Protective Custody (3 page)

“Sooner or later, we're going to have to, I think.”

“I don't know why. It has nothing to do with my ability
to do my job. I'll do mine, you do yours. Put the bad guys away instead of letting them walk, and everyone wins.”

“Carly…” He sighed, and she saw him struggle with whatever it was he wanted to say. “Fine. But we
will
discuss it. Soon. Just don't let your negative feelings for me or my judicial decisions put my family in danger.”

His words sent a shaft of pain through her. Did he really think she would be that unprofessional and allow that to happen? For a moment, she couldn't speak. She just pulled into the gated drive and waited for Mason to pull in behind her in Nicholas's car and use the remote to open the gate.

Soon the iron gates began their inward swing. Carly stepped on the gas and wound her way up the drive to the front of the house and parked behind the brown sedan that belonged to the two marshals inside. Instead of opening her door, she swallowed hard and turned to look at Nicholas.

He unhooked his seat belt and caught her gaze. When she was certain she had his full attention, she said, “I'm a professional. I'll do my job regardless of my feelings. If it comes down to it, I'll die for you or those children. Are we clear?”

He lifted a brow, then gave a slow nod. “Crystal. In fact, now you've got me a little worried. I don't want you to die for me, Carly.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I don't want to, either. But I will if it comes down to it. That's all you have to know.”

End of discussion.

Carly climbed from the car and swept the grounds with a practiced eye. Everything seemed quiet. She drew in a deep breath of air and got her bearings. She could do this. It's what she'd trained for, lived for…and would someday probably die for.

But right now, Nicholas and the children were counting on her.

Then the front door opened and two marshals stepped outside. She recognized them as a team she'd worked with on a number of occasions. “Grady. Maria.”

Mason shook hands with them. Grady, a tall, trim man with salt-and-pepper hair, spoke. “Everything's quiet. One of us has done a perimeter sweep every fifteen minutes. The dogs have been calm, and nothing has set off any alarms.”

Carly motioned for Nicholas to go into the house, worried about him standing out in the open. She might have a problem respecting him, but she sure didn't want him dead.

He nodded and moved to stand inside the doorway, off to the left. Out of sight of anyone watching the house, but not out of earshot. She knew he wanted to hear every word the four marshals might exchange.

Maria came from a long line of cops. Stocky and short, she was light on her feet in spite of her build. Maria was good at her job and didn't let anything get in the way of her goal: to keep her assignment alive.

“The kids are good kids,” Maria said. “Better watch that girl, though. I have a feeling she might be a handful. We'll be back tomorrow. Let us know if you need anything before then.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

Carly and Mason said their goodbyes to Grady and Maria and followed Nicholas farther into the house. She shut the door and glanced around.

Nice.

Not extravagant, but definitely upper middle class. She'd done her homework on the man but remembered her brother Ian telling her that Nicholas had designed a video game that made him a lot of money before he'd even graduated college.

He probably could have gone into the gaming business and become a multimillionaire, but his passion was the law. And he'd succeeded there, too.

For the most part.

When he wasn't letting violent criminals out to kill good cops. Hank and Lily, two people who'd become good friends. Hank who had taught her everything she knew. And now he was dead, and Lily a grieving widow. Her gut tightened at the thought, and she pulled in a deep breath.
Don't go there, Carly, or you'll go crazy. Keep your objectivity. Remember, you don't know the whole story
.

But she knew enough. Enough to know she'd better keep her guard up and her emotions under control when it came to Nicholas Floyd.

“Debbie? You in here?” Nick called as he walked into the den area.

“I'm right here, Nick.”

Carly turned at the intrusion of the feminine voice. A pretty young woman in her late twenties stood at the entrance to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She had her reddish-brown hair pulled up in an attractive loose ponytail. She stopped when she saw Carly and Mason. “Oh, sorry, I didn't realize we were having more company.”

“These are two more U.S. Marshals, Deb.” His dark gaze swept back to Carly. “This is Debbie Thomas, the children's nanny.”

“For now.” Debbie flashed a smile and held out a hand that Carly and Mason took turns shaking. “I'm filling in until Nick finds a permanent one.” She flushed and said, “I have to confess I was just popping some popcorn for the kids. I know it's close to dinnertime, but…”

Carly just noticed the mouthwatering smell of freshly popped popcorn. It reminded her she hadn't eaten dinner yet.

Nicholas gave a small smile, a mere twitch of his lips, then said, “That's fine, Debbie. A little popcorn before dinner won't hurt them.” The he blew out a rough sigh. “Since Mom left to take care of her sister in California, I haven't had the time or energy to look for someone to…” He shot the young woman an apologetic look.

