Yuletide Protector (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Lisa Mondello

  “That arrest was perfectly legal,” Kevin said firmly. “Textbook, even.”

  Matt nodded. “I agree. I’ve read the report. Detective Gordon had probable cause. The arrest was clean and as soon as the mistake was cleared up, your client was released without any harm.”

  Bingham laughed harshly. “I’m not here to debate what you perceive as probable cause these days. I’m talking about this morning when my client found one of your officers tailing him.”

  Jorgensen tossed a disgusted look at Kevin that might as well have been a flogging. Kevin was almost too surprised to notice. Ski was usually stealthlike when he was tailing someone. Despite his nervous twitch, he was good at keeping himself invisible. Carlisle hadn’t seen him for the two weeks they’d been tailing him before the meeting. But obviously Carlisle was aware of them now and that meant they’d all have to be more careful.

  “It’s bad enough to be falsely accused, to have your reputation tarnished with innuendo. But to be stalked and made to fear the very people who’ve sworn to protect and serve, well…”

  Kevin shoved his hands into his pockets in an attempt to give them something to do other than grab Bingham by the throat. Bingham was baiting Kevin. He wanted Kevin to lose his cool, act like a crazed cop to strengthen his case against the department and to give credence to George Carlisle’s claim that he was being harassed. But he wasn’t about to let Bingham get the best of him.

  “My client had some banking business this morning and found Detective Gordon sitting outside the building when he came out.”

  Kevin quickly ran the events of the morning through his head. He hadn’t seen Carlisle leaving the building after Daria went inside. He’d only waited long enough for Daria to enter the building before leaving himself. Ski had told him Carlisle was long gone before Daria had arrived. The only way Carlisle would have known Kevin had been there was if he’d come back.

  “I was doing my job, which is to protect Ms. Carlisle from your client,” he told Bingham.

  Martha cocked her head. “So you were at Ms. Carlisle’s office building this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  Bingham flipped his hand. “There. He’s admitted to stalking my client. I want charges brought against Detective Gordon and a restraining order issued. I won’t tolerate Gordon harassing my client any longer.”

  “He’s done no such thing,” Martha said firmly, shifting her briefcase from one hand to the other. She shook a head of short salt-and-pepper curls in impatience. “And none of this will hold up in court. You and I both know that, Mr. Bingham. I will also not entertain any notion of false arrest on this matter. I’ve seen the report. The officers at the salvage yard believed they had probable cause for an arrest. The department released your client as soon as they discovered there was no evidence on that tape. Your client should be happy they didn’t hold him the full forty-eight hours the law allows.”

  Bingham huffed. “Regardless, I want to file a restraining order against this officer.”

  “For what?” Matt said. “He’s already stated his reason for being at Ms. Carlisle’s office building was for her protection. It had nothing to do with your client.”

  Martha turned to Kevin. “Will Ms. Carlisle verify that you were there on her behalf?”

  “We spoke this morning and I told her that I’d follow her to make sure she got into her office safely.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Bingham huffed. “This has been very distressing for Mr. Carlisle, and the notion—”

  “Poor guy,” Kevin drawled. “Plotting murder always takes a lot out of a man.”

  “The notion my client would be harmful to his wife is absurd.” Bingham sliced Kevin with an icy glare. “You hauled an innocent man off the streets and subjected him to brutality. As of this point, you’re on notice. If anyone in this department crosses the line and harasses my client again, I’ll make sure you all lose your badges.”

  Matt rolled his eyes, clearly having reached the limit of his patience. “My officers will continue to act in the best interests of the public and if in doing that they so happen to step on your client’s toes—”

  “Then it’s too bad,” Kevin interjected.

  “If you so much as come near my client—”

  “I have no intention of stepping one foot near your client,” Kevin warned, taking a step closer. “But you can tell him for me that I will be glued to his ex-wife from now on to make sure nothing happens to her. And if anything does, I’ll personally be hunting him down for that arrest.”

  With a haughty lift of his chin, Bingham spun on his heel and strode away without looking back. It took a moment before anyone spoke.

  “That went well,” Martha said flatly with a tight smile, brushing the imaginary dust Bingham had left in his wake off the lapel of her navy suit. “Daria Carlisle did agree to having surveillance, Detective Gordon? Didn’t she?”

  He sighed. “Not in so many words.”

  Matt gave him a sidelong glance. “Exactly what words did she use?”

  Kevin stole a quick glance at the district attorney, who quickly waved him off and said, “I have a feeling I don’t want to know.”

  As Daria approached the house and pulled into the driveway she saw Kevin’s truck parked at the curb. He was waiting for her. She didn’t have to fear her ex-husband. Kevin’s scowl alone was enough to stop her dead in her tracks.

  “Where have you been? You said you were going to be home around six.”

  “Hello to you, too.” She leaned across the bench seat and picked up the flowers and glass vase.

  Kevin’s eyes fixed on the flowers, his stare intense, before he lifted his eyes to her. The intensity of his gaze never waned.

  She ignored his chilling look. She missed that fun-loving smile Kevin had had at the market. That would have been nice to come home to after the miserable day she’d had at work.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  She feigned ignorance. “About what?”

