Special Forces Father - By Mallory Kane Page 0,3

I’m still sore, but I’ve been in physical therapy for four weeks now. I’m doing lots better.”

She nodded. “I’m glad,” she said. “How did you get demoted to courier service? No prosecutor jobs?”

“I’m not supposed to be working, and they’re sure not letting me do anything on the Stamps case except be a witness. I’m not even a reliable witness, since I was losing blood the whole time.” He looked ruefully at the sling. “At least delivering envelopes gives me a chance to get out and get some exercise, if walking fairly slow can be considered exercise.”

Kate smiled. “Well, I appreciate you bringing this over.” She paused, then spoke again. “Do you have a few minutes to talk to me about what happened that day?”

“Sure,” Harte said. “What do you want to know?”

“I’ve been through Ms. Canto’s statement. I haven’t started yours yet. I hadn’t decided for sure whether I need to interview you or Ms. Canto, but since you’re here, would you mind telling me what you remember about Senator Stamps that day? His demeanor, his level of concentration, was he afraid, angry, acting confused?” She waved a hand. “Things like that.”

Harte shifted on his feet and adjusted the sling.

“Please, sit down if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“Thanks,” he said and lowered his lean frame into a chair. “You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t a very reliable witness. I can tell you what I saw and heard, but when I get on the stand, defense counsel will rip into me like a vulture.”

“Because you were wounded?”

Harte nodded. “They gave me seven pints of blood in the hospital. That’s significant blood loss. They’ll say I was impaired.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I think about your answers. When you first saw the senator, how would you describe his demeanor?”

“Dani and I had been running and hiding all night during the storm, from Ernest Yeoman’s men.” Harte made a vague gesture toward the case file in front of her. “By dawn, the storm had finally passed over and they were closing in on us. We were literally out of options when I finally recognized a landmark that I knew was close to my aunt Claire’s house. My cousin Paul let us in and after we told him what was happening, Stamps appeared out of the shadows. He said he’d gone there for dinner the night before and gotten caught in the storm. He acted reluctant for us to know he was there.”

Kate asked, “Reluctant?”

Harte nodded. “We’d been there for several minutes talking to Paul before Stamps stepped forward. It was as if he’d listened to us and decided it was okay for us to see him. So I guess I’d describe him as cautious and condescending. He started talking about how ‘our city wasn’t ready for more tragedy.’ He was referring to the storm damage, of course.”

“It was awful,” Kate said. “A lot of houses on my street were badly damaged. My power was out all night, but I was lucky compared to a lot of other people.”

Harte nodded. “Wasn’t much fun being out in it,” he said.

“I can’t even imagine. Danielle Canto apparently handled it okay.”

Upon hearing her name, Harte beamed and blushed at the same time. “Dani’s a trouper,” he said, unable to keep a smile from his face.

Kate didn’t need her degree in psychiatry to read him at that moment. He was head over heels in love with Danielle Canto. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “Please go ahead.”

“Dani gave Stamps a hard time, asking him if he were practicing sound bites for the next election cycle. She reminded him that she’d heard the men who had killed her grandfather using his and Paul’s names, as well as Ernest Yeoman’s, when they had threatened him. Paul denied any involvement and seemed about to turn on Stamps. Then Stamps yelled, Shut up, and lunged at him.”

“I saw that in Dani’s statement. Did you hear him yourself?”

Harte nodded. “By that time I was pretty weak and hurting like a son of a bitch, but I was conscious. I definitely witnessed the exchange.”

“Is that when Mr. Guillame sustained the gunshot wound?”

Harte shook his head. “No. That was later, after the gunmen broke in.”

“Who else heard what Stamps said? Was your aunt Claire there? I don’t see any mention of her.”

“No. She’s in Paris. Paul is house-sitting for her.” Harte smiled wryly. “Has been for the past twenty years.”

“So it was just you and Dani and Stamps and Paul