Reunited in Danger (6 page)

Keely darted a glance at the doorway Logan had just exited. “Now?” she asked, staring
at her father until he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he murmured, then turned back to his papers.

Whatever it was, she knew her father well enough to know if he said tomorrow, he meant
tomorrow.

But that didn’t stop a surge of anticipation from running through her system.

Chapter Six

Keely glanced up at the peeling paint above the church entryway arch and stabbed the
doorbell next to the deadbolt her father had installed as a security measure. Logan
stood beside her, squinting in the bright early afternoon sun.

“Sad and ironic that they need to keep a church door locked. But safety always comes
first with Dad.”

Logan nodded. “Yep.”

Most people mistook Great Grace church for a hundred-year-old building instead of
only a neglected fifty.

Even as a young girl, Keely had understood her dad’s congregation members were, for
the most part, blue collar workers who faithfully attended church every Sunday. There
were a few wealthy families who came from Federal Hill and some upscale, rehabbed
neighborhoods, but not many. The pews filled every week, but the collection plate
didn’t.

“Can I help you?” The deep male voice of her dad’s secretary came through over the
intercom.

“Hi, Charlie, it’s Keely. Can you let me in?”

The door unlocked with a buzz.

She pushed on the door but, in spite of the low-humidity October afternoon, the door
wouldn’t budge.

Logan moved to her side. “Here, let me—”

The door swung open to reveal Dave and two teens standing on the other side. “Whoa!
If I’d been a snake, I’d have bit you.” Dave hugged a basketball to his side with
his elbow. “How’s your dad, Keely?”

Two pre-teens in baggy sweats followed him outside. Keely recognized both boys from
the neighborhood. “Working on his sermon,” she said, responding to Dave’s question.

Dave smiled, but kept his gaze focused on the two fidgety boys.

“Dave, this is Logan North.”

As two men shook hands, Dave said, “We’re headed out to the basketball court.”

“Can we go now?” The taller boy, Jason Clark, asked before Logan could answer. Keely
knew his mom well. She was a single mother who worked hard as a hotel maid and pushed
her kids to do their best at school. Fortunately for Jason and other kids like him,
the church provided afterschool activities which kept them out of trouble. Dave had
always found a way to connect with the local kids in danger of joining gangs or becoming
addicted to drugs.

Dave chuckled, the sound a bit forced. “Nice to meet you, Logan. Keely, tell your
dad I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

Logan stared after them as they walked away.

“You want to interview him, don’t you?” Keely asked.

“He’s on my list.”

She sighed. “Who isn’t?” At least she couldn’t fault him for being negligent.

Inside, the scent of the church filled Keely’s nostrils. The lemon furniture polish
on the old wooden pews, the sweet flower aroma left behind from the weekend’s weddings
and occasions, and the lingering smoke from the candles all wrapped together to form
one scent—church. A homey, feel-good scent that calmed her every time she walked through
the doors.

“Hasn’t changed much in ten years.” Logan hesitated in the doorway, then stepped inside.

His hesitation made him look like he was afraid he’d burst into flames, and she suppressed
a smile. “You mean you haven’t been here since joining the Marines?”

He shrugged.

Their soft footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor of the empty church. She opened
a connecting door into the brightly-lit breezeway that led to the offices. The church
was small, but her dad had found ways to make good use of the space. The short hallway
led to a half-dozen small rooms—a nursery for the little ones during church services,
a set of offices for Dave and her father, and a few classrooms for religious education
and community meetings.

The outer door to the reception area outside her dad and Dave’s offices was propped
open. Charlie sat behind the desk, typing on a computer. When she and Logan walked
in, he pushed out of his seat and lumbered around his desk toward them.

Light reflected off his dark, bald head. He clasped his hands in front of him as if
he weren’t sure whether to shake hands or give her a hug. “How is Ben? I wanted to
come visit him, but I didn’t want to be a bother.”

She smiled at the man who had been homeless for over a year before her dad had given
him a job. Charlie worked hard and always had a smile on his face. After reassuring
him about her father’s condition, she introduced him to Logan.

They shook hands and Charlie studied him with narrowed eyes.

“Logan North,” he said slowly. He strode behind his desk and sat. “So what brings
you two here? Ben send you to pick up some stuff so he can work from home? I told
him no working this week.”

