about that wound, Evan.”
Evan.
He’d missed the sound of his name on her tongue. He choked back the emotion, the regret, the loss of a future with her. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
The inside of the plantation home was as impressive as the outside. A magnificent split staircase garnered immediate attention as the focal point while the parlor to the right invited guests to its sleek dining table. Gray couches were placed against each wall, and the fireplace at the end of the room roared and crackled. Perfect for this January weather. Above the mantel hung a painting of a startlingly lovely woman who shared Wilder’s green eyes, black hair and squared chin. The engraved plaque underneath read: In memory of Meghan Flynn. Ah, his sister who’d been murdered several years prior.
Wilder directed everyone inside the dining/conference room but laid a hand on Evan’s uninjured shoulder. “Hey, Cosette will fix you up. Guest bathroom with a first-aid kit is down the hall on the left of the foyer.”
He hadn’t offered Jody’s services to patch his graze. Evan understood Wilder’s need to look after his own—his kin. “Thanks.” He followed the dark-haired woman with ruby-red lips to the bathroom and let her clean his wound regardless of the awkward tension. Who knew what Jody had told her? Probably everything. Cosette finished up and tossed her latex gloves in the trash can.
“All done, Agent Novak.”
“Evan.”
“Agent Novak it is.” Her tone was made of steel and heat. “She’s my best friend.”
Fair enough. He excused himself to the dining/conference room. Coffee had been served and the senator sipped a cup and answered the same questions Evan and Jody had asked in the SUV. Afterward, Cosette discreetly offered Senator Townes and Mr. Wiseman guest rooms, where they could rest and call family while the agents with Evan and the CCM team, except one who was missing, stayed in the parlor.
“I don’t understand,” Wilder said. “That place was surrounded. How did someone get into the convention center with a rifle and not get dinged in Security?”
Beckett took a cup of coffee from a redhead and winked. “Professional. The senator’s website has a calendar of events six months in advance. He probably hid the weapon weeks ago. Walked right in today and bypassed the extra security.”
They continued to speculate and discuss the events over lunch, and then the missing team member—Shepherd Lightman—made his presence known, a scowl on his face. He motioned Wilder out of the room and a few minutes later they returned, both wearing grim expressions. “Could we speak privately with our team and Agent Novak?”
Evan nodded and the other Secret Service agents slipped from the room. Wilder closed the pocket doors. “Go ahead, Shepherd. Tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Evan’s pulse kicked up a notch.
Shepherd folded his arms across his chest. “I did some investigating of my own. Based on the trajectory path of the bullets, the shots fired—three in all—came from a vent in the nosebleed section on the south end. Which means someone had access to the blueprints of the building or access to someone who had them. He managed to get by Security—possibly disguised as a maintenance worker or something—and he made his way into the ductwork and to the vent where he more than likely had stashed his rifle in preparation.”
Evan frowned. “Why can’t my colleagues hear this?”
Shepherd’s jaw ticked. “Because I don’t believe the senator was the target. The first shot fired caused the crowd to panic and struck low as if he missed the senator. But no one this organized and well hidden—and able to exit the scene without being detected or arrested—is going to be a bad shot.”
What did this mean? “You think the first shot was to purposely cause a panic and create chaos?”
Shepherd nodded. “And to throw off law enforcement, which it has.”
“But not you?” Evan asked.
“No.”
Wilder stepped up. “Shepherd happens to be one of the top three snipers in the world. And he has an uncanny ability to observe things most people don’t.”
“I’m not questioning anyone’s ability.” Evan didn’t doubt Wilder’s team. “I just want to understand all the facts.”
“The facts are,” Shepherd continued, “the second shot grazed your shoulder when you dived. A moving target isn’t easy...for some.”
Wait...moving target? “The third shot came when we were bolting from the stage.” His neck turned hot.
“Right. But you were shielded by other agents, so it wasn’t easy and the shooter had to know he was pushing his limits and needed to jet.”
Evan massaged the back of his neck. “Are you saying that I was the target?”
Shepherd glanced at Wilder and back to Evan. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. But the shooter wanted it to appear that the target was Senator Townes. The question is why?”
Why, indeed? Evan paced near the fireplace, though his whole body was already inflamed. “Well, it’s not like I don’t have a fair share of enemies.”
A younger man entered the room. Tall. Lanky but not out of shape. Unruly copper hair and black-framed retro glasses. “I got what you asked for.” He handed a stack of papers to Wilder and looked at Evan and grinned. “Nice work.”
What was he talking about? Today? Today was not nice work.
Wilder whistled. “You’ve been a busy man, Agent Novak.” He glanced at the guy in glasses. “Nice job, Wheezer. Wheezer is our computer analyst. Meet Agent Evan Novak...a cyber genius in his own right.”
“Yeah, he is.” Wheezer shook Evan’s hand. “I’ve been reading through some of your cases. You’re infamous underground.”
Yes, Evan was well aware, and this guy going on and on both embarrassed him and sent a surge of pride through him. Evan had always been good with technology and it had come in handy when taking down identity theft and fraud rings online. Over a dozen cracked cases to date. If he was successful with the newest cyber mission he’d been tasked to lead, he was a shoo-in for the promotion to Assistant Director of the Office of Protective Operations. He’d worked tirelessly to climb the ranks. To validate he was an honorable and worthy man. Everything Dad never was.
Guilt stabbed his chest.
Jody had been on her way up, too.
Until he’d shot her down.
She stood silent in the corner of the room, face unreadable.
“I guess we need to decide who might want you dead most,” Wilder said.
“A random criminal with a vendetta would want credit for taking you out,” Jody said. “He wouldn’t hide it. And while the rally was advertised on the senator’s website, nothing advertised that you’d be on the protection detail. So if the hit was directed at you, then someone knew exactly where you’d be today.”
“You
