Andrea sucked her upper lip between her teeth and studied the popcorn ceiling. Odd time to think of it, but she should have removed that before she moved in. “A couple of months. He does odd jobs for several businesses on Victory. For Mr. Miller, too.”
“And how long have you known Miller?”
“Since I moved in. Six months or so.” She tipped her coffee cup toward Josh. “Every day, like clockwork, he brings me coffee from his gas station next door. Why?” But even as she said it, she knew. “You suspect them?”
“I think everybody’s up to something right now. Don’t you?”
She hadn’t thought about it. “No. And especially not them.” Rounding her desk, she dropped into her chair and waited for him to sit in one across from her. “Have you stopped to think you’re the most likely suspect?” She unlocked the desk drawer and grabbed Wade’s file, slipping it onto the desk like it was explosive. And who knew? It might be.
“I have.” He nodded toward the folder. “You left that here last night? Unguarded?”
“Safest place for it. The police were here and, for all anyone knew, they were watching.” She flipped open the folder and stared down at the first page. It was easier than looking at Josh.
“You took the pictures to the police?”
She nodded, flipping through the folder to find Wade’s release of information form. Last night she’d realized that talking to the person he trusted the most—the one to whom he’d given permission to access his patient information—might yield a clue. It was a sheet she rarely glanced at, because it only supplied clerical details.
Her finger stilled when she located the form, then tapped the name penned there in Wade’s precise handwriting. What exactly was going on here?
* * *
“What is it?”
Andrea’s face paled and her eyebrows drew together so tightly they had to make her forehead ache.
Closing the file, she tapped the corner against her desk blotter. “You brought Wade here because he wanted help. But you also said Wade told you to come here if anything ever happened to him. Don’t you find that odd?”
“Guys coming and going from deployment say a lot of things like that.”
She shook her head, then held the folder out to him.
It was a fight to keep his face neutral as he grasped the thick packet, careful not to get his fingers anywhere near hers. The last thing he needed was to touch her and set crazy thoughts to racing again.
The manila folder lay heavy in his hands, the name Cameron, Wade typed neatly on a tab above what he assumed was a reference number. “Why give this to me?”
“Open it.”
“I can’t look at this, and you know it.” Heat flushed Josh’s face. He wasn’t a therapist or a lawyer, but everyone knew about confidentiality between a counselor and a patient. The idea that Andrea would breach that for any reason plummeted his respect for her about seven pegs, and with that drop came a sense of disappointment deeper than any he should feel. He stood and dropped the folder on her desk, ignoring her confusion. “You could have your license yanked for violating confidentiality.” Which presented a whole other dilemma for him. Did he tell someone? Or did he protect her?
“Sit down, Josh.” Her tone held authority and maybe even anger. “I should hope you’d know me better than that.” With a flick of her wrist, she flipped open the file, paged through, and jammed her finger onto a printed sheet. “Wade cleared you as the only other person who could put eyes on his file.”
Everything froze. Even the small clock on a low cherry bookshelf seemed to tick slower. “Why would Cameron choose me? I’m nobody to the kid, other than his first sergeant. There’s every reason not to want his chain of command to be given access to his records. In certain instances, what’s in here could wreck his career. It doesn’t make sense.” Josh sank into the chair and slid the file closer, scanning the release of records form and noting the slash through a previous name and his name etched in its place with precise print. “You’re sure he did this?”
“I’m no handwriting analyst, but he’s the one who filled out all of the other paperwork, and the handwriting all seems to be the same.”
“Why?”
“Couldn’t tell you. He never once mentioned you in any of his sessions. I’d have remembered hearing your name if he had.”
She’d have recognized his name, just like he’d have known hers anywhere. Did that mean she’d given him more than a passing thought over the years? Josh shook his head. That would be way too much to hope.
Andrea blushed a deep red and straightened a few pens on her desk into a neat row before she cleared her throat. “I never give the administrative pages more than a cursory glance, because that’s more up Grace’s alley. My receptionist. It’s the stuff she enters into the computer, and unless there’s a reason, I prefer not to go digging there. It can color my judgments, make me jump to conclusions.”
“So you just now noticed?”
She looked startled at the straightforward question, like it wasn’t the direction she’d expected him to go. “This is the first time I’ve opened the file in a couple of months. For some reason, he gave you permission to look into it. That makes you the only other eyes I have, because unless he’s threatened to hurt himself or someone else or the authorities bring me a court order, nobody else can see it.” She tapped a finger on the edge of her desk. “It’s just me and you on this.”
The folder nearly slipped from his fingers. It almost sounded as if the words meant more than they sounded like on the surface.
Great. Now his mind was playing tricks on him. He couldn’t get lost in the subtext of every word she said—not if he had any chance of protecting her. He hoped there wouldn’t be more danger, but something in his gut wouldn’t quiet down. It was a sixth sense developed over four tours overseas, and it had never done him wrong before.
What he needed was distance, to get out of her presence, to put his head on straight before he did something stupid like lean across that desk and kiss her.
Because that wouldn’t help matters at all.
“I’m guessing I can’t take this home with me.” Josh tried to keep the hope out of his voice.
“’Fraid not. I’m not so all-fire sure this is about anything in there, not after getting those pictures, but our visitor last night was a little too hot to get his hands on that file, which makes it the only hope I have of finding out what’s going on here. It’s not leaving my sight.”
“You’re planning to keep it with you?” His fight response marched double-time. Didn’t she know how stupid that was? “All it takes is someone to track you down—”
“And what? If anybody wants it that badly, they’ll break in here first. Since they didn’t try last night, it adds credence to my doubts about what they’re really after.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in the burgundy leather chair. “Like I already said, that file’s a cover for something else. Something to do with me.” Her voice wavered on that last sentence. Andrea might be all bravado up front, but the memory of what had happened—and probably of what could happen—frightened her. It was clear she didn’t want him to know that, though.
“Let me keep it.” Josh gripped the folder so tightly the cardstock popped in protest. “They’ll never suspect—”
Andrea rocketed out of her chair like she intended to come across the desk and snatch the file from his hands. “You’re not listening to me. Is this the typical ‘hero’ tactic? Do you play movies in your head while women speak so you don’t have to hear what we say? It’s clear from those pictures they will come after