The Guardian

by Dee Henderson

  She was focused on the speech, lost again in thought. He’d been studying her over the last weeks with more care than he realized. The sketch came together with great detail. He would never be able to capture the quality that most fascinated him, the joy that lit her face when she smiled, but he tried.

  Her posture when she worked was atrocious. He smiled as he saw her wiggle down in the leather chair to get more comfortable. She sprawled. Just like her stuff. Between the books, the newspapers, the pages she had printed from Web sites and stapled together, the crumpled pages of rejected words, someone would have to want to invade her domain to get near her.

  He wished she wasn’t a witness. It made this situation difficult, because one of these days he wouldn’t mind invading her space to kiss her good night. She had, after all, spent the last weeks doing a very effective job of invading his heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Haven’t you ever heard of the word sleep?”

  Lisa looked up from the microscope, startled to find someone in the lab at 4:15 A.M.., even more surprised to see Quinn. He was supposed to be somewhere in Kentucky with Marcus. He wasn’t exactly the person she would have chosen to stop by.

  “Don’t frown. I come in peace.”

  He held out a small white sack and she was curious enough to glance inside. “Food is not allowed in the lab.”

  He shook it slightly, making the M&Ms rattle. “I asked for extra red ones.”

  She glanced at him, saw the twinkle in his gaze, and took a handful.

  He tucked the sack in his jacket pocket. “Tell me what you’ve got so far.”

  She sighed. “Not enough.” She had been back over the hotel room with a fine tooth comb and it was frustrating her to no end.

  “What’s the carpet?”

  She had cut out two sections of carpet from room 1323, one with the blood and shoe polish trace and the other where the glass fragments had been found. “I found shattered glass fragments on the carpet. Some tested positive for traces of blood so I’m trying to recover enough to get a DNA test.”

  “Think you’ll be able to?”

  She held up the thin vial she had worked most of the day to collect. “I’m having to take the carpet weave apart thread by thread to find them. We’ll see. It’s a long shot.”

  “I owe you dinner, but would you be willing to change that to breakfast? I’ll be glad to feed you while you tell me the details.”

  Lisa looked at the work left to do.

  “It will still be there in a few hours.”

  “Make it somewhere still serving a cheeseburger and fries at this time of morning and you’ve got a deal.”

  “I think I can oblige.”

  Lisa put the evidence back under lock and key.

  “Do you want to walk or take a cab?” Quinn asked as Lisa signed out of the building, and they cleared security.

  “Walk,” Lisa replied. She found the walk with Quinn helped revive her energy. She had been practically living at the lab since this case began. “I found—”

  Quinn cut her off. “Give yourself five minutes off work.”

  She was surprised at the stringent tone of the order but nodded. It got very quiet. She didn’t know what to say to him if it wasn’t about work.

  Quinn led the way to a restaurant six blocks away, a hole in the wall that she had heard about but never visited. It catered to taxi drivers and construction workers. It was busy even at a quarter to five in the morning. Quinn steered her to a booth rather than a barstool. The menus were thick, with everything available at all hours.

  “Cheeseburger and fries?” Quinn confirmed, Lisa nodded, and he placed an order for both of them. The food arrived within minutes. The fries were thick wedges and the cheeseburger more than a handful, thick and stacked with onion, lettuce, and tomato.

  “When was the last time you ate?” he asked as she dug into the fries.

  “I don’t remember. I think it was a candy bar lunch.”

  “I’m flush enough to be able to afford a second cheeseburger.”

  She was finding the food too enjoyable to mind the remark. “I’ll accept.”

  He waited until half the cheeseburger was gone and the sharp edge of her hunger had been satisfied. “Okay, now you can tell me what you have found.”

  She picked up a fry, grateful to be free to talk about something she was comfortable with. “It’s Carl’s blood and shoe polish on the carpet. We’ve got more fibers from the hairpiece the shooter wore. And a few more fibers that match his suit. There was a trace of gun residue in the safe. It’s certain now that the shooter used the room. He had the arrogance to store the murder weapon in the room safe. But we’ve got no fingerprints.”

  “What about the registration of the room itself? Someone was there.”

  “It’s a block of rooms reserved by the conference. Show up with a conference ticket and they hand you a room key. The credit card that was used for extra charges turned out to be stolen. The name Henry James leads us nowhere. The signature card has only the prints of the hotel reservation clerk. Whoever was in that room used the express checkout and carried the weapon, his disguise, out with him on Saturday.”

  “Keep looking. He made another mistake.”

  Lisa wished she had his confidence. “I hope so.” She changed the subject. “How’s Marcus?”

  “His arm is fine. His heart—” Quinn smiled—“that’s a different matter.”

  Lisa paused, intrigued. “Shari?”

  “That would be my guess.”

  She set down her drink and leaned back against the bench. Marcus was getting serious. Well, it was about time. “Shari.” Her smile widened. She had met Shari briefly, and Kate and Jennifer had both mentioned her in their calls. There had been speculation, but nothing firm.

  “Don’t put it on the family grapevine until I am away from here so it won’t be obvious I’m the one who passed on the news.”

