Page 12 of Bringing Chelsea Home

“Very few,” Griff told her. “But you’ve lived here for years, too.”

“Since high school,” she said. “And I know the city well through my work at Families United and through The Wellness Clinic where Sister Bernie worked. Lots of her patients live in places other social workers are afraid to go, and if home visits were needed, we’d go together. But I know this situation is different and we need to be more than careful.”

“As long as you remember it,” Griff cautioned, checking his watch. “It’s almost time for your meeting. If it doesn’t take too long, maybe you’d enjoy a workout afterwards in the gym downstairs before we go to see Ms. Burke?”

“There’s a gym here?” Eagerness lit up her face. “Working out would be great.”

“Under the first floor in what you would call the basement,” Griff told her. “State of the art, just like our computer and security systems. Hank Patterson always gets the best of everything.”

An eager light sparkled in her eyes. “You don’t happen to fence, do you?”

“No,” Griff admitted. “But I’m really good with a bow, compound and otherwise.”

“I’ll bet that comes in handy,” she teased. “Would it be safe-electronically speaking if I called my fencing teacher for a lesson via Zoom?”

“I’ll check the link to be sure it’s safe, but sure, why not?” Griff agreed. “Did you ask Anne to pack your fencing gear?”

“Yeah, I did.” She looked at her watch and sighed. “Guess I better call Monty and get this over with. Monty is a real stickler for punctuality.”

The cautious note in her voice caught Griff’s attention. “That’s your supervisor,” he recalled. “Expecting trouble?”

“No,” she said slowly. “But since Cliff Hansford, our former director retired six months ago and Monty Gibbons was appointed acting director, he’s become really picky about things, things that never bothered Cliff. Monty is hoping to be appointed director after the first of the year.”

“Sounds like I need to make a fresh pot of coffee, just in case,” Griff pronounced. He filled the electric kettle with cold water, switched it on and then ground fresh coffee beans and spooned them into the French press. “Ready for my lady when she’s done with her meeting.”

“A man after my own heart,” she praised. “Where’s Patrick? Or did he ever come home last night?”

“He did but he’s already gone out to see about the car,” Griff said. “He dropped it off to have it bullet-proofed.”

“Bullet-proofed? You mean like the doors and windows?” Some of last night’s weariness returned to her face, and Griff immediately regretted his words. So much for her getting a good night’s sleep.

“Hank had already planned on having it done,” he quickly told her. “And now that someone has tried to kill you twice, it’s a good idea, don’t you think?”

Something like irritation darkened her eyes. “You’re thinking we could be shot while driving around? You don’t think that’s something I should know about?”

“It wasn’t deliberate,” Griff argued. “I didn’t even know about it until Patrick texted me about it this morning.”

“Okay,” she huffed. “But no secrets, please. If there’s something going on, I need to know upfront, please.”

“Absolutely,” Griff assured. “Again, I promise it wasn’t deliberate.”

“Okay,” she repeated. “I don’t mean to be so cranky. I just like to be in the loop. No secrets.”

Despite her irritation, her stroll from the kitchen to the living room was easy and graceful and a pleasure to watch. She was a savvy, intelligent woman, who seemed to be adjusting to her situation well.

But then Marda Kitts’ image hovered on the edge of Griff’s memory, setting off the old alarm bells. His belief in his ability to assess people and know when to trust them or not, was still fragile. Damn, he needed to be sure of that 24-7 and not like some kid right out of boot camp, questioning his judgement at every turn.

And he damn sure needed to be able to trust Elaine Prescott.

He poured the now hot water into the coffee press and lowered the plunger before taking a chair from the kitchen table and pulling it to just outside the living room. Then he sat and waited.

From his place, Griff watched Elaine sit at the large table, open and switch on her laptop. Their glances met and she smiled, launching Griff’s heart into a pace that might not be healthy. She’d obviously forgiven him for not telling her about the car.

Lord help, but her smile could put a man in the cardiac unit.Old instinct told him Elaine was more worried about this meeting than she cared to admit. He heard the exchange of “good mornings” and smiled. She’d turned up the volume and moved the screen to where he could see it.Clever girl.

“Sister Bernie’s death has really put me on edge,” Elaine began. “I need to take several days more of personal leave. Like until after Thanskgiving.”

“Sister Bernadette isn’t a member of your immediate family, Prescott.” Monty Gibbons’ screen image frowned in disapproval. “And you’ve already taken off two days, three counting today.”

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