“Thanks for keeping Dad in line. We’re actually here to get Su Lin’s phone number.
You don’t happen to have that, do you?”

Charlie shook his head. “It might be in her file, though.”

Her gaze fell to the spot next to Charlie’s chair and immediately recognized something
oddly familiar.
What the hell
?

“Charlie, is that my father’s briefcase?” She rounded the desk and stood beside the
brown leather briefcase that sported an identical large engraving to her dad’s—a small
heart inside of a larger one, the logo for Loving Arms. Why would Charlie have it?
Weren’t the police looking for it?

Her face burned with anger. If Charlie was involved in her father’s attack after all
the things he had done for him…

“No.” Charlie snatched up the briefcase, held it to his chest. “It’s mine. A bunch
of us have the same kind.”

“A bunch of you?” she asked. Logan hovered beside her, his posture erect, reminding
her of a cobra ready to strike.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sweat brimmed on Charlie’s face and he gazed from her to Logan, and
back again. “From one of the adoptive families. They were so happy. We said we couldn’t
accept any sort of gift, but they sent us briefcases. Me, your dad, Dave, Craig Bittinger,
and the foster family…uh, I forget their name…and some of the board members and parishioners.”

“So you don’t mind if we take a look inside your briefcase, then?” Logan asked.

Keely glanced at him. Part of her wanted to defend Charlie’s privacy, but a bigger
part wanted too badly to find out who was behind her dad’s attack to worry about a
small thing like privacy.

Charlie held the case closer to his chest and gazed at his lap. “No. I’m sorry, that’s
not possible.”

“Logan’s with the Baltimore Police Department,” Keely stated. “He could get a subpoena.”
She had no idea whether this situation qualified under search warrant rules, and if
it didn’t, Logan couldn’t legally threaten to get one. But she could.

Charlie frowned, but stared down at his lap with his lips in a tight line. “It’s my
briefcase, and it’s got my private stuff in it.” He glanced up. “I would never hurt
Ben, never in a million years.”

He loosened his grip on the case. “Besides, look.” He pointed to a spot next to the
engraved cross. “It’s got my initials, see? My initials—CNJ. Not Ben’s initials—BMA.”
He held the case closer and she nodded.

“He’s right. Dad’s has his initials.” Her muscles relaxed, but her heart still pumped
hard. Why wouldn’t Charlie just show them the contents? What was he hiding?

Logan frowned, but let it go. “Is Ben’s office unlocked?” he asked. “We need to look
at Su Lin’s file. Ben gave us permission. You can call him to verify, if you want.”

Keely glanced across the room at the two closed doors—one was her dad’s and one belonged
to Dave.

Charlie yanked open the top drawer and loosened his grip on the briefcase. “Here.”
He held out a ring with a dozen keys on it. “This one,” he said, pulling out one of
the keys with a dot of red paint on it, “is Ben’s and Dave’s. They have the same lock
on their doors. I color-coded the keys myself.” He yanked a tissue out of a box on
his desk and blotted sweat from his forehead and face.

“Thanks, Charlie. We’re all on edge about my dad’s attack, so please don’t take anything
personally. We’re just trying to find facts.”

Charlie tucked his briefcase between his feet and set back to work on the computer.

Keely unlocked her dad’s office door, acutely aware of Logan’s breath on her neck
as he stood close behind her. She forced herself to refocus and walked into the small,
cluttered room that smelled of old books. She eased behind her dad’s desk, sat in
the worn-out vinyl chair, and opened the bottom file drawer.

“What the hell was that all about?” Logan murmured, his gaze darting to the spot in
the reception area where Charlie sat.

“I don’t know, but Charlie is obviously hiding something. Do you think you should
get a search warrant even though it’s not my dad’s briefcase?” she asked. Had they
let Charlie off too easy?

“I doubt a judge would sign off with so little evidence. I don’t know why he wouldn’t
open it if he didn’t have anything to hide, though.”

Logan’s gaze connected with hers. What would it be like to run her fingers through
his hair, or to have those strong arms around her?

“What sort of private stuff do you think he keeps in his briefcase?” She nodded at
Charlie.

Logan pursed his lips. “Drugs? Money?”

“I don’t think so. He’s always been so nice and so good at his job. It’s hard to believe
he’d do anything to hurt my dad.”

