Page 25 of Delivering David

“Maybe because the Campbells were in state custody,” Suzanne suggested. “And that made the state responsible for them.”

Nodding, Sofia rose, left the room and returned almost instantly with two manila folders. Handing one to Suzanne and the other one to Miller, she said, “I’ve included the reports on all the kids who’ve run this year. Maybe I watch too many police shows, but I think everything is connected.”

“Can you fax copies of those to my boss?” Suzanne recited Elaine Prescott’s number. “She’s eager to help. We don’t want any of the families we take care of to wind up dealing with Tennessee Cares until we know what’s going on.”

“Consider it done,” Sofia declared. “Will you let me know when and where there’s a memorial service for Mercy?”

“Absolutely,” Suzanne said, and they all stood. “Thanks, Sofia. You’ve been a tremendous help. And listen to Grant. You and Alex might need to find some place safe to stay until this is over.”

“We can stay with my sister,” Sofia said. “AndDaisy’sis closed for a few days, so we should be okay.”

She led them to the back door, and they shook hands. In the parking lot, Miller unlocked his car, and said, “I’m going back to the station. There was another situation brewing and I need to talk to the men involved. Text me if you need me.”

They watched him drive away before they got into the black and white. “Are we good to go?” Kristopher asked. “And was this worth the trip?”

“I think Sofia confirmed Mercy’s suspicions and mine,” Suzanne said, stuffing the manila envelope into her oversized bag. “We’re good to go.”

“Then I’m glad we came,” he said simply. “And that we invited Miller.”

Suzanne’s gaze swept over him. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a feeling,” he said. “Probably because I’m getting hungry again.”

He turned onto the road, and drove slowly, processing everything Sofia Langley had shared with them. Beside him, Suzanne checked her phone for messages. “Elaine says there have been three PSAs on TV about David today,” she told him. “Surely someone’s going to have seen something.”

“Let’s hope,” he said, ignoring the old, familiar pricking at the base of his spine. The one that always started before something happened. Something bad.

A blue Mustang of indeterminate age pulled out from a side road and into the road behind them, going too fast for Kristopher’s liking. He noted the absence of oncoming traffic and silently released a sigh of relief. The idiot could pass them any time he liked and–

Glass from the back windows exploded behind them, showering them both as smoke filled the car. Suzanne cried out and doubled over, her arms covering her head. Coughing, Kristopher jerked the wheel and steered them onto the road’s shoulder just below one of the houses. The smoke grew thicker, burning his eyes and making breathing nearly impossible. Gasping, he grabbed up his phone and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. Then he opened his door, unbuckled both their seat belts to wrap his arms around Suzanne and scoot them across the bench seat to tumble from the car where he half carried, half dragged her to the covered bus stop he’d noticed earlier. He gently sat her on one of the benches and then, phone still in hand, he dialed 911 as he slowly walked back to his beloved car to grab Suzanne’s handbag. Smoke poured from the back and the smell of burning leather seats polluted the air. Cars slowed and pointed, and one fool looked like they were filming the whole damn scene. After dialing Grant Miller’s number to ask for help, he returned to the bus stop and found Suzanne huddled in a corner of the front bench, her back to the glass side, her arms wrapped around her legs, head down.

Sweet Savior, let her be alright.“Tell me you’re okay, Suze,” he whispered, unexpectedly using David Phillips’ nickname for her. “Tell me you’re not hurt. I got your purse.”

She raised her smoke smudged face and opened her eyes. She squinted at him, but her expression was proudly defiant. “Good to go, Sergeant Brower,” she rasped. “Good to go.”

CHAPTER 19

Later that afternoon.BP Safehouse.

“What do you mean,my car was bugged?” Kristopher shouted.

He’d called Bailey and Hank Patterson after calling Grant Miller who raced back after calling KPD’s bomb squad and the Fire Department. Fire Chief Masie Flores had said the device had failed to detonate properly but had still destroyed the car’s back windows and burned the seats. Someone, Chief Flores said, must have had very bad aim because in her mind, whoever threw it, was trying for the front seats.

And now the news Kristopher’s car had been bugged.

“The mechanics at our garage found a listening and tracking device in the windshield wipers.” Bailey shook his head in disbelief. “This is looking more and more like The Cadre. You two have really pissed off somebody, and I mean bad.” He poured and handed Suzanne a glass of water from the pitcher on the coffee table. She and Kristopher sat side by side on the living room sofa, still wearing their smoke saturated clothing.

“But who would have access to your car?” Suzanne demanded “Hasn’t it always been here at the safehouse in the underground garage?”

“Yes, and our surveillance cameras there go 24-7,” Kristopher said flatly. “No way in hell anyone could have made it into the garage without us knowing.”

“We still need to check the tapes,” Bailey argued. “I don’t know if someone could have screwed them up remotely, but anything is possible.”

“What about when you came to Families United yesterday?” Suzanne paused to sip her water. “Did you park on the streets or in their parking lot?”

“The lot,” Kristopher answered. “But since Elaine became involved with BP, we’ve had security guards there during working hours and in the building overnight. They know everyone who works here on sight and take every possible precaution. Griff Tyler believes that The Cadre could still come after Elaine. If someone went near my car while I was inside, our people would have stopped them.”

“Maybe while you were at the shelter?” Bailey suggested.

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