Protective Custody (14 page)

Sickness almost overcame Nick. How had a man he'd loved and trusted become so warped and twisted?

Wayne pointed the gun at the wounded man and growled. “Yes. Now move him, or I'll put another bullet in him. This time I'll aim for his head.”

Right now, Mason was still alive. Barely, but he seemed to be hanging on. If Nick refused, a bullet to the head would end all hope of Mason surviving.

Feeling helpless and hating it intensely, Nick shot Wayne
a glare. Offering a silent plea for forgiveness from Mason, Nick reached down and slid his hands under the marshal's armpits. Being as gentle as possible, trying not to do any more damage, he pulled Mason inch by inch into the bathroom.

He laid him on the rug in front of the shower. The wound had opened up and was bleeding again due to the movement. Nick laid two fingers against the man's throat. His pulse was slow and thready. Mason needed help, and he needed it fast. Whispering a prayer over the marshal he'd come to respect and consider a friend, Nick left him in the hands of God.

With a wary eye on Wayne—once his closest friend— Nick stepped out of the bathroom.

“Shut the door.”

Nick didn't bother arguing. He shut it.

When Wayne grabbed the Do Not Disturb sign, Nick knew that once the man hung it on the outer chamber door, no one would dare enter. Mason would lie there and bleed to death while Wayne took care of Nick elsewhere. But he needed Nick alive for now. Nick still hadn't recused himself from the case.

Of course, if he were dead it wouldn't be an issue. But then again, the trial might be postponed and there would always be the chance that another judge other than Wayne would be appointed to it. If Nick recused himself, he could recommend that Wayne replace him and no one would think anything of it.

“Why not just shoot me here?”

“Don't play dumb. You know why.” Wayne smirked. “Plus, it's too much trouble to clean up two dead bodies. One, I might get away with, but two? I don't think so.”

Nick dug in his heels. “I'm not budging. Tell me why you killed Miriam and my sister.”

A disgruntled sigh blew from the judge. “It wasn't supposed to be them. It was supposed to be you. Miriam was driving your car.” He shook his head as though disgusted. “I figured we'd have to try again. However, after their deaths you did us a huge favor. You fell apart, and we didn't have to worry about you for a while.”

It was all Nick could do to contain himself from launching across the desk and strangling the man. However, the gun held in Wayne's very steady hand made him pause and reconsider.

Then Wayne came from behind the desk and said, “Walk toward the door.”

Stubbornly, Nick held his ground.

Wayne eyed him. “Do it, or I'll make one call and have Christopher killed.”

The breath left Nick's lungs. Hard brown eyes stared back at him. No remorse, no concern, no sign of the years of friendship. Just a flat, hard stare.

When he found his voice, Nick said, “You know, I was real close to recusing myself from the trial when the incident with the two marshals happened and I thought I'd lost Christopher and Lindsey forever. Then Lindsey begged me not to.”

Wayne frowned and gave an impatient sigh. “I really don't care.”

Ignoring the not-so-subtle hint, Nick continued, “She said she wanted the person to pay, that we couldn't let ourselves be frightened by the bad people in the world. She also said she didn't want me to give the trial to you because the last time you took a trial I was supposed to sit on, the bad people got off.”

Wayne snorted. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

“I'm just amazed she saw something in you that I never
noticed. I even excused it, saying that the officers had probably messed up and you had no choice.”

“Indeed, those officers did mess up, thankfully. I didn't even have to cover anything up that time.”

“That time? How many other times have there been, Wayne? And why?”

“It doesn't matter. And I'm getting really sick of repeating myself. Let's go. Now, or Christopher dies.”

Nick turned toward the door and felt the gun touch the middle of his back.

C
arly didn't move as the gun pressed harder into her skull. “Debbie, what are you doing? Is Christopher all right?”

