“Have you talked to Steve this morning?”
“I’m meeting him later.”
Jim nodded, then said to Hart, “Thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch if we have any new information.”
“I appreciate that, Detective.”
Jim shot Alex a parting glare, one that seemed to be wanting to say something that she didn’t quite get, then he walked out.
“Please come to my office,” Hart said.
His large office was on the other side of the receptionist and he had three windows looking out at the park. The main office had been done in functional sterile bureaucrat, but Hart’s office oozed statesmanship. Wood paneled walls, built-in bookshelves, a large desk, couch, and meeting table that could comfortably sit eight.
She surveyed his personal effects, which were few but prominently placed. Political and historical books filled the bookshelves; his diplomas, a resolution from the Sacramento County Board of Supervisors, and a Statement of Election were tastefully framed and grouped on one wall. On the credenza behind his desk stood several pictures, mostly of a pretty honey-blonde teenager. Nothing in Hart’s bio had said he’d been married.
“I didn’t know you had kids.”
“My niece. Jessica. She’s a freshman at UCLA this year.” He smiled warmly, then motioned to a chair. “Sit down, please.”
She would have preferred standing, but he sat on the chair in front of his desk, not behind it, so she followed his lead and sat in the chair next to him.
“Thanks again for the flowers. You really didn’t have to do anything. I read your note—you don’t owe me. I wanted to tell you that in person. I don’t expect or want anything simply for being at the right place.”
“You saved my life,” he said bluntly. “It made an impression.”
“I may not be a cop anymore, but the instincts don’t just disappear.”
“I don’t know why Detective Perry didn’t give you the news,” he said. “But I don’t see the harm in telling you what happened last night. They found the shooter.”
That surprised her. She’d been listening to the news all morning and hadn’t heard a word.
“He’s in custody? Who is it?”
“He’s dead. His body was found in a vehicle near Discovery Park. They haven’t confirmed he’s the shooter, but they found a .45 pistol on him which matches the caliber of the gun used yesterday, and he matches the description you gave to the police.”
Alex had a hundred questions, but only Jim would be able to answer them. Or Steve, she thought, glad she had this information before she met with him. “He must have been a hired gun,” she said. “Whoever hired him may have thought he was a weak link. That doesn’t mean you’re safe, Mr. Hart. I hope you’re taking extensive security protections.”
“CHP wants to escort me to and from home, as well as events.” He frowned and steepled his fingers. “The Lieutenant Governor isn’t a job that most people find threatening. This whole situation still surprises me. It must have something to do with my years in the D.A.’s office. I was a prosecutor for fifteen years. I may have upset some criminals simply because I did my job well. But the police don’t know if he committed suicide or was murdered. I believe the autopsy is later this morning.”
“Jim Perry is a good detective,” she said. “He’ll figure it out. But until they find out who hired the shooter, you need to be careful.”
“Maybe I can hire you as my bodyguard?” he said.
He had to be joking. “Funny.”
“Well, now that I say it—it’s a good idea.”
“I’m not a bodyguard. I was a cop, and I happened to be in the right place at the right time. Nothing more, nothing less. But I’m really glad no one was hurt.”
“You saved my life. You’re more than capable.”
Was he serious about this offer? Or was it simply a throwaway line? Being on Hart’s staff would give her access—the exact type of access Matt Elliott and the feds wanted.
“You are considering,” he said with a smile.
“Are you really serious?”
“Absolutely. While I’m confident that the CHP is more than competent, I would prefer having my own security.”
She hesitated. She’d been on security detail many times when she’d been a patrol officer, but personal security was different. When she’d been a cop, she’d had back-up. Here, she’d be on her own.
“You don’t have to give me an answer right now—I’ve put you on the spot. And it wouldn’t be a bodyguard position per se; I really need someone to do advance work, work the events, make sure security is tight. Better than what happened at the hotel. You can say yes tomorrow.” He smiled, in that way handsome men smile when they know they’re attractive and confident they’ll get their way. Hart certainly had the charm down.