The idea that such a beautiful, obviously scared woman could be a criminal stopped his forward progress. Jude knew looks could be deceiving, but that wouldn’t change his job. His personal feelings, even a rush of protectiveness, didn’t matter when the law came into the equation. Justice showed no partiality toward people.
At least, it shouldn’t.
Jude waited at the door with his gun hand loose at his side. Whether or not she was a thief, something told him she wasn’t dangerous. So he simply watched her to see what she would do.
“No, no, no.” She shoved papers off the desk, picked up a manila envelope and looked inside. “Please be here.” She made a noise of frustration and threw it on the desk. “Please be here.” She renewed her search.
“Cops are on their way.”
The woman—Zoe, the man had called her—squealed and spun around. Wide eyes stared at him, so green they were like the forest after a spring rain. Really? Poetry? Jude pushed aside the errant thoughts and reminded himself she could well be a criminal. He said, “You might want to wrap up your thievery before they get here.”
“Thievery?”
Jude shrugged one shoulder. “First word that came to mind when I saw you rummaging through a man’s office.”
She lifted two pale palms, though one was red marked. She’d been hurt? That reminded him of the other woman. He needed this woman to accompany him so he could check on her. The last thing he needed was two people disappearing.
“As you can see,” she said, “I haven’t stolen anything.”
“Which begs the question, what are you looking for?”
* * *
Yes, it did seem to lead to that question. Too bad Zoe had no intention of telling this guy anything at all. She’d faced enough questions from the injured woman out front.
Before she shoved away Zoe’s attempt to help her. Like it was Zoe’s fault her shoulder was bleeding.
Cute though this guy was, with dark blond hair in need of a cut curling around his ears, she couldn’t trust him. Nice suit. But not too nice; it just fit him really well. She’d always disliked guys who tried too hard to look put-together, or who used styling product in their hair—which was basically the same thing. This guy was clean-cut, and he looked...low-key.
Zoe bit the inside of her cheek. “I should go.”
He didn’t move, even though she needed to get past him so she could leave this building of horrors empty-handed. Don’t think about that. But she had to. She needed the reminder of everything that could go wrong to push her to be smart and cautious, to do everything she had to in order to keep her family alive.
This should have been her last stop. Her ticket out for herself, her sister and her son. They would have been on their way. Free.
That was gone now. All she had was nothing but a bag full of cash and no hope.
Not to mention, the police would be here soon.
“How about you stay for a minute. Introduce yourself?” He didn’t voice it like a question, even though technically it was. “I’ll even start.” He touched his chest. “Jude Brauer, Secret Service.”
So that was what the badge on his belt signified. Zoe glanced at the wall like she could see outside and said, “Is the president in town?”
He winced. “I’m local, not on the president’s detail.”
“This is a nice chat and all, but I really should be going.” Where, she had no idea. But anywhere was fine when it would be away from a dead man, a woman who’d been shot and the end of all her options.
“And you’re Zoe.”
He wasn’t going to listen. He was trying to get her to open up when she had zero intention of doing so. Zoe moved then, and some distant, still hopeful part of her prayed he’d just step aside and let her pass. Like prayer would actually work for her now, when it hadn’t so far.
He held out a hand. While not actually touching her, it was still a gentleman’s attempt to get her to stay. The fact that he didn’t force her to stop resonated in that same distant, hopeful part of her from which she’d just prayed. Zoe didn’t let it penetrate. She couldn’t, or she’d stop and maybe entertain the idea that this guy might actually be able to help her.
Which he couldn’t. No one could.
She stepped past him, into the hallway. “Zoe.” His voice was almost kind. She’d been through something traumatic and he adjusted accordingly. His wife probably loved that gentle voice. Zoe chose to ignore it.
She didn’t go back to the front of the store. There was nothing but blood and death up there, and the woman who had been shot hadn’t wanted her help. Zoe had called for the ambulance, then realized she had to find the ID’s Moose had made for her before the cops came. Now she needed to get out of here before they asked too many questions. Before her name ended up on a police record, and her whereabouts were discovered. Anything that could lead to her would do exactly that—and the wrong people would find her.
Zoe moved to the exit door at the end of the hall. Jude Brauer had told her to stay put. Right. The last time she’d stayed it had ruined her life. Not again. No way.
“You can’t leave, Zoe. You just witnessed a crime. Wait for the cops so you can give your statement.”
“I didn’t see anything.” The words slipped from her mouth and she winced.
“You’re going to lie?”
No, she wasn’t going to lie. “I can’t talk to the cops.”
“That guy knew you, and yet he didn’t kill you.” Jude cocked his head to the side. “Was that because I was here?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“I’m guessing that you know a whole lot more than you want to admit to me right now.”
She didn’t say anything, because he was right. Sirens grew in volume. They were right outside. An ambulance. Cops. She couldn’t trust the cops. That had been made completely plain to her when she’d tried to report what she’d seen. No one had believed her, and then she and Tyler had been followed. They’d barely escaped.
Zoe had no intention of repeating that frightful afternoon.
Jude turned toward the sound. While his gaze was averted, Zoe slipped out the back door.
Still, part of her almost wanted to stay.
Almost.
She’d ditched him. Jude could hardly believe she’d actually done it. Slipped out the back door right when his back was turned, leaving him standing in the hallway talking to himself. He sprinted to the door and ran outside. Looked around. She was gone from the areas lit by streetlights. Had she hidden in the shadows?
“Police!” a voice called from the front door. “Anyone here?”
A woman screamed. Not Zoe; it must have been the purple-haired woman from behind the counter. She needed help.
What he wanted to do was search all the dark places out back for Zoe. Instead, Jude announced himself as he strode into the Laundromat, then explained to the responding officers what had happened. An ambulance showed up, and the injured woman was taken to the hospital. Then two suited detectives and a couple of crime scene investigators arrived. Moose’s body had to be processed.
He