if you think you can remember without us going to that extreme then talk to me.”
Laura preferred that method to hacking into private files. “Let me make a list of names. Maybe that will bring back some memories.”
“Good.” Paco grabbed her notebook. “Got a pen?”
She found a pen in her purse then handed it over to him. Walter passed by with phantom quietness, his rifle held at his chest. “Nobody coming to call. I think we’re in the clear.”
Paco looked at the door. “Keep an eye out, Grandfather. They might try to sneak up on us again.”
Walter nodded, his solid presence a comfort to Laura.
Paco and his grandfather were close. She could tell by the respect Paco offered the old man and by the way they teased each other, both serious and stoic but with a trace of mirth in their eyes.
“Are you thinking?” Paco asked, his gaze cutting to the windows and the door. “We don’t have much time. They might decide to come back for another visit. And bring friends along.”
Laura sank back, terrified of that prospect. “I’m a pastoral counselor. I mostly deal with church members with marriage problems, those who’ve lost a loved one, or teenagers who are going through angst. Things like that. And CHAIM agents and workers, of course.”
“Of course. Anyone who stands out in your mind?”
She put her head down, bringing her right arm up to settle on the table, then leaned her chin against her fist, a dark thought creeping into her mind. In that brief moment, Laura thought of only one possible suspect.
“About a month ago, we had a teenager come to the clinic. He was upset about something his father had done.”
“Go on.”
Not wanting to divulge the particulars, she shook her head. “I can’t talk about it—except that the teen was traumatized by what had happened. I counseled him, told him how to get help from the authorities next time it happened. He didn’t want to report the incident, but I could tell he was afraid. He was a lot stronger and calmer after our first couple of sessions, though. Then he didn’t come back.”
“Did he seem angry at you?”
“No, he was angry at the world.” And his father. The man had been extremely demanding and controlling. How could she tell Paco this without getting upset or giving away personal information? Or her acute sense of failure. “The young man killed himself about two weeks after he’d talked to me.”
Paco scribbled some notes. “What was his name?”
“Is this necessary?”
“We have to assume, yes.”
“Kyle Henner. He was sixteen.”
She watched as Paco pulled up a number on his phone. “Kissie, it’s Paco. Yeah, I’m okay. I need you to run a name for me. See what you can find out about a kid from Phoenix named Kyle Henner.” He held the phone away. “Father’s name?”
Laura hesitated then said, “Lawrence Henner. He’s a big-time developer of some sort. He owns a lot of different companies. Lots of money and lots of power. He was devastated about what happened.”
She didn’t add that the man was also a walking time bomb who’d verbally abused not only his son but his wife, too. His wife left him after Kyle’s suicide. And now that she thought about it, Lawrence Henner was just the kind of man to blame someone else for his son’s death.
Someone like her, maybe?
Paco finished his conversation with Kissie then turned to Laura. “She’ll get back to us. And if you think about anything else you can tell me about this kid, let me know.”
“His father is ruthless,” she said, her nerves sparkling with apprehension. “But I don’t think he’d try to shoot me. He’d just find a way to ruin my life, probably.”
“Or if he’s that powerful, he could send someone else to shoot you.”
She swallowed back her worries. “Last I heard, Mr. Henner had left the country.”
“That could be a red flag.”
“Or maybe he needed to get away from everything in the same way you did?”
He gave her a hard stare. “Maybe. Only I’m not the one out there in the hills with a gun, now, am I?”
Laura shivered at his words. No, he wasn’t out there trying to shoot people. But if he didn’t unload some of his own grief soon, he could be the next one.
How in the world could she help Paco Martinez deal with post-traumatic stress if someone was trying to finish her off before she even got started? That thought caused her to gasp and grab at Paco’s hand.
“Did you remember something else?”
“No, but I just realized something.”
His dark eyes swirled with questions. “Spit it out.”
“What if that person out there was trying to stop me from talking to you?”
THREE
She had a point there. And she had already suggested he might be the target. But killing her for talking to him—or to keep her from talking to him—that was a different twist. Paco couldn’t deny he had people gunning for him on so many levels. But to try and take out a pretty, innocent woman just because she was trying to help him. Who would want to do that? Maybe the shooter had been after him to begin with. That made more sense.
But he’d gone on a long run early this morning. It would have been easy for someone to spot him and take him out there in the desert. And by the time anybody found him, the vultures and other predators would have finished him off, anyway. No, this shooting had been timed for her arrival, by Paco’s way of thinking.
“So maybe I should be asking you all these questions,” she said, her expression bordering on smug. “I’ve read your case file. You’ve had quite a career in both special ops and with CHAIM. Both classified, of course, but I know things went bad on your last mission in Afghanistan. That’s a lot of stress for any one man.”
Paco wanted to laugh out loud, except a burning rage kept him from cracking a smile. That and the way she’d changed from timid to tempest by turning the tables on him. “You have no idea, darlin’.”
Her expression turned sympathetic, which only made things worse. He could handle anything but pity. “I think I do. That’s why you called me that night.”
He got up, stomping around the small café, his gaze hitting on an old shelf full of several carved wooden figurines of warriors astride horses his grandfather had created to sell right along refrigerator magnets, greasy hamburgers and ice-cold soft drinks. Grandfather Rainwater was content with his life.
Paco, however, was still struggling with his.
And this perky little counselor lady wasn’t helping matters. Neither was
