Gwen placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sure they don’t blame you.”
Someone from the mission blamed him…all of them. “I led the operation, Gwen. I was responsible for their deaths.”
She straightened her shoulders and gave him a stern look. “Is that right? Did you squeeze the trigger? Did you toss them out of a plane without a parachute?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll hear no more of your fault for their unfortunate deaths. If your military found blame, they would have held you prisoner, and that obviously hasn’t happened. It’s time for you to forgive yourself for what happened, Neil. Once you’ve done that you can move on with your life. If not, then you’ll have one sleepless night after the next until you’re jumping at every noise.”
She described his existence up until then…up until her. “How come you’re so smart?” he asked. He captured her hand and kissed the back of it.
“School of Princess. It’s in the curriculum.” She laughed.
He kissed her softly the way one would when they said good-bye. “You’ll be all right here. Stay on base,” he told her. “And don’t leave the house without an escort.”
“When do you think you’ll return?”
“A few days at most.” And because he had to give her something should he not return, he added. “If I’m not back in a week…Chuck will contact Blake.”
The smile she wore fell. “You’ll be back.”
Or die trying.
Blake stood beside his best friend Carter and watched through the mirrored glass while Dean and Jim interrogated the poor teen with a crush on Karen. Not ten minutes into the questioning, Blake knew they were looking in the wrong place.
“He’s not our man.”
Carter shook his head. “I agree.”
Juan finally caught on to the problem in the next room and started to get upset. “Is someone trying to hurt Miss Jones? Is that what you think I’d do?”
“We don’t know, Juan. Why don’t you tell us?” Jim asked.
“She’s like our mom.”
“A mom?” Dean asked.
“OK, maybe not a mom. More like a hot aunt, but she’s like family. If someone’s trying to hurt her you should be out there protecting her instead of talking to me.”
Blake turned away from the mirror. “We’re one step ahead of you, kid.”
Carter shook his head. “Waste of time. Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch this guy on a monitor once they’re up and running.”
“What a cluster. Wish to hell Neil was here.” Then he would have one less thing to worry about.
Dean walked out of the interrogation room and into theirs. “It’s not him.”
“We figured.”
“Are you ready to go through Neil’s things?”
Blake hated invading his privacy like that, but what choice did he leave? He ran a hand through his hair.
“Gotta be clues somewhere as to where he is,” Carter said.
Blake pushed out of the room. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dean walked them out of the station. “I’ll be along in an hour. I have a couple of leads I want to follow up on first.”
On the way back to Malibu, Blake gave Carter some good news. “Samantha’s pregnant.”
Carter swiveled in his seat and removed his sunglasses. “No shit.”
“We’ve been talking about it for a while.” Blake pulled onto the freeway and merged into the crowded California interstate.
“Sounds like you’ve done more than talk about it.”
Blake smiled, remembering the not talking nights with his wife. “Morning sickness is kicking her ass. I wanna get all this shit wrapped up and get back to her, Carter. It’s the only reason I’m going ahead with searching Neil’s personal space.”
“I get it. Neil’s a private guy. But when you run off and think a murderer’s on your tail there’s no telling what’s going on. Neil wouldn’t expect you to sit back and do nothing.”
“He’d expect me to trust him.”
Carter placed his sunglasses back over his eyes. “If anything was panning out to suspect foul play toward Gwen or Neil then it would be a hell of a lot easier to trust the man.”
Back at his estate, Blake and Carter let themselves into Neil’s home. The house was a guest quarters that mimicked the main house in style and structure. The sparsely furnished inside space suited the needs of a bachelor. One room was dedicated to monitoring the main house and Gwen and Karen’s place in Tarzana. The other was a bedroom with the bare minimum of furniture. Although the small kitchen had everything it needed to feed a family, the only things that looked used were the refrigerator and the microwave.
There was a leather couch and a recliner along with a flat screen television hung on the wall of the living room.
“Where do we begin?”
“I’ll start in his office,” Blake told Carter. “You look in his bedroom.”
Carter headed around the corner and into Neil’s room. “What are we looking for exactly?”
“Anything personal. Pictures. Addresses to a friend, family.”
“Aren’t his parents dead?”
Blake sat in Neil’s chair and opened the top drawer of his desk. “Yeah…but I remember him talking about a grandmother.” The drawer held the usual suspects. Pens, notepads, old bills, and receipts for miscellaneous items.