4

Nate took a few seconds to let the news sink in. If Stephen Shaw hadn’t been running security tests for the FBI, then who had he been working for? And in the process, had there been any breach in security? Or was he really crazy? All were questions that were going to have to be answered.

“How is that possible?” Gracie asked, beating him to the next question he wanted to ask. “He told me he’d been working for the FBI for the past couple months on several classified matters.”

Paige sat back down on the edge of the chair across from them. “I don’t know, but either he was lying to you, or I suppose it’s possible that he really did think he was working for the FBI. But according to my contact, he definitely wasn’t on their payroll.”

Gracie stood up again, clearly flustered, and started pacing in front of the fireplace. The line of photos on the mantel behind her caught his attention. There was one he recognized of her with her parents and sister. A couple more of her were candid shots with a little girl with bright-blue eyes. But there were none with Kevin. He glanced at her left hand. And no wedding ring. Which was strange. To him they’d been the perfect couple. But he of all people knew how much could change in ten years.

“I’m sorry,” Gracie said. “But I don’t understand what’s going on. Even though Stephen was paranoid and depressed, he wasn’t suicidal. So that leaves murder. I guess someone was after him. Because there was no reason for him to lie to me. Maybe he wasn’t really working for the FBI, but he definitely thought he was.”

“We need to tackle things one at a time,” Nate said. “You said you don’t know anything about a key he might have left you?”

“No. I’ve been trying to figure out why he didn’t just give me the key if he wanted me to have it.” She stopped in front of the mantel, hands on her hips. “I stepped out of the room for a few minutes halfway through our session yesterday, which might have given him time to hide a key, but why all the cloak and dagger? He must have been scared. Paranoid.”

“It doesn’t make sense to me either,” Nate said. “Which is why I think we should head over to your office now and see if we can find that key.”

“Agreed,” Paige said. “The robbery unit is on their way here now. I can stay and update them on what happened. They can take an official statement from you later, Grace.”

“Of course.” Gracie grabbed for her purse sitting at the end of the couch, along with her cell phone. “Let me just quickly tell Becca where I’m going.”

A minute later, he and Gracie were headed toward his car. Fall had blown in with unseasonably warm weather. At the moment, with a slight breeze in the air, the temperature was perfect.

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined reconnecting with an old friend from college,” he said, breaking the silence between them. “But it’s really good to see you.”

She smiled back at him. “I agree. It’s good to see you as well.”

“How long have you been back in Dallas?” Nate caught her gaze as he slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The last time he’d seen her and Kevin had been a year or so after their wedding. The three of them stayed up half the night catching up. Today, though, there was a sadness in her eyes that made him wonder what had happened since he’d last seen her.

“About a year now.” Gracie glanced at the ringless finger on her left hand that lay on the armrest between them. “Kevin and I divorced three years ago, in case you hadn’t heard.”

“No. I . . . I hadn’t, but I’m sorry. I haven’t exactly been in the loop these past few years.”

“He left me.”

He shifted the car into drive but didn’t let his foot off the brake. “I’m so sorry, Gracie. I had no idea.”

“It was over a long time ago. He’s living back east and working for a law firm.” Her words came out with no emotion. As if she was telling him what she’d had for dinner last night, not referring to the end of her marriage. “I was offered a job in a local practice and decided to move back here. It’s been a good change for me.”

Nate pulled away from the curb and started down the tree-lined residential street. Kevin and Gracie were the last couple he’d ever imagined splitting up. He wanted to ask what had happened and who the little girl was in the photo on the mantel, but he knew it wasn’t his place. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him in her own time.

“I’ve always regretted losing track of the two of you,” he said instead. “In college, you think you’ll stay in touch forever, but then . . . I don’t know what happens. Life gets in the way, and before you know it, it’s years later.”

Time had rushed by for him and nothing had turned out the way he’d expected.

“Kevin regretted losing track of you,” she said. “He always planned to try to reconnect, but you’re right. Life happens. Things change.”

“Do you keep in touch with him at all?” As soon as the question was out, it struck him that he’d probably delved into something too personal. “I’m sorry—”

“No. He’s got his own life now apart from mine. It took a long time for me to get back on my feet again, but I’ve accepted it. I just . . . I think I feel sorry for him. I wanted to make things work. To try to find what we’d once had. He just couldn’t do that. Maybe he’s happier now. I don’t know. He remarried and has a little boy.”

“Wow.”

