search, but she stood still, her body stiff—controlled—as she absorbed the fact that a college kid had just refused her access to her dead sister’s office.

The intern cast her eyes downward, her gaze shooting to the phone, the desk pad, the stack of folders, everywhere but at them.

Yeah,
way
out of her league.

“Hi,” she said into the phone. “Ms. Pasche—uh, Fallyn—is here and needs to get into the Senator’s office. Would you please call me back?”

She disconnected and finally looked up at them, her lips forming a shaky smile. “She didn’t answer.”

“Well,” Fallyn said, “as you can imagine, I have a lot to do. Unfortunately, I can’t wait for Jordan. Here’s an idea I’m sure we can agree on. I’ll go into Heather’s office, start gathering what I need and you can go fetch Jordan. Then, if Jordan has a problem with me being in there, which, given the circumstances she won’t, she and I can discuss it. That gets you out of the middle.”

Fallyn didn’t wait for a response and headed for one of the closed doors.

“Wait! I’m not supposed to let anyone in there unless Jordan is with them.”

Waving her off, Fallyn pushed open the door and disappeared inside the office.

Again, Tony the un-sigher went into maintenance mode. “Where’s the cafeteria?”

“The cafeteria?”

“Yes.” He waggled a finger. “Go find Jordan.”

Clearly thankful for the reprieve, the intern hopped up. “Yes. Absolutely. I can do that. It’ll only take a minute. I’ll be right back.”

The intern rounded the desk, hustling out and Tony moved to the doorway of Heather’s office.

“You know,” he said, “you could have given the kid a break and waited for her to find Jordan. She’s crapping her pants. Let’s not get her fired to boot.”

Fallyn had already tossed her purse on the giant desk and started in on the drawers. “Jordan knows I’m a pain in the ass, and she won’t care. I’m family and I’ll tell her I promised Emily I’d stay out until they got back, but oops…I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“And you called me a pain in the ass. Who’d a thunk you were even worse?”

“Shocking, I know.” She shoved the drawer closed, moved to the next one. “Do me a favor, start on the bookcase. See if she’s got anything hidden behind the books. That was a favorite hiding spot for her when we were kids.”

To his left, along the wall, sat a sofa with a bookcase anchoring the other side. Before he could move, voices from the outer office erupted. A brunette, not much older than the intern, and an older man filed in from the hallway. He’d seen them the previous night when he’d chased off the reporters.

Tony swung his thumb. “We got company.”

The brunette pushed by him, followed by the man. “Fallyn!” she said. “What are you doing? You can’t just rummage in Heather’s desk. You shouldn’t even be in here. There could be sensitive information in there.”

The intern scurried in and Tony saluted. “That didn’t take long.”

“They were already on their way back.”

Still at Heather’s desk, Fallyn continued her search. “I’m not interested in the secrets of our U.S. government, Jordan. I know most of them anyway.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I can’t say.”

The older man stepped closer. “Fallyn,” he said, “you
really
need to calm down and take a step back.”

And, yeah, Tony’s shit-meter went ballistic. Fallyn had mentioned Jordan’s father was an old family friend, but even still, his tone sucked. And with all of them facing Fallyn, it looked like a damned firing squad. Jordan spun back and angled around him on her way to the outer office. He took over her spot next to the desk.

Fallyn opened another drawer. “Carl, the last thing I need to do is calm down. I’m sure Jordan told you, if you didn’t already know, but Heather had a heart condition.”

“I just found out.”

“Then I don’t need to bring you up to speed. Aha.” She held up two vitamin bottles and shoved them at Tony. “We’re taking these.”

“Okay,” Tony said.

Being a smart man who’d grown up with five women, he knew when not to argue. Not that he would have anyway. The woman had a right to figure out what happened to her sister.

Carl poked a finger at Tony. “Who are you?”

“Tony Gerard. I got the press out of your face last night. Point at me again and I’ll take that finger off.”

Clearly entertained, Fallyn gave him a thumbs up. “I should hire you.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and reached for the last desk drawer. “Tony is a friend, Carl. He’s helping me sort through Heather’s things. Now, if the rest of you are not going to help me, please leave.”

