9:09 p.m.
potomac, maryland
His father-in-law on his right—the man a half step behind and clutching two suitcases—Ashford held Cassandra in one arm, as he set his duffel bag on the porch and pushed a button next to the front door.
Cassandra rubbed her eyes with both hands. “Why—” she yawned, “are we here, Ash?”
“We’re here to see a friend of mine.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
Ashford chortled to himself. Did I ask this many questions when I was six? “Think of it as a...a...as a...”
“Like the time we camped out in the living room.”
Pivoting his upper body, Ashford glimpsed the man behind him before looking at the little girl. “Yeah...like camping out in the living room.” A second passed. “Do you remember Raychel?”
Cassandra yawned again, “I’m tired,” and laid her head on Ashford’s shoulder.
He cupped the back of her head. “Close your eyes, Cass. You’ll be in bed in no time.”
The porch light turned on, and the door half opened. A five-eight woman wearing a Dallas Cowboys’ t-shirt, navy blue shorts, and white ankle socks stood in the archway. Her dark brown hair fell well below her shoulders and matched her brown eyes and year-round tanned skin; all blessings from her mixed-heritage parents, one Mexican and one Caucasian.
“Ash.” The woman ogled her late-night visitors. “What’s...why are...”
“Sorry for the intrusion, Cruz.” Ashford took a step, put his free hand on FBI Special Agent Raychel DelaCruz’s waist, and pecked her cheek. “I was hoping you’d let us crash here for the night.”
Her mouth agape, Cruz gave the threesome another look, “Um...sure...I guess.” A tick later, she backed up, “What am I saying?” and opened the door the rest of the way. “Yes, yes, of course you can. Come in. Come in.”
Ashford and Mahoney entered and set their bags on the floor.
Cruz shut the door and took Cassandra from her former FBI partner. “How about I take Cassie upstairs and put her to bed? She looks beat.”
Ashford nodded. “That would be great. Thanks.”
She headed for the staircase.
“Uh...Cruz?”
She turned around.
“I’ll explain all this when you get back.”
“I know. No worries.” She glimpsed the door. “Where’s Jessica?” Cruz and Devlin had crossed paths a year ago while working separate cases. Those cases had ended up converging on a gang leader trafficking women from other countries. During the last year, the two women had stayed in contact with each other.
“She’s not here.”
Cruz frowned. “Is everything okay between you two?”
Ashford flashed a fading smile. “Yes. We’re good. Like I said...I’ll explain everything.”
After studying him for a moment, she nodded, “Okay,” and carried Cassandra up the stairs, throwing a backward glance his way when she hit the halfway point.
“I heard the doorbell, Cruz.”
All eyes turned toward the loud voice coming from the upstairs walkway.
“Who was at the door?”
Dressed in gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt—both articles of clothing sporting Detroit Lions’ logos—a five-eleven man with short, light brown hair wiped a towel over his face and looked up from the cell phone he was carrying. White wires ran from his ears to the device.
Ashford smiled and nodded at the man. “Hey Hardy.”
Former U.S. Marine turned covert operative Aaron Hardy pulled out the earbuds and returned the gesture. “Hey Ash.” He spied the man next to Ashford, “What’s,” before glimpsing his approaching girlfriend and the child in her arms, “going...”
She bypassed Hardy.
He cranked his head around to follow her, “...on?”
Cruz smiled at him, “They’re staying the night,” before she ducked into a guest bedroom.
Facing the men on the first floor, Hardy gave them a single dip of his chin. “All right then. I guess you’re staying the night.” He descended the steps. “How’s it going, Ash?”
“I don’t believe you’ve met Jessica’s father.” Ashford lifted an arm, “Martin Mahoney,” before swinging the limb toward Hardy, “Aaron Hardy.”
The two men shook hands.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mahoney.”
“Actually,” Ashford interjected, “it’s Father Mahoney.”
Hardy slowly nodded at his friend. “I know. He’s Jessica’s father. You just mentioned that.”
“No, man,” Ashford smiled, “it’s Father Mahoney...as in...he’s a Catholic priest.”
“Oh.” Hardy ogled the elder man. A beat later, he arched his brows. “Oh...my apologies, Father.”
Mahoney waved a hand. “Don’t be. The Father Mahoney ritual gets old. Sometimes, it’s nice to be called Martin.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” He shot a look at each houseguest. “Can I get either of you a drink?”