“Christopher is fine. No thanks to you or his uncle, who, by the way, could have avoided all this if he'd just recused himself and let my father take over. But no, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes had to let his integrity get in the way of being smart.” Disgust curled in her voice. “Now, I want you take your gun out of your shoulder holster and put it on the ground. Understand?”

“All right. Then what?”

“Just do it.”

Carly reached ever so slowly toward her gun, her right arm crossing over to pull the weapon from its resting place under her left arm. For a second, she considered a self-defense move, but when Debbie warned, “Don't try anything funny. I'll pull this trigger so fast, you'll be dead before you can regret it.”

Deciding it might be best to go along with Debbie for the moment, Carly ignored her impulse to act.

Debbie ordered, “Now get inside. I've got to figure out what to do with you. Where to…hide you.”

A chill swept over Carly at the slight pause in the last part of that sentence.

“You know, if you kill me, it's going to be pretty hard to hide the fact. A lot of people know where I am.”

A pause. “Then I'll have to hurry and come up with a plan, won't I? Plus, I'll have some help.”

“Like Ben McCann? The cop who was bought off and helped you snatch Christopher?”

A swift indrawn breath echoed behind her.

“You leave Ben out of this. He's just an innocent bystander who got in the way that day.”

“Why should I leave him out of it? He failed to keep Christopher from being snatched right under his nose. He was in it with you—not so innocent if you ask…” Her voice trailed off as a thought occurred to her. “Wait a minute. There wasn't anyone else involved, was there? We didn't miss seeing someone cross the open space between the building and the trees. Because no one crossed it, did they? You hit Ben—or Ben beat himself up—and you just hopped in the car and drove off.”

“Like I said, you're not as dumb as you look. Yes, Ben knocked his head against the cabinet.” She grimaced. “He did it really hard, too.”

“Hard enough to kill himself.”

Debbie bit her lip, shock contorting her face at the blunt statement. Carly picked up on that. “Did Ben mean something to you, Debbie?”

“Ben's dead?”

“He died from bleeding to the brain. A stroke, they said.”

The gun wavered, and Carly wanted to snatch the moment, rush the woman and knock the weapon from her hand.

Just as she was about to move, Debbie tightened her grip and Carly flinched, expecting to hear the sharp snap of the gun and feel the painful hit of the bullet.

Neither happened.

Tears filled Debbie's eyes, and she quickly wiped them away. “Well, he was stupid anyway. Such an easy target. He couldn't think for himself.” Her chin lifted, and the hardness returned to her eyes.

She waved her weapon in the air, and Carly jerked again, ready to duck or run in order to avoid being shot. Then Debbie smirked, her tears for the dead man gone. “No, he didn't mean anything to me. He thought he did, but I was just leading him on to get him to do what we needed him to do. And he did it. That's all that matters.”

Carly gestured to the bandage on Debbie's left hand. “How did you do that?”

“Got in a hurry and slammed the door on it.”

“So, Ben beat himself up and you just popped Christopher in the car and took off.”

“Exactly.”

“That was some pretty fancy driving.”

“I know.”

“And then you ditched the car.”

“Right. I figured there would be some way to track it so I simply parked it—right where you probably found it—and Chris
tina
and her
daddy
hopped on a bus.”

“You were prepared the whole time. With disguises and everything.” Of course, they hadn't monitored what Debbie had packed. “You took the outfit from Christopher's suitcase, didn't you?”

“Yes, and the inhaler from the bathroom.”

“That's what tipped me off.”

Debbie's right brow lifted. “What?”

“You were the only one with access. You were the only one that made any sense. It was so organized, so planned.” She sighed. “When you didn't bother to grab the inhaler from the counter in our rush to leave the safe house, it was
because you didn't need it. You already had one.” Carly clicked her tongue. “Very obvious.”

Anger twisted the woman's features. “Well, it couldn't have been too obvious, as it took you this long to figure it out.”

Carly ignored the insult. “So, is your father involved in all of this, too?”

“Of course. Who do you think recruited me?”

