Page 20 of Delivering David

“Would you like a slice of chocolate cake and coffee? Patrick swears coffee is the only way to cut the cake’s sweetness.”

She recognized his change of subject as a stalling technique but was too tired to bother with more questions, even though there was a great deal more she wanted to know, especially about his work with Grant Miller.There’s something he’s not telling me.I wonder if Elaine knows.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Sounds good Can we have it in the living room? I want to stretch out my legs.”

“I don’t see why not,” her protector replied. “Go make yourself comfortable while I take care of this.” He gestured at the table. “And before you ask, making coffee does not involve any kind of cooking, so the kitchen will be safe.”

“Patrick will be pleased to hear that. When do you think I can meet him?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised. “Just be sure to assure him all I did was heat up our meal.”

Her soft departing laugh was like a caress as Kristopher cleared the table and headed for the relative safety of the kitchen.

You better prepare yourself, Brower. Sooner or later, she’s going to start asking about Syd Phillips. And you’re going to have to tell her the truth.

He took his time preparing the dessert tray, but not so much as to make her think he was stalling. When the coffee cups were filled, he placed them on the tray with the plates and forks and headed for the living room, then stopped and stared.

Suzanne lay on the sofa, facing him, fast asleep. Her chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm, her hands curled together. Even though she’d seemed relaxed while they ate, weariness stained her face, and he could see the area under her eyes was slightly swollen. Lack of sleep and no food since dawn could do that to a person.

He took the tray back to the kitchen, put the cake away, and poured the coffee back into the press. Then he walked to her room, turned down the bedspread and return to gently scoop her up, carry her down the hall and put her to bed, pulling the bedspread around her shoulders. After dimming the lights and closing the door, he headed to the office and put through the call to Hank. He spent the next hour describing the events of the day.

“That was some first day on the job,” Hank commented when Kristopher finished his report. “How is Suzanne holding up?”

“Sound asleep,” Kristopher said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s early afternoon but there’s no reason not to let her sleep as long as she needs.”

“Good idea,” Hank agreed. “How did things go with Grant Miller?”

“No problems,” Kristopher told him honestly. “On the way to Mercy’s house, I told her we’d worked together in the past without a lot of detail but he’s setting limits on how much he’ll let us–particularly Suzanne–do, even though she’s eager to involve herself as much as possible.”

“Well, in light of what’s happened, I’m sending in some back-up,” Hank told him. “Remember Bailey Mills?”

Recalling the tall dark-haired man of few words and a fondness for Crown Royal, Kristopher laughed. “You mean that Marine sharpshooter that Mac nick-named MacGyver because he can fix almost anything? Yeah, I remember him.”

“Well, he’s in route from Alabama even as we speak.” Hank gave him an answering grin. “When he gets there, we’re going to have a long meeting about an upcoming secret mission both of you may be tapped for when this one is over.”

“Secret mission?” Anticipation tingled over Kristopher. At Hank’s silent nod, he asked, “What do we do if Suzanne wakes up while we’re in the meeting?”

“She’s a big girl,” Hank chided. “Leave a note on her door. I promise to let you out in time for dinner, but it’s going to be a long one. She’ll find something to do.”

“Right,” Kristopher said. Suddenly aware of the rising howl of the wind, he glanced out the window and watched snow swirl past the bulletproof glass. When did that start? A quick check on his phone showed the temperature had dropped six degrees since they’d returned and he offered up a silent prayer that wherever he was, David Phillips was warm and safe.

Giving his attention back to his boss, Kristopher propped his elbows on the desk and rested his chin into his hands. “What I can’t begin to understand about all of this is what Mercy could have known or suspected that would lead to her being murdered in her own home. It’s not as if she knew about The Cadre. Or did she?”

“Not likely,” Hank agreed. “Just a caring woman who saw two kids in danger and wasn’t afraid to say so. You didn’t find anything at her home?”

“No,” Kristopher admitted. “I hate the thought of her parents not knowing about this. They need to be told asap.” He remembered all too clearly the discomfort of having to tell families a loved one had died. It was the worst part of being a cop.

“I’ll see what I can find out from my European contacts,” Hank promised. “And meeting T.J. was a lucky break because I’ll bet Suzanne is right and he knows more than he’s telling. Maybe tomorrow you can find him and keep talking to him. Something bizarre is going on and my money is on The Cadre. We need to find out how they knew Mercy Phillips.”

“Agreed,” Kristopher said, using one of Hank’s favorite expressions. “Maybe Elaine would know. I’ll check in with her later. And we’ll look for T.J. tomorrow but tell Miller about it.”

“Always good to keep our KPD point person in the loop,” Hank said. “Good work, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Kristopher released his relief in a long sigh. “What time can I expect Mills?”

“ETA is two hours,” Hank said. “We’ll start the meeting as soon as he’s settled.”

“Sounds good,” Kristopher acknowledged and signed off. He scrawled Suzanne a message on a sticky note about Bailey and the meeting, and he would see her at dinner. After putting it on her door, he headed for the safehouse gym.

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