Ashford shook his head. “None for me. Thanks.”
“Since I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight,” Mahoney acknowledged Hardy, “I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee—black with caffeine please...if you have it.”
Wagging a finger above his shoulder, “One coffee coming up,” Hardy strolled into the kitchen.
*******
Twenty minutes later
9:36 p.m.
“So, after getting that call from Jessica, I decided the house wasn’t safe.” Once Cruz had joined the men, Ashford had spent the next ten minutes going over everything that had happened. “Whoever was in the black SUV knew where we lived and—”
“And,” sitting on the couch, Cruz on his right, Hardy sipped his coffee, “at any time, they could make another run at your family.”
Ashford nodded. “That’s right. At first, I thought about taking everyone to a hotel, but then,” his eyes fell upon Cruz, “I thought of you.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you did. You know you’re welcome here, anytime.” She spied Hardy. “Do you think we can take this to the President?”
Hardy uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, and methodically placed his cup on the coffee table. “I think,” he winced, “I think we can speak to Director Jameson,” before shaking his head, “but not the President. This might turn out to be a random mugging attempt, a matter for local police. At this point, I’d say we can’t involve the President.”
Ashford scowled at the two on the sofa. “The president of,” he paused, “what exactly?”
Hardy and Cruz gave each other a look before coming back to Ashford, their faces stoic.
“You mean thee President?”
They nodded.
“What...you two have the President of the United States on speed dial?”
Cruz shook her head. “No.”
Hardy nodded. “Yes.”
The couple regarded each other.
“Well,” he lifted a shoulder, the one nearer to his woman, “he’s further down the list. You’re still my number one contact.”
She half grinned. “I better be.”
“Okay,” Ashford leaned back in the easy chair across the table from them, “I think we have some catching up to do, Cruz.”
She chuckled, “That we do,” before wavering. “Look, Ash,” Cruz crossed her legs and pushed her t-shirt hem over her knees, “if I know anything about Jessica, it’s that her loved ones mean everything to her.”
Ashford nodded.
“She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their safety. And, in this case, that means keeping you in the dark about,” Cruz rolled her head, “whatever’s going on down in Mexico.”
Hardy grabbed his cell. “Without more details, I’m afraid all we can do is help you,” he pointed his chin at Father Mahoney, “protect your family. That being said, I’ll still place a call to Jameson. He’s higher up the food chain. Maybe he knows something we don’t...or can ask questions of people that we can’t question.”
“It seems,” Mahoney put his cup on the table, “you people have some work to do. So,” he rose from his chair, “I think I’ll take this opportunity to excuse myself...and try to get some shuteye.”
Cruz stood. “I’ll show you your room, Father.”
“Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to sleep on the floor at the foot of my granddaughter’s bed. I brought my sleeping bag.”
Head down, Hardy thumbed his cell phone. “Just like a good shepherd would do.”
Cruz, Ashford, and Mahoney fell silent.
After several seconds of hearing only the ticking sound of a nearby clock’s second hand, Hardy looked up and saw everyone staring at him. “You know,” his gaze went from one person to the next, “like in biblical times...when the shepherd would literally lie across the opening to the sheep pen. Any predator that wanted to harm his flock would have to go through him.” He motioned toward the religious man. “Am I right, Martin?”
Hearing his first name being spoken aloud, Mahoney smiled at Hardy. “You and I are going to get along just fine, young man. And, yes...you are right.” He raised a hand. “Good night, all.” The man picked up his sleeping bag and suitcase and ascended the staircase to a chorus of well wishes.
Cruz pointed at Ashford’s duffel bag. “Grab your stuff.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “You’ll be sleeping in the room next to Cassie’s.”
“Wait a minute.” Ashford snagged the hand she was motioning with, her left hand. He frowned at the appendage before peering at her. “We just saw each other...what...two months ago?” Hardy, Cruz, Ashford, and Devlin had met for drinks at a restaurant. The occasion had marked Hardy’s introduction to the latter couple.
Ashford lowered his gaze to a piece of jewelry on Cruz’s finger. “And that wasn’t there.”
The trio exchanged glances, two of the three grinning from ear to ear.
Ashford shot out a puff of air. “I stand corrected, Cruz.” He let go of her hand. “You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
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