Her revelation surprised him. He remembered clearly the day of their wedding. Kevin was crazy about Gracie, and had been from the first time they’d met. And Gracie had completely fallen for him as well. Back in college, she was beautiful, smart, funny, and carefree. Today, she was still just as beautiful and smart, but seemed more reserved. More distant.

“I never imagined I’d be in this situation,” she said. “Divorced and single at thirty-two. Anyway, I’m really not complaining, because I know the two of you were close. I’ve always tried not to speak bad of him.”

Nate turned onto a busy four-lane road, his surprise turning into aggravation at the knowledge Kevin had walked out on her. “I guess it’s impossible to know what life is going to throw you, isn’t it?”

“I’ve worked to carve out a good life for myself,” she said. “I’ve got a good church, good friends, and I’m doing what I love again. I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Anyway, it’s all in the past now.” Her fingers fidgeted with her purse strap. “If you take a left at the light, my office will be another two blocks on the right-hand side.”

A part of him wanted to ask more questions, but it was clear from her voice that the subject was closed. Which was fine. He wasn’t going to press. As good as it was to see her, they were both different people today than they’d been back in college. He felt sorry for her—for both her and Kevin—but once he finished with this investigation, unless he took the initiative—which he wouldn’t—they’d probably never run into each other again.

Two blocks later, he turned into the parking lot of the counseling center and parked, then they headed for the older one-story building with glass doors and a brick face.

“There are four of us who have offices here,” Gracie said, unlocking the door before stepping into the cozy reception area furnished with two long couches and a coffee table piled with magazines. “There’s also a larger room in the back that we use for group meetings. Mine is the second door on the left.”

He followed her through the small reception area to a door with Gracie’s nameplate.

Gracie stopped. The door was open halfway. “Nate . . .”

He reached for his service weapon. Something was off.

“Stay here.” He moved in front of her, then stepped through the open doorway.

A woman dressed in a black pin-striped skirt and pink blouse stood in the middle of the office that had been completely trashed.

Nate pulled back his suit jacket to expose his badge. “I’m with the police, ma’am. I need to see your hands.”

“Grace . . .” She held up her hands in front of her, her eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

“Nate.” Gracie stopped in the doorway behind him. “This is Anne Taylor. She’s the secretary for the practice.”

“Sorry to have startled you.” Nate holstered his weapon. “I’m Detective Nate Quinn. Can you tell me what happened here?”

“No. I just got here a couple minutes ago. I noticed the door was ajar, and when I came in . . . this is what I found.”

He quickly took in the details of the office. Gracie had done all the things therapists did to try to create a sense of safety for their clients. There were a few plants, calming artwork, neutral wall colors, and several throw pillows with inspirational sayings on a comfy-looking leather couch.

But what once was a clearly organized, cozy room now looked as if it had been hit by a tornado. Books lay in a pile beneath a row of shelves. A plant lay dumped onto the floor, its dirt scattered across the beige carpet. A lamp was broken, next to a couple abstract paintings that had fallen off the wall. Whoever had broken in had done a thorough job of trashing the place.

Gracie stepped into the office and drew in a slow, deep breath. “This is unbelievable. Why would someone do this?”

“I don’t know.” Anne stepped up to Gracie and gave her a big hug. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure. I just feel . . . numb.”

“That’s pretty much how I felt when I first walked in here, but how did you know to bring the police? I hadn’t even called 911 yet.”

Gracie’s gaze swept the floor, surveying the damage before she turned back to her friend. “There was a robbery at my house. We decided to come check things here—”

“What? Did they do this there too?”

“Thankfully, no.”

Anne looked to Nate. “Do you believe this is connected?”

“I believe we have to consider the possibility.”

Anne shook her head. “But why would someone break into your house and here? They must have been searching for something.”

“That’s what we think. I’m just not sure what, at this point.”

“Were any of the other offices broken into?” Nate asked.

“Not that I know of. Grace is usually the first one in, but I can double-check—”

“I’ll need you to wait and not touch anything. I’m going to call in our crime scene unit and see what they can find.”

“Well, I’m here to help in any way I can.”

Nate put in a quick call to his precinct, then turned back to Gracie. “I know this isn’t convenient, but I need you to cancel your appointments, at least for the morning.”

“Of course,” Gracie said. “Anne, go ahead and cancel all my appointments for today.”

Anne raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Including Mrs. Fitzgerald?”

“Tell her I’ll work her in first thing tomorrow, and I’ll bring maple bars. That should appease her.”

She caught Nate’s gaze and shook her head as Anne headed to her own desk to start making calls. “Long story.”

“What about security in the building?” he asked.

