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.”
“The man from the restroom?”
T.J. shrugged. “As you said, we have little to go on.”
A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. A black Crown Vic drove into the parking lot and stopped next to one of the patrol cars. Not far behind the police was the ambulance that pulled up to the door to the church. “Rob and his partner are here as well as the EMTs. I told Rob where we were. He’ll let us know when it’s safe for us to come out of the room.”
T.J. massaged his nape, a frown marring the hard planes of his face. Although he wasn’t classically handsome, his strong features gave off an air of capability and confidence. On closer examination, she realized he must have broken his nose between the time they had been together and now. How had it happened? Had there been other injuries? She didn’t want to care, but she did.
Before she became fixated on that, she swung toward the window and observed her friend entering the building. But every part of her was strongly aware of the man standing next to her, their arms only inches apart as they watched the same thing.
“When we get back to the house, I’ll need to contact the Zimmermans’ publisher,” he finally said as all the police disappeared inside.
“Are you going to recommend that the couple cancel the rest of the tour?”
“Yes. Their message might be important, but not if they are hurt or killed.”
“They feel this country is at a crossroads. One road holds destruction. The other is a chance for salvation. They’re out there fighting for us to take the right path. I’m not sure they’ll quit.”
“Then we’ll have to do what we can to protect them.”
He’d said we’ll. She used to think of them in terms of we. She knew the danger of doing it now, but they had to form a solid partnership in order to protect the Zimmermans, who were clearly in danger. The more she and T.J. were a united front, the better Mary and Paul would be.
But at what cost to her feelings? When he’d left her to go to Washington, she’d been alone dealing with her mother and her chemo treatments. She’d missed her father, who had died two years before, and T.J. She’d never felt so alone. She couldn’t go there again.
* * *
T.J. made his rounds of the two-story house, checking all the doors and window to make sure the place was locked up tight. It had been a long day, and the Zimmermans had retired early. Now all he and Chloe had to do was keep them alive. He’d worked with others in his duties as a Secret Service agent, and usually he was the
