Surprised the man knew her name, Brynnon stopped mid-step and turned back around. The older man—she guessed him to be in his sixties—approached her.
“You are Senator Cantrell’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry, have we met?”
The man shook his head, his blue eyes zeroed in on hers.
Okay...Calling upon years of experience dealing with the public, Brynnon held out her hand and smiled. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I’m Brynnon.”
“I know who you are,” he spoke sharply, refusing to take her hand.
Alarm bells started going off in her head. Returning her arm to her side, she asked, “And you are?”
“Charles Miller. I’m”—he paused half a second before blurting, “I’m a reporter.
Brynnon glanced down at the generic press badge hanging around the man’s collared neck. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Who do you write for?”
The man’s eyes skittered away for only a second before finding hers again. “The, uh, Dallas Observer.”
“I’m familiar with it.” Brynnon offered the man a smile. “Are you wanting to know more about the children’s Christmas party we’re putting on today?”
“Actually, I want to know how your father sleeps at night.”
The man’s statement took her completely off guard. “Excuse me?”
“Cantrell Construction built the bridge that collapsed near Kunar six years ago, correct?”
Brynnon’s heart thumped hard inside her chest at the memory of such a tragic event in the U.S. military’s history. “Y-yes, but—”
“Twelve soldiers died that day because your father decided to use low-quality supplies.”
She recoiled as if she’d been struck. It had been years since anyone had asked her about that day. “I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, was it? I don’t know who your source is, but I can assure you, my father’s company used only the highest quality supplies foreveryproject they took on. Furthermore, there was a full investigation into the cause of the collapse, and Cantrell Construction was not found liable in any way. I’m sure your boss can get you a copy of the report. Honestly”—she shook her head— “I’m not sure why your editor would even send you here to question me about something that’s old news.
Rather than appease him, the man’s eyes flared with anger. “Old news?”
“Yes. As you, yourself stated, the incident happened over six years ago. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to get back to the children.”
With a snarl, the reporter got in her face. “Your father is a murderer, and I’m going to make sure the world knows it.”
****
Grant watched Brynnonsay something more to her friend and head for the wing’s entrance. He took a step in that direction, but Angie—the woman Brynnon had introduced to him as her best friend when they’d first arrived—mouthed the word,Bathroom.
Glancing to where Brynnon had disappeared, he hesitated before deciding to stay put. He hated having her out of his sight for even a minute, but he’d already noticed the dead-end hallway as they’d walked in earlier. The only things down there were the two restrooms with a water fountain in between. And it wasn’t like he could follow her into the bathroom.
I’ll give her five minutes, then I’m going after her.
With a nod, Grant let her friend know he understood and stayed where he’d been posted for the past hour. Two minutes later, a young, African American boy he’d seen opening presents earlier approached him. Wearing a pair of Transformers pajamas, the kid appeared to be about eight years old.
Only two years younger than—No. He wasnotgoing to go there.
“You Miss Brynnon’s boyfriend?” the boy asked boldly.
Grant dialed back his emotions, his deep voice answering, “Depends. Who’s asking?”
“I’m Kenny.” The young man held out his hand.
Dwarfed inside Grant’s fist, the two shook hands. “Grant.”