Carl held two hands up. “Fallyn, dear, I know you’re upset. Heather’s death—”

“Upset?” She rummaged through the drawer, tossing folders, notepads, a makeup bag, on the desk as she went. “I’m beyond upset. My sister just died. If that weren’t enough, she had a heart problem she chose not to share with me. One that’s apparently genetic and—oh, gee—maybe Fallyn should be tested too? But that’s another issue. I’ll have to live with the fact she kept it from me. And that hurts. I think have a right to be just
slightly
upset about that. Because,”—she threw her hands out—“guess what, kids, my sister’s body is loaded with Perisoladol, a drug that causes arrhythmias. Which, as you can imagine, is not good for someone with a heart condition. I might be having a goddamn arrhythmia right now myself. So, yeah, I think I’m allowed to be
upset
.”

She slammed the drawer, stood tall, set her hands on her hips and looked at Tony. “Am I right or am I wrong?”

Crazy woman.
But, sick fuck that he was, he loved it. “You have the right to feel however you want.”

“Good man. Thank you.”

Her cell phone rang and she dug it out of her purse. “Lovely. My Dad. Let’s all pile on.” She punched the button. “Hi, Dad…Well, I’m going through Heather’s office. There are some things we should talk about… No, Dad, I’m not causing trouble.” Jordan entered the room and Fallyn glared at her. “I don’t care what Jordan said. I’m not hysterical.”

This was dirty pool. That snitch Jordan had called Fallyn’s father. And now she stood behind her own father, her face a mix of concern and smug.

Sneaky witch.

Through the phone, Fallyn’s Dad unloaded on her. The words weren’t clear, but the yelling came through and Jordan and her father stood, nodding their approval.

These people? Seriously wacked.

“Dad, I’m looking for something. I’m trying to help…Why are you screaming at me? … I know you lost a daughter, believe me… No…I’m not trying to aggravate you.”

She looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes while Jordan and her father watched the show and Tony’s shit-meter finally exploded.

Not letting this happen.

He smacked his hands together. “You know what? I think we’ll give Fallyn the room. Family privacy. Everyone out.”

“We are family,” Carl said. “I’m not leaving,

“Yeah, you are. When Fallyn is ready to talk to you, she’ll let you know.”

After a three second stare down, the man got the full brunt of Tony’s don’t-make-me-kick-your-ass stare and spun toward the door.

“Thank you,” Fallyn said, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand.

He paused a second, meeting her gaze and—bam—like a punch to the chest, his air locked up. Fallyn, in her designer suit and killer heels, those green eyes so intense and…hot…rattled something inside him. In a big way.

Focus here, pal.
He followed Jordan and her father out the door, closing it behind him. Blocking the doorway, he crossed his arms, and forced air into this lungs.

“Look,” Carl said, “I’m not sure who you are, but I’ve known this family for years, and you’re not helping.”

I’m not helping?
Really? “Actually, sir, I don’t think I’m the problem.”

“What does that mean?”

Tony shrugged. “She’s grieving. Maybe you could give her a little space.” He looked over at Jordan, once again hiding behind her father, her lips pinched. “Fallyn is looking for Heather’s medications. Have you been through her desk? Did she keep any here?”

When she remained silent, Tony shook his head. “You people are ridiculous.”

Carl nudged closer. Any other time, Tony would have found it humorous since he had a least eight inches on the man and outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. Talk about a Napoleon complex.

“I want to know who the hell you are. If you’re suddenly so close to Fallyn, why have I never met you?”

“Sir, all due respect, my relationship with Fallyn isn’t your business. When she gets off the phone, she’ll decide what she wants to tell you.”

“Do you know who I am?”

Sure he knew. He was a retired State Department employee turned contractor. Once an assistant to the Secretary of State, Carl Lomax had all sorts of connections in DC and elsewhere. Rumor had it, he was the guy to call when a deal between two countries needed to be made. The ultimate power broker. “I do. I also don’t care. Fallyn is my concern.”

Behind him, the door swung open and he slid to the side. He took in Fallyn’s puffy eyes and downturned lips and a chunk of him broke away. He knew grief and it sucked. On all levels. But if she’d been crying, she’d hid it well.

He grabbed her forearm. “You good?”