Page 5 of Point of Contact

He did know Courtney. Had spent more hours in her presence than he could count.

All of them fucking miserable.

The woman was a spoiled brat. Used to getting her way in all things. Ready and willing to throw money around to make it happen. She’d tried to bribe him on more than one occasion, offering any amount he wanted for something as ridiculous as French fries from McDonald's.

But, while he normally struggled to turn down extra money, he took great joy in telling her no. Every fucking time.

The cop paused, his gaze narrowing. "You know the homeowner?"

"Yup." He glanced at the house again, shifting on his feet in a way that nervous people often did. "She's not usually home this time of day though. She's usually out shopping." He thumbed over one shoulder in the direction of the main road running alongside the private neighborhood. "I was driving past and saw the smoke." He met the cop's eyes, adding on information that would give his claim validity. "I have the code to the gate, so I came to make sure she was okay. She wasn't inside, was she?"

The cop clicked the end of his pen, pushing the tip back out before positioning it over his notepad. "Do you know what kind of car she drove?"

Fuck. He knew all kinds of shit about Courtney. What time she got up in the morning. What music she listened to. How long it took her to put her makeup on and how fucking used to getting her own way she was. But he didn’t know what kind of car she drove. And calling Heidi to find out wasn’t an option.

He shook his head. "Not off the top of my head."

The cop continued to watch him. "You said she's normally gone this time of day?"

Reed nodded even though he had no fucking idea what Courtney's schedule was like now. She disappeared from Alaska over a year ago, forcing them to track her down to make sure she hadn't been taken against her will. When they found her, she was back in Miami. Strutting around town like she didn't have a care in the world.

Which went directly against the story she'd told his boss when he’d agreed to hide her away.

The cop flipped his notebook closed, clicking his pen once more before straightening. "Thank you for your information. If you think of anything else that might be helpful, let me know." He pulled a card free, passing it off.

Reed stared down at the name printed across the plain white stock. The sight of it stung. Reminded him of what might have been. "Does that mean she's not in there?"

The cop hesitated, tongue sliding across his upper teeth before clicking back into place. "At this point, we aren't sure if the house was occupied at the time of the explosions."

Explosions. Plural.

"Shit." Reed raked one hand through his hair, his reaction completely genuine. "When do you think they'll be able to enter the premises?"

The police officer’s expression carried a hint of surprise at the way he worded his question.

It was done with intent. Designed to hint at what he was in the hope it would get him what he wanted.

"The fire marshal is on his way over, along with a structural engineer. If they deem the location safe to enter, firefighters will attempt to canvas for," he hesitated just a second, "your friend."

The set of the cop’s mouth was grim, conveying information he wouldn’t disclose.

Reed focused on the driveway, looking closer at the portion of the house in front of him. "Was there a car in the garage?"

His stomach clenched as he waited for an answer. He was never Courtney's biggest fan, but that certainly didn't mean he wanted her to die. Especially not like this.

The cop worked his jaw from side to side, but finally offered a nod.

Fuck.

Reed backed away as the officer moved on to a neighbor, asking them questions about what they heard and what they saw. Guilt tugged the clench in his stomach tighter. Maybe if he'd come straight here after they landed—

There were many things he tried not to think about when it came to his job. Many parts of it he compartmentalized in order to continue doing what he was paid to do.

This wouldn't be as easy to shut away.

He crossed the road, walking the half block to his rental car without looking back, and slid behind the wheel. He started the engine and switched the air conditioning to full blast, angling every vent at his face as he took slow, deep breaths.

He knew what he was getting into when he came to work for Pierce. Knew employment at Alaskan Security was about as far from his initial career path as it got. The trade-off had been worth it.

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