Maliki (Guardian Defenders Book 2)

by Kris Michaels

  He’d pegged Jim's testosterone-laced cowboy act fast this morning and had zero problems handling the macho bullshit Jim had whipped out. Talk about a dick measuring contest. The doctor had won, hands down.

  She stopped and thought about that for a moment. She bet the man was proportional. Whoa, pull the reins in girl. Doctor Blue hadn't been anything less than professional. So, no drooling on or fantasizing about proportions of strangers. Well, he wasn't exactly a stranger. She'd met him twice. She knew who he worked for. She'd invited him to her home, so they were basically on their third meeting. Wow, reaching for straws much, girl?

  Still, she was happy she’d gone with her instincts and reached out to the doctor. For most of the day, she'd been okay with that effort. Now, however, she was struggling to recount the reasons asking him to take a look at the murders was a good thing.

  She closed her eyes and held up her index finger. First, his background had been vetted by the best. He worked for Guardian. The massive security company put the FBI and CIA to shame, and every law enforcement agency in the world would kill to have a liaison available for an assist. That was a huge mark in his favor. Second, it meant he had access to resources she couldn't touch. Third, she added another finger in the air; she knew he had experience as some type of law enforcement. There was no way he didn't. He radiated that knowledge whether or not he'd admit to it. Hell, his witness statement was a textbook example of law enforcement report writing. Fourth, she dropped her hand. He had an objective perspective. She needed that. Having been wrapped up in these cases, every day, for almost a year now, an outside perspective was absolutely necessary.

  Now, however, she was second-guessing her gut. If the good doctor turned out to be an asshole who made waves for her, she'd be thoroughly screwed.

  She rolled her head and looked at her laptop. It was a risk she was going to take. She needed someone to have outside eyes on these cases. If he thought it was nothing, then she'd shut up and color inside the lines. Maybe.

  The timer on her oven chirped and she glanced at the wall clock. Okay, Dr. Blue, anytime. She pushed herself off the couch and headed into the kitchen. Her small apartment had been her home for the last eleven years. Her mementos of her assignments were scattered throughout, including several plaques for winning Airman and NCO of the Year. She should probably put those in storage, but every time she looked at them, it gave her a sense of accomplishment.

  She checked on dinner, took the ham out and put it on a platter to rest before she covered it with foil and turned the oven off. The knock at her door exactly on time prompted her to open it without checking who was on the opposite side. She froze, gaping at the man who leaned against the door jamb.

  Oh shit. "What are you doing here?"

  Jim Watson sneered at her. "That’s a hell of a greeting, Poet. How about asking me in?"

  "Ah, yeah, sure… come in." She let him pass before she popped her head into the hall and scanned the vacant hallway. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  "Am I interrupting something?" He motioned to the kitchen table which was prepared for dinner and had two place settings.

  "Ah, I have someone coming over."

  "Okay, then I'll get to the point. I want you to steer clear of Dr. Boswell or Blue or whatever he's calling himself now. I don't know if you are aware, but his past involved a man dying. He left in disgrace. I'll be going to the Boswell estate tomorrow to talk with Old Man Boswell and make sure he doesn't need assistance in removing the guy."

  Poet sat down on the arm of the couch. "I did some research on him today. He was cleared of those charges.”

  Jim looked at her. "Yeah, I can see I was right to come over here tonight. Don’t you know money makes shit go away? My source tells me the old man took the rap for this guy. His reputation could absorb it. The kid left in a huff and basically stole money from some trust fund when he bounced." Jim stood with his hands behind his back and stared at her plaques on the wall.

  "Who is your source?"

  "Someone who was around when that shit went down. I didn't know you were in the Air Force."

  "Yeah." She narrowed her eyes and glared at the back of her boss. "Why are you here?"

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. "I told you."

  She shook her head as he turned around. "It isn't like you to spread rumors and speculation.” Or at least she didn’t think it was. “What about Dr. Blue has you worried?"

  "I'm not worried. I don’t want him here stirring up problems for Boswell."

  "Yeah… no. I'm not buying it." She stood and crossed her arms. "If you had anything legitimate to base your speculation on, you'd take action or have one of us do it for you. So, this little end run here? What do you possibly think you could gain by this?"

  "Keep away from him, Poet. You've always been a reliable deputy. I'd hate to think you're no longer trustworthy."

  She recoiled in surprise. "Did you threaten my job?" She glared at him and watched the vein on his forehead throb under the deep red stain of the anger that spread over his face. He was pissed and that was fine because she was right there with him.

  "You don't want to test me on this. You won't win." Jim pushed past her and slammed out of the apartment.

  Poet followed him to the door and thumbed the deadbolt. She combed her hands through her hair. Moving away from the door she turned and looked at it. "I've fallen through the looking glass."

  She jumped at a soft knock at her door. This time she checked the peep hole. "Fuck." She threw the deadbolt, reached out, grabbed Maliki, and yanked him into the apartment. She slammed and locked the door behind him.

  "Whoa. Relax. He took the elevator. I saw him coming up when I parked across the street. I used the stairs. I listened at the door, knew he was in here, and waited in the stairwell until he left. I take it he was an unexpected guest?"

