Protective Custody (12 page)

When the man was gone, Carly paced. Nick said, “Excuse me, I'm going to check on Lindsey,” and slipped away.

At her wits' end, Carly grabbed a notepad and a pen and settled herself at the kitchen table. Sometimes it helped
if she made lists or scribbled down the facts she knew in order to visualize everything.

Starting with Nick, she wrote down everything she could think of about the man.

• Good uncle/family man who loves his niece and nephew.
  
• A judge unwavering in his integrity and principles.
  
• Well respected in his peer circle.
  
• A man to admire.
  
• Handles himself well under pressure.
  
• Strong in his faith.
  

Not sure where she was going with this, she stopped. That last one stared back at her. With her pen, she circled the word
faith
.

Where had her faith gone?

She hadn't ditched it all at once. Her disbelief that God took a personal interest in what she was going through had snuck up on her.

So, what did she really believe?

Did He care or not?

Lindsey said she believed even after all she'd been through in her twelve short years. Nick said he did even though his nephew had been snatched out from under the noses of law enforcement. Not only that, but Nick hadn't hurled one insult, one word of blame—at her or God.

Why not?

She sure would have. But Nick talked about God like He was a best friend. She asked herself the same question she'd asked earlier.

Could she do the same?

Taking a deep breath, she decided to give it a shot.
God? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I've missed You. I want to believe You care, I really do, but it's so hard to see it sometimes. Especially right now, with Christopher and Debbie missing. Could You just…um…do something? Keep them safe? Show us who keeps leading the bad guys to us.

She sat still and waited. Nothing.

This time.

But she still remembered the prayer she'd uttered at the safe house. And the peace she'd felt—even in the midst of her grief and anger—after unloading on Nick once they'd arrived back at his house.

Maybe she should keep trying and see what happened.

Okay, God, if that's what I need to do to find You, I'll do it.

Picking up the pen once more, she wrote:

 

Debbie Thomas:

• Nanny.
  
• Cares about Nick and the kids.
  
• Probably thinks she's in love with Nick.
  
• Cell phone?
  
• Went back to get it?
  
• What about the inhaler?
  
• Taken with Christopher from safe house number two.
  
• Dated a man with a known connection to the de Lugo family. Coincidence or not?
  
• But she quit seeing him after she found out about his mob connections, right? Or did she?
  

 

The facts and questions stared back at her. What was she thinking? That the answers would just leap off the page? She wished.

Back to the inhaler that had been in the bathroom medicine cabinet.

Was Nick right? Or had he grabbed it during their frantic departure and just not remembered?

Possibly.

Or had Debbie forgotten the one on the kitchen counter because she'd already gotten the one from the bathroom? But
why
would she do that?

“What are you doing?” Mason's question startled her.

“Thinking.”

“About what?”

“This case. What else?”

“I thought you might be thinking about a particular judge.”

Carly eyed him and then figured why hide it. “He is the case, remember?” But she knew what he meant. And he knew she knew. “I can't have any romantic feelings for him until this job is finished.”

Mason grinned. “Oh, you can have the feelings.” His smile slid off. “But I admire you for not acting on them.”

A sigh blew through her pursed lips. “How come you and I never got together?”

Mason patted her on the head. “Because there aren't any romantic feelings.”

“Thanks a lot, Stone,” Carly grunted.

“You're welcome, Masterson.” He headed toward the door. “I'm going to walk the grounds.”

“Are the dogs back?”

“No, the Jeffersons took them with them.”

“Be careful. They only have one more chance to get Nick, and that's tonight.”

Mason opened the door and lifted one side of his mouth. “The thought had occurred to me.”

“Right.”

After Mason left, Carly pondered the sheet of paper in front of her again. Slowly, an idea formed, but it was so outrageous she wondered if she should just ignore it.

If she was wrong, she could be in a lot of trouble.

But if she was right…

Standing, she headed for the stairs. She needed to talk to Nicholas.

A
t the top of the stairs, Carly made a left and walked down the carpeted hall to Nicholas's study. Whispers reached her ears and she slowed, placed her hand on her gun and approached the cracked door.

Who would be whispering?

Nick?

Lindsey?

She gave the door a gentle shove, and it opened without a sound.

The whispering continued.

Peeking around the doorjamb, she saw Nicholas at his desk, head in his hands, Bible open in front of him.

But he wasn't reading. He was whispering. Prayers.

Heart thumping, Carly removed her hand from her gun. Not wanting to intrude on his privacy, she stepped back.

The floor creaked, and Nick's head shot up. Tears glistened in his eyes, and he quickly blinked them away.

Carly raised a hand. “I'm sorry, Nick, I came to talk to you, and when I saw you—” she motioned toward the Bible “—I was trying to back off without disturbing you.”

Nick shook his head. “It's all right, Carly. Come on in.”

Still hesitating, she waited until he waved her in a
second time. Making her way into the study, she took a good look around her. She'd been in this room when she'd done sweeps of the house, but now she paid more attention to the details.

Pictures of the kids. A picture of his parents. One of Miriam. Carly picked it up. “She was beautiful.”

