Page 38 of All Along The Watchtower

I edged in front of Peyton. “Who are you?”

Carson shut the door behind us with a decisive click that echoed in the small space, further amping my sense of having been trapped. “Special Agents Olivia Burns and Cedric Langston, both of the FBI.”

“Portland office,” Agent Burns clarified, her gray eyes sharp and assessing as they moved between me and my daughter.

What the actual fuck did the FBI want with my kid? My heart rate kicked up a notch, and my mind raced through possibilities, none of them good.

Peyton and I were brand new to each other. While Mimi and Mom had initiated hugs with her, I had no idea how she felt about men, so I’d been letting her set the pace on physical contact. But now I reached out, placing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into my side. She was trembling, barely perceptible, but there. No way did I want her feeling alone in whatever this was. When she didn’t pull away, I counted it as a win, even as dread settled like lead in my gut.

“Why are we here?”

“We just have some questions,” Langston said.

I didn’t trust that casual tone in the least. “Do we need an attorney?”

Burns angled her head. “Do you?”

Oh, hell no. My mom had taught me better than that. “I want someone to tell me right now exactly what interest you have in my minor child.”

Rather than answer, Burns sat. “Mr. Donoghue, did you have any contact with Casey Walsh, the child’s mother?”

What the fuck?“Not since we were eighteen. No.”

“You weren’t a part of your daughter’s life?”

It was a fair and reasonable question, but it put my back up, nonetheless. It was probably meant to throw me off my game. “I wasn’t aware I had a daughter until two weeks ago. But that sure as hell doesn’t mean I’ll give you the chance to railroad her.” My voice came out harder than intended, but I wasn’t about to apologize. Not when it came to protecting Peyton.

Something sparked in the woman’s eyes. Annoyance? Approval? Whatever it was, Burns kept it carefully contained behind that professional mask of hers.

Langston spread his hands. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Let’s all sit down.” His tone was conciliatory, but there was a tension in the set of his shoulders that made me wary. “Nobody’s in any kind of trouble here.”

I doubted that. Federal agents would hardly trek all the way to Hatterwick if something wasn’t wrong. But I nudged Peyton toward a chair and took the one beside her, positioning myself slightly forward, a shield between her and whatever was coming. The weight of her fear pressed against my shoulder like a physical thing.

Langston offered a sympathetic smile to Peyton. “You’ve had a lot of changes the past few months. I’m sorry about your mother. Losing her had to be hard.”

The feds were aware of Casey’s death? That couldn’t be good. Had they been watching her for some reason? My stomach clenched as possibilities, each worse than the last, flashed through my mind.

Peyton shot a glance at me, then back at him before muttering, “Yeah.” Her fingers twisted in her lap, worrying at a loose thread on her jeans. The defensive hunch of her shoulders made her look even younger than thirteen.

“Did your mom ever talk about her work?”

Peyton jerked her shoulders. “Sometimes. Mostly complaining about the stupid people who didn’t do their paperwork right and made more work for her.”

Langston flashed a rueful grin. “We all hate those coworkers.” He was doing a good job of making this sound more like a casual conversation than the interrogation it was obviously meant to be.

Burns leaned forward. “Did she ever bring work home?” The sharp edge to his question cut through Langston’s carefully crafted atmosphere.

“No. She said work was for work hours and home was for family time.” Peyton’s chin came up slightly, a touch of pride in her voice.

“Admirable.” Langston nodded. “Hard to maintain sometimes, though. Did she ever get calls about work after hours?” He kept his tone light, but I could see the intensity in his eyes as he waited for her answer.

“I don’t know.” There was an edge to Peyton’s voice that was part sarcasm, part belligerence, and all teenager. I wasn’t about to call her on it under the circumstances. These two were fishing for something, and she knew it. The way she’d drawn into herself, shoulders hunched, told me she was getting more uncomfortable by the minute.

“Did you ever meet anybody from her work?” Burns pressed. “Any office buddies? Her boss? Maybe at a company picnic or holiday party?”

Were they investigating Casey herself or whoever Casey had worked for? The intensity of their questions made my internal radar ping. This wasn’t just about a runaway kid anymore.

“What is this about?” I shifted slightly closer to Peyton. “Why would a thirteen-year-old kid be privy to any knowledge about her mother’s work?” And what information were they so desperate to find that they’d come all the way out here to get it? The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I waited for their answer.

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