  She dropped back against the door, her heart pounding against her ribs. "The first and only time in eleven years that he's been here."

  "Strange. Why did he show up?" The man strolled into her front room.

  "I think it was to threaten me."

  He turned; his blue eyes examined her from head to toe. "Did he hurt you?"

  She snorted. "Fuck no. I'm not a wilting flower. If he’d touched me, there would have been blood. His."

  "The threat?"

  "To stay away from you, I think."

  "Figures. He followed me to the diner this afternoon and used intimidation tactics on me as well." The doctor shoved his hands into his front jean pockets and nodded to the wall. "Senior Airman and then Staff Sergeant Poet Campbell. You were Air Force."

  Poet blinked, catching up with the topic change. "Six years."

  A wide smile split his face. "Me too. What AFSC?"

  "Security Forces. You?"

  "PJ."

  "Pararescue? Damn. Impressive. Wait... did you enlist before or after you obtained your medical degree?"

  The man shrugged his big shoulders. "After. That was a difficult point in my life. I walked away from medicine for a short time."

  She moved away from the door. "What caused you to do that?"

  He shrugged again. "Long story. There was a reason you wanted me to meet you tonight?"

  "Yeah. It is going to take some explanation. I've made dinner. I figure it was the least I could do since I'm probably chasing ghosts and wasting your time." She headed into the kitchen and put on two oven mitts.

  "Dinner sounds good. Hell, it smells good. What ghosts are haunting you?" He leaned against the door jamb and watched as she put the dish of homemade mac and cheese on the table along with the ham.

  "Hit start on the microwave, will you?" She nodded to the other side of the small kitchen. The machine chirped, starting to warm the green beans as she cut slices of ham from the bone. "The ghosts are recent deaths that have happened in the county."

  "Three, right? All women?"

  Poet spun with a huge carving knife in one hand, a serving fork in the other. "How did you know that?
"

  "You plan on using that on me?" He nodded to the knife.

  She blinked down at the implements she was wielding and shook her head. "No, but how did you know we had three deaths?"

  "It was the talk of the bar, or at least the portion of the bar where I was sitting last night. According to local gossip, one was a tweaker. The next one who died, well the royals were accused of keeping that one quiet because her folks worked for one of the estates. They didn't know much about the third one."

  "Yeah, three murders—at least I consider them murders—in the last eleven months. Please, take a seat." She placed two large slices of ham on his plate. "Help yourself to the mac and cheese. I'll get the beans." She sat down with the veggies and noticed he'd placed a slice of ham on her plate along with a large scoop of pasta. "Ah, thank you."

  "No problem. So, what has you bothered? Do you think they're linked?"

  "That's just it." She picked up her knife and fork. "Honestly there is nothing tying them together other than the fact that none of them should be dead." She sighed; her shoulders dropped. "It isn't just the deaths. At the first scene we found a phone. The screen had been smashed and the battery was dead, so Granger and I found a charge cord that worked and powered it up before we turned it on. There were no calls made on the phone, at least in the phone log, but the web browser had four websites listed. I took a picture of the screen before the phone gave up the ship. The websites were of snuff films. Horrific, unbelievably graphic depictions that couldn't have been anything but real.

  He put down his fork and stared at her. "You took that to the FBI, right?"

  "No. I took it to Sheriff Watson. He said he'd up-channel it to the BCI."

  "But..." He encouraged her to continue and took a bite of the food. "This is… good."

  "Thanks. The ‘but’ is... well, it's that my instinct is telling me that although nothing is connecting the murders and the websites, they are related."

  "Why is that?" He sliced into his ham as he asked.

  "A myriad of reasons. The first woman wasn't a known drug user. She was actually a health nut. She ran, had close friends, and none of them had any clue she was using. We both know someone who is a chronic user will show signs."

  "True. I take it the lab and toxicology supported an OD determination?" He speared a couple green beans on his fork.

  She lifted a mouthful of pasta and nodded before she took a bite and spoke around her food. "She had track marks between her toes, and she'd gone missing for three weeks prior to us finding her body. The medical examiner listed drugs as the cause of death.”

  "No one dug deeper?"

  "No. We were told it was a closed case, and the department wasn't going to expend assets to prove what was already known. She died of an overdose."

  "I can see the sense in that directive..."

  Her eyes narrowed on him.

  “If all other questions had been answered. From what you told me; they weren’t.”

  "It was closed so fast. As soon as those toxicology reports came in, the case was pulled from us."

  "What about the girl's family? Are they pursuing it?"

  "She doesn't have much family. Her parents are dead. She has an elderly aunt who is devastated but isn't asking any questions.

  "But you are?"

  "She wasn't a drug user."

  "So, you think what, someone killed her?" He took another bite of his meal.

  "Yeah. I think she was kidnapped. That would account for her being missing for three weeks, and I think she was killed."

  "Was she sexually assaulted?"

  She shook her head. "According to the report there was no foreign DNA on her."

  “But were there signs of assault?”

  “I don’t know. The ME didn’t indicate it, and since it didn’t appear to be a suspicious death…”

  “They didn’t look.”

