“They found out about Jeremy, didn’t they?” Wallace’s breathing increased and his hand gripped the metal rail on the side of the bed. Chris instinctively reached out and covered it with his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. As soon as he did, he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched his father. While Nora was affectionate and generous with hugs, Wallace was just the opposite. An occasional, awkward pat on the back was all he could manage to communicate his approval. And there hadn’t been many of those for Chris over the years.
“There has to be a way to keep Felicity safe and carry out an investigation without the Observer finding out about it,” Tim said.
“There is.” Wallace continued to stare at Chris. “You can help us.”
“I already have. I talked to Captain Driscoll earlier today and told him you would be concerned about the publicity. He promised we could keep a tight lid on this at the department and he officially assigned me to handle Felicity’s case.”
Wallace shook his head. “It’s not enough. If something happens to that reporter, there’s no way to keep it quiet. And we can’t ignore the fact that the same person who sent the letters to Miss Simmons may have leaked the story about Jeremy to the Observer.”
Chris glanced at Tim and saw him nod in agreement. The truth was, he hadn’t considered a connection between the two until now. His concern was Felicity’s safety. But obviously Tim and his father had.
“I want to hire you,” Wallace rasped out.
“Hire me?” Chris wondered if the pain meds were starting to have an adverse effect on him.
Realization dawned in Tim’s eyes and a slow smile spread across his face. “He’s right. It makes sense. You can keep the investigation in the family and keep Felicity safe.”
Chris didn’t consider himself a slow learner, but they’d lost him somewhere between hiring him and keeping Felicity safe.
Wallace’s gaze was riveted on him. “Until you figure out who’s writing those letters, I want you to be her bodyguard. Keep a close eye on her.”
Chris gaped at him. “I have a job, Dad.”
“Until three. Then you’re off duty,” Tim put in.
Chris wanted to put his brother in a headlock. No, that wouldn’t work. He could still talk. “You can’t hire someone to be a bodyguard without the other person’s permission.”
“I’ll take care of that.” Tim casually crossed his arms.
Chris read his mind. If Felicity didn’t agree, she’d be covering the elementary school’s summer baseball games. He was about to protest when suddenly he felt pressure on his fingers.
To his amazement, Wallace was squeezing his hand.
“Your chance to help out, son,” he whispered. “Maybe it’s not so bad to have a cop in the family.”
The chance to help. Chris wavered. That’s what he’d been hoping for. A chance to show Wallace that even though he wasn’t working for Hamilton Media, he was still a valuable part of the family.
It was an answer to a prayer he’d been praying for years.
“I’ll do it. But—” he gave Tim a warning look “—let me be the one to talk to Felicity.”
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