“Yes, she was. Inside and out—when we first met.”

“You said she changed.”

A deep sigh echoed through the room as he nodded and said, “After we were married, my career really took off. I spent less and less time at home, and she spent more and more time alone.”

“That's tough.”

“It was. And then she decided she wanted a baby.” He shrugged. “That was fine with me. I've always wanted children, and when Miriam approached me with the idea, I got excited at the thought.”

“And then she couldn't get pregnant.”

Nick shook his head. “No. She couldn't.”

“And that's when she started to change?”

“Yeah.” He tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Yeah.”

“And then she died in the car accident.”

At the word
accident,
Nick's jaw tightened, and he scoffed. “Accident. I don't think so, but I can't prove it. And before you ask, yes, I've tried. Called in special favors and everything. Although, from what's been said in the threats this time, I know I'm right.” He went quiet for a few moments, and Carly replaced the picture on the shelf.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“Praying.”

“It helps, doesn't it?” She didn't know why she asked. It was obvious it did. But she wanted to hear it again, hear
him explain why he relied on God when it looked like God had totally pushed Nick to the spiritual back burner.

Because when Nick said it helped, it gave her hope. Like maybe God was listening to her, too.

He frowned down at the Bible, but she knew he didn't see it, wasn't frowning at the book. “Yes. It helps. Although, to be honest, right now it's hard to be still and listen to whatever God wants to say to me.”

“Why's that?”

The heels of his palms scrubbed his eyes. When he focused back on her, he gave a sad little grimace and said, “Because I'm too busy begging Him to spare Christopher's life.”

Her throat clogged. “I can understand that.”

“Will you pray with me?”

Strangely enough, she wasn't repelled by the idea. Instead, she was honored that he'd asked. “Sure, Nick, I'll pray with you.”

He took her hand, and she bowed her head. Her heart thumped in her chest as he talked to God in a way that revealed he did this often. When he whispered “Amen,” Carly repeated the prayer's closing and looked into Nick's eyes. “I want to believe.”

“Then just do it.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Okay. I'm choosing to believe God's going to work this out. I'm choosing to put my faith in Him once more.”

“And if things don't work out like we want them to? What will you believe then?”

Tears filled her eyes. “Then I'll just have to believe that God knows best. I want to keep the faith even in the hard times, even in the times when I don't understand why
things happen the way they do. I want to believe He's still in control anyway.”

Nick leaned his forehead against hers and breathed, “He is.” Then he finally, gently placed his lips against hers, and Carly reveled in the feeling. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Then reality hit. She jerked away and stared up at him wide-eyed. “I can't kiss you.”

“I'm sorry.” He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his hair. “You must think I'm awful…with Christopher still missing and—”

“No, no, no. I don't think that at all. I think you're hurting, scared, unsure of the future and looking for comfort. And I think that's okay. But right now, we need our heads clear and focused.”

Relief glistened in his eyes. “Thanks for that.” Nick squeezed her hand, and Carly marveled at the sweet sensations stirring within her.

Pulling her hand from his, she cleared her throat, focused her thoughts and said, “I've got an idea, and I want to run it by you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you still have Christopher's things that were brought back here from the safe house?”

He flinched at the mention of Christopher, but it couldn't be helped. He nodded. “They're still in his little suitcase in his room. On his bed.”

“Come on. Let's take a look at them.”

 

Confused, but willing to go with whatever Carly thought she knew, Nick followed her down the hall to Chris's bedroom. Just entering the room sent chills down his spine and terror racing through his heart.

What would he do if God chose to let Christopher die?
What would he do if he never again saw the little boy's impish grin and dancing gray eyes he'd inherited from his mother?

The thought made him light-headed for a moment. Then he realized Carly was speaking to him.

“Nick, are you all right?”

“No. No, I'm not.” Deep breath. “But I will be. What do you need?”

She unzipped the little suitcase decorated with dancing monkeys. “I want you to look in here and tell me if anything is missing.”

His brows slammed together. “Missing?”

“Yes.”

Wanting to drill her about why she needed that information, but knowing he probably needed to answer her first, he pulled the clothes out of the bag and set them on the bed. They'd been packed in a hurry, just shoved in the suitcase. He sorted through them, piece by piece.

It didn't take long.

His hand paused above the empty suitcase. “His yellow muscle shirt and black shorts are missing. Along with a pair of underwear. He was wearing his flip-flops when he was in the safe area.” He looked up at her. “How did you know?” The sick look on her face caused his heart to thump. “Carly?”

“I don't know anything yet. It's just a suspicion, and I might be completely wrong. I need to find out if the clothing was just overlooked or deliberately taken.”

“Taken? By whom? The person who kidnapped him? But who would have time—or access?”

She looked at him. “That's what I'm going to find out. Are you absolutely sure that you left Christopher's inhaler in the bathroom medicine cabinet?”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes and did his best to remember
his actions. “We got there, and I pulled it out of the bag because if Christopher had an attack I wanted to be able to go straight to it and grab it.” He opened his eyes and looked into hers. “I promise, Carly, that's where I left it.”

“Okay. Then it's time for me to do a little more digging.”

