Tripp did casual like a scruffy tomcat on the prowl. He was reactive, make that, over-reactive. Everything he did seemed based on intense emotion. On his heart.
Still not sure why they wanted to talk with her, Ashley splayed her sweaty fingers on the table top to calm her jittery nerves. She needed the strength emanating from the cold, hard granite, as well as a barrier between her and the guys, to keep that sneaky panic attack at bay. Wow, this one had come on suddenly. Poor Tripp had only asked where she’d gone to college. It wasn’t as if he’d asked, even hinted about what happened that day.
The opposite wall was one huge, floor-to-ceiling window facing the sunset. The King Street Metro Station and the George Washington Memorial Masonic Temple loomed over busy autumn traffic to the west. The King Street free bus had just lumbered out of the metro parking lot. She wished she were on it.
Jameson’s calmness instantly set Ashley at ease. She’d settled down the moment he’d pulled her into his side. Tall, dark, and handsome, he leaned over his interlocked hands now, his face turned toward her. “Ashley, I meant what I said. This won’t take long. You can leave any time you choose. Just say the word.”
“W-w-what’d I do?”
Tripp rested his hand on the back of her chair. “Nothing. Sorry if my question startled you.” He cleared his throat. “Just want to ask something in private. That’s all. Nothing to worry about.”
“Why was everyone looking at me?”
Jameson’s face cracked into a sincere, open smile that made it easier for her to breathe. “We do come across like gangbusters once in a while, don’t we? Sorry about that. But the FBI has asked us to assist them in a murder investigation, and we’re on a short suspense. Stop us if we get too personal, okay?”
She nodded but then said, “Sure,” when she remembered he couldn’t see. “Have you always been blind?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Lost my sight courtesy of a stinky, little donkey and two deaf boys taking a joyride in the middle of the Afghanistan desert.” His right hand skimmed the dark shadow on his jaw. “My SEAL team and I were in the middle of a firefight. Couldn’t let those kids get themselves killed, so there we were, chasing after the donkey those boys were taking a joyride on.”
“I didn’t know that,” Tripp muttered, his brows furrowed and his face turned to his partner.
“Never mind. It was a stupid question,” Ashley breathed. “Of course, you weren’t born blind, or you wouldn’t have been a SEAL.”
Jameson nodded. “I still am. A SEAL, that is. Anyway, after a couple of us guys charged out to save those boys, little Eeyore got scared and set off a string of buried IEDs.”
“Improvised explosive devices,” Tripp translated.
“Oh, no.” Ashley didn’t want to hear the rest of this story.
“Oh, yes.” Jameson’s lips pinched. “The ISIL soldiers we were fighting had set the perfect trap. They knew Americans wouldn’t let those kids die. Guess we’re dumb like that. Lost two friends and two perfectly good retinas that day. But let’s talk about you. Where’d you go to school? You are from around here, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I grew up in—”
The door slammed open, banged into the wall, startling everyone.
“Boss?” Tripp cranked his head around. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Director Tucker Chase,” Jameson said calmly, gesturing to Ashley. “May I introduce Tripp’s neighbor, Ashley Cox?”
The fierce-looking guy with black eyes and dark hair, the same one who’d glared at her from Mother’s counter, growled, “Nice to meet you, Ashley Cox. Guys, APD has another vic. Move out with me or sit tight, I don’t care. But I’m leaving now.”
Wow, he was rude. Ashley stood because Tripp and Jameson did.
“We’re going with you,” Jameson replied. “Ashley, we’ll be back later to talk with you if you don’t mind.”
“Move it!” the rude man bellowed. “Hustle! I’ll be in the garage, waiting. Be there in five, or I’m leaving without you.”
“Go. I’ll be fine,” Ashley told Tripp and Jameson, fluttering her fingers to make them hurry and leave.
“Stay here,” Tripp ordered, but then he added, “Please,” more gently.
She gave him her best smile, then watched them race after Director Chase. A flurry of activity followed them. More men. More urgent chatter. These people took their jobs seriously, and she liked that. By the time she walked into the hall, the office was quiet, and Tripp was gone. So were Mark and just about everyone else. Two agents, a man and a woman she didn’t recognize, were the only ones still at their desks. Even Mother was nowhere in sight. Sandwiches lay half-eaten. The debris from their late dinner over-filled the trash can beside the customer service counter.
Ashley drew in a deep breath, proud of herself for having taken her first successful step back to normalcy. She’d done it. After two long years, she’d finally cracked the shell she’d been hiding in. She’d left her apartment, and she’d done it at night. Okay, so she’d had another tiny, sneaky panic attack, but she was feeling better now.
The agents still in the office were engrossed with whatever was on the huge monitor behind Mother’s desk. She wasn’t there, so Ashley figured, why not? She’d meant what she’d told Tripp. She didn’t need a babysitter, and she didn’t want to sit around until he returned. He had important work to do. She was in the way. It was time to go home.
Chapter Eighteen
Tonight sucked. Another murdered hooker, from what APD dispatch relayed. An elderly couple out for their evening walk found her on the walkway behind the Chinquapin Park Rec Center. Same MO. Same
