There was a pause. Too long. That wasn’t good—she’d learned that the hard way. Was it that hard for him to decide if he could trust her with a simple name? What was it about people in authority? Why did they always have to—?
“Sorry. I was driving. Missing?”
She was glad he couldn’t see her, because she felt her cheeks heat. She’d made an assumption about his silence, that he was like all the others who had tried to fend her off, when in fact he’d merely been pulling over to talk safely.
“It’s been a few days, so I thought I could at least find out where it was in the process. But I got the same person who told me it was frozen before. She said there was no application at all in my aunt’s name.”
“What? That’s crazy. Rick had it in his hand when he called me back.”
“That’s your contact?”
“Yes. Rick Alvarado.”
“You’re sure he had it? He wouldn’t...just say he did to cover losing it?”
“No. He wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Would Mr. Alvarado—or you—mind if I called him?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t. And why would I?”
“He’s your contact.”
“This isn’t chain of command, Mrs. Burke. Feel free.”
Was there an edge in his voice? And there it was again, that Mrs. Burke. And did that chain-of-command comment mean he truly had looked her up, knew she’d fought her way up that chain more than once? She sighed inwardly in exasperation. She hadn’t spent this kind of time trying to guess at what someone wasn’t saying since she’d had to deal with brass who wanted to help her but couldn’t without damaging themselves.
“Been doing some research?” she asked.
“The joys of the internet,” was all he said, but he sounded a bit embarrassed. “I’ll call him again if you want,” he said, quickly dodging any further questions on that subject.
“It’s not your problem. You’ve already done enough.” Purposely she added, “Thank you, Brett.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Burke,” he said, and was gone, almost abruptly.
Mrs. Burke. Even when she’d called him Brett.
Obviously he had done that research. So he had to know her husband was dead. And how. And what had happened after. For some people, that put her in the too-uncomfortable-to-talk-to category. It seemed Brett Dunbar might be one of those.
That disappointed her.
And that, in turn, set off a warning bell in her mind.
With a stern self-directed lecture about foolishness, she ordered herself back to the task at hand and called the permit office once more.
* * *
Brett sat in the car where he’d pulled off to the side of the road, his phone still in his hand.
That, he thought, had been a disaster of a conversation.
No wonder she’d cowed half the top brass in a couple of military services. He had a feeling she would have eventually accomplished what she’d done even without the help of that battle-toughened senator. She was smart, determined and dedicated. She’d figured out he’d looked her up and tacitly, with her formal tone, acknowledged the distance he had put between them by using her married name. That didn’t surprise him; he’d guessed as much.
What surprised him was how much it bothered him, that tone in her voice. It was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? He’d wanted that safe distance between them.
Well, he’d gotten it. And if he didn’t like it, that was his problem.
He checked the highway, picked his spot and merged back into traffic. He made himself map out the rest of his afternoon so he wouldn’t dwell on one Sloan Burke. Or how the more he’d read, the more he’d admired her. Or how he had, against his better judgment, called up online video of those hearings, had watched with a pained sort of raptness as she told the story of her husband’s death and the cover-up it had revealed. Her testimony had been passionate, articulate and damning. She had never faltered, never let herself be diverted or intimidated. She had shamed them all with her courage, and in the end she had won.
And with each moment he’d watched, he’d envied a dead man more.
Brett arrived back at the office to a slew of messages, paper, voice mail and emails. Some were the kind that ate at him, queries on cases where there was no progress. One was a break—the suspect in the case where he’d given the deposition had pled out, saving him from any potential trial appearance. The last two were information he’d asked for on other cases.
He sorted them out, prioritizing, making notes of requested details and happily deleting the one from the prosecutor freeing him. For once, the clerk didn’t come by to gripe at him for not giving everyone he dealt with his cell number. He was pondering that miracle when that cell phone rang.
He recognized the number immediately. Stared at the small screen for a moment. Glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot, then grimaced at himself for doing it.
Finally, he answered.
“I’m sorry to bother you again,” she said without preamble. “And I’m probably being horribly presumptuous, but...”
Her voice trailed off, and a dozen ways she might be presumptuous shot through his mind, most of which kicked his pulse up into territory it rarely visited unless he was running.
And running was just what he should do. Far away from Mrs. Sloan Burke.
“What is it?” He knew he sounded clipped, and with an effort, he added more evenly, “Do you need me to call Rick again after all?”
“That’s just it. He isn’t there.”
He frowned. “He’s not always. He has to visit sites sometimes. You might have to call him back later.”
“No, I mean he’s gone. As in no longer working there.”
Brett went still. “What?”
“That’s why I called you back. It didn’t seem like you knew that.”
“No, I didn’t. Did they say why?”
“No. But they very pointedly didn’t say why, with that tone people get when there’s an unpleasant story behind it. You know what I mean?”
“Yes.” He fought a sinking feeling. Rick had had that job for a long time, and he couldn’t imagine why he would leave it. Not when he was working so hard to help his daughter stay straight. “I can’t believe he’d just quit. He’s got a daughter in college, and he’s trying hard to keep her there, out of trouble.”
“She was in trouble?”
“A few years ago,” he said. “It was one of my cases.”
It had been quite a mess Caro had gotten herself into, following some less-than-well-chosen friends into drugs and then into a small crime ring, stealing phones and tablets they would wipe and resell. He’d seen immediately she was in way over her head, scared, and had known there was a chance to save her. She’d just been reeling after the death of her mother. The girl had, with a little help, pulled herself free and turned her life around, he’d thought for good.
He hoped some major problem with her wasn’t