  “Quinn, there are times I like how you think.” She was feeling very generous at the moment and the normal reserve to her smile dropped away as she beamed at him. “Going to finish your fries?”

  He blinked, then smiled back. He slid his plate toward her and handed her the catsup bottle. “Enjoy.”

  * * *

  Marcus leaned over Beth’s shoulder to watch her ice another cupcake. “Are we ready for tomorrow?” A week had passed since Quinn had left for Chicago to try and move the investigation along. Marcus had turned his impatience with the delay into going overboard with the birthday planning.

  “All set. I’ll just need you to keep Shari busy for about two hours while I get the decorations put up.”

  He sneaked a taste of the icing from the mixing bowl. “Not a problem. I’ll make sure she comes with me when Josh goes to see the physical therapist.”

  “You can have a cupcake if you like.”

  “Better yet, can I have one for tomorrow to soften the blow when I tell Shari she’s about to be had?” Shari was so absorbed in work; they had managed to plan what amounted to a small-scale bash without her noticing.

  Beth laughed. “Sure.”

  Marcus squeezed her shoulder. “The gift you asked to have delivered arrived. I put it in your closet upstairs.”

  “Think she’ll like it?”

  The dress Beth had bought Shari was gorgeous. Marcus leaned against the counter beside Beth and gave her a knowing smile. “I do.”

  She didn’t bother to hide her humor. “Good.”

  “Craig has the rounds this evening. I’m going to go find your daughter and convince her to take a walk. Would you like to come along?”

  “Thanks, but I’m planning to watch that Columbo movie with Josh at the top of the hour.”

  “Making popcorn?” he asked, hopeful.

  “I’ll make extra.”

  “Thanks. Shari promised me a Scrabble rematch tonight.”

  “She’ll tromp you again.”

  Marcus chuckled. “Probably. But she feels so bad when she wins i
t’s funny.”

  “She likes you.”

  “Think so?”

  “Marcus, you’re as bad as Shari. Don’t you two ever talk?”

  “We talk all the time.”

  She snorted. “Then why are you both asking me the important questions?”

  “Good point.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Like I said, I’m going to go find your daughter.”

  As the days passed, security had fallen into a pattern. Marcus was comfortable they had the situation here contained. It didn’t lessen his guard, but it did help the coil of fear in his gut relax. Shari was safe here. That was the important fact in life. As restless as he was to be back in Chicago where the action was, to be in Baltimore with Jennifer, here was where he needed to be. Since that was reality, he had let himself seize the moment and enjoy it.

  He found Shari in the den. He was becoming accustomed to her work schedule. She worked hard. Too hard, he sometimes wondered, for the motivation to solely be the work that needed to get done. She had something to prove and he was beginning to think it was with herself. She was a lady in a tough profession, very good at what she did, and she didn’t cut herself much slack.

  She was still in the midst of a phone marathon, working on a speech on fiscal policy. She needed someone to remind her to slow down. When she hung up the phone and before she could dial again, he leaned over the back of the couch and set his hands down on her shoulders. “Slip away and come watch the sunset.”

  She leaned her head back to look at him. “There are more calls to finish.”

  “Those will wait. The sunset won’t.”

  She considered for a moment, then set aside the notepad. “Sure, why not. It’s not like I’m making much progress. I’m back to negotiating my original language from this morning.”

  “That just means you were right this morning.”

  “Well, I’m lousy at convincing people of that.”

  He came around the couch, offered his hands, and pulled her to her feet.

  “I knew John was dumping a hornet’s nest in my lap.”

  “So why did you say yes?”

  “Because I like a challenge. But I hate writing a speech by committee.”

  They stepped outside. The wind had picked up, and Shari reached up, pushing her hair back.

  “I found a great place down the beach.”

  She fell into step beside him. “It’s good to get outside.”

  “You need to take more breaks.”

  “True. Another good intention I haven’t followed through on.”

  Marcus pointed out a fallen log. Shari sat down, bracing her arms on her knees. A low front had brought in a band of white wispy clouds. The reflections of the clouds glittered on the water. “You’re right. This is a great view.”

  They sat together in silence watching the colors change as the sun set. Marcus felt no need to break the silence.

  The colors drifted into darker hues. “Which do you like better, a sunset or a sunrise?” she asked idly.

  Marcus glanced at her, considering. “Sunset.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re never awake to share a sunrise with me.”

  He watched the startled faint blush spread across her face. “Marcus—”

  “You asked.”

  “Are you flirting?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you are being very nice.”

  Nice. Marcus buried a sigh. And I’m trying to get your attention. Nice wasn’t the word I was hoping for. So much for making the point subtly.

  She leaned her weight back against her hands and turned her attention back to the sunset. “I used to date a guy named Sam.”

  Marcus went still. He had not been expecting her to come back with an offer for a serious discussion. He turned so he could look at her. Sam. He knew that name from the file developed on her, had seen a couple newspaper clippings, and remembered the conversation she had referred to at the hospital. “What happened?”

  “We had different visions of where we would go as a couple.”