Debbie patted the man's arm. “It's all right, Nick.”

Watching the interchange, Carly couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between the two than a business arrangement. The little twinge of jealousy took her by surprise.

Oh, no, there was no way she was jealous. She wasn't remotely interested in starting any kind of relationship, especially not with an assignment. Period.

Kicking those feelings as far to the curb as she could get them, she pulled out her notebook. “All right, let's go over some ground rules, shall we?”

“Are they the same rules as last time?” he asked.

She couldn't help the small smile that curved the right side of her lips. “Yes, pretty much.”

“Then I think I'm covered.”

Mason stepped forward. “Where are the kids?”

Debbie answered, “In the playroom upstairs. They're watching a movie.”

“Hence the popcorn.” Nicholas scrubbed a hand over his face and waved them all into the den area. “Have a seat. Deb, you take the popcorn up to the kids, and I'll fill you in on anything you need to know in a little bit. We'll have dinner in about an hour, all right?”

Consternation flashed briefly in her pretty eyes. Then she shrugged. “Fine. Mrs. Jefferson left a roast with
vegetables cooking in the Crock-pot. There's plenty to feed everyone.” She sent a smile in Mason and Carly's direction. “Nice meeting you.” Then she was gone, whirling away in a scented cloud of popcorn and some fruity perfume that made Carly's nose itch.

Mason looked at Carly. “I know Maria and Grady checked out the house, the windows and everything, but I'd feel better giving it a once-over myself. I'll be right back.”

She nodded, and Mason headed up the stairs.

The duo left behind sat on the couch, and Carly looked at Nicholas. “Is there any way you would consider recusing yourself from this trial?”

“Absolutely not. I refuse to give in to scare tactics, threats, whatever. I don't operate that way.”

Carly wasn't surprised by his answer. “Then we're going to have to figure out the best way to keep everyone safe until this trial is over.”

W
hile Mason secured the house, Carly watched the interactions of Nicholas and his niece and nephew. Lindsey, twelve, stood almost as tall as Carly. The quiet girl was reed thin, with blue eyes that saw everything.

She hadn't been nearly as welcoming as her seven-year-old brother, Christopher, who'd given her a high five and invited her to his room to see his fish. “I gotta have fish,” he explained. “I'm 'lergic to cats, and I can't play with the dogs. I have asthma, too. The fish don't bother my lungs.”

Asthma. She made a mental note of the fact.

“I thought you guys were watching a movie and stuffing yourselves on popcorn so you could sit down at dinner and say you're not hungry,” Nick teased.

Christopher gave a belly laugh. Lindsey had the art of eye rolling down perfect, and she seemed to feel the need to display it at every opportunity.

Five minutes after meeting Lindsey, Carly discovered her outlook on life consisted of a combination of waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop and roll-your-eyes-at-anything-an-adult-says attitude.

To make things easier on Carly and Mason, the Jeffersons had moved into the main house with their two dogs.
They'd declined the hotel room. The second-floor guest room was a compromise.

Debbie moved into the room at the end of the hall. She seemed to take everything in stride. “I've been in this situation before with Dad.” A hand batted at the air. “It's usually no big deal. He's gotten threats before, and nothing happened. So I'm not leaving when the children need me. That would just be one more inconsistency in their lives. And we have protection, right?”

Carly stared at her. “Are you sure? This could be a tense few days before the trial starts.” Even the fact that a man had been murdered as a message to her boss only caused a minor hesitation in the young woman.

She bit her lip, eyes darting between Carly and Mason, then back to Nicholas. Her jaw firmed. “No, I'm staying.”

“Great, more people in this house.” Lindsey rolled her eyes.

Nick shot her a look. “Watch it, Linds.”

The girl clenched her jaw and stomped toward the stairs.

Debbie frowned and went after her.

Christopher slipped a small hand into Carly's and looked up at her with a gap-toothed grin. “I'm glad you're here.”

She patted his head and knelt down on his level to grin back at him. “I'm glad I'm here, too.” She stood then looked at Nicholas. “It's my turn to check the grounds.”

“Come on, kiddo.” He motioned for his nephew to transfer his hand from Carly's to his. “Let's go see if dinner's going to be ready soon. I'm starving.”

After a quiet and tense meal, Debbie retired to her room at the end of the hall. Nick saw the children off to bed, and Carly walked the perimeter of the house one more time,
her nerves stretched taut. Right now, she could relate to Lindsey's waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop mentality.

It was too quiet. Yet the silence seemed loud. Filled with expectation, anticipation—waiting.

But for what?

Nothing good, that was for sure.

