When he turned to look at her, the darkness in those cobalt eyes changed to glittering heat. The answering rush of warmth she felt warned her to keep her distance.
“Did you . . . umm . . . turn up anything new in those flash drives?”
“I only got through the one containing personal information. You were right. Most of it was stuff about people my father worked with in Congress, names of their wives and children, their interests and hobbies, sports their kids were involved it. Stuff that made for good conversation.”
“And the rest?”
“He kept that flash drive hidden for a reason. Some of it was similar to the information on George Larson—personal, intimate, and extremely incriminating. If he used it to getwhat he wanted, it was blackmail. As soon as this is over, I’ll destroy it.”
Beau hadn’t exaggerated his father’s lack of ethics. As they dug deeper, Cassidy wondered how much worse it was going to get.
“If he was blackmailing someone,” she said, “they would definitely have a motive for wanting him dead.”
“There were notes typed under the names. I didn’t see anything posted recently. George Larson was the last file he opened and the last entry he made, and that was a couple of months back.”
Her cell rang. Beau checked the caller ID, then pressed the phone to his ear. He started talking and some of the tension eased from between his shoulders. “Okay, that’s good. We’ll chopper in so they can’t follow us.”
He hung up the phone. “Chief Warren agreed to let us go back to Dallas.”
“That’s great, Beau.”
Since his pilot’s number was in his cell, he called Marty Chen and told him to have the chopper return to Pleasant Hill.
“I need my car,” Cassidy said. “I’ve got some things I need to do back in Dallas. I can meet you there.”
“We’ve got work to do. I need you to come with me. I’ll send people down to pick up both our cars and bring them back to the city.”
She was ambivalent. She needed to go into her office, do some follow-up with some of her clients. She needed to stop by her apartment and pick up fresh clothes. But she didn’t want to clash with those reporters any more than he did. And there was the problem of Beau, himself. If she stayed with him, she’d end up back in his bed. As she’d said, he was smart and he was determined, and she was wildly attracted to him. She was a woman and in no way immune to that magnetic Beau Reese charm.
Figuring she could make up her mind once her car arrived in the city, she went to pack her things. Beau had managed to escape the main house with his computer and the flash drives. Cassidy packed up her laptop, along with the manila files they had found, which she still hadn’t had time to go through completely.
When she went back and looked out the window, she was surprised to catch a glimpse of two police cars rolling down the block toward the house. A few minutes later, she heard a knock on the guest house door.
Beau had seen the cars, too, and worry tightened his shoulders. He strode over to answer the knock and found four uniformed patrolmen on the porch.
“Afternoon, Officers. What can I do for you?” The reporters had followed the police, trespassing across the backyard and swarming into position around the guest house front door. A dozen cameras waited to catch a glimpse of Beau.
“Chief Warren sent us,” one of the patrolmen said. “We’re here to help with crowd control.”
Beau relaxed. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
It was getting noisy outside. It seemed even the cloudy weather and threat of rain couldn’t deter the news hounds.
“Hey, Beau! How about a story for old times’ sake?” An attractive blond reporter smiled and waved. Cassidy wondered how well he knew her.
A chorus of others started shouting. “Beau, tell us what happened! Did you kill your father? What about Jess Milford? Give us the scoop, Beau!”
The dull roar of an aircraft engine and a depression of air signaled the arrival of the chopper, circling, then descending, the noise covering the boisterous shouts of the crowd.
Beau turned to Cassidy. “You ready?”
“More than.” One of the officers grabbed the handle ofher carry-on. Cassidy slung the strap of her computer over her shoulder and grabbed her purse.
Beau grabbed his computer and the manila files. “Let’s go.”
One of the patrolmen stepped outside, into the throng of pushing, shoving reporters. Beau followed, keeping her close beside him while the other three officers blazed a trail through the unruly mob toward the edge of the golf course, where the helicopter had landed and sat with its blades slowly spinning.
They were still yelling Beau’s name as he and Cassidy climbed inside, strapped themselves into their seats, and the chopper lifted away. Cassidy’s stomach swooped up as the ground dropped away beneath them and the helicopter rose into the air.
