Broken Honor by Patricia; Potter

you think my grandfather might have?” she asked indignantly.
    â€œIt might well have been none of them,” he said soothingly, “but now they’re all tainted by insinuations. I tried to locate witnesses. Many of the supporting papers are classified or names are blacked out. I hoped your grandfather might have left some documents.”
    The documents. The boxes . Was that why Jon had died? But why? Terror ripped through her, but she didn’t want him to see it. Men like him—investigators—used fear as a weapon. She had seen it used with her mother. But where were the boxes now? In her mind’s eyes, she saw the masked thief dropping one. Had he picked it up before fleeing?
    â€œWhy,” she asked, “didn’t the commission investigators talk to me?”
    He shrugged. “They were concerned with the events as they happened more than half a century ago. We weren’t alive then. There was no reason to come to us.”
    â€œThen why are you involved?” she asked testily.
    â€œI want to know the truth. Our grandfathers were indicted by innuendo. I owe it to mine to clear him.”
    â€œAt the expense of others?” she accused him. “As you said, it was fifty years ago. Let it go.”
    â€œYou’re a historian. Can you really do that?” It was a challenge.
    No, she couldn’t. Which was why she wanted to go through the boxes again. But she wasn’t going to admit that. She didn’t know whom to trust now. Jon. Dead . Her house burned. She had been shot. She knew enough about anatomy to realize that if the bullet had been inches to the left.…
    â€œDo you remember anything about the man who shot you?” he asked, as if reading her mind.
    She wasn’t going to tell him anything. Not until she talked to the police. She shook her head and turned to Sherry. “The police don’t have any idea who did it?”
    Sherry shook her head. “A second security guard saw him flee, but he was masked. They want to talk to you, of course, and they’re dusting for fingerprints.”
    Amy saw the intruder in her mind’s eye. Masked. Gloved. Dressed all in black. And graceful. Like her visitor. An athlete’s grace .
    She fought a wave of fear. Did someone know she was going to Jon’s office? If so, how? And if not, how did he know to look in Jon’s office? If, she reminded herself, he had been after her boxes. Maybe, just maybe, he had been after something else.
    She only knew she was not going to mention them until she knew what happened to those boxes. There had been three of them. The thief had one box in his hands before he dropped it. Had he taken others before she arrived?
    You’re being paranoid. It wasn’t your box. Jon’s office was lined with them. Notes. Reference books. Manuscripts. It could have been anything .
    She had to make sure.
    And she couldn’t do it with the Army investigator in the room. The one with his own agenda.
    â€œI want you to go,” she said again. “I’m hurting and I’m tired and I want you to go.”
    He studied her for a moment, his eyes making requests she wasn’t ready to grant. “I’ll be back,” he said. “And,” he added, “I’ll wait outside until the police arrive.”
    His words struck her as ominous. “You don’t believe.…”
    â€œNo,” he said. “The police think it was just a burglary gone wrong. But I told them I would wait.”
    Amy just nodded. She wasn’t surprised at his persistence. But at the moment she wanted him gone. He was a disturbing presence in more ways than one.
    She watched unwillingly as he put on his hat, and drat it if he didn’t look even better.
    Amy turned away. She waited until the door closed, then looked at Sherry, who had a dazed expression on her face.
    â€œSherry?”
    Sherry stirred herself back to reality. “I’m sorry,