Her Secret Service Agent. Stephanie Doyle

CHAPTER TWO

      Present Day

      JOE HANDED THE woman in front of him a tissue from a box he kept on his desk at all times for just such an occasion.

      “I’m very sorry, Karin. Unfortunately the evidence is pretty conclusive. Your husband is having an affair with his coworker.”

      He thought it helped for him to say the words out loud. As a private investigator who had shown a number of spouses evidence of adultery, he knew his clients often didn’t believe him until he had spoken the words.

      Maybe there is a reason you have a photo of him removing her blouse.

      Maybe there is a reason his car was parked at a remote area and she was facedown in his lap.

      Maybe there is a reason why her tennis appointment every Wednesday is conducted at a small hotel downtown and neither she nor her instructor is ever seen holding rackets.

      Joe had heard it all. Which was why he said the words out loud. Only, having to say them to a seven-months-pregnant woman left a more bitter taste in his mouth than usual.

      “What do I do?”

      “You need to decide that for yourself, but I strongly suggest talking to him first. Be honest. Give him a chance to be honest in return.”

      Another part of the script. What Joe was really thinking was that she should throw the jerk out on his ass, take half his money, and find someone who would be decent and faithful to her.

      He heard voices in the hallway outside his office, and through the beveled glass he could see two tall figures in suits standing just outside. Joe’s office was a single room, so when he was meeting with a client, he kept the door locked to prevent interruption.

      Karin apparently had heard enough. He handed her a few more tissues, told her he would send his final bill and then walked her out the door.

      He wasn’t at all surprised to see who was waiting for him. It had only been a matter of time.

      “Hi, Joe,” the older man said as he offered his hand.

      “Hey, Carl. Long time no see.”

      Carl nodded grimly. “This is Special Agent Mark Thompson. If you have a few minutes, we would like to talk to you.”

      Special Agent Thompson was a young fresh-faced man who reminded Joe of himself at that age. The man pulled out and showed his badge to Joe.

      “Yeah,” Joe said. “I know what they look like.”

      “Sir, we’re here in an official capacity. We think it best to stick to the formalities.”

      Joe looked at Carl. “Official capacity. Well, this sounds important.”

      Even as he opened the door and let the two men in, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

      He sat behind his desk while they took the guest chairs in front of him.

      “I don’t know if you heard that Ms. Bennett is back in DC. She’s opened a new store in town and was recently featured in a local newscast.”

      Joe nodded once. Of course he knew she was back.

      “In the past few months, she’s been receiving anonymous notes.” Carl took out a laminated piece of paper and set it on his desk. “Does anything about this letter look familiar to you?”

      I’m coming for you, Sugarplum.

      Block letters, from different print mediums. “No, the letter is not familiar.”

      His brain was reeling. Someone was threatening Vivian. Someone was calling her Sugarplum. He knew that name. He knew the last time she’d heard it. It had been right before he’d shot Harold McGraw.

      Joe’s jaw clenched as it finally dawned on him why two members of the Secret Service were here in his office.

      “What the hell is this, Carl?”

      “Sir, we’re looking into anyone who might have been involved in the Bennett kidnapping,” Agent Thompson answered. “As a person of interest.”

      Joe nearly growled. “Carl, you have five seconds to shut this little puppy’s mouth and tell me what the hell is going on.”

      “Sir—” the kid began.

      “Thompson. Shut it,” Carl snapped. “Sorry, Joe. Direct orders. Vivian told her father about the letters and he asked us to look into it. She’s not under SS protection unlike her father. Although currently he only requires a detail when he’s out of the country.”

      “The former president is in China. Shouldn’t you be with him?”

      Carl frowned. “Never made it onto his detail team.”

      Right, Joe thought. Because while Carl had for the most part been blameless in “the Bennett kidnapping,” as the puppy referred to it, it had still happened on his watch. The president wouldn’t have forgotten that. One more thing Joe could claim responsibility for destroying. Carl’s career potential.

      “So you’re investigating the source of these letters.”

      “She reported the letters to the MPD, but they haven’t been able to provide much information. She told her father and...”

      “And the federal government is now involved. I get it,” Joe said, and he did. Alan Bennett was a commander of men. If he asked for something, he got it. Always. “But seriously, Carl? You have to know I would never...”

      “I do. But here is the thing. According to Vivian, she only told one other person McGraw referred to her as Sugarplum.”

      “Me?”

      “No, her therapist.”

      Joe tried to keep his expression blank, but it wasn’t easy. Not when the world knew what McGraw had done to her.

      “But it occurred to me that you were there with her in the cabin,” Thompson said. “You might have heard McGraw use the name, as well. I communicated that to President Bennett, and he agreed you should be checked out, as well.”

      Joe almost laughed. Bennett knew damn well Joe had nothing to do with terrorizing Vivian. This visit was just his way of telling Joe to stay clear of her. Which was why Joe hadn’t been all that surprised by their arrival. He’d almost expected it since learning she was back in DC.

      Ten years was a long time. But not long enough to forget. At least not for President Bennett.

      “I can’t help you,” Joe said finally.

      He stood and shook hands with Carl. He ignored the puppy.

      Then he decided he’d had a hell of day and needed a drink.

      * * *

      THE DOOR TO the bar opened, and a ray of bright light poured in. For a moment the place seemed to glow, then once more it sank back into its familiar gloominess. Joe could hear someone walking toward him on high-heeled shoes, delicately clicking against the floor. And he knew. He knew it before he turned his head.

      “Hi, Joe.”

      Vivian Abigail Eleanor Bennett. The last time he saw her, her eyes were swollen shut and her lips were parched and split. But now the angry red gash on her forehead had healed. The ugly purple bruises on her face and collarbone had vanished. Although he noticed she had dark circles under her eyes.

      She was stunning. As a young woman she had been pretty, made even more so by how little she realized it. Ten years later and she was drop-dead gorgeous. Same blue eyes and long blond hair, but the ten years had only added to her looks.

      Her mother had been a Southern Belle Beauty Queen champion, so it was no surprise where her looks came from. Still, it jolted him.

      “May I sit?”

      He