She shivered even as sweat broke out across her forehead.

The darkness pressed in, although the floodlights illuminated her path. The night smelled of dogwood and honeysuckle. She walked the darkened edge, not wanting to make herself a target should anyone be watching from beyond the fence.

The two dogs, she'd learned, were retired police K-9s the Jeffersons had adopted after Stella Jefferson's departure from the force. Carly had made friends with them, then turned them loose.

Pushing the earpiece deeper into her ear, she said, “All's clear out here.”

“We're settled in here,” Mason's voice came back to her. “You want first watch?”

“Sure. What about the kids? Do they seem all right?”

“Yeah. Well, Christopher and I are big buds now. The girl…um…not so much.”

“I noticed that, too. They've had so much upheaval in their young lives…”

“I know. Just FYI, our judge is armed.”

She stopped just on the edge of the light, her eyes scanning the darkness even as her brain processed the conversation. “Excuse me?”

“He got his gun from a safe and loaded it.”

Carly thought about that for a minute then said slowly, “Well, he's had the training. He knows how to use it.”

“Yeah, that was my take on it.”

“Then, good. I think.”

The floodlights clicked off. Her heart kicked up a notch as she froze. “Mason, did you do that?”

A quiet beat stretched between them. Then he said in a low voice. “No. The lights went off in here, too. Call for help and get in here.”

The other shoe had just dropped—with a bang.

 

Nick had just pointedly told Lindsey to get ready for bed. “And could you please lose the attitude? They're here to help us.” He wouldn't admit he wished he could throw a temper tantrum himself about the whole situation. But that wasn't going to help anything.

Another eye roll. “Right.”

Frustration bit at him. Ever since her mother and aunt had been killed, Lindsey's personality had done a one-eighty. She used to be so sweet, laughing at his silly attempts to bring a smile to her face, offering hugs with guileless spontaneity.

Then her mother and aunt died, and the bottom had dropped out of her world. Her grandmother leaving hadn't helped the situation, either. Nick understood why his mom felt she had to leave. There simply wasn't anyone else to take care of his aunt. But tell that to Lindsey.

With a sigh, he studied his niece's mutinous expression and supposed she was coping the only way she knew how.

Then the lights went out.

Frustration morphed into concern, then outright fear as he realized what was happening.

“Lindsey, get over here.” He pressed the button on his iPhone to illuminate the room. The glow caught her startled, fearful expression.

“Why?” she demanded.

He strode to her and grasped her wrist in a light grip. “The power just went out, and I don't know why yet. Stay with me and head to Christopher's room.”

“I've got him.” Carly's voiced reached out to him a few moments later in the dark. “Everyone stay together while we get to the safe area.”

An area she could defend, he thought. Drawing in a calming breath, he said, “The laundry room would be best. No windows and only one way in.”

“Good job. I'd already picked that place myself. We don't have much time. The alarm wasn't tripped, and without power it won't be.”

“Yes, it will. I have a generator that kicks in for the alarm system. And the laundry room is off the kitchen.”

“You and the kids get in there.”

“Get my dog, Uncle Nick,” Christopher cried suddenly. “Pepper. I don't want the bad people to get him!”

Carly shot him a look. “Dog?”

“A stuffed animal he sleeps with.” He placed a hand on Christopher's head. “He's safe and sound, tucked under your bed last time I saw him, okay?” Then he looked at Carly. “What about Debbie and the Jeffersons?” No way was he going to tuck his tail and run when people he cared about were in danger.

“Mason has them.” She spoke into her radio. “Meet us in the kitchen.” To Nicholas, she said, “Follow me and stay away from the windows.”

As they descended the slightly curved staircase, the sound of barking reached his ears. “The dogs aren't happy. Someone's on the grounds.”

“Or somewhere around the fence. I wish you had some closer neighbors who'd check out all the racket.”

The barking escalated.

A shadow passed the bay window in the den. “They're
outside the house,” he whispered. Lindsey clutched his hand, the sullen preteen now a scared young girl. Both children remained silent, eyes wide, breaths rasping. She noted Christopher seemed to be wheezing a little. “Do you have his inhaler?”

“In my pocket.” Nicholas fumbled in the front pocket of his jeans.

His heart thudded, not so much in fear for himself as for the kids and his staff. And the marshals. Most specifically, Carly.

God, please don't let anyone get hurt. I know she's skilled in her job, but I can't live with someone else I know dying…

Her right hand gripped Christopher's; her left curled around the gun. She motioned them left at the bottom of the steps, across the den and into the kitchen. She opened the laundry-room door and said, “All right. In you go. Lock it behind you.”

