She was happy that his search was veering away from her boss.
"Do you know Craig Haller?"
"Only by reputation. I've never met him." She sat back as the waiter set down a platter of amazing-looking tacos in front of her. "Oh, wow. These look delicious."
"So good I'm going to have to put down my phone," he agreed. As he reached for a shrimp taco, he added, "I hope you can keep up with me."
"I can. I was the middle child, remember? I learned early on not to wait for someone to share with me. But you wouldn't know about that. The only child gets everything he wants," she teased. "That's probably why you can't believe it when people don't want to talk to you."
He laughed. "Maybe. I don't get everything, but the things I really want, Dani, I usually do get."
His gaze rested on her face for so long, her lips tingled, and she hastily put the taco in her mouth. Otherwise, she might have done something stupid, like lean across the table and kiss him.
She was pretty good at getting what she wanted, too.
* * *
"I'm stuffed," Dani announced as she got into the car and fastened her seat belt.
"You should be. You beat me by a taco," Patrick said.
"They were good, and I was hungry. I think that's my new favorite taco place. It's probably a good thing it's across the river, or I'd go more often."
"It was good. I don't usually think I can get great tacos outside of Texas, but I was proven wrong tonight."
She settled back in her seat as Patrick drove them back to the city, the lights of DC thrilling her a little, as they always did. Maybe one day she'd get tired of the city crush, the political maneuvering, the long hours, the not-so-great pay, and even the sometimes nasty lobbying and spin, but she was still green enough to want to see if she could work her way through it all and find a way to the top.
She yawned, feeling sleepy after the food and all the tension of the last few days. "I feel relaxed," she murmured.
Patrick didn't say anything, and when she glanced over at him, she did not see any sign of relaxation on his sharpened profile. His gaze darted from the rearview mirror to the sideview mirror and back again.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Probably nothing."
"What does that mean?"
"There's a car behind us. It's been there since we left the restaurant."
"It's just going in the same direction. This is a popular route."
"Yeah, maybe." He changed lanes, then checked again.
She looked in the mirror on her side of the car. All she could see were lights. "Which car is it?"
"It's a silver SUV."
"That doesn't sound like a law enforcement car."
"Oh, I wouldn't think it was law enforcement."
Her nerves tightened as Patrick sped up, switched lanes, then took a quick exit, merging into the more crowded city streets. "Is it still there?"
"Four cars back."
Her pulse began to race. "Can you lose it?"
"I'm going to give it a shot."
He pressed the gas once again, darting in and out of traffic, turning down an alley and then across another street and into a crowded parking lot. He turned off the lights, keeping the engine on.
"Is stopping a good idea?" she asked nervously.
"I think I lost the car, but I want to make sure."
"If they come up behind us, we'll be trapped."
"I can see the only entrance to the lot from here. If they turn in, we'll move."
For several long minutes, they sat in tense, dark silence. Every time a car came near the entrance, her heart skipped a beat, but there was no sign of the SUV.
"I think we're okay," Patrick said a few minutes later.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded, putting his hand over hers. It was then she realized she'd been twisting her great-grandmother's ring around and around on her finger.
"I'm sure," he said. "I might have imagined the whole thing."
"You don't believe that, Patrick."
"I don't know what I believe." His fingers tightened around hers. "I shouldn't have involved you in this, Dani. I'll take you home now."
"We should give it a little more time, just in case."
"All right."
She drew in a deep breath and let it out. "I don't know why I feel so—scared. It was probably a soccer mom driving her kids back from a game in Alexandria."
"Could have been."
"Or it could have been someone watching us." She remembered Joe's parting words—
in DC, you never know who's watching or who's listening
. "Did you notice any cars following us back from Joe's house?"
"I didn't. Not on the way there or the way back. I actually looked a few times."
She wished she'd been as alert and wary as Patrick had been. She'd never considered that someone might follow them anywhere. "So why would they pick us up at the taco place?" she asked. "How would anyone know we were there?"
She didn't like the answer she saw in his eyes. "Not Joe. He wouldn't have told anyone."
"He's the only one who knew where we were going."
"He could have sent us anywhere, but he sent us to someone who gave us new information. He's trying to help. I know him, Patrick. He can be trusted."
"I have a hard time trusting anyone." He paused, his gaze clinging to hers. "But I do trust you, Dani. And I hope you can trust me."
She didn't know if she could trust Patrick. She had a lot of mixed emotions when it came to him. In her heart, she thought he was a good guy, but there was a lot about him she didn't know. Like how ruthless he could be in pursuit of the truth. How could she trust someone who might destroy her career?
Patrick's phone buzzed, and he released her hand to answer it. "It's the Corpus Christi Police Department."
Now she had another reason to be nervous.
"Hello?" Patrick asked as he put the phone on speaker.
"This is Detective Hobbs. I have some information for you. A gas station security camera half a mile from the park where you were attacked picked up a man wearing similar clothes to those you described. Unfortunately, that man was located behind the gas station with a needle in his arm. He overdosed, and he's dead."
Dani was shocked, and she could see Patrick's face pale.
"Are you sure it's the same guy?" Patrick asked.
"I believe it is."
"When did it happen?"
"We don't have an exact time of death, but it appears that it occurred several hours after your attack. We're still trying to identify him. I'll be in touch when we know more."
"All right. Thanks." Patrick blew out a breath as he ended the call. "What do you think about that?"
Her pulse was racing. "It's not good. Do you think it was suicide?"
"It sounds like it. Or someone wanted it to look that way."
"I thought I'd feel better if they found the guy," Dani said, meeting his gaze. "But I don't. Even though he's dead, it feels…strange. Like his death creates more questions than it answers."
