Page 22 of Justice Delayed

The ominous warning sucked the anger and bravado out of her.

A mental picture of Brogan with his tousled blond hair and blue eyes flashed in her mind. Just when she thought she might move forward, might find the answers she so desperately sought, another person was threatened. Fear coiled around her like a python. She untangled herself from the dread of anything happening to Brogan and opened her mouth to respond. Too late. The caller had hung up.

Sliding down to her knees on the kitchen floor, she did the only thing she could do that would make a lick of difference.

Dear God, please. Please help me to discover the truth about what happened to Jesse. Please keep Brogan safe. Please let my actions be honoring to you.

Her phone trilled again. She checked the caller ID. Again, a local number. Surely the anonymous caller wouldn’t contact her again so soon.

Right before it rolled to voice mail, she picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Melender? It’s Brogan. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No.” She cleared her throat, automatically wiping the inflection from her voice to give the appearance of not being ruffled by the threats. In prison, showing any weakness after the confrontation could be as dangerous. “I just got home from work.” If ever she needed to hear a friendly voice—even from someone who wasn’t sure if she was innocent of a heinous crime or not—it was right now.

“I should let you get some sleep.” Brogan let the silence build between them, making no move to end the call.

Melender found she didn’t want to break contact with him either. Hearing him breathe on the other end of the line brought a measure of comfort to her frazzled nerves. “It’s okay. I have to put away the groceries first.”

“Are you all right?”

“I had a threatening phone call.” She hadn’t intended to say anything, but the concern in his voice had broken through her normal defenses and loosened her tongue.

“What? Who?” Brogan’s sharp question instantly reminded her of the caller’s words about the reporter.

“Probably a wrong number.” The explanation sounded lame as soon as she spoke. “It was nothing.”

“What did the caller say?” Brogan softened his voice, but the firmness undergirding the words told her how serious he took the situation.

Putting away the groceries might distract her from making another mistake. She rose, laying the phone on the counter and hitting the speaker button. “The usual menacing ultimatum.”

“Melender, what exactly did the caller say?”

She reached into one of the reusable shopping bags and pulled out a carton of cream. “It doesn’t matter what was said. It’s merely an attempt to intimidate me.” She opened the fridge. “Have you found out anything?”

“It does matter. Someone deliberately frightened you.”

Melender froze. “How did you know that?”

“It was in your voice and what you didn’t say.” He paused. “I know it’s an easy thing for me to ask, but do you think you can trust me? I promise to be honest with you about what I find out, even if it affirms your guilt.”

She closed her eyes, hugging her arms around her waist. Brogan was offering to partner in the search for the truth. She hadn’t hurt Jesse, but a trial of her peers convicted her of the act. The person who had done those crimes was still out there, hiding in the shadows. She had originally wanted someone on her side completely believing in her innocence, but working with Brogan would be even sweeter. The chance to investigate the crime with an unbiased colleague.

Drawing in a deep breath, she repeated the conversation with the unknown caller as close to word for word as she could. When she finished, Brogan stayed quiet for several seconds.

“Thank you for trusting me. I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”

His words set her heart fluttering. No one had ever expressed sympathy for her plight. She swallowed a lump in her throat and turned back to putting away the groceries. Better move the conversation back on neutral ground. “I know you didn’t call to chat.”

“I wanted to let you know that I’ve submitted a Freedom of Information Act petition to the FBI for the kidnapping case files. Anyone can file it to see unclassified documents from government agencies.”

The thought of gaining access to the FBI files had occurred to Melender, but she hadn’t considered that would actually happen. “Does that mean I could have filed a petition to see the FBI files?”

“Yes, I suppose you could have.” He paused. “I know someone in the media relations office at the bureau’s Washington, DC, headquarters, and I’m hoping that will expedite the request.”

“I didn’t think it would be possible to see the original files.” Her mind buzzed with what might be contained in the documents. “Would I be able to see them too?”

“I’m going to ask for copies to be made of the entire file.”

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