“It’s minimal. This is a counseling center, not a bank. We do have an alarm system, though I found out recently that most of the time it’s not even set when the last person leaves.”

“What about cameras?”

“None. But then again, security has never been an issue. There’s nothing of value here to steal.” Gracie walked to the middle of the room. “I’ve put a lot of time into this space, but every piece of furniture is secondhand. There are no electronics, and certainly nothing of value. Nothing really but a few shelves of books and my files. But even in the files, there’s nothing incriminating there.”

“Can you tell from an initial look if anything seems to be missing?”

“Not really. Like I said, the only thing beyond the furniture are my files. It’s going to take time to figure out if any of those are missing.”

She started turning in a slow circle, assessing the damage, and he tried to see the room through her eyes.

“Gracie?”

“I’m sorry. You’re going to think I’m some big blubbering baby. Do you remember our plans back in college?”

He smiled at the memory. “You were going to start your own counseling service and Kevin had visions of being a partner in a law firm before he was thirty.”

“We thought we could save the world.” She picked up a pillow off the floor and tossed it back onto the couch. “I might not own my own practice, but I never totally lost that dream. Even when I found out you can’t save everyone. And maybe I am still nothing more than a dreamer. But this place . . . for me it was a brand-new start. A place where I could make a difference again.”

He’d always been impressed by her compassion. Her draw to those who were hurting. That was the Gracie he’d known back in college. And clearly the same Gracie that stood before him today.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“Yes. I just don’t typically have my life threatened and office ransacked all in one day.” She let out a low chuckle, breaking down some of the awkwardness between them. “I’ve been wishing for a bit more adventure in my life, but I’m thinking I might have to reevaluate that wish.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “You always were able to look at the positive side of things.”

“The bottom line is this has to be connected to whoever broke into my house. There is something that strikes me as odd.”

“What’s that?”

“They broke in here and trashed the place looking for the key they were after. But at my house, they didn’t disturb anything.”

“Was there anything in Stephen’s file that someone might have been able to use against him?”

“Stephen was paranoid. He was worried about the chance of his medical records being subpoenaed in a legal battle one day. He would always tell me not to write down anything personal, so I kept my notes of each session as bare bones as possible. Nothing more than brief updates and any new symptoms he was exhibiting that needed to be addressed in the next session. My observations on how he was doing along with my clinical assessment of the situation for that week. Never anything personal.”

“Is there any way the intruder could have gained access to information in those notes?”

“No. I use my own brand of shorthand for all of my notes. But even if they figured it out, I don’t think there’s anything in them that someone could use.”

“Wait a minute.” Gracie stared at the red betta fish in the corner of the room that swam undisturbed in the chaos. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier, but I had a client who named my betta fish Oscar. Stephen always told me that was a dumb name for a fish.”

Nate crossed the room. “Maybe Oscar really does hold the key then, literally speaking.”

Gracie grabbed a small net and started digging around the blue gravel, then pulled out a key with a bronze ID tag. “Take a look at this. I certainly didn’t drop this here.”

Nate grabbed a tissue from a box on the floor and wiped the key off. “There’s the name of the bank and the box number.” He held it up for her to look at.

“That bank isn’t too far from here,” she said.

Nate ran through their options. There were a number of laws surrounding a safe-deposit box, which included the death of a renter. Something that might delay their access to the box.

“I know this has been a rough few hours for you, but I’d like for you to go to the bank with me and see if we can find out what Stephen left you. We could get a warrant, but it will be quicker this way.”

“Of course.”

He was surprised at her quick response. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do. I have no idea why he left this for me, but he had a reason. I owe him that much.”

“No. You don’t owe him anything.”

“I’m okay. Really. I want to.”

He was still second-guessing his request, but from the look on her face, she was determined to follow through.

Nate pulled up the bank’s website on his smartphone. “The bank lobby opens at nine, so that gives us another . . . forty-five minutes.”

“That’s fine.”

He turned back to her. “Have you ever had a safe-deposit box?”

“No.”

“Here’s what will happen. We’ll drive to the bank. To open the box, as long as your name is on the approved list, all you have to do is walk in, sign your name, and then they’ll give you the contents of the box.”

“Sounds simple enough. I can do that.”

“After that, we’ll head to the precinct, where you can give your official statement.”

Gracie started toward the door with him, then paused at the end of her desk. She picked up a five-by-seven framed photo that had fallen next to it. The glass was shattered, and the photo was of the same little girl he’d noticed back at her house.

“Gracie . . .”

“I’m sorry.” She glanced up at him, then fled the room.