  “Right.”

  He leaned back and patted his mouth with a napkin. Damn, he'd finished his food, and she'd only picked at hers. "More?"

  He nodded. "Thank you, it’s very good. What about victim number two?"

  She took another bite and answered after she'd swallowed. "Stopped breathing."

  He caught her eyes, suspending a large spoonful of pasta halfway between the casserole and his plate. "That usually happens when a person dies."

  She gave him a sad smile. "The cause of death is unknown. The medical examiner concluded the woman just stopped… living. No heart issues. No trauma. No ligature marks, no indication of strangulation and toxicology came back negative. She was a healthy woman who just... stopped living."

  "What did the Bureau of Criminal Investigations say?"

  "They weren't called in. The death wasn't labeled as suspicious. The medical examiner said he had nothing to go on. She just… died."

  "Family?"

  "She had a grandmother who worked at one of the estates. She died shortly after her granddaughter was found."

  "How did the grandmother die?”

  “Massive heart attack.”

  “But her death isn’t linked to the others?”

  “No. There were witnesses. She was serving lunch when she died.”

  He took another slice of ham. “Had the granddaughter gone missing like the first?”

  “I don’t know. She lived alone, worked from home as a freelance photographer. The grandmother hadn’t spoken to her in a month, but that wasn’t unusual.”

  “And you learned this prior to the grandmother dying?”

  “I have it in her statement. Yes.”

  He sliced a portion off his ham and studied the plate. “The third?”

  “Missing for over two weeks. Found in her car. Aspirated on her vomit according to the Medical Examiner.”

  He nodded. “It happens.”

  “When a person is sitting up?”

  That got his attention. “She was in a seated position?”

  “We found her behind the wheel of her car. Seated with her head lolled forward. Cause of death was aspiration and asphyxiation.”

  He pushed away his dinner plate and leaned forward. “It can happen. If she’d passed out...”

  “But you have to admit, it is unusual.”

  He leaned forward. “There isn’t enough if you take each case individually.”

  “And then there’s Shauna.”

  Maliki turned his head and a single eyebrow lifted. “Why would you assume her case belongs with the others?”

  “The easy answer would be, she’s a young, pretty woman.”

  “But Shauna has family, people who know what she’s doing and when.”

  She shook her head. “Shauna doesn’t live with Daryl and Jennie. We discovered that she lives near Charlottesville. She’d enrolled in a cosmetology certification course. According to what Granger discovered when talking to Daryl and Jennie while Shauna was in surgery, they hadn’t seen her in months.”

  She picked up her plate and took it to the sink. “I know there isn’t anything tying the cases together except for the fact they are young women. But three dead and one fighting for her life, all in this small county? All within the last year? And how did they die out there in the middle of nowhere? Add all of that to the snuff films...”

  "Why do you keep returning to the films?"

  She sighed and angled her head away from his gaze. "There was one film. The woman died in the woods. I've hiked through this state, but most of my experience is in this county. The background... I could swear she was killed somewhere in these hills. I'm not a botanist or geologist, but the trees, underbrush, those damn rocks... it was just so familiar.”

  He stood and brought her his dishes, setting them next to hers in the sink. “And what do you want from me?”

  She turned and leaned against the counter, and he followed suit. Their arms brushed together when she looked over and up at him. “I don’t think you’re just a doctor. I think, based on what I’ve heard and seen, you’re, maybe, an agent.”


  “Agent?” He chuckled. “Guardian employs personal security officers, investigators, and operatives. We leave the agent banner for the government types.”

  “I thought Guardian was government.”

  “Federally recognized, privately owned and funded.”

  “But you’re more than just a doctor, aren’t you?” She held his gaze and watched him closely.

  Finally, he lifted his shoulder and tipped his head. “What do you need from Guardian?”

  “Can you run the girls through your systems? Determine if there is a link between them? I need a thread of connection, something, hell anything, to go over the sheriff’s head and take these deaths to the BCI.”

  He drew a deep breath and dropped his eyes to the floor. “Say, hypothetically, I’m able to pull in a few favors and there’s nothing we can find. What are you going to do then?”

  She let a low humorous laugh fall. “I’ll be looking for a new job. I don’t know what’s going on with Jim, but he’s acting weird. He’s changed over the last year, maybe year and a half. The little scene here tonight? Never going to happen again. I’ll find someplace to land.”

  “And if Guardian is able to find a connection?”

  “I go over Jim’s head to the BCI, and then I'll start sending my resume, hopefully landing a job before he can fire me. Probably move out of state.” She chuckled. “I’m pretty sure if I don’t leave willingly, he’ll find a way to make me leave. I’d rather go without disciplinary measures in my employment jacket.”

  They leaned against the counter for a moment in silence, arms touching although they both could easily have avoided the touch. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. The intoxicating cologne he wore filled her senses, and she let it settle around her.

  “All right.”

  She shifted and snapped her eyes to him. “All right what?”

  “All right Senior Deputy Campbell, I’ll take this to my leadership and see what they have to say. I’m not sure what I can do, but I will run it up the flagpole.”