  His jaw squared. “You know what I’m talking about. Carlisle came to see you today.”

  She couldn’t quite put a finger on what annoyed her more, greeting him when they were both in such a foul mood, or the fact that her ex-husband was all Kevin seemed to care about where she was concerned.

  “I wasn’t,” she answered honestly. “He was long gone before I arrived at work. I didn’t think it was necessary to tell you.”

  She’d thought about it all day, endlessly. She was a person who loved her job, prided herself on her work. But the number of mistakes she’d made today from sheer distraction over this stupid vase of flowers had her fed up about the entire ridiculous situation. She didn’t want to think about George or these flowers anymore. She wanted it to be three days ago before Kevin had that stupid meeting with George at the salvage yard. When her life was normal and she could happily work on her house and do her job without distraction.

  “You’re not making this easy, Daria.”

  “It isn’t easy any way you look at it.”

  “If you don’t care about your own safety, how can you expect the police to keep you safe? Didn’t you hear anything I told you yesterday?”

  “More than you realize.”

  She thought she’d said the words under her breath, but the immediate reaction that registered in Kevin’s expression told her otherwise.

  “Look, I heard everything you said. And I’ve worked the situation backward and forward and every other way I could. I did it last night and then again at the office. The bottom line is, I can’t leave even if I want to. I need my paycheck to get by. I don’t have any money in savings. At least nothing that will last more than a few days. I have no place to go. No one to go to now that my parents are in Mexico. I’m stuck here whether you and I like it or not.”

  After Kevin left her yesterday, she’d spent the day second-guessing her decision to stay in the house. So much so that her head hurt. But there was nothing she could do. She had no extra money in the
bank and only enough room on her credit card to pay for about a week’s stay at a hotel. And not even a good hotel.

  She’d used up all her vacation time over the summer working on the house’s plumbing and she wasn’t going to get any more vacation pay until January first—nearly four more weeks until she could arrange vacation leave. Even then, she only had three weeks’ worth of vacation time each year before she’d have to take unpaid time.

  She blew out a breath of frustration and felt the tears that she’d held back most of the day push to the surface. Admitting her true situation out loud to Kevin had been harder than she’d imagined. She was stuck and it was her desire to finally own a home of her own that had put her there.

  A sudden chill invaded her body. Looking at him squarely, she pushed the car door shut and held up the flowers. “I need to get rid of these. I don’t want them in my house.”

  With a little extra effort, Daria walked up the path, her heart pounding in her chest. She’d half thought of keeping these flowers at work, giving them to a coworker. They were beautiful, and it seemed a shame to just throw them out. But every time she’d looked at them, it was like George was right there in the office with her.

  She’d found herself on the phone with clients staring at the enormous, colorful bouquet and picturing herself lying on the ground in some dark alley, bleeding to death. She’d nearly jumped half a mile high when Marla had walked into her office and tapped on her shoulder.

  Bringing the flowers home and dumping them into her compost pile seemed like the best solution. If she’d dumped them at work, people would talk. Marla certainly would ask questions. The last thing she needed was for people to start gossiping at work.

  “He was in your office, Daria.”

  “Yes, he was. But like I said, I didn’t see him. He came and left before I even arrived at work.”

  “He left you a card? Is that how you knew these were from him?”

  “There was an unsigned card. But I knew it was him. My assistant saw him leaving the building. And anyway, he always bought me bird-of-paradise bouquets.”

  Not wanting to discuss it anymore, she walked past him. He followed on her heels to the end of the driveway.

  “Look, I’m tired,” she said. “It was a long day.”

  Kevin didn’t say anything more, but the questions were there in his expression. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans and stood in the driveway watching her as she walked to the backyard, where she kept her compost pile. Dropping her lunch bag and purse to the pavement, she gripped the vase a little tighter and clumsily stalked across the grass as the heels of her pumps sank into the soft, wet earth.

  Building a compost pile out of chicken-wire fencing and stakes had been easy when she’d first moved in and began working on the yard. All her grass clippings and organic kitchen waste, from eggshells to vegetable peelings, would one day turn into rich soil to feed her gardens. All she had to do was till them under and let them bake in the hot sun. These flowers would turn to good soil, too, once nature had a chance to do its work.

  When she reached the compost pile, she lifted the thin, black sheathing she used to cover the pile. With a quick turn of her hands, Daria dumped the contents of the vase into the pile of vegetation already there and replaced the sheathing.

  Rubbing the dirt and wetness off her fingertips, she decided she’d till the whole pile over the weekend. It would get a little frustration worked out of her system. In truth, she could use that kind of workout tonight, but her muscles ached and her emotions were shot.

  She retrieved her purse and lunch bag from the end of the driveway and stopped when she heard movement deep in the back of the property. Her heart raced, and she turned back to the house, taking in the eerie blackness of it. She never left any of the inside lights on during the day while she wasn’t home. It had never bothered her to walk into a dark house before. But suddenly walking inside seemed unnerving.

  She shook her head and chided her foolishness. This was her home. She refused to be afraid of it.

