“Don’t you dare say it.”
“—was everything to me,” he finished.
“Get out.” Her hands fisted at her sides and he knew she wanted to throw something.
“You asked for the truth.” He left the room and walked out of the station, wishing the back door was still an option. He kept his gaze straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with everyone.
When Danny called out, Riley just raised a hand, unwilling to pause for a conversation. Tomorrow would be a better day. The sting of embarrassment would ease and she’d calm down. She might never forgive him, but out of sight or not, he was determined to keep her safe enough to enjoy a long life of hating him.
He was backing out of his parking space when his cell phone rang. The caller ID showed a blocked number and Riley flinched as he pulled back into the parking space to take the call.
“That takedown looks good,” Director Casey said in his ear.
“News travels fast.”
“You don’t sound happy. Is there more?”
“I think so. She arrested Deke Maynard, but it was too easy,” Riley said, finally able to articulate what bothered him most. “The bomb he’d planted was elementary. Anyone could have disarmed it.”
“You expected someone with more tactical experience?”
“If a threat is serious enough to incite this much concern across federal agencies, then yes, I expect to encounter experienced people on the ground, too.”
“Sleeper cells are often populated with civilians. It’s the definition.”
“Soft is one thing. Ignorant is another. You can’t pull me out yet.”
“I wasn’t planning to. Long-term and indefinite, remember?”
Riley took a deep, relieved breath. “Thanks.”
“Got a theory?”
“Deke Maynard has his eye on Chief Jensen. He might be a master strategist with all the crap he’s managed here, but I think somewhere along the line it became personal.”
“Artists can be twitchy.”
“Sure,” Riley admitted, though he had little experience. “They’re searching his place and squeezing the butler for info.”
“The analysts will sort it out.”
“Thank you.”
“One more thing,” Casey said. “A new version of her speech on YouTube surfaced an hour ago. We’ve blocked it and we’re tracing the party who loaded it.”
“How was it modified?”
“Red crosshairs over her face and different scenery. The analysts haven’t sorted out the background yet, but the landscape is covered with snow. We can’t tell if the images are current or older. So it appears your hunch is correct. Stay close to her.”
“No problem,” Riley lied. “Can you send it to me?”
“Already done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“If you need backup, just say the word. We can get someone into place now, before any more trouble hits.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll let you know.”
The kind of backup he really needed, Director Casey couldn’t provide. No amount of tactical expertise would fix the mess he’d made here.
He pulled up the video on his phone and his blood ran cold. The new images in the background ranged from the current display in the park to the podium in front of the scorched police station where Abby had given her latest press conference.
But it was the angle of the photos that told Riley all he needed to know. He sent the request for backup, knowing the assassin was about to make his move. Regardless of how Abby felt about him personally, he would implement protective measures. No detail was too small, no request too big if it meant keeping her alive.
Chapter Seventeen
For the first time since the fire, Abby was grateful her office had been charred. She wasn’t even upset the cleanup was taking longer than promised. Working at home would be for the best. Despite the proximity to Riley, at home behind closed doors and drawn curtains she could cry. Scream into a pillow. Her mascara could streak down her face and her nose could turn Rudolph-red. At home, no one could watch her fall apart.
She couldn’t believe Maynard had gotten bail. Evidently he owned at least one judge—a man Abby thought she knew. Of course, Maynard had been forced to surrender his passport. So what? The man could have twenty for all anyone knew.
This day could not suck any worse.
She pulled all the way into her garage this time, unwilling to risk even a glimpse of Riley. Hurrying to the house, she dropped her purse on the table and drew the curtains in her kitchen and den.
But nothing blotted out the scent of her Christmas tree. A day ago it had been the best scent ever. Now, she felt nauseous. Reluctantly, she walked down the hallway. Like ripping off a bandage, she had to get this over with and find a way to rid him from her system. Her knees quivering, she turned into the front room.