The air in her office felt electrically charged as she waited for Harvard’s reaction. Would he rub her face in her apology? Would he continue to lecture her and explain things endlessly as men were wont to do? Would he laugh at her?
“Thanks,” he said as he pushed away from the door. “You want a coffee? I need one.”
That was it? That was all he had to say?
She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
He nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Hesitantly, Rachel opened the drawer and took out the photo. Calmer now that she knew she wasn’t alone. That Harvard was there if she needed him. Not that she would, but the knowledge helped.
She stared at the photo as though looking at an image of someone else. It showed a woman being held down by one man while being raped by another. The only face in the photo was her own. And there were tears on her cheeks.
Fury burned white hot at the sight of the tears.
The bastards had made her cry.
And Rachel never cried.
It was tempting to shred the photo and flush it, but she’d done that once before. And she wouldn’t do it again. She wasn’t that scared girl anymore. So, instead, she dropped it into the side pocket of her handbag and zipped it tight. She’d figure out what to do about it later. Because there was no doubt in her mind that she’d have to deal with it eventually. There was no ignoring the photo this time, nor the message scrawled across the bottom.
The one that said, You shouldn’t be here.
As soon as he’d closed the door behind him, Harvard pulled out his phone and stepped into the outer office. He dialed Ryan, who answered immediately. “I need cameras inside Rachel’s office. Today.” He kept his voice low, so Rachel couldn’t overhear.
“What happened?” As usual, when it came to work, Ryan was completely professional. No hint of amusement in his voice at all.
Harvard flicked on the coffee machine that sat on the counter against the far wall. While it did its thing, he turned and leaned back against the counter, facing Rachel’s office. “If I had to guess, I’d say some sort of flashback.”
“Who had a flashback?” Ryan sounded confused.
“Rachel.” He shook his head. It didn’t make any sense. Her history was clear of trauma—unless it was from something that’d happened since she joined Benson Security. The team hadn’t exactly lived nice, safe lives these past few years. “Has she had any counseling? Treatment for PTSD? Any help with processing the stuff that happened in Peru?”
“What stuff? You mean when her dad’s plane was blown up and we got into a gunfight with the cartel?”
“Yeah, that stuff.” He kept his eye on the door to Rachel’s office. It was silent inside.
“We all had counseling. We were all cleared. Are you sure you saw what you did? Rachel doesn’t suffer trauma; she causes it.”
“I know a flashback when I see one.” Hell, he’d had enough himself to recognize them. “Has she ever spaced out at the office? Started sweating, closed down, looked like she might pass out?”
“Not that I know of, and if she had done something like that, the word would spread fast. The general consensus is that nothing affects Rachel.”
“Then it has to have been triggered by coming back here.” Which put a whole different slant on her argument not to be involved in the investigation.
“Harvard, my man, are you sure you aren’t just overreacting because you’ve got the hots for her? Maybe she hasn’t woken up properly yet. Or maybe she was just thinking about something else. There doesn’t have to be a sinister reason for her checking out for a minute.”
“She said the word no.” He closed his eyes tight at the memory. “Never gonna forget how she said it. Like she was pleading. Like she’d given up and it was hopeless.”
“Well, hell.”
That about summed it up. “I’ll get Elle to dig deeper into her background. In the meantime, you get surveillance up and running in her office.”
“I’m happy to do that, but I need to ask—is investigating Rachel’s past the best use of Elle’s time right now? We’re in the middle of an investigation. You sure you want to derail it by making this a priority? It’s only happened one time. Maybe you should try talking to Rachel before you go crazy.”
Harvard barked out a laugh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Have you ever tried talking to Rachel about anything? If she doesn’t want to tell you, it ain’t getting told.”
“Then we need to hope she tells you sooner rather than later, because we’re up to our ears in this investigation, and we can’t stretch our resources too thin.”