“Tell me who you suspect.” Jaw clenched, he stood firm. This was his nephew. He had a right to know.

“No.” She pulled her hand from his and propped both hands on her hips to meet him stare for stare. “I could be wrong. Until I find out for sure…” She held up a hand even as she cut off her own words.

“Carly…”

“I mean it, Nick. I'll tell you as soon as I find out if I'm right.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he tried to relax his gritted teeth. He managed just enough to mutter, “Fine.”

“Thanks. Now—” she paced to the door “—I need to see Lindsey's bag.”

He didn't bother asking why, she noticed, just walked out the door and down the hall. She followed. Lindsey sat on her bed reading a book. She lifted a brow as they entered. “What is it?”

“I need to see your suitcase. Have you unpacked it?”

“Yes, why?”

“Was there anything missing from it?”

Her lips formed a disgusted frown. “Yes, one of my wigs. I must have left it somewhere.” Then she shrugged. “Guess it doesn't really matter. The play is long over now. I don't need them now.”

Carly smiled in sympathy. “Anything else?”

“A pink T-shirt. That's all. I don't care. I didn't really like that shirt anyway.”

“Thanks.”

They left the room, and before Nick could jump on her with the questions raging in him, she asked him, “What are you going to do about tomorrow?”

The very question he'd been agonizing over, begging God for clear direction.

He stared her in the eye. “I don't know. I may not know until I walk into the courthouse tomorrow.”

She met his gaze without blinking. “All right. Then I'll let you get back to your study. I've got some questions I've got to hunt down answers for.”

He nodded. “I'm going to check on Lindsey one more time then try to rest.”

He needed rest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten more than two consecutive hours of good sleep. Not that he expected to do much better tonight.

Not with Christopher and Debbie still missing.

He watched Carly head back down the stairs and went back to say good night to Lindsey.

He found her curled on her bed, staring at the wall. She wasn't reading anymore. Instead, she looked heartbroken.

Grief stole his breath and nearly brought him to his knees. Lindsey had never been an exuberant child even before her mother's death. After his sister died, Lindsey had withdrawn into herself, protecting herself by keeping her distance from those she loved as though afraid she might be hurt by losing someone else.

Over the past year, she'd made progress with the help of a good counselor, learning to deal with her mother's death, learning to trust Nick, drawing closer to him even with the adolescent attitude.

And she loved and protected Christopher in a way that showed she was intimately familiar with losing a loved one.

Now her little brother had disappeared. It didn't take a psychologist to know how she was feeling. “Hey, Linds.”

“Hey.” She didn't move, but at least she responded.

“It's not your fault.”

“I should have protected him, Uncle Nick. I shouldn't have left him alone.”

Her anguish broke his heart. Sitting beside her, he took her hand in his and kissed the knuckles. “That wasn't your responsibility, Linds, even though you took on that role. I've never seen a sister who loved her brother more.”

A sob suddenly shook her, and she sat up to wind her arms around his neck. “I'm sorry, Uncle Nick, I'm sorry.” Her tears soaked his shoulder in record time.

“Lindsey, you don't have anything to apologize for.”

“But I didn't see what happened. I didn't even hear anything.”

“You were in another part of the building, darling. That's no surprise.”

“He's got to be so scared, and I can't do anything about it.” More sobs shook her thin frame. A frame that he now noticed had lost a few pounds she couldn't afford to lose.

A lump formed in his throat, and it was a minute before he could speak. “I know, hon, I know.” A pause. “But I don't think he's that scared.” God forgive him for lying. “Debbie's with him, remember? She's probably holding him. Comforting him. I think he's probably okay.”

“But you don't know that, do you?”

“No, but it's what I'm praying for. She loves Christopher, and I think the people that took Chris took Debbie to help with him. You see?”

At first she didn't say anything. Then she gave a slow nod. “Yes. I see. I hope that's true.”

“Wanna pray about it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

 

Carly watched the sun come up, her thoughts on little Christopher, Debbie and, of course, Nicholas. The night had passed without incident. What would Nick do today? Sit on the bench or recuse himself? She honestly didn't know what he planned to do. She didn't think he knew, either.

The phone rang in the distance, and Carly heard the FBI agents scrambling to make sure they got a tape of whoever was calling. Nerves taught, she stood next to one of the agents, whose name she couldn't remember. “Who is it?”

The woman pulled off the earpiece. “Wayne Thomas.” Nick took it.

Carly made her way to the kitchen and looked down at the list she'd made the night before. The idea she'd had last night came back in full force.

“Mason,” she called.

He came in from the den. “Yeah?”

“Keep an eye on Nick. I have an idea I want to check out.”

“Want to share it?”

Did she? What if she was wrong?

What if she was right?

Still, she hesitated. “Just keep your phone on. I may be completely off base, but I need to make sure, okay?”

“Where are you going?”

She told him.

“At least take someone with you.”

A thought occurred to her. “I'll give my sister-in-law, Gina, a call. She can give me Catelyn's number.” Ian was married to Gina Santino. Gina's sister, Catelyn, was a homicide detective with the Spartanburg County police department. “Good thinking.”