Page 92 of Crosshairs

He managed a tiny smile, then looked at Pete. “If that’s all, I’d like to get Ainsley home, where she can rest. And I’d appreciate it if you’d have one of your officers follow us home. One of the deputies followed us here, but once we arrived, he returned to his county duties.”

“Sure.” He spoke into his mic, requesting an escort. “He’ll meet you out front. Wish I could provide round-the-clock surveillance, but we’re always shorthanded. I’ll have my patrol officers drive by at least once an hour though.”

They both nodded their appreciation, then Linc helped Ainsley to stand. “Want to say good night to your dad?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Something was going on. He just didn’t know what. “Anything happen I don’t know about?”

“It’s nothing I want to talk about right now.” Her tone brooked no argument.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Pete’s officer fell in behind them as soon as they pulled away from the drive. Ainsley was quiet as they drove the short distance to Cora’s house, but it wasn’t a peaceful quiet. Linc glanced down, and her hands were fisted in her lap, her body rigid. He turned into her aunt’s drive and gave a thumbs-up to the officer before pulling to the back of the house. Neither of them made a move to get out of the Tahoe. “It’s evident something’s wrong. Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

She leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. He waited. Minutes slipped by before she opened them and looked at him.

“What if my father is trying to kill me?”

“What?” He couldn’t have heard her right.

“What if it was my dad who knocked Cora down when he came looking for the diaries? You know how badly he wants them. What if he hired someone to take me out?”

He stared at her, the unthinkable taking root. As an FBI agent, he’d seen how depraved people could be. But J.R. Beaumont? The man was running for governor. “It’s hard to believe—”

“I knew you’d take his side.”

“I’m not taking his side, but you have to give me more than the diaries as a reason.”

She crossed her arms. “I just found out today that I have a trust worth quite a bit of money. If something happens to me before I turn thirty-five, it all goes to him.” She turned to him. “I turn thirty-five my next birthday.”

He tried to remember the articles he’d read about J.R. If there was a hint that he had financial troubles, his opponent would have splashed it all over the news. “Why would your dad need your money?”

“Who knows—maybe he’s lost it all. He’s the only person who stands to gain from the trust if I die.”

“Listen to yourself, Ainsley. This is your dad you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you think this is tearing me apart?”

“I’m sure it is,” he said softly. He needed to be careful with his words. “Let’s go in and look at this rationally.”

“I think we better end this right here. That way we can keep itrational,” she said, making air quotes.

He’d used the wrong words.

47

Rational. Ainsley hopped out of the Tahoe and hurried to the back door before Linc could get out. He didn’t believe her.

She’d thought voicing the words running through her mind would dispel her anxiety, that maybe Linc would help her understand, but all he wanted to do was convince her she was wrong. Nothing had changed in fifteen years.

And now she might just throw up.

Ainsley fumbled in her pocket for her key, remembering too late that it was in her purse. In his SUV.

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