Page 39 of Bringing Chelsea Home

He reached for her hand. “I’m counting on it.”

“Then let’s talk about last night after we put the creeps to bed,” she said. “What’s our move today?”

“Let’s go see if Martin or Marty or whatever he’s calling himself will talk to us,” Griff suggested. “Miller probably left word that it would be okay. How long will it take you to get ready?”

“Minutes,” she said. “Can you–”

“Tidy the kitchen? You bet.”

She left and returned in under five minutes, wearing jeans, a big sweater, loafers and her paisley shawl-scarf draped around her. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “No sling?”

“I’ll let you put it on me when we get back and look at the rest of the lists, Doctor Griff,” she teased. “I don’t want to scare Marty.”

“Smart thinking,” he agreed, heading for the front closet where he kept his jacket. “I’ll text Aunt Sally about short-term rentals for large groups starting tomorrow, where they are and who’s renting them. She’s ushering at her church, but she’ll get to it when she’s finished.”

“Sounds good,” Elaine agreed. “What about–”

“About Patrick?” The man himself stood in the open door to the suite, coffee mug in hand. “You look like you’re getting ready to go somewhere. And if you will remember, part of my contribution to this mission is to be your driver. Or had you forgotten that?”

“We were just getting ready to text you,” Elaine said hastily. “‘cause you weren’t in your room when we had breakfast this morning.”

“Yeah, where were you?” Griff added, secretly glad his friend hadn’t spent the night in the suite. Their lovemaking had not exactly been-quiet.

“Among other things, checking out the building next door.”

Patrick’s gaze traveled between them, and Griff had no doubt his friend knew exactly whattheyhad been doing last night. “Hank is thinking about buying it in case we need to expand our base in East Tennessee.”

“What’s your background, Patrick?” Elaine asked. “I know all about Griff’s and Mac’s too, but what’s yours?”

“Civil and structural engineering,” he said. “With several classes in architecture. Did you hear on the news that Silas Clark died?”

“Yeah, so that’s even more reason to get downtown,” Griff said. “We need to talk to Miller about that. We’ll call him on the way.”

“Well, then.” Patrick’s thumb gestured to the door. “Let’s roll.”

A short time later.

“Funny you should come by,” the duty officer said. “Driscoll’s been bugging us ever since he woke up to call you.”

“Has he spoken to anyone else?” Elaine asked as the fatherly appearing man, whose name plate identified him as Sergeant Owen, led them to the interview rooms.

“Only his parents sometime after midnight,” Owen said. “He found them in Memphis and they’re no doubt burning up the Interstate getting here. All the weather stations are reporting violent thunderstorms in the western part of the state and the airport in Memphis cancelled all flights. I guess they opted for the drive. Miller put out the word to the highway patrol and every law official between here and there if they were speeding, to let ‘em keep going.”

He opened the door to the same room where they’d met Marty before. He sat with his elbow propped on the table, his chin resting in his hand. But at their entry, he sat up and smoothed his sleep-rumpled hair. “Hey, Ms. Prescott,” he greeted, his gaze on the table.

“Since when were we formal with each other?” Elaine scolded gently. She pointed at Griff as they sat in the rickety, metal chairs. “Marty–”

“It’s Martin, if you don’t mind.”

“Martin it is.” She pointed at Griff and said, “This is my friend, Lieutenant Griff Tyler. He’s a retired Marine and helping me find Chelsea and those girls with her.”

“Good to meet you, Martin,” Griff said. “How are feeling today?”

“Fine,” he replied. The earlier weariness staining his face was gone. Worry had replaced the suspicion in his eyes. “You know about Chelsea and the girls?”

“Some, not at all,” Elaine admitted. “Griff works for Brotherhood Protectors, an organization that helps people and he can tell you about them in a bit. Were you with Chelsea and the others until you were arrested?”

Fear flickered over Martin’s face, and he knotted his fingers together. “Am I gonna be charged with–you know. Solicitation?”

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