Logan gave her a look.

“I know, I know. Everyone’s a suspect.” She keyed open the drawer and flipped through
hanging file folders. “Here’s the Loving Arms section.”

Many of the names on the files she recognized, some she didn’t. Since several cases
dealt with private adoptions, her dad often had to keep names confidential. She riffled
through the file tabs twice.

“Su Lin’s file isn’t here.” She closed the drawer and stood.

“Maybe it’s one of these.” Logan leafed through a pile of files on her dad’s desk.

She glanced at the piles of paperwork on a nearby cabinet and thumbed through them,
finding nothing on Su Lin or her family. Loudly, she called out, “Charlie, do you
know if anyone’s been in this office since Ben’s attack?”

Shuffling footsteps moved toward the office. She looked up to see Charlie leaning
against the doorjamb.

“Don’t think so. Ben’s the only one who comes in here. The only time other people
come in is to meet with him.” He drummed his fingers on the wall and stared at the
ceiling. “Since the day he left for the airport to pick up the girl, nobody’s been
in here as far as I know.”

Her gut twisted and frustration grew. She thought it’d be easy—they’d find the copy
of the file, read it, and gain some insight on who might want the information. They
really needed to find Su Lin’s parent’s phone number, too. If she was missing for
real…

“Okay, thanks.” She threw a half-hearted smile at Charlie, who turned and left the
room. “Anything?” she asked Logan, blowing stray hairs off her face. Couldn’t anything
be simple in this search?

He tapped a pile of colorful folders in a neat stack on her father’s desk and straightened.
“Nothing with Su Lin’s name.” He scanned the room. “Who else has access to this room?
Who else has a key?”

“I think just Charlie, my dad, and Dave. But you saw where the key is kept. Anyone
could have gotten it.”

Logan cupped his smooth jaw with his hand, massaging it as he gazed at the paneled
wall.
God, did he ever look good
. She pressed her lips together, reminding herself this was not the time to admire
his chiseled jaw and cheekbones.

“Charlie might not fit the physical description of the assailants, but someone else
at the church might.”

“Hey, look. Dad’s phone book.” She squeezed around the desk to a drawer, opened it
and pulled out a book. Scanning to the right page, she found it. “Yes! Here’s the
Lins’ phone number in Los Angeles.”

“Happen to know anyone who speaks Thai?”

“Amy Bittinger. She’s originally from Thailand. You met her outside Dad’s hospital
room.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “The same Bittinger family Charlie just told us owns one
of the matching briefcases?”

Keely nodded. “Why?”

“Let’s pay them a visit.” Logan moved next to the open file drawer, thumbed through
a few files, then froze. “What the hell?” he said, pulling a folder from the drawer.

“What?” She stepped behind him, glancing at the name on the file.

“Quinn.” He opened the file.

It didn’t feel right to be so nosy, but if something in these files could lead them
to her dad’s attacker, it was justified. She stood beside him and read the top page.
“The file says these people were turned down as adoptive parents.”

Logan stared at the paper, his jaw clenched.

“Who’s Quinn?” she asked. Whoever this Quinn was, something was very wrong.

“My partner.”

…

In his car in the church parking lot, Logan hunched over his phone in the front seat
of his SUV and tapped the screen for Quinn’s number, knowing Keely sat staring at
him from the passenger seat. The afternoon sun warmed the interior and he wiped a
bead of sweat from his forehead. Why wouldn’t Quinn have told him about his connection
to Loving Arms?

Quinn’s cell phone went straight to voicemail.

“I’ll try his home phone.” He dialed, and Marcie Quinn answered on the first ring.
“Logan, how are you? You have to come over for dinner soon.”

“I’d love to.” It was a line, something she expected him to say. Marcie’s alcoholism
kept her moods unpredictable. Too many times she’d arranged a gathering, too many
times people had shown up when she didn’t want them there. “Is Quinn around?”

“He’s asleep. Took a pill, so he’s out for a while.” Her voice was hushed.

Night shift got tougher on cops as the years wore on, and Quinn was pushing fifty.
“Have him call me when he wakes up, okay?” he said, then disconnected and glanced
at Keely.

“We didn’t have a subpoena for those files.”

He shook his head. “We had Ben’s permission to look through them.”

“Why does finding Quinn’s name on a file make you suspicious?”