Thankfully, he'd installed the lock on the laundry-room door when the kids had come to live with him. He hadn't wanted Christopher to accidentally get into the household supplies he kept in there.

Although if someone was determined to get in, neither the door nor the lock would hold against a swift kick with a booted foot.

Nick felt the weight of his weapon pressing against his lower back and itched to pull it out. Why hadn't the alarm gone off? Then he realized that he hadn't heard the generator kick in.

Lips pressed into a thin line, he motioned the kids in. Mason, Debbie and the Jeffersons appeared next to him. He reached across the counter and grabbed the telephone.

Dead.

Grimly, he reported, “No power and no generator for some reason. Phone line's been cut, too.”

“Great,” Mason muttered.

“Get in,” Nick urged. Debbie led the way. The children immediately attached themselves to her side. Nick handed the inhaler to her, and she passed it to Christopher, who stuck it in his mouth for a good puff. His eyes pleaded with Nick as he whined, “I want Pepper.”

Nick rubbed his head. “I'll go get him in just a minute, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise. You just concentrate on breathing, okay?”

Christopher gave a reluctant nod. The Jeffersons entered the room, and Nicholas shut the door.

Carly looked at him. “What are you doing? Get in there.”

He narrowed his eyes on her and pulled his gun from the back of his waistband. “Not a chance.”

“This is what
we're
here for, remember?” she protested.

Mason motioned toward the front of the house. “No time to argue. Judge, you stay back and out of sight if you can. Use the gun if necessary.”

“You're not making this any easier.” Carly's nose flared as she shot him a look mixed with anger and fear. Nicholas understood her anger, wondered at her fear.

“This is my fight,” he insisted. “I won't deny I might need help, but I refuse to sit on the sidelines while somebody else fights it.”

 

Carly bit her lip and forced aside visions of him lying in a pool of blood.

Her gut clenched and a protest hovered on her lips. Then a loud crash came from just ahead. Carly stepped in front
of Nicholas and pointed her gun in the direction of the sound. “Freeze!”

Running footsteps sounded. The flash of a large shadow darted around a corner. Nicholas brushed past her and took off in pursuit. Mason ran the other way, and Carly knew he was looking to cut off the intruder.

She counted one person inside the house.

But how many were outside?

Sirens sounded in the distance. Help was on the way. She hoped the approaching authorities would scare off whoever was on the property. The dogs were barking like crazy. How had the intruders gotten past them?

Carly followed Nicholas, determined to back up whatever he was doing. She'd hold on to the tongue-lashing she wanted to give him until after everyone was safe.

Rounding the corner, she pulled up short. Nicholas had his back up against the side of the house, his gun held steady, aiming into the dark. “What is it?”

“Two of them ran toward the woods.”

Carly radioed it in. A police helicopter would head their way. They'd also notify the authorities to be on the lookout for cars coming from this direction.

“Carly!”

Mason. She motioned for Nicholas to follow her back into the house. Police now swarmed the property. Mason stood in the den area talking to several officers and barking out orders.

“What is it, Mason?”

Her partner looked up as she walked in. “He—or they—got away, but one of the dogs snagged this.”

With a gloved hand, he held up a piece of fabric. Carly wrinkled her nose. “What is it?”

“A piece of a shirt, I think.” In his other latex-covered hand, he held up wire cutters. “We'll have the lab test this
for prints, but I don't think they'll get anything. Whoever is after Nick is smart and they'd have had gloves on. It's a no-brainer.”

“Still, we've got to try. We might get pleasantly surprised and catch a break.”

Mason grunted his disagreement as he set the two pieces of evidence aside to be taken to the lab, but didn't argue. She knew he secretly hoped she was right.

Nicholas ran his fingers through his already tousled hair and sighed. “Why didn't the generator kick in when they cut the power? And how did they get past the dogs?”

“The dogs were maced,” Mason informed them. “They came prepared to take the dogs out. As for the generator, I checked on that. It's been dismantled.” Mason paced from one end of the den back to them.

“How?” Nicholas snapped. “It's in a closed area that blends in with the house. How would they know where to find it?”

Carly drew in a deep breath and shared a glance with Mason, who said, “Our intruders did their homework. They've probably been doing it ever since they found out you were going to be sitting on the case. These guys are good, professional killers.” He sighed and rubbed his chin. “But why strike here? Professional killers prefer to work from a distance. Why didn't they shoot you instead of Harrison Frasier?”

Carly sighed. “Good point. Unless,” she pondered, “they don't really care if you're dead or not. They just want you off the case. If they can scare you off, why bother to kill you?” She threw her hands into the air. “Who knows? I do know this—we've got our work cut out for us.”