As soon as it did, she urged Annie in, holding the door open as Hunter hurried in behind them. Sophia snuggled in his arms, her head against his shoulder, her thumb in her mouth. She smiled sleepily as she saw Annie.
“Momma, hold me!” she said, her little arms reaching for Annie.
Annie took her from Hunter’s arms, loving the solid weight of her. She didn’t think she’d really known the depth of God’s love for her until Sophia came along.
“Where’s we going?” Sophia asked, pressing her hand to Annie’s cheek and looking into her eyes.
Joe would have been so excited to hear her talk. He’d been longing for the day when she would say more than Dada, Momma and the few other words she’d perfected in the months before he was killed. Now she could, and he was gone, undone by his gambling addiction, murdered by men he’d owed money to.
Her throat tightened at the thought, the tears she’d decided not to shed burning the backs of her eyes.
“A new house,” she responded, her voice thick and watery.
The elevator doors opened, and Hunter took her elbow, leading her into a wide corridor. His fingers seemed to burn through her long-sleeved T-shirt, the feeling so surprising, she shrugged away.
Hunter let Annie go. There was no need to be overly protective. The five apartments on this floor were empty, each one secretly rented by the U.S. Marshals. It was easier that way. No danger of tenants seeing a high-profile witness and leaking the news to the press. No need to do background checks on people who rented the apartments.
Serena used her key to open the door at the end of the hall. The place hadn’t been used in over a year. There’d be a layer of dust on everything and an air of neglect that couldn’t be helped. He knew Annie wouldn’t complain. She never did. He still wished they’d had time to make the apartment a little more kid-friendly. Some toys. Safety covers on outlets. A crib.
He frowned.
They’d need to improvise for the night. Tomorrow, he’d buy one of those portable cribs his sister used for her son.
“Here we are,” Serena announced as she flicked on a light. “Home sweet home until the trial.”
It didn’t really look like a home. Just a couch and a coffee table. No throw rug on the wood floor. No pictures on the wall. A small galley kitchen connected to the living area, the appliances stainless steel, the cupboards white. It was fancier than the little house Annie had lived in before entering witness protection. Hunter knew that for a fact. He’d seen pictures of the crime scene. The kitchen with its mustard-colored appliances and peeling linoleum floor. Thanks to her husband, Annie hadn’t had much to brag about.
Hunter didn’t think she was the kind of person who cared. Still, if he ever got married, he’d want to do a lot better for his family than a run-down house in a questionable neighborhood. He knew that wasn’t possible for some people, but Joe Delacorte had made enough money to provide for his family. He’d just preferred to spend it gambling.
“The place could use a little cleaning,” Serena said, running her finger through a layer of dust on the granite counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. “Sorry, Annie. I didn’t have enough notice to get it done.”
“It’s okay.” Annie set Sophia down, smiling a little as her daughter toddled across the room. “But, unless this place is outfitted for a toddler, I’m going to need a couple of things before morning.”
“Like?” Serena pulled out a small notebook. Obviously, she was ready to make a list and head out to find whatever was needed. He could have told her exactly what Annie would ask for. Diapers, baby wipes, apple juice and some sort of toasted oat cereal for Sophia to snack on. Nothing for herself.
Hunter walked down a narrow hall and opened the first door to the left. A master bedroom with an attached bathroom, it had a wide window that looked out over an alley. A queen-size bed sat against one wall. A dresser stood in front of another. He flicked on the light in the bathroom, ran the water in the sink and tub just to make sure everything was in working order.
There were towels in a small linen closet. Soap. Shampoo. None of it for babies.
“Hey, Hunter!” Serena called. “I’m going to see if I can round up some supplies. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“It might be difficult to find a place open, but don’t go back to the other location. We don’t want to clutter the scene,” he responded as he walked back into the living room.
Annie had settled onto the floor, Sophia spinning in circles beside her. The little girl’s giggles made him smile. He’d always loved kids, but his life was too busy, his job too demanding to think about having a family of his own.
“The local Walmart will probably be open. If it’s not, I’ll stop at a convenience store. I can at least get—” Serena consulted her list, stabbing at one of the items. “Diapers, wet wipes and Cheerios. The rest I can pick up tomorrow.”
“I’ll radio you any information that comes in.” He glanced at his watch. So far, there’d been little to go on. The bomb squad had arrived at the safe house within minutes and converged on a gift-wrapped package that had been found in the yard. No explosives, but the team wasn’t taking any chances. They’d bagged the package and transported it to their forensic lab. It would be opened there, everything handled in a sterile environment so there’d be no risk of contaminating evidence.
Serena walked out of the apartment, and Hunter slid the bolt home. The apartment’s second bedroom was set up with a computer that was hooked into the building’s security system. He could monitor the exterior of the building from there. They hadn’t been followed. He was sure of that, but it didn’t give him any peace.
Annie had been found once. There was no reason to think she wouldn’t be found again.
“I’ve got some work to do. If you need anything, let me know,” he said. He sounded cold and uncaring. He knew it. It wasn’t the way he meant to come off, but years of following the rules, of shoving his emotions down so that he could do his job effectively had taken their toll.
Another good reason to not pursue the kind of relationship that led to love and marriage. A few dates a year with nice women who were as career-driven as he was had been enough for so many years he’d lost track.
Somehow, though, every year when Christmas and the New Year rolled around, he started thinking about having more, about what his life would be like if he’d made different decisions and chosen a different path.
Too much time with his sister Carrie and her family, that was the problem. She and her husband, Mitch, were happy, their four children thriving. During the holidays, their house was filled with the kind of joy that washed over everyone who entered.
Yeah. It made him want more than the house he shared with coworker Burke Trier, but that didn’t mean he could have it. God would have to drop a very special woman into his life for things to change. He knew that from watching his parents. His father had been a trauma surgeon, his life devoted to his career. His mother had been sad, then frustrated, then, ultimately, resentful. No way did Hunter want to hurt a woman the way his father had unwittingly hurt his mother.
He shrugged off the thought and walked down the hall. He could hear Sophia’s giggles and Annie’s low murmur as he logged in to the security system. They were more distracting than he wanted them to be. As a matter of fact, if he’d let himself, he could have happily gone back into the living room and spent a little time with the young widow and her child. The two had been through a lot, and they deserved to feel secure and cared for.
His cell phone rang, and he answered.
“Davis speaking.”
“It’s Josh. I’m at the evidence lab. The technicians are finished with the box.”
“What was in it?” He tensed, anxious to hear what had been discovered.