He watched her, eyes suddenly serious. He looked over at Fletcher, who shrugged slightly. The air in the kitchen grew tense. Xander sighed a little. “No. I didn’t go for a run.”
Her heart sped up. “And Fletcher just happened to be on his way over when I called. What’s wrong? What are you keeping from me?”
It was Fletcher who said the words that made her stomach turn.
“Rolph Benedict was found dead in his hotel room early this morning.”
Chapter
10
SAM’S FIRST REACTION was shock. The second was fury. “What the hell? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me right away. How did Benedict die?”
“We don’t know yet. Dr. Nocek will do the post this morning, see what’s up,” Fletcher said.
“I should stay. I should be there. I can help Amado—”
Xander touched her lightly on the arm. “No, you shouldn’t. Let Fletcher take you to Lynchburg. You’ve been drawn into this against your will, but now it’s time to take care of business. Do what Timothy Savage asked of you. Find out what’s happening.”
She crossed her arms, let the anger course through her. “And what exactly are you planning to do?”
“Keep an eye on things.”
She knew what he meant. He’d be covering her back, as he’d done before. Out of sight, and, hopefully, out of harm’s way.
As if he’d read her mind, he smiled at her. It took him from dangerous to innocent, and she couldn’t help smiling back. He nodded. “They won’t know I’m there. Promise.”
She searched his eyes, but saw only determination. She squared her shoulders. “You do anything stupid, and I’ll be very upset with you.”
“I can take care of myself, hon. It’s you I’m worried about. Savage warned you this was going to be dangerous, and two people involved in this case are already dead. Watch your step, okay?”
“You need to stop. There’s no reason to worry about me. I’m a big girl. I can handle this.” She turned to Fletcher. “Finish your breakfast, and let’s go.”
Fletcher stood, rolling his eyes. “Finally. Thought you’d never ask.” He turned to Xander. “I’ve got her back. You, keep in touch, all right? Regular check-ins, every four hours. Read me?”
Xander snapped a precise salute. “Loud and clear, sir.”
*
The drive to Lynchburg was a beautiful three hours through rolling green hills and black-fenced horse country, and Fletcher had been silent since they left Georgetown. That was fine with Sam. The morning’s subterfuge worried her. She should have been told about the murder immediately, and instead the men she loved wanted to coddle and protect her.
Maybe they don’t know you’ve changed, Sam. Maybe you haven’t given them a reason to think you’re strong enough to handle this.
She was the first to admit she’d been a basket case when she came to D.C. Crippled by grief and an obsessive compulsive need to wash her hands, she’d been a weak caricature of her true self. She’d lost two years giving in to the psychological horrors of losing her family.
But in the months since she moved, she’d gotten strong again. Determined, as Timothy Savage pointed out. She’d finally forgiven herself for the hardest realization of all—she was still the same person she was before they’d died.
Changed, certainly. But it was still her inside her skin, and that realization drove her away from forgiving herself and moving forward with her life. Until now.
Baldwin had recognized this, and reached out with an opportunity to let her get her world back on track. She wished Xander and Fletcher had realized it, too.
Fletcher turned on the stereo. “Will a little bit of tuneage bother you?”
“Of course not.”
He hit Play and a song started, one she recognized.
“Hey, that’s Jason and the Scorchers,” she said. “They’re a Nashville band. How’d you find them?”
“They played the 9:30 Club a while back. I bought a couple CDs off them. It’s good stuff.”
“I didn’t know this was your bag. I always pegged you for a hard rock guy. Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd.”
“I’m alternative all the way. And rockabilly cowpunk is hard rock. Listen to those guitars.”
Jason belted out a John Denver ballad, “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” Sam hummed along, but Fletcher sang the words, and she was shocked to realize he had a fabulous voice. When the song was over, she applauded. “I never knew you could sing.”
“We’ve never been on a road trip together where it seemed appropriate. I did my stint as front man during college. Chicks dug the guitar.”
“Aren’t you full of surprises today. You play guitar, too?”
“Used to. I gave it up when Felicia and I got married. She wasn’t thrilled with the cop hours to start with—to add the band’s touring on top, even if it was only weekends, was too much for her. I still noodle around when I get time.”
“You’re really good. Why’d you choose being a cop over taking the show on the road?”