Sickness swirled in Carly's stomach.
Oh, Nick, how betrayed you're going to feel
.

If he lived long enough to feel it. “Nick's on his way to the courthouse now. What is your father going to do when Nick doesn't recuse himself?”

“I'm not worried about that. Right now I've got to take care of you. Now, move toward the door.”

Carly did as ordered but wanted to keep the woman talking. The more she talked, the more time Carly had to think of a way out of this. She had to get to the courthouse to warn Nicholas.

She moved toward the door, her arms held up and away from her sides.
Come on, Catelyn, be early. Call me.

Fortunately, she'd tucked her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She knew for a fact if she'd had it clipped to her belt like she normally did, Debbie would have had her toss that, too. But she hadn't wanted to take a chance on snagging it on the fence when she'd climbed over, so she'd transferred it.

With the gun pressed against her head, Carly moved carefully, not wanting to cause Debbie to trip on anything and accidentally pull the trigger. Nerves tight, Carly focused on getting in the house to see if she could spot Christopher. “You might want to point that gun elsewhere. If it goes off, it's going to be awfully messy. How would you explain it?”

A low chuckle came from behind her. “I'm not worried about it. I've been handling guns since I was a teen and Daddy took me to the range.”

Great.
But it was good information to have. At least she knew Debbie would hit what she shot at.

Debbie shoved the door open and gave Carly a rough push into the foyer. “Where are your handcuffs?”

“I left them in the car.” And she had. She hadn't wanted to take a chance on them jingling. Not that it mattered now. “How did you know I was out there?”

“The security camera mounted on the tree in the woods. I watched you climb over the fence.”

“Ah. Missed that one.”

“That's why it's there.”

“Right.” Carly glanced around, looking for any sign of the boy. “Where's Christopher?”

“None of your business. Now sit.” Another shove in the small of her back sent her forward toward the armchair near the fireplace.

Carly sat. “Now what? Are you going to kill me?”

“We're going to wait.”

“For what? Orders? Yeah, you're good at following Daddy's orders, aren't you, Debbie? Why don't you start thinking for yourself and realize you won't get away with this?”

With a growl, Debbie stalked toward her and backhanded her with the barrel of the gun. Carly cried out at the slash of pain and nearly fell from the chair.

Inwardly, she felt a surge of satisfaction. So, the little nanny had a bit of a temper. Somehow she had to find a way to use that. Ignoring the throbbing just over her right eye, she felt warm wetness slide down the side of her face. A drop of blood dripped from her chin to land on her jeans-clad thigh.

Her phone vibrated, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Hopefully, help would arrive before Debbie decided to kill her—or received the order to do so. “How are you going to hold me here? You've got no handcuffs. You can't leave me to get some rope…. Come on, Debbie, give it up.” She really needed to get to the courthouse. Fear for Nick nearly overwhelmed her. But she had to focus on the woman in front of her and pray that God would watch over Nicholas.

Yes, pray.

So she did. With her eyes open, searching for the slightest drop in Debbie's guard. She had no doubt the opportunity would present itself, but would it be in time to get to Nick?

And she still had to find Christopher.

Debbie hissed. “How did you put it all together? I was so careful, played the part so well. How did you know to come here?”

“Like I said, it was obvious. You left clues all over the place.”

“I did not!” Debbie yelled. Then glanced toward the stairs. A quick glance that didn't give Carly a chance to react. Debbie lowered her voice. “I didn't.”

“You dropped your cell phone in the garage of the second safe house.”

“So what? I was kidnapped. What's so special about finding a phone I dropped in a struggle?”

“I'd taken the phone from you and put it in the kitchen drawer, remember? That's why you were so intent on getting stuff from the kitchen as we were all in a hurry to get out of the house. Your entire focus was on getting that phone, or your connection to your partner would be cut off.”

“Yes,” she hissed, “that's right. And before you ask, I
messed with the stove while you were sleeping and Mason was doing his patrol of the grounds.”