  “Do you regret it now?”

  “No. It hurt like crazy, still does at times, but it was the right decision.”

  Shari looked over and considered him for a moment. “Marcus, are we going to be friends when all this is over? Or is this one of those special friendships that exists for the moment and is one you remember with gratitude when the event is passed?”

  “Which do you want?”

  “I like you.”

  He smiled. Finally. “It’s mutual.”

  “And you’re a complicated man.”

  She had looked further than the surface. “I’m an O’Malley.” He wished he could explain everything that meant, about what it meant to be part of the family he had chosen to lead. He went back to her original question. “As far as I’m concerned, these last couple weeks are an interruption to what will be a very long friendship.”

  “An interruption? Why?”

  “Because I’m working. That changes the situation.”

  “Constrains it, you mean.”

  Trust her to be direct. He had always admired that. “If you like.”

  She was silent for a long time. He would have said something, but her expression had become serious. “I need a friend right now, Marcus.” She sighed. “I wish you believed. I really need someone to talk to.”

  “What about?”

  She shrugged her shoulder, didn’t answer.

  “I may struggle with it and have my doubts, but I’ve got two sisters convinced the Bible is true. Trust me. I’ll do my best to understand.”

  She gave him a small smile. “I still think you’ll eventually come around.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Jennifer and Kate strike me as being persuasive.”

  “They can be. Talk to me. What are you wrestling with?”

  “Why Dad died.”

  “Because you prayed for a different outcome?”

  She nodded.

  “Jennifer is praying to be healed.”

  “And you’re wondering if she has a chance at getting a positive answer.”

  “I’ve wondered,” he said simply.

  “A twenty-year Christian and an unbeliever wrestling over the same question. If you find an answer, I’d appreciate hearing it.” She shook her head slightly. “Change of subject. How is Jennifer? You haven’t said much in the last few days.”

  “She says she’s fine. She’s lying,” he replied, weary. It was impossible to imagine what it was going to mean, the radiation and chemotherapy not working.

  “Fine can be a matter of perspective. Someone broken of spirit can be worse off than someone physically ill. When do you go see her?”

  “If things work out I’ll take a predawn flight Tuesday, spend the day, and take a late night flight back.”

  “I wish you had been able to go last week.”

  “It couldn’t be helped. Jack and Stephen are there. And I’ve been talking to her every day.”

  The shadows were beginning to lengthen. Marcus got to his feet and held out his hand. “The sunset is fading; it’s time we were inside.” Since the church incident, he wasn’t taking chances. She slipped her hand into his. “Want to go into town with me tomorrow? I thought I might go play some basketball while Josh is at physical therapy.”

  “I can get out of the house?”

  “Just to the gym. No shopping I’m afraid.”

  “I’ll still take it.”

  He led the way back down the beach, skirting driftwood.

  “Would you teach me how to play?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Basketball.”

  He looked over and caught her half smile. “Now you tell me.”

  “I’m kind of athletically challenged too.”

  “You’re smart. You can learn.”

  “Tell me that after you’ve spent an hour chasing the basketball. What time do we need to leave?”
>
  “Nine o’clock will be early enough.”

  * * *

  Time alone with Marcus was worth this. Shari shut off her alarm and crawled out of bed, trying to remind herself of that. It was not yet 7 A.M.. She vaguely remembered seeing 2 A.M.. This was horrible. And it was her birthday. She considered crawling back in bed and burying her head under a pillow. She would prefer to sleep through this day rather than be up at dawn. No. If she ducked back into bed, she would never hear the end of it.

  She staggered downstairs after a hot shower, barefoot, carrying her socks, in desperate need of coffee.

  The radio was on in the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised to find Marcus working at the counter. He was in jeans, a black T-shirt, and tennis shoes. The casual attire didn’t eliminate the obvious signs of his job—the badge, gun, and radio on his belt, the small earpiece he wore to keep him in touch with the other officers.

  He set down the spoon he was using to mix muffin batter, wiped his hands on a towel, and gave her a smile, wide and welcoming. “Sit down. I’ll fix you breakfast.”

  He was cheerful at this time of morning. She wanted to groan. If she had to talk coherently, she was in trouble. She took the coffee he offered, retreated to the table, and found the first newspaper, searching through it for the comics page.

  He tugged down the newspaper. “Happy birthday.”

  “Please, don’t remind me.”

  “How old are you today anyway?”

  She wrinkled her nose at him.

  “That’s okay. I already know,” he remarked smugly.

  “If I have to endure this day, please feed me.”

  He laughed and returned to the stove. “Do you want hash browns with your omelet?”

  “Please.”

  He was a very good short-order cook and she had long since stopped trying to suggest she should help. Breakfast was his domain. If she wanted to fix and bring him lunch to wherever he was working, that was another matter.

  There was quiet for the next several minutes. Shari read the comics, turned to the national news, then moved to the political page.

  Marcus set down a plate with a western omelet, toast, hash browns. He set a glass of orange juice beside the plate.

  She looked at the orange juice with distaste.

  “Eat. And orange juice is good for you.”