“Oh,” she said again, this time truly surprised. She dropped the notebook to her waist. “Yeah. Call me if you hear anything, okay, Fletch? Thanks.”
He watched her cross to the patrols, which sent Hart scurrying back to him. He didn’t like Lisa Schumann at all, not after she’d attributed a deep background quote to Hart in the paper. Not smart. Never screw your sources. Hart wouldn’t get within twenty feet of her now, and Fletch had to admit, he wasn’t keen on giving the girl any information, either. He had plenty of reporters he could trust, and an oversexed coed with a byline wasn’t one of them.
“Did you hear what she said?” Fletch asked.
“No, too busy humming the theme to Jaws. What’s the scoop?”
“She flat-out propositioned me.”
Hart’s eyebrows rose. “Well, you’re a handsome lad, and she’s pretty, if you can get past the bubble gum. Why not? A weeklong course of penicillin would clear things up quick.”
Fletcher snorted. “Penicillin and a million dollars. I wouldn’t get near her with your—”
“Hey, now. Overtime for everyone.”
“Ever the optimist.”
Fletcher’s cell phone rang. “That’s Sam. Hang on a sec.” He put the phone to his ear. “What up, buttercup?”
She laughed, and a tiny piece of him, the piece he’d shoved away into the darkest corners of his heart, constricted. He really liked that laugh, and liked to be the one who brought it forth. She laughed more and more lately; she was very different from the hard, closed-off woman he’d first met in the spring. She’d come back to life, it seemed, and Fletcher liked to think he had something to do with that.
“Heya,” Sam said. “You got a minute?”
“You know me, I’m just standing around with my, um, twiddling my thumbs.”
She laughed again, deeper this time. But he heard the strain in her voice; she was putting up a good front. He immediately went on alert. “What’s the matter, Doc?”
“I received a letter from a man who claims to have been murdered. He wants me to look into his death.”
“Creepy. You think it’s for real, or someone pulling your chain?”
She sighed. “It may be real, Fletch. There’s definitely a man with the same name who’s recently dead. I found an obituary for him. Matches the return address on the envelope. Out of Lynchburg.”
“Are you at home?”
“No, at my office in Georgetown. The letter came here.”
“Good. If it had come to your house, we might be dealing with a nut job.”
“We might be, anyway.” Her voice was soft, the voice of a woman who shouldn’t have to deal with these kinds of things.
Sam, you’re gaining quite a reputation. He stopped himself from saying it aloud; she knew that, and didn’t need to hear it from him.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Hang tight.”
“Thank you, Fletch.”
He hung up and looked at Hart. “I’m gonna take a ride. I’ll call Armstrong from the car, tell him what we found down here. Have fun with the Feds.”
Chapter
3
Georgetown University School of Medicine
Washington, D.C.
SAM HUNG UP the phone. “Fletch is on his way,” she said.
“Good,” Xander said. “There’s no sense in you becoming involved with this. Even though the letter was sent to you, this is a job for law enforcement. Shall we eat something before he comes? I did bring you a tuna sandwich.”
A job for law enforcement. Which she most decidedly was not. She had to admit, the casual reference stung.
Stop it, Sam. You made your bed.
“Considering what seems to happen anytime Fletcher comes around? Yes, let’s eat something now, in case he bundles me off to give an official statement and I never come back.”
They settled in to their lunch. She took a bite of the sandwich, realized she wasn’t hungry anymore. Her eyes drifted to the letter—she couldn’t help herself. It was disconcerting to have a stranger say he knew her determination. Yes, she’d managed to land herself in the papers on more than one occasion, being quoted regarding a case, and recently, the whole incident with the Metro terrorist, but the familiar tone of Savage’s missive freaked her out.
Not to mention the warning accompanying the request. I fear your life may be in danger....
Why her? Why did these bizarre situations keep finding her? Was it some sort of psychic retribution for getting on with her life? Karma, pissed off and wanting her pound of flesh?
You’ve already taken everything from me. What more do you need?