Hearts in the Crosshairs Read Online Free Page B

coffee?”
    “No, I’m fine, thanks. Will your mother be staying here with you?”
    “She prefers her own home in Belgrade. It’s more private, and it’s close enough for her to see me whenever she wants. But I think I’ll ask her to spend a week or so here while I get settled in my routine.”
    “Sounds like a good idea,” Dave said.
    “Even with the staff, one person alone could rattle around in this big old house.”
    She realized she’d just told Dave she found the Blaine House lonely, and quickly changed the subject. “So, are you any closer to catching the shooter?”
    “We have some leads.” Dave picked up a leather portfolio from beside his chair. As he reviewed it, she studied his profile. Not bad at all. Again she caught herself. She hadn’t considered a romantic relationship since Brendon died, and she refused to think about one now. Even if she did, it couldn’t be with someone from her security unit. She knew how to stick to business, and she would, even in her thoughts. Period.
    He looked up and smiled. “I wish I could tell you we have a viable suspect, but we don’t. Not yet. We have several avenues we’re following, and you can be sure we’re being extravigilant regarding your security.”
    Reaching up to her cheek, she fingered the scrape that wasnow almost invisible. “Can you be more specific about the leads you have?”
    “Of course. I brought a few pictures for you to look at.”
    “Pictures?” She edged her chair closer to his.
    “These were taken on Wednesday during your press conference. Some are stills from news crews’ video footage. The others were submitted by newspaper photographers and people who took snapshots.”
    He passed the portfolio to her. Jillian looked down at the pictures arranged in plastic sleeves. Most were of her and the dignitaries who had stood near her that day: the previous governor and his wife, the state’s congressional representatives, the senior members of the Maine legislature.
    She flipped the page over. The next few were crowd shots, and she raised the portfolio, studying the sea of faces. “This one shows a group of volunteers who helped with the campaign. And these are my law partners.” She glanced over the last few photos and handed the folder back to him. “So who are you looking at?”
    “Well, the man you defeated, of course.”
    “Peter Harrison.”
    “Yes, and his staff.”
    “They wouldn’t stoop so low.”
    “Are you sure?”
    She shrugged. Politics was a tricky game, even in a small state, and she’d overcome her naiveté long ago. But still.
    “Peter and I are polar opposites on the energy issue, and he’s quite passionate about it, but I don’t think…No, I don’t. Who else?”
    He took a small notebook from his inside jacket pocket and consulted it. “How about Arthur Leeman?”
    “He wasn’t happy when I prosecuted him, but then I suspect he’s never happy. He killed his wife and her sister. He’s still in prison, isn’t he?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “You think it was a hired hit.”
    “We can’t rule it out. What about Robert Vincent?”
    She thought back to the high-profile trial that preceded the embezzler’s all-too-short incarceration. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
    “So far, there’s nothing definite on any of the people you helped convict,” he said. “But we’re also looking at a couple of men you defended in private practice. Defendants who lose their cases sometimes harbor resentment toward the attorneys who represented them.”
    She inhaled slowly, knowing he was right. Two cases came immediately to mind. In both instances, she knew she’d defended a guilty man. “Are you looking at Roderick Tanger?”
    Dave nodded. “I sure am. And does the name Gerald Francis ring a bell?”
    “Yes. Check them both.” She shivered. Most of the time, she’d loved being an attorney, but there were days that still haunted her. “How will I know what you’ve found out?”
    “I’ll report to you at