“Listen, Shadow.” Baker finally spoke up again. “Whatever’s going on with this guy is none of my business. And obviously, you don’t have to tell me what it is, but…I really wish you would.”
“I don’t want to get you any more involved than I already have,” she responded honestly.
“You let me worry about me.” He shot her a pointed look. “You’re out here all on your own digging up who knows what kind of shitstorm, and if things start going south with this guy, you’re going to need someone in your corner.”
“It’s…complicated.”
His whiskered chin dipped low. “Complicated, I get. Complicated is something I can understand. But going down a road likethisone… Sweetheart, this has suicide mission written all the hell over it.”
“You don’t even know what I’m planning, Baker.” Shadow brought her blue gaze back up to his. “And I promise you I’m not looking to die.”
“Then what is it you are looking for?”
“Justice.”
He held her stare a moment longer before motioning to the folder in her hands. “What did he do to you?”
“It’s not about me.” Shadow secured the thin flap before placing the envelope back onto the table. Keeping her voice low, she told him, “I want justice for my mother.”
“You’re mother?” Baker’s salt-and-pepper brows dipped in the center. “What did he?—”
“He killed her.”
Her chest grew tight, the familiar pain making sure she never forgot. Not that she could, even if she wanted to. And she’d tried.
Silence filled their booth as she let him process the bomb she’d just dropped. Seconds later, a soft, airy whistle escaped Baker’s bearded lips as he sat back against the cushion behind him.
“When? How?”
“Twenty-six years ago.” She answered his questions in the order they were received. “A bullet to the back of her head while she was sleeping.”
Sympathy poured from his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“No reason for you to know. And, before you ask your next question, let me save you the trouble. I know he’s the man who killed my mother because I…” Shadow worked her throat before clearing it. “I saw him do it.”
“Are you serious?” He shot back up to the table. She could see the wheels turning in his brilliant brain. “Twenty-six years ago. That means you would’ve been about?—”
“Six.” She frowned and looked away. “Yeah. I know. But it was him, Baker. I know it in my gut it was him; I just…” Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath and slow exhale before she met his stare again. “I need to find a way to prove it. The only way I can think to do that is to get a confession, and the only waythatwill happen is if I can figure out a way to?—”
“Blackmail him into agreeing to a meeting,” he finished for her.
Shadow’s head dipped with a single nod. “I thought about going to the cops or the press. Telling them what I remember. Try to convince them to take me seriously. But I know how that whole scene plays out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was six, the house was dark. It was the middle of the night, and I’d just woken up. The man who shot her was wearing a mask, andhe”—she pointed to the folder—“conveniently had a rock-solid alibi for the time of her murder. One that screams cover-up, by the way.”
“Damn.” He looked back at her with a mixture of disbelief and awe. “Owens said you love a good challenge. Sounds like this one’s right up your alley.”
A challenge was right. She’d have to tread very, very carefully.
“I thought about going a different route,” she explained. “I was going to try to get hired onto his staff, then charm my way up the ranks until I finally got close enough to the asshole to make my move. But a plan like that could take several months. Maybe longer. And by then?—”
“The election will be over.”
And it’ll be too late.
Shadow took another sip of her tea, rolling her lips inward to keep the watered-down iced beverage from dripping onto her chin. “He makes it into the Oval Office, it’ll be nearly impossible to get close to him.” Her blue gaze lifted to his. “Can you understand now why this is so important to me and why this can’t wait?”