  “You may want to think about adding some floodlights with motion detectors to the front and back yard,” Kevin said, still waiting for her in the driveway. “Something with a cage around the light so the neighborhood kids can’t pick it off with a rock. Sometimes that’s all it takes to distract prowlers. Which reminds me, your front-porch light has been smashed.”

  “It has?”

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m mentioning the cage. You have busy kids in this neighborhood.”

  “I’ll say. My bank account is taking a beating between the graffiti and the broken lights. Thanks for the suggestion. But why do I need floodlights out front if you’re going to be here barking at me every night?”

  She waited for him to move. Kevin stood for a moment, staring at her in the darkness. If there was a big yellow moon hanging low in the sky she would be able to see the strong features of Kevin’s face. There was something commanding about the way he looked at her, strong and sure of himself. No woman need fear for herself in his presence.

  But there was no yellow moon and now no bright lights from her porch shining down on them. There wasn’t even a lone car with bright headlights driving down her street. And even if she could see Kevin’s face, she had a good idea of the scowl he was wearing.

  “How come you don’t use the front door? Even with the light out you’d be able to see with the street lamp.”

  “And you’d be able to see me, too.”

  “Exactly. I want to make sure you get inside okay. But seriously, the front porch is closer to where you park your car.”

  “My front-door lock sticks sometimes. I could spend fifteen minutes just wiggling the key in the dead bolt on a cold night. After the day I’ve had, I really don’t need to wrestle with it.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “But if it would make you feel any better to watch me go into the yard with a little bit of light, Detective, I’ll grab the flashlight from my truck.”

  “I’m not going to feel better until I get George Carlisle in jail.”

  “Well, I can’t help you there.” She grabbed the flashlight from the glove box and turned it on. “I’m all set. Good night, Detective.”

  Kevin nodded, then turned and walked back to his SUV while she headed to the backyard. She felt a brief pang at the thought of him sitting out there in the dark and cold all night, but she pushed it away. If Kevin Gordon wanted to waste his time watching her house and every move she made, that was his business. Daria wasn’t going to feel guilty about it.

  As she walked toward the back porch, she stole a glance up at the sky. The weather report she’d heard on the drive home said they’d be getting snow. And Kevin would be sleeping in his car.

  Expelling a defeated sigh, she climbed the stairs. Juggling her purse, lunch bag, vase and the flashlight, she couldn’t reach the door handle, so she stuck the flashlight tightly under her arm and yanked at the screen door with her free hand. As she shone the light back on the door to get her key in the lock, she froze.

  The glass vase slipped from her fingers and fell to the floorboards, crashing and spraying a million tiny shards around her feet. The beam of the flashlight hung like a spotlight on a stage performer, making the eyes of the large, dead bird hanging from a thin wire from her door knocker glow. One wing of the bird was twisted awkwardly to one side while the other lay flat against its side. Its talons hung limp as if it were hanging from a gallows.

  Daria took a wide step back. With each step she felt the fragments of glass crunch beneath her shoes. All her breath rushed out of her lungs with a whoosh. As she clutched her hands to her chest, she was vaguely aware that someone was screaming.

  FIVE

  Kevin stalked back to his truck, fuming about stubborn women. Lord, give me patience with this one. He’d somewhat come to terms with the willfulness of the opposite sex years ago while growing up in the same house as his sister, but no woman had ever riled him like Daria Carlisle.

  As soon as
he’d reached the curb, he turned to watch for the inside light to turn on. Spot started barking again, as he’d done when Kevin first arrived, pulling his attention away from the house. The urgency of the bark put Kevin on alarm. That’s when he heard movement coming from the backyard.

  Daria’s high-pitched scream pealed through the darkness. Kevin’s blood turned to ice as he ran toward the back porch, his heart pumping wildly, his ears ringing with the sound of her scream.

  When he turned the corner at the end of the driveway, he found Daria standing on the back porch, hugging the railing with the empty vase shattered at her feet.

  As Kevin raced up the stairs, Daria flew into his arms, trembling. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  He couldn’t see her face. Clutching her arms, he forced her to look up at him and as she did, a small sob escaped her lips.

  “I—I opened th-the door,” she sobbed, bending one arm behind her toward the house.

  He didn’t need to move any closer. With the light from the flashlight in her hand shining on the door, he could see what looked like a bird hanging in a noose behind the screen door. At first glance, it didn’t look any more dangerous than a stuffed scarecrow hanging on the door in autumn as decoration. But this was no toy.

  Daria clung to him, even as he took a wide stride forward to take a closer look at the dead bird. There was no note, no obvious signs of damage to the door. Just what appeared to be a dead crow hanging from a wire.

  The hairs on the back of his head stood on end when Spot’s bark became more urgent. Kevin couldn’t see the dog, but heard the dog chain scraping over Mrs. Hildebrand’s concrete-block patio as he tried to pull free. A gust of wind blew strong and the noise in the backyard he’d originally thought was Daria now sounded too close to the house for comfort.

  “Get in my truck and lock the door,” Kevin said, staring into the backyard. “And once you’re there, don’t move, do you hear me? You stay there until I get back.”

  “Where are you going?”