Protection Detail

“You said someone was murdered tonight,” she said before Gavin could ask another question.

“I’m afraid so.”

“It wasn’t Harland, was it?”

He hesitated, and she grabbed his arm, pulled him to a stop. “Gavin, was it Harland?”

“It was Michael. Harland was injured, too, but he survived.”

“Was it a knife attack?” she asked, her eyes hot with tears. Michael had been a great guy. He’d spent a lot of time at All Our Kids, teaching the children to play football and basketball, bringing them treats. He had a heart of gold, and the world was going to be a lesser place without him in it.

“That’s an odd question,” Gavin responded quietly, urging her forward again. Just ahead, the path opened up into All Our Kids’ yard. She could see the house, lights blazing from every window of the three-story building. A police car sat in the driveway, flashing blue-and-red light across the pavement. Virginia had called the police. It looked as though she’d woken all the kids, too. Either that or the arrival of the police had. “Not really,” she responded as they moved across the acre of green lawn. “The guy on my back porch had a knife.”

“Michael and Harland were both shot,” Gavin said bluntly. “Michael died before the ambulance arrived. Harland called for help and was transported to the hospital.”

“When?”

“About an hour ago.”

“I didn’t hear a thing.” Not gunshots. Not ambulance sirens. Nothing. Then again, she’d been dead tired from nursing David through the flu, the windows were double-paned glass, the house well-constructed.

“You heard the guy on your back porch,” he pointed out.

“I have an internal alarm that goes off when one of the kids is wandering around at night. Apparently, it doesn’t work when sirens are screaming through the neighborhood.”

He let out a bark of rough laughter, shook his head. “The house is pretty well built.”

“And, I was dead tired. One of the kids had the flu this week, and we’ve got a toddler who hasn’t been sleeping well.” Juan Gomez’s mother had died, and he’d been crying out for her for the past two nights. “I was dead to the world until I heard the guy on the porch.”

“Do you think your assistant heard anything?”

“Not until I screamed.”

“She came outside then? Did she see your assailant?” he asked.

“She didn’t come outside, and I don’t think she saw anything. She turned on a light, and it distracted the guy. I ran into the woods, and he followed.” She shuddered.

“Do you think he was here for you?”

“If he was, I’ve got no idea why. He had a duffle and—” She remembered the smell of gasoline clinging to him or to the bag.

“What?” Gavin prodded as he led her up the front steps and onto the wide porch that wrapped around the sides of the house. She’d be hanging flower baskets soon. Destiny had been looking forward to that. She’d never had a yard or a garden, and being at All Our Kids was allowing her an opportunity to test out her green thumb.

It was so much easier to think about that than to think about Michael dead and Harland wounded. To think about someone shooting two of the nicest men Cassie had ever met.

“Cassie?” Gavin touched her shoulder, and she realized she was standing in front of the door, hand on the knob.

“Gasoline. When I walked outside I smelled it.”

He frowned. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he muttered. “We found something at the crime scene. I think it might belong to one of your kids.”

“What?” Her heart thundered in her chest, her mouth dry with fear. She didn’t think she was going to like what he had to say, but she wanted him to say it, anyway.

He pulled a bag out of his coat pocket and holding it up so she could see what was inside. A blue mitten. Hand-knit. Child-size.

She knew who it belonged to.

David.

“Do you recognize it?” Gavin asked.

“Yes.” She nodded. She’d seen the mittens earlier that day, tucked into David’s pocket when she’d brought him to the doctor. Somehow, at some point, one of them had ended up near the crime scene.

Had one of the kids witnessed a murder?

“Whose is it?”

“David’s, but he’s the one who has the flu. He’s been in bed all night.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. I was sleeping in a chair beside him.”

“Someone had the mitten on. Whoever it was may have seen what happened at Jeffries place.”

“You think that’s why the guy was on the porch?”

“You said you smelled gasoline. It’s possible the murderer saw the witness and came after him.”

“And planned to burn the house down with all of us in it?” she asked, her voice shaking. She hated that, hated being afraid. She was, though. The kids were her responsibility. They counted on her, trusted her in a way they often hadn’t been able to trust other adults. “I need to check on everyone. Make sure they’re okay.” She opened the door, ran inside.

Gavin said something, but she couldn’t hear past the pulse of blood in her ears.

Voices carried from the kitchen. Kid voices. A man. Virginia—her voice high-pitched and shaky. From the sound of things, she was currently in full-out panic.

“We’re going to keep the kids safe,” Gavin said, his voice mixing with all the others.

She stopped, pivoting around to face him so quickly that he nearly walked into her. She was face to chest with him, staring at his coat and the K-9 insignia on it.

“I appreciate that,” she said, stepping back so she could look into his face, into his dark blue eyes. “But when all is said and done, they’re my responsibility. They’re counting on me to keep them safe. Not the police. Not your K-9 team. If one of them was outside tonight and witnessed Michael’s murder...” She swallowed a hard knot of grief and fear, forced herself to continue. “I haven’t done my job.”

“Kids do lots of things we can’t control. You can’t beat yourself up if one of them snuck out.”

“Sure I can,” she replied, shifting her gaze from Gavin to his dog, because she didn’t want to keep looking into his eyes, didn’t want to see the sympathy there.