Stunned, Carly just stared at her. “But you could have killed yourself as well as everyone else in the house. The kids…”

Debbie scowled. “I was going to save them.” She tapped her chest. “I was going to be the hero. I was about to tell Nick to get away from the stove when you opened your big mouth.” A sneer curled her lip. “Then I just had to be meek little Debbie and play along.”

Desperate to get away and find Christopher so she could warn Nicholas, Carly's mind formed and rejected plan after plan, her mind clicking through them at warp speed.
God, please…

“Who was the older lady I saw at the kitchen table?”

“My grandmother. Now shut up.” Uncertainty flickered across Debbie's face for the first time since she'd forced Carly into the house. “Okay, here's the plan. I'm going to lock you in the storage room, and then I'll ask Daddy what he wants to do with you when he gets home. Now, get up slowly and walk toward the kitchen. You know which way it is, since you decided to snoop at the window.”

Where was Catelyn? Or Ian?

A thump sounded from overhead, and both women looked up. Carly snatched the chance and dove at Debbie, clipping her around her legs. With a screech, Debbie went down, and the gun went flying.

A door slammed open and someone yelled, “Freeze! Police!”

Debbie tried to scramble away from Carly's grip on her ankle, but Carly wasn't letting go. She yanked hard, and Debbie went flat on her stomach again.

Carly knew the woman was going after the gun. She'd heard it skitter across the hardwood floors. That meant it
had flown out of Debbie's hand hard enough to bypass the large area rug they were now doing battle on.

Debbie kicked out with her other foot, and Carly felt pain lance her from her hand to her arm. Heart thumping, adrenaline surging, Carly yelled, “Don't shoot her!”

Finally gaining some momentum against the writhing woman, Carly hefted herself to her knees and grabbed Debbie's flailing arm. The strength Debbie displayed surprised her, and she fought to get a knee in her lower back. “Debbie, stop fighting. Give it up!”

“No! No! You can't do this!”

Someone slapped a pair of handcuffs in Carly's hand, and she twisted Debbie's arm behind her back. Quickly, she snapped the cuff on. Vaguely, she registered Catelyn had a grip on Debbie's legs and someone else was pulling Debbie's other arm back so Carly could enclose the cuff around it.

It was done. Ian pointed a gun at the nanny as officers swarmed the rest of the house.

Debbie was subdued, crying her misery into the floor.

Carly looked up at Catelyn. “What took you so long?”

“We had to figure out how to get past the stupid gate without setting off all kinds of alarms. This place has more booby traps than Fort Knox.” She grunted. “Your Ranger brother here came in mighty handy.”

“Yes, he can do that occasionally,” she grunted as she hauled herself to her feet. The room spun for a second, and someone gripped her arm.

“Are you okay?” Ian asked.

Carly looked up. “I'll be fine. Just a little dizzy from the knock on the head.” He pressed a cloth to it, and she asked, “How did you get involved in all of this anyway?”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by.” His
handsome face frowned at her. “We need to get someone to look at that head of yours.”

She waved a hand of dismissal and said, “I'm fine. I need to call Nick and warn him about Debbie's father.”

She rattled off the number for Catelyn, who punched it into her phone even as the woman asked, “So, you were right about everything, huh?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Now we just need to find Christopher.”

“Miss Carly!”

Carly spun to see Debbie's grandmother standing in the doorway flanked by two police officers.

And Christopher launching himself at her.

She caught him up in a hug and struggled not to keel over between the quivering muscles and the pounding head. But the feel of his little warm body against hers made her want to weep in relief—and gratitude.

“Thank You, God,” she whispered against his ear. To Christopher she said, “I'm so glad you like to jump on beds.”

He grinned. “I didn't have any beanbags, so I put the pillows on the floor and jumped. I landed kinda hard, though, and it made a loud noise. Did you hear it?”