if the victim was his dad.
* * *
As Lillie watched the confusion play over Dawson’s face, the memories from her own childhood bubbled up within her. “After my mother disappeared, I cried myself to sleep night after night. More than anything, I wanted a normal life, someone to love me, to tuck me in when I went to bed and help me get dressed in the morning.”
She pulled in a fragile breath. “I was fortunate the McKinneys took me in. They were patient and loving, but at four years old, I wanted my own mother to wrap me in her arms.”
With a rueful smile, she added, “Sometimes I think I never stopped mourning her loss, and as much as I wanted to block out everything that had happened, I feared the McKinneys would be taken from me as well.”
Understanding mellowed Dawson’s gaze and made her question why she told him things she had never told anyone else. She reached for her purse, trying to shield herself from what she saw in Dawson’s eyes.
“I can’t be late for work.”
He grabbed her hand. “Lillie.”
She stopped and looked up, her breath stalled by his closeness.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She tried to smile. “Life can be a tough place for kids, but I...I shouldn’t have mentioned my own problems, Dawson. You have enough of your own.”
“You don’t have to hide anything from me.” His voice was gentle, like the morning mist.
As much as she wanted to believe him, she had spent her whole life covering up the pain of being a child left behind. She couldn’t admit the way she really felt to anyone. Especially not to a man whose crystal-blue eyes could see into her heart.
She dug her keys out of her purse and tilted her head, trying to lighten her tone and her expression. “I don’t want to keep General Cameron waiting.”
Dawson nodded and followed her outside. “You lead. I’ll take up the rear.”
“Once we get to post, I’ll be fine.”
He opened her car door. “I’ll follow you to your office.”
She climbed behind the wheel. He closed the door and gazed through the car window. “Lock your doors,” he mouthed.
So like a cop, but she complied with his request, feeling oddly relieved that someone was concerned about her well-being. Dawson was probably just doing his job. No reason for her to jump to any other conclusion, which she continued to tell herself as they entered Fort Rickman and drove toward post headquarters.
Lillie parked close to the building and met up with him on the sidewalk. “Thank you.”
His hand touched her back. “I’ll follow you inside.”
Her cheeks flushed as they hurried along the walkway and climbed the steps. Dawson held the door for her, and her heels clicked along the tile floor.
She stopped in front of the elevator.
“Let’s take the stairs,” he suggested.
The elevator door opened and she stepped inside. “This will be faster.”
He hesitated before joining her. As the door closed, Lillie could tell something was wrong. Dawson’s face paled. He licked his lips and clenched his fist until the doors opened on the second floor.
She stepped onto the landing. “I take it you don’t like elevators.”
“Actually, the problem is confined spaces.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” She pointed him toward the general’s suite, located at the far end of the hallway.
Dawson studied the long corridor, probably assessing her safety. Leaving him to do his job, she entered the office and nodded to the general’s aide.
“Morning, Mark.”
Medium height with broad shoulders and a military haircut, Captain Mark Banks stood near her desk, holding a phone to his ear. Hopefully he hadn’t retrieved the message concerning Dawson.
“I was worried, Lillie.” He held her gaze longer than necessary.
As much as the aide wanted to be part of her life, Lillie had rejected his advances. She didn’t need a relationship with someone with whom she shared an office or worked with on a daily basis.
“The CID called.” His brow creased with concern. “They said you were involved in a shooting.”
Dawson had evidently completed his hallway security check because, at that moment, he entered the outer office and glanced from Lillie to the general’s aide.
Mark squared his shoulders. “You’re from the CID?”
“That’s right. Special Agent Dawson Timmons.” He flashed his identification.
“Lillie’s not in trouble, is she?” the aide asked.
“Of course not.” She let out a frustrated sigh. Suddenly her life had gotten complicated. “A man was shot. He died. No one knows why he chose my front porch.”
As if doubting her overly simplistic explanation, the aide puffed out his chest. “Surely Mr. Timmons has some idea of what happened.”
Ignoring the aide’s sarcasm, Dawson nodded. “We’re working with the Freemont police. At this point, nothing significant has come to light.”
Lillie had hoped coming to work today would ease her anxiety. Standing between two men playing a game of one-upmanship made her wish she had called in sick.
The best way to rectify the situation was to send Dawson on his way. “Thank you, Agent Timmons, for all your help. I’ll be fine from now on.”
He glanced at his watch. “I want to update General Cameron on what happened. I’ll stick around until he arrives.”
Mark raised his brow. “I thought you didn’t have additional information?”
What was it about men? They were always in competition.
Edging away from Mark, she rounded her desk and dropped her purse in the bottom drawer. “The general’s tied up this morning, Dawson, but I can pencil you in later.”
At that moment, the outer door opened and General Cameron stepped into the office. Mark and Dawson came to attention.
Lillie smiled. “Good morning, sir.”
In his early fifties with a square face and receding hairline, the general nodded to the two men and then softened his stern expression as he turned to Lillie. “The staff duty officer called me at home and told me there had been a shooting at your house. You’re all right?”
“I was never in danger, besides...” She extended her hand toward Dawson. “Special Agent Timmons arrived shortly after the shooting. He followed me to post to ensure I arrived safely.”
The general extended his hand. “Thank you for helping Lillie.”
Dawson accepted the handshake. “The Freemont police are handling the investigation, sir. I’ll be working with them.”
“Any leads?”
“Not at this time.”
“Keep me abreast of the situation.”
“Will do, sir.”
The general nodded to his aide. “Morning, Mark.” He then headed through another door that led to his inner office suite.
Lillie pulled out her desk chair. Before she sat down, the outer door opened again, and Karl Nelson hustled into the office. Forty-something and slightly out of breath, the head of Nelson Construction smacked of small-town wealth in his hand-tailored suit, starched white shirt and red tie.
“I’m early for