Page 7 of Delivering David

His voice was low-pitched and melodious with a trace of an East Tennessee accent. Suzanne shook her head. “I was just telling Elaine that Sergeant Grant Miller from KPD-have you met him, Sergeant Brower? –hasn’t learned anything new about either so far. But I guess since it’s less than twenty-four hours, that’s not unusual.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. “And yes, I’ve met Grant Miller. We worked on a case together earlier this month. And it’s Kristopher with a K. May I call you Suzanne?”

Suzanne nodded and Elaine added, “Kristopher worked with my friends Patrick–who’s with BP–and Danni. Danni can’t stop talking about how helpful you were.”

“Glad to be of service,” Kristopher said. “What should we do first, Suzanne?”

Suzanne and Elaine traded glances before Suzanne spoke. “I need to tell Sergeant Miller something Mercy told me yesterday over lunch,” and described what her friend had shared.

Concern narrowed the BP member’s eyes. “That’s not good,” he said.

“I was just about to text him.” Suzanne tried to keep from sounding defensive. “And before you accuse me of anything, all the agencies involved are closed until Monday so I couldn’t have called anyone.”

“I meant the situation about two sets of missing young girls,” he responded. “Sounds like a kidnapping.”

“And if that is what’s going on, we need to be very careful about who we tell other than the police,” Elaine added. “At least the shelter staff notified them when the Campbell sisters went missing. Grant Miller confirmed that. But how can we determine if the two cases are related?”

Silence filled the room, and the pounding of her heart roared in Suzanne’s ears. The only other sounds were the faint whoosh of cars driving by and the chiming of church bells down the street.

‘Kristopher with a K’ set down his cup and switched his study of Suzanne to Elaine. “Are you thinking The Cadre might be involved with this?” He gestured at Suzanne. “Does she know about them?”

“I told her about them last night,” Elaine said. “After that monster attacked her, you can’t blame her for not remembering to tell Grant Miller about Mercy’s suspicions. It’s a wonder she got any sleep at all.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I was accusing you of doing something–or not doing something, Suzanne.” His smile was gentle and some of the tension in Suzanne’s shoulders lessened.

“Thanks,” she said and choked back an unexpected sob. She took a quick sip of her tea before adding, “Sorry to be so shaky.”

“No reason to be,” he said. “You’ve lost a friend under horrific circumstances and were attacked in your home. Anyone would be upset. Did you bring your suitcase from Elaine’s?”

“I did.” She favored him with a tiny smile and Kristopher’s heart hitched upwards. Her glossy chestnut bobbed hair swung just above her shoulders and her dark brown eyes rivaled a good, dark chocolate. She was petite but with plenty of curves and looked like she might be able to hold her own in a fight.

But a kind of weariness that only comes with sorrow had stained the skin under her eyes and he wondered if she’d slept at all last night.

“Elaine told me to pack as though I would be away for at least two weeks,” she said, pointing at the oversize rolling suitcase in a corner. “I hear BP has its own safehouse. One decorated like a luxury hotel with a state-of-the-art computer lab, gym with a pool and a fully equipped kitchen?”

“We do,” Kristopher acknowledged, and wondered if she’d heard about Patrick banning him from the kitchen unless to clean up after dinner. “I think you’ll be comfortable. Why don’t we go there first so you can unpack? You can text Miller about Mercy’s news while I’m bringing the car around.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d really like to go back to David’s neighborhood first and try to talk to some of the people who know him,” Suzanne requested. “And then go to Mercy’s and help look for her address book. I guess Grant Miller will need to okay that since it’s probably still a crime scene, like my house.”

She choked again and lowered her head. Elaine took the cup from her, set it on the table and covered Suzanne’s hands with her own while Kristopher’s outrage at the insult of her being assaulted in her home after learning her friend was dead started a slow burn in his chest again.

But Elaine’s simple act of holding her silently weeping friend’s hands acted like a balm to a wound, because Suzanne Bennett’s quiet tears quickly slowed, and Kristopher knew sometimes being silent was the best thing to do.

And then because even before he was a Brotherhood Protector, or a U.S. Army veteran, he was a gentleman. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and passed it to Suzanne. Taking it, she dabbed her eyes, then pressed it to first one cheek, then the other Some of the color came back into her face and he noticed for the first time the warm, tawny hue of her skin. Suzanne Bennett was a beauty alright, and he wondered why Hank Patterson hadn’t included her photo in his faxed report.

Withholding his sigh of appreciation, Kristopher said, “I’ll go ahead and take your bag to my car. Is that yours?” He pointed at the bright pink coat draped over the back of the sofa.

“It is.” Suzanne tucked the handkerchief into her dress pocket. “And thanks.”

“Don’t forget to put it on,” Kristopher advised. “It’s cold outside.”

He fetched the suitcase and pulled it from the room into the hallway and then out to his car. A thin ray of sunlight had worked its way through the gun metal gray clouds, and he sent up a hasty prayer for calm. He needed to tell Suzanne Bennett about working with Grant Miller five years ago, as well as knowing Mercy and David Phillips.

But not about Syd Phillips and how he died. Kristopher wasn’t ready to tell her about that just yet.

CHAPTER 7

“What didGrant Miller say about you talking to Mercy’s neighbors and helping to look for her address book?” Kristopher asked as they drove south in his decommissioned black and white patrol car.

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