Flashback

came to her. Admiral Farragut had indeed said “Damn the torpedoes.” But he’d followed it with “Full speed ahead!”
“All right, then,” she said aloud. “Full speed ahead it is.”
And she began to plan her packing.
“Right there,” Alex said.
They were seated at Justin’s now-cluttered dining table in the alcove that looked out at the gravel and cactus garden. He reached for the pad she’d pointed at, that held her notes from the original file on Marion’s murder.
“It’s only my notes from reading the original,” she told him. “Eric couldn’t let the original file out of his custody, and I didn’t want to get him into trouble.”
“Eric?”
“Eric Hunt. He’s the detective who handled the case originally.”
Justin leaned back in his chair. He’d been clearly startled when she’d so easily agreed to staying with him here. Startled but pleased. So was she, actually. If nothing else, she’d learned that while he wasn’t a slob, he wasn’t a neat freak either—nothing was out of control, but the place looked comfortably lived in.
So far it had gone well. Of course, so far all it had been was more of what she’d been doing for what seemed like days, going over the same data over and over, twisting, turning, squeezing, always hoping something new would fall out.
Tonight might be a different story. The hotel had been neutral territory of a sort; his bed was something else. But she’d worry about that when the time came.
“Good luck reading them,” she added, gesturing at the notes. “I was kind of in a hurry.”
“I’ll manage,” he said, and picked up the yellow legal pad.
She watched him for a moment, watched those amazing-colored eyes dart so quickly she wondered how he could be taking anything in. But she was under no delusion that his mind wasn’t just as quick, and she turned back to her sorting.
He finished her notes, then started on the list of names from Marion’s prosecutorial days, and then her county attorney cases. Alex stayed silent, hoping he would come up with some brilliant answer to it all.
A couple hours later Justin stood up and stretched. Alex looked up at him.
“One of the few things I remember about my dad,” he said unexpectedly, “is a story he told me when I was little, about an old hunting dog his father used to have. Dumb as a post, he said, and always barking up the wrong tree. By the time he figured out he was wrong, the quarry had long ago moved on.”
Alex leaned back in her chair. “I’m sure this seeming non sequitur isn’t one. You think we’re looking in the wrong place.”
He nodded. “Seems too…obvious. And while that’s often the right place to look, it doesn’t feel like it in this case.”
“Because?”
He shrugged. “Marion Gracelyn was too complicated a woman to die for a reason as simple as payback.”
Alex let out a compressed breath. “I’ve been feeling the same way.”
Justin leaned over and picked up the computer printout he’d brought with him from D.C., which had been forgotten in the passion of last night.
“I think we should start looking here.”
He dropped the stack of pages in front of her. She knew what it was. It was exactly what he’d promised, the senatorial records of—judging by the size of the stack—just about everything Senator Marion Gracelyn had been involved with.
“I started going through it at the airport and on the plane,” he said. “I red-marked anything that seemed unimportant, like votes in which she was just one of the majority, no reason for her to be singled out. Or part of a committee that sent things along, one vote on a panel. I highlighted anything she was the front person for. And circled which ones of those caused any…unrest.”
“You started going through it?” Alex said, amazed.
“It’s a long wait and a long flight.”
This reminded her of something she’d been meaning to ask. “Wasn’t your training seminar supposed to go through today?”
He lifted one shoulder negligently. “Today was just the handing out of certificates, patting each other on the back and some drinking. I decided to pass.” His lips twitched. “I ended up having a lot more fun.”
She lowered her gaze, hoping to avoid the blush she felt rising in her cheeks.
“And I’m sure you have an explanation for your boss in the morning.”
“Don’t need one. I’m taking time off.”
She looked up quickly. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Justin, if this is because of me—”
“You’ll live with it. Or take it up with your grandfather.”
“G.C.? What’s he got to do with—” She stopped short as realization struck. “Is that what you two were talking about?”
“Some of the time. But get used to it. I promised him I’d be on you like skin.”
That was a simile she could have done without at the moment. It brought to mind too many hot, vivid memories from last night.
“I didn’t tell him exactly how I hoped that would work out, though,” he said, as if he’d read her mind.
And if he had read your mind, she thought, would it surprise you?
Not at this point, she decided. Nothing Justin Cohen said or did in the way of perception would surprise her anymore.
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she said.
“No one said you did. But two trained observers are better than one, right?”
She couldn’t argue with that.
“Besides, it got you here, didn’t it? How do you know that wasn’t the whole idea? That I didn’t just manipulate the situation to get you here, and into my bed?”
“Because you don’t work that way.” She dismissed the idea instantly.
A look crossed his face that she couldn’t begin to describe. “I don’t?”
“Of course not. You wouldn’t want a woman you had to manipulate. Or, for that matter, one who would let herself be manipulated like that.”
That odd look was followed by a long, slow smile that did ridiculous things to her stomach.
“Thanks,” he said softly.
“For what?” she said, embarrassed by her own reactions.
“For knowing that. And for knowing it without even having to think about it.”
He kissed her then, and