Plain Danger. Debby Giusti

      Everett was right. Tyler needed to keep an eye on his neighbor and see what he could learn about the estranged daughter and the young soldier who had died on her father’s property. Maybe the pretty newcomer to Freemont knew more about her father than she was willing to admit.

       THREE

      The first light of dawn glowed on the horizon as the Freemont police climbed into their squad cars. Phillips stood next to Tyler, watching their departure.

      “Our crime scene folks will expand their search over the entire field,” Phillips said. “So far they haven’t found anything that seems to have bearing. I’m hoping Forensics might provide more information. I’ll let you know what we uncover.”

      “Earlier you mentioned that the sergeant major’s body was discovered in the woods,” Tyler said. “Do you know who found him?”

      “Inman handled the call, but if my memory is correct, an Amish teenager took a shortcut through the property and stumbled across the remains.”

      “Was there anything suspect about Harris’s death?”

      Phillips shook his head. “Nothing that seemed questionable at the time.”

      “Might be worth reviewing the report,” Tyler suggested.

      “I’ll do that. And I’ll talk to Inman.”

      Tyler glanced at the lights glowing in the downstairs windows of the stately home. “Are any of your people still inside the house?”

      “One of our rookies.”

      “I’ll tell him you’re wrapping up.” Tyler hustled up the porch steps and rapped lightly on the door. The young cop he’d seen earlier answered his knock. Tyler stepped inside and repeated the message from Phillips. The officer hurriedly left the house and climbed into one of the squad cars.

      Footsteps sounded from the kitchen.

      “Ms. York?” Tyler called from the foyer.

      She stepped into the hallway. Her eyes widened ever so slightly. “Agent Zimmerman, I didn’t expect to see you again. Do you have more questions?”

      “No, ma’am, but I wanted to apologize for my comments.”

      “Which comments are you referring to?” She squared her shoulders in a defensive gesture he had half expected after his earlier outburst.

      “My comments about Senator Kingsley.” Not that they weren’t true. Still, he hated hearing the cool aloofness in her voice.

      She stepped closer. “Evidently I said something wrong, something that upset you. Let me assure you that I’m not the senator.”

      He pointed a finger back at himself. “I in no way thought you were.”

      “Nor do I put words in his mouth.”

      “Actually...” Tyler hesitated. “If you write his speeches, that’s exactly what you do.”

      She frowned.

      He wasn’t making points.

      “Senator Kingsley is quite explicit on what he wants covered in each speech,” she said with an icy stare. “His policies are exactly that—his policies. They reflect his opinions and what he believes to be true and do not reflect the way I think or feel.”

      “That’s good to know.”

      “I admire all who defend our nation, Agent Zimmerman. They sacrifice greatly. Many give their lives for our security. I am indebted to their service, as the entire nation should be.”

      “Then we see eye-to-eye on that point, but I still hope you’ll accept my apology.”

      “Of course.”

      He handed her his business card. “Some of the crime scene personnel will remain on-site for a while. I’m heading to post. My phone will be on if you think of anything else.”

      “I’ve told you everything.”

      “Yes, ma’am, but I’m sure you’re anxious and concerned. Keep your doors and windows locked. Be alert to any danger.”

      Her stiffness crumbled. She drew her hand to her neck. “Y-you’re worrying me.”

      Which he hadn’t intended to do. “I just want to ensure that you use caution.”

      “Thank you for your concern.”

      When he’d entered the house the first time, his focus was on the murdered soldier and on finding information. Now that the immediate urgency was over, he paused to glance at the expansive living area with two brick fireplaces, tall ceilings and hand-hewn hardwood floors.

      “Your home is beautiful.”

      “My father’s home,” she corrected. “I still feel like an outsider.”

      “In time, that should change.”

      Her face softened for a moment, exposing a vulnerability he hadn’t expected. Then she pulled in a quick breath and returned to her former polite, but somewhat perturbed, self.

      “I hope the investigation is wrapped up quickly, Agent Zimmerman.”

      “It will be.” Tyler sounded more optimistic than he felt. “My cell’s always on. You can call me if you hear anything worrisome. I’m home most nights by seven.”

      “Bailey’s a good watchdog.”

      “I’m sure he is.”

      Tyler started for the door.

      A phone rang. Carrie reached for her cell and checked the caller identification. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s the senator’s office.”

      “You notified Washington?”

      She quirked her brow. “Did you want me to keep the soldier’s death secret?”

      “Of course not.” He opened the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

      He hurried off the porch and started across the front lawn on his way home. Phillips waved from his sedan as he and Inman pulled onto Amish Road and headed back to town.

      Tyler needed coffee and a shower before he drove to post, but he couldn’t get past the churning in his gut, knowing Carrie York was on the phone to DC.

      This case came with baggage. Not what he needed or wanted. He had to focus on the investigation instead of getting into a war of words with the senator’s speechwriter whose arrival in Freemont felt suspect.

      Was Carrie York an innocent bystander? Or was she somehow involved in the soldier’s death?

      * * *

      After the congestion and traffic in DC, driving along the gentle, rolling hills and fertile farmland was a refreshing change of pace for Carrie. Some of the anxiety she’d felt through the night had ebbed by the time she arrived downtown.

      She parked her car behind the lawyer’s office and hurried inside. George Gates had been nice enough yesterday when he gave her the keys to her father’s house as well as the information about Bailey and the kennel where the dog had been boarded. Everything had seemed like a dream, especially when she realized the huge white home with Greek columns had belonged to her father.

      Thankfully the dog’s frisky playfulness and demand for attention had filled the expansive house with activity that added warmth and welcome to what could have been a difficult homecoming. She and Bailey had quickly become fast friends, and she was grateful for his attention. The pup had stayed close by her side, until he’d whined to go out shortly after midnight.

      All too soon, the initial charm of the historic home had been marred by the discovery of Corporal Fellows’s body. She hoped the lawyer would