Page 58 of Deadly Secrets
Chapter Eleven
“I gave him your card,” Brooke told Roman as they parked back at the towers. “The kid, his name’s Jamison LeMont, knows how to spot the undocumented. He can interact with them in ways you can’t.”
“What do you mean,ways I can’t?”
She exited the car before he could help her out. He’d parked in the garage and they walked toward the secure elevators.
“Come on, Roman. You know what I mean. You saw the way some of the people at the mission took off the moment they saw us.” They passed the security guard with a show of their badges. “You don’t necessarily look like a cop, but you certainly don’t come off as one of them.”
The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. As soon as they closed, Roman reached for her and drew her close. “Maybe I should have kept my undercover look a while longer.”
She raked her fingers through his short, dark strands. “Maybe you should have.”
“You did good back there.”
“I like helping. I asked Jamison to let us know if he came across any information on undocumented immigrants, regardless of whether they attend worship services. They typically stay together and watch each other’s backs. The grapevine is strong within their communities. All we need is one person who can point us to The Reverend and his group.”
“They took a chance with this Luke character exposing himself at the mission. Why did he do that?”
“The pastor was away, Loretta is obviously good at what she does but she’s overwhelmed, and the other volunteers may not pay that much attention to the people who come through there.”
“He felt it was worth the risk.”
Upstairs, they brought Polly, Nadia, and Emma up to speed. Polly started working on local jewelry stores, Nadia snagged the warrant they’d been waiting on for the parking lot footage from the fax machine and left, and Emma asked to speak to Brooke alone.
Brooke had been hoping they’d all forget about Roman wanting her to speak to the psychologist, and she gave Roman a look, wondering if he’d jabbed Emma on the sly, but his return glance was innocent. “Use my office,” he said.
So many therapists, guidance counselors, and others who’d thought they could help her. None of them had been able to break through her mind’s defense mechanisms.
Back then if she’d seen her attacker’s face, it might have helped capture him. But she hadn’t, and twenty years later, there wasn’t much hope of her remembering, was there? Seeing the cross pendant had triggered her memory, but would it cough up anything else?
She was sort of afraid it would.
I have to do this. Any new information could help.
“I don’t want to put you on the spot,” Emma said as she closed the door and the sounds of the outer office became muffled. “But I know what it’s like to be the target of a killer. I just wanted to let you know I’m here if you want to talk. Not as a psychologist, but as a woman who understands what you’re going through.”
Brooke relaxed a smidgen and sat with her on the couch. “Thank you. I appreciate it. It’s nice to have a friend, rather than a therapist, and I’m sorry for what happened to you with Chris Goodsman and his fans. I can relate to what you experienced, although mine really isn’t as traumatic as yours from what I understand.”
Emma laid a hand on her stomach. “Being stalked and attacked by a killer is always traumatic. I was lucky.”
“And smart, no doubt.”
“If Mitch hadn’t been there…well, let’s just say, I might not be here, living a very happy life now.”
Brooke glanced at Emma’s hand, still on her stomach where it protruded. “My turn to put you on the spot. When’s the baby due?”
Her face broke into a big smile. “The beginning of October. It’s amazing how quickly your life can turn around once the right man enters it.”
The right man. Brooke wondered if she’d found hers.
For now, yes. It was fun to play around with love and romance while it lasted, but in the long term? She stood by her original assessment—she wasn’t Roman’s type.
What’smytype?She honestly didn’t know. Men and relationships had taken a back seat to her work.
Emma talked about baby stuff—names she and Mitch had picked out, boys versus girls, the nursery. Brooke listened, fascinated. While she’d had three serious relationships, she’d never considered wanting to have a family. Hers had been so screwed up, and realizing her birth mother never wanted her had been a tough thing to get over.
But over it she was. The scientist in her kept her emotions under tight rein. Maybe that was one of the reasons she enjoyed her work so much. It was easier to deal with the ancient past than the more recent one. Easier to think about ancient people and their situations, rather than dwell on her own.
