Shirley tried to maintain a grasp on her purse and the two department-store sacks she held in her arms without any success. Everything fell to the floor.
“Damn…” Brad shook his hand, then pulled his wet shirt away from his body where the coffee had soaked through to his skin. “That’s hot!”
“Are you all right?” Shirley’s formal, all-business voice gave no hint of any irritation at the collision.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He glanced down at the contents that had spilled from her purse and the items of clothing that had tumbled from the shopping bags, what appeared to be gym workout clothes.
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realize you were there. Let me help you with this.” He kneeled down and began picking up the items – her wallet, a day planner, a comb, a small makeup pouch, a bottle of eyedrops and the case for her glasses. He stared at the eyeglass case for a moment, noting the name of the optometrist before handing everything to her.
“It seems we go to the same eye doctor. How do you like Dr. Keeson?” A slight grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. The bold pattern and bright colors of the case didn’t go with the style of her glasses or fit in with her plain appearance.
“He’s very nice.” Shirley took the items from him and shoved them in her purse. “You’re here late. I thought you were on light duty until your shoulder wound healed completely. And to that we can add your most recent abrasions.” She gestured toward his face.
He chose to ignore her comments about his split lip, the gash on his chin and the scrapes across his cheek. “I’m feeling fine. The doctor thinks I should give this shoulder another week or so to heal from the bullet wound before he releases me to field duty.”
“Is there a problem of some sort that brings you back to the office after hours?”
“I’m catching up on a little paperwork. I thought I could get a lot of it done tonight when no one was around. I want all of it cleaned up so I can get back to field duty.”
“Well, if there’s nothing you need me for, I think I’ll call it a day.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, Shirley.”
Brad watched as she walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner. She had only been in the Seattle office of the U.S. Marshals Service for a couple of months. He didn’t know her very well as she seemed to keep mostly to herself. She had been transferred from another district to fill the vacancy created when their computer expert retired.
She seemed very efficient at her job of being their software expert and maintaining the computer system. No matter what the problem, she had it fixed immediately. Any difficulty accessing files or finding information on the Internet and she was a whiz at handling it. In fact, she exactly fit his concept of a computer-nerd stereotype…straight brown hair worn short with bangs, medium-brown eyes, horn-rimmed glasses, about twenty pounds overweight, most of which seemed to be on her hips and around her waist probably due to lack of exercise, very little makeup, quiet and kept to herself. She was short compared to his six-one height. He guessed she topped out at five foot three.
He listened until he heard the front door close, then grabbed the John Vincent folder from the file room. He made copies of everything to take with him – something very definitely against the rules. Then he went to his cubicle to do some computer research. He needed information that he couldn’t access from his computer at home, and during office hours there was too much of a chance that someone would see what he was doing. He worked quickly, finding and printing out what he wanted.
As soon as he finished he drove back to the motel to check on Tara. He knocked on the door, at the same time calling to her. “Tara…it’s me.”
She looked through the peephole in the door, then opened it to let Brad in. “Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”
“Yes, I think so. How are you doing? Is everything okay? Is there anything you need?”
She glanced around the small room. A little sigh escaped her throat. “I can’t think of anything specific that I need.”
He heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes…the anxiety, the apprehension and the loneliness. Her despair tugged at his senses and pulled at his emotions. She was obviously scared and trying to put up a brave front. He was responsible for her being stuck away in a small motel room, but if he hadn’t taken action when he did she would probably be dead by now. The thought helped lessen his guilt but didn’t calm his own anxieties. He desperately wanted to do something to try to comfort her and ease her mind.
“There’s a special on television tonight that I wanted to see, but it comes on in ten minutes and I can’t be home by then. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here for a while. I can watch the special and keep you company for a bit…” He offered his best confidence-inducing smile. “If that’s okay with you.” He took off his jacket and tossed it across the foot of the bed.
Her attention flew to the holster clipped to his belt, becoming fixated on the handgun. A shiver darted up her spine and anxiety churned in the pit of her stomach, confirming what she already knew – she was in serious danger. She closed her eyes. The sound of the explosion and the vivid image of the burning car assaulted her senses. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the disturbing vision.
“Tara? Are you all right?”
His voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes, her attention again riveted on the weapon, her thoughts telling her of the danger it represented. “Do you…uh…always carry a gun?”
“Yes. We’re issued a.357 magnum, but I prefer this 9mm semiautomatic. I find it more comfortable to carry and to use.”
“To use?” A knot of anxiety pulled tight in her stomach. “Do you have to use it often?”
“Occasionally.” A twinge in his shoulder gave a sharp reminder of the last time he’d needed to use it.
She pulled her attention away from the weapon, glancing around the room as she composed herself and tried to project a positive manner. “I didn’t mean to get off the subject. What were you saying?”
“I was asking if you minded my staying to watch a program on television. Maybe keep you company for a little while until you’re feeling more comfortable?”
“Uh…no, I don’t mind if you want to watch something on television. Go ahead.”
Tara retreated to the corner of the room, curling her legs under her as she sank into the large chair. Try as she might, she simply couldn’t concentrate on his conversation. She kept hearing the explosion over and over, the horror of pieces of metal flying through the air. The churning in her stomach drove a sick feeling up her throat. She knew it was a memory that would continue to haunt her the rest of her life however long – or short – that life might be.
She watched Brad as he sat on the end of the bed staring at the television, although he didn’t seem to really be watching the program. He appeared casual enough, as if he didn’t have any concerns, but the tight set of his jaw belied that. She could almost feel the tension pulling his muscles into knots. But in spite of that he radiated a sense of confidence that surpassed his take-charge attitude. A quick dash of irritation flitted through her. Confidence or not, his was still a take-charge attitude in which he gave orders and expected to have them obeyed without question. Although it was something quite different from the way Danny Vincent had tried to control her life.
A