Agreement showed in his eyes. "I feel exactly the same way."
She wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling suddenly cold. "I wish we knew who he was. I don't understand why someone attacked you. Why this guy was killed. Why we might have been followed. It doesn't make sense."
"There is one other person who knew where we were tonight," Patrick said, as he started the car.
"Who?"
"Rico Montalvo."
"But he gave us a lead."
"Doesn't mean he didn't tip someone else off."
"Or there was no one actually following us," she said, wishing she could believe that, but she couldn't.
Eight
Patrick watched the road closely on his way back to Dani's apartment building. His mind was racing a mile a minute, jumping from what Detective Hobbs had told him about his assailant, to the car he'd seen following them, to the mention of a reporter who might be able to tell them what his mom was working on. He wanted to follow up on every single thing, but it was almost ten o'clock at night, and first and foremost, he wanted to get Dani home safe.
He parked his car down the block from her apartment building, insisting on walking her upstairs. She didn't argue, so he knew she was a little spooked by the night's events.
After she let him into her apartment, he did a quick check of the bedroom, bathroom, and closets before going back into the living room. "I think I should stay on your couch tonight," he said.
She immediately shook her head. "No, I'll be fine on my own."
"You're shaken up."
"A little," she admitted, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "But I live in a security building—"
"It's not that secure. You know how people are in buildings like this; they'll ring people in without knowing who they are."
"Not usually. The tenants are pretty good, and I have a dead bolt on my door. Besides, I have a feeling I'm in more danger when I'm with you."
"That might be true," he said heavily. "So that gala that's happening tomorrow night. Can you still try to get me a ticket? It occurs to me that Craig Haller might be there as well as Senator Dillon."
"I can try."
"I appreciate it."
She stared at him, her green eyes troubled. "I've been thinking about your attacker and the way he died. It doesn't feel like a suicide."
"No, it doesn't."
"Did you tell Detective Hobbs that you're investigating your mother's death?"
"No. Sunday night, I was in shock, and since then I've debated whether or not to bring it up, but I haven't come to a conclusion. If the police can ID the man, maybe that will help me understand whether he's tied into any of this or not."
"Okay. I guess we'll just wait and see what the police come up with."
"Or what we—make that
I
—can come up with on my own."
"Are you going to get in touch with Ann Higgins?"
"I'm going to try. Maybe she'll be at the gala tomorrow night, too."
"It will get a lot of press. If I can get you a ticket, I'll call you tomorrow."
"Are you sure you won't feel better if I stay tonight, Dani? I hope you know you can trust me."
She hesitated for a split second, and then shook her head. "I'll be fine."
He felt a little disappointed in her response, but he could also understand it. "All right, but call me if you need me."
She nodded and followed him to the door. After he left, he heard the dead bolt slide into place.
He was happy about that. He could risk his own life for the truth, but he didn't want to risk hers. He knew he needed to leave her alone, to get her out of his story. But as he walked down the stairs, he wondered if it was already too late.
* * *
Dani tried to work Wednesday. She buried herself in research reports on port studies and other issues the senator needed to address before the summer recess. But more often than she would have liked, her mind drifted to Patrick, to their meeting with Joe and then with Rico, to the possibility that someone had been following them, to the knowledge that the man she'd fought with in the park was now dead.
Was the park attack related to Patrick's investigation? But why?
They hadn't really learned that much; nothing particularly incriminating, nothing worth being attacked for, or being killed over. What were they missing?
Did Patrick know more than he realized? Or was someone just worried that Patrick was going to dig up something that needed to remain buried?
As the questions buzzed around in her head, she leaned back in her office chair and stared at the computer screen in front of her. Her screensaver showed a spectacular photo of the Northern Lights, one of the items on her bucket list, and a reminder that there was a world outside DC, something that was easy to forget.
But this was her world now, and it was being threatened. If she kept helping Patrick, she could potentially risk getting in trouble with her boss and losing her dream job. Did she really need any other reason to quit?
She did feel for Patrick. She understood his motivation because his situation was so similar to hers that it had brought back all her unsettled feelings about her father and his mysterious death.
Alicia would want to know why she was willing to help Patrick but not dive into the search for her own father. Jake might even ask her the same question now. She didn't have an answer.
She told herself she had helped her siblings. She'd talked to the FBI after Jake's trip to Mexico. She'd relayed all the important information to Senator Dillon for the Senate hearings. She'd agreed to finance the private investigator Alicia had hired, but none of that had gotten them closer to any answers. So she'd just tried to accept the fact that she'd never know what happened to her dad.
But here was Patrick, chasing his own mystery and making her wonder if she'd given up too soon on hers.
"Dani?"
She sat up abruptly, wondering how long Erica had been standing by her desk. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."
"Yes, you seemed lost in thought," Erica said. "Something wrong?"
"No, just going over the To-Do list, making sure I'm not forgetting anything."
"You're a hard worker, Dani. I respect that."
"Thanks," she said, a little surprised by Erica's comment. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Have you spoken to Patrick Kane again?"
She hadn't been expecting the direct question. She hadn't wanted to lie to Erica. But now she was on the hot seat. She decided on a half-truth. "He did contact me again. I told him that I couldn't help him, that he'd have to speak to you."
"And his answer?"
"He wasn't happy about it, but he seemed to accept it."
"Did he say anything else?"
"About what?"
"About the senator?" Erica said impatiently.
"He reminded me that Senator Dillon was a good friend of Senator Stuart. He suggested that a conversation between them would only be helpful." She paused, licking her lips. "Maybe it would be."
"The senator is quite firm on this subject," Erica said. "I hope this is the end of your contact with Mr. Kane."
"I told him there is nothing I can do for him."