Parsons swiveled, planted his feet in front of Krista and shoved the microphone in her face, forcing her to stop. “Is it true, Ms. Curry, that you saw the bomber well enough to give the police a detailed description?”
She took a step back and glanced at Cash. Panic flared in her eyes. An overwhelming protective urge welled up inside Cash—a familiar feeling but not one he’d expected for a woman he barely knew. One who was a suspect in the bombing. It caught him by surprise and made him hesitate. Just a fraction, but long enough for Parsons to seize the moment and step closer.
“Did you see the bomber, Ms. Curry?” he demanded.
Krista jerked back.
Cash did the first thing he could think of. He grabbed Opa’s arm. “I’m sorry, but Ms. Curry’s grandfather’s had a very trying night, and he isn’t feeling well. We need to get him home.”
“Yes,” Krista mumbled. “He has to get home.”
“I won’t keep you,” Parsons said. “All I want is a simple yes or no. Did you see the bomber?”
“Oh.” Opa wobbled and his legs seemed to turn to rubber. He reached for Krista’s arm. She clutched his elbow, steadying him.
Cash glanced at the older man, and he winked at Cash.
Nice. The crafty old guy was simply putting on a show for the reporter to distract him from Krista.
“As you can see,” Cash said pointedly, “we really need to be going. Unless, of course, you want to be responsible for an elderly man collapsing on your news program.”
“Of course not.” Parsons knew when to step down and back away.
Cash continued to hold Otto’s elbow and hurried ahead. Otto kept up with Cash, but they nearly had to drag Krista. Despite her unspoken desire to get away from the crowd, she kept shooting looks around the area, slowing them down.
Hoping to see what she was searching for, Cash followed her gaze. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe she feared the bomber was in the crowd of looky-loos that circled the perimeter.
Cash figured the guy was long gone. Unless, of course, he’d heard the news stories by now and knew Krista’s heroic actions had kept the bomb from detonating. If so, he would want to stop her before she had a chance to ID him. Which meant he could have come back and was out in the crowd. Watching. Waiting. Planning to follow them and take Krista out when she was away from the heavy police presence.
Cash was suddenly thankful he’d offered to escort her home. A woman with a sick, elderly man would be a sitting duck for a bomber and without Cash’s help, the consequences could be deadly.
Feeling Cash’s focus on her from the car, Krista helped Opa climb the steps to his house. She was torn between wanting Cash gone and wanting him to stay exactly where he was, watching them and making sure no harm came their way. On the ride home, she couldn’t stop thinking about what the bomber would do if he knew she could identify him. It would only take one news story to alert him and make him determined to silence her.
The thought made every shadow in the secluded property seem ominous, sending a shiver over her body. She glanced at Cash, wondering if she should ask for his continued help to keep them safe.
“Cash seems like a nice young man,” Opa said, oblivious to her concerns.
“He’s a cop,” she replied as she fitted the key into the lock, reminding herself why Cash was the last person she should trust.
“Not all police officers are bad, Liebchen. If you would stop worrying about the past catching up with you, you would see this young man’s positive qualities as I do.”
Inside the foyer, she spun in disbelief. “You want to go through all that again? To have people and reporters camping out on the doorstep of your new house? Never getting any peace? Dealing with break-ins and people destroying the place?”
“No, of course not.” He stepped inside. “But I doubt that will happen as a result of trusting Cash.”
“No.” She closed the door, secured the locks, then double-checked them. “It’ll happen when a reporter like Paul Parsons wants to find out all he can about me and the FRS team members, including Cash, leak what they know. That’ll lead to Parsons eventually discovering my real name is Krista Alger, linking me to Toby’s murder and Dad’s multitude of crimes.”
“You had nothing to do with your father’s crimes and Toby’s death. Or with scamming those people and the missing money, for that matter. That was all on Toby.”
“You and I are the only ones who believe that.” Memories of Toby’s investment scam that bilked seniors out of their savings came flooding back. No one would accept that she hadn’t known about the scam—or about the half-million dollars he’d held in their bank account, then electronically transferred to another account two days before he died. The police never located the money, nor did they locate the person who made the transfer.
Didn’t matter. Toby was dead. She was alive and a very convenient suspect, complete with a colorful family background that made her look even guiltier. “I proved that I wasn’t home when our wireless network was used to move the money, but the detectives couldn’t look beyond Dad’s crimes to see me for who I am. All they could say was the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
“But there was no proof, Liebchen. They never charged you with the crime.”
“But they wanted to, didn’t they? Leaking to the press that I was a person of interest. Making me seem guilty. Hoping I couldn’t live under the press’s extreme spotlight and would confess.”
“There was nothing to confess. If your true name comes out, then Cash will see this and understand.”
“I wish, but wishing doesn’t change anything.” She took Opa’s arm. “There’s no point in worrying about it now. You’ve had a long day. Let’s get you to bed.”
“I am not a baby. I will get myself to bed.” He shrugged free of her hold. “Think about what I said about Cash. I think he is an honorable man. If for some reason Skyler keeps you on her suspect list, Cash can be of help.”
She stared into the distance. Could she let go of her terrible experience with the police and believe Cash was the man Opa thought him to be?
“I see the doubt in your eyes, Granddaughter, but trust me in this. I am rarely wrong about people.” He shuffled down the hallway before Krista could remind him how wrong he’d been about Toby. She wished Opa had never introduced them.
There she was wishing again. Didn’t solve a thing.
She went to her room to change her damp jeans, then settled on the sofa. She turned on the news and waited for the clip of Parsons shoving a microphone in her face. Not surprisingly, the bomb was top news, and Parsons’s segment soon came on.
Standing outside the stadium, his update included revealing her name and claiming eyewitnesses believed she was the person who foiled the bomb attempt. He added that they also believed she was the only one who had gotten a good look at the bomber and could identify him. Just as she feared. If the bomber hadn’t already figured out that she was the person who stood between him and a long prison term, he would know it now.
She took a deep breath to wait for the footage of her and Opa in the parking lot, but Parsons ended the segment by saying he was working to confirm her role in foiling the bombing, then they moved to another reporter inside the stadium. When the broadcast signed off and the footage hadn’t aired, she let out a relieved breath and switched off the TV.
Without her face plastered on the news, she was safe from anyone recognizing her. For now anyway. But Parsons seemed committed to following up,