Crossfire. Jodie Bailey

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      The door opened, scraping adrenaline against her raw nerves. That had to stop, or she’d fall to pieces.

      A short, balding man stepped in, his purple uniform polo tucked into too-tight khaki pants. “Miss Andrea.” He extended a disposable cup of coffee to her.

      She took the cup and smiled, the warmth of fresh-brewed coffee seeping into her fingers, up her arm and into her soul. Every morning, Mr. Miller stepped in right behind her with a cup of coffee and a dose of cheer. Just when she thought she was alone in this, God reminded her she had people looking out for her. “Mr. Miller. Always faithful with the coffee.”

      “Always.” His grin nearly split his round face in two before it faded and he jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward his gas station next door. “My evening shift guy says he saw the police over here last night. You okay?”

      “She kicked a man in the teeth,” Dutch called from the supply room.

      Mr. Miller took a step back and nearly fell out the door as it opened again.

      Josh slipped in behind the smaller man, nodding at her as he did.

      This time, when her fingers tingled, it had nothing to do with fear. That needed to stop, too.

      Glancing at Josh, Mr. Miller recovered his footing and stepped sideways from the man who was his physical opposite. Then he looked back at Andrea. “You kicked a man in the teeth?”

      Josh chuckled, but that only made Mr. Miller glance back and forth between the two of them.

      Dutch reappeared and started when he saw Josh. “Who are you?” The way he gripped the broom handle, it looked like he might just charge.

      Andrea held up her hands, hoping to head off any misplaced protection. “Okay, everybody. I’m not used to three handsome men in my lobby at once.” Especially one in particular.

      As if he knew what she was thinking, Josh winked at her.

      Please, Lord, now is not the time to blush. She cleared her throat, made introductions then took charge of her small band of defenders. “Mr. Miller, I’m okay. Someone tried to rob me, but it’s fine now. The police are looking into it. Hopefully, it was an isolated incident.” Hopefully. But she doubted it. So did Josh, based on the set of his jaw.

      Mr. Miller studied her as Dutch went back to sweeping in the corner. “Maybe I should aim a few of my security cameras your way. Make sure there’s always eyes on the place.” He nodded. “I’ll have all of my shifts keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”

      “You don’t have to do that.”

      “I do.” He laid a hand on her arm, which made Josh straighten slightly. Like he should be jealous of someone old enough to be her father. “I want to. Having you next door is so much nicer than having that check-cashing place here gouging soldiers.” He patted her arm, aimed a slight smile at Josh, then stepped for the door. “I should go. It’s payroll day.” He nodded at Dutch. “You coming to my place next?”

      Dutch tossed a slight wave from where he leaned on his broom handle. “An hour or so?”

      With an answering wave, Mr. Miller tripped on the threshold as he stepped out. “See you on Monday, Ms. Andrea.”

      Josh arched an eyebrow.

      Yes, Mr. Miller was awkward, but nobody treated her better. Except maybe Dutch. Her forehead wrinkled. She certainly had eclectic neighbors. “What brings you by so early?” she asked Josh. “Don’t you have to work?”

      “Command gave us a four-day weekend now because we were doing an extended training exercise over the Fourth of July holiday.”

      “Convenient.” Andrea let herself meet his eyes and wished she hadn’t. Something about him blurred the straight edges of her life until she wasn’t quite sure if she was fifteen or thirty-two.

      “Still don’t know who you are.” Dutch’s broom ceased its swishing as he drew closer.

      Josh extended his hand. “Josh Walker.”

      “Dutch.”

      The men sized each other up as they shook, seemed to come to some agreement and parted.

      Dutch drifted back to the closet and reappeared seconds later, sans broom. “Think I’ll go see what Mr. Miller needs. You two look like you need to talk.” Without further explanation, he slipped out the door.

      “What was that?” Andrea asked as she led Josh into her office and watched as he took in the room.

      “What?”

      “That. Between you and Dutch.”

      “Guy conversation.”

      “So you’re friends now?”

      “For life.” Josh grinned and leaned against her desk, his smile fading. “How long have you known him?”

      Andrea sucked her upper lip between her teeth and studied the popcorn ceiling. Odd time to think of it, but she should have removed that before she moved in. “A couple of months. He does odd jobs for several businesses on Victory. For Mr. Miller, too.”

      “And how long have you known Miller?”

      “Since I moved in. Six months or so.” She tipped her coffee cup toward Josh. “Every day, like clockwork, he brings me coffee from his gas station next door. Why?” But even as she said it, she knew. “You suspect them?”

      “I think everybody’s up to something right now. Don’t you?”

      She hadn’t thought about it. “No. And especially not them.” Rounding her desk, she dropped into her chair and waited for him to sit in one across from her. “Have you stopped to think you’re the most likely suspect?” She unlocked the desk drawer and grabbed Wade’s file, slipping it onto the desk like it was explosive. And who knew? It might be.

      “I have.” He nodded toward the folder. “You left that here last night? Unguarded?”

      “Safest place for it. The police were here and, for all anyone knew, they were watching.” She flipped open the folder and stared down at the first page. It was easier than looking at Josh.

      “You took the pictures to the police?”

      She nodded, flipping through the folder to find Wade’s release of information form. Last night she’d realized that talking to the person he trusted the most—the one to whom he’d given permission to access his patient information—might yield a clue. It was a sheet she rarely glanced at, because it only supplied clerical details.

      Her finger stilled when she located the form, then tapped the name penned there in Wade’s precise handwriting. What exactly was going on here?

      * * *

      “What is it?”

      Andrea’s face paled and her eyebrows drew together so tightly they had to make her forehead ache.

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