To Love, Honor and Defend

by Beth Cornelison

“His name is Cal Walters. He’s my husband and the girl’s father.”

  Edison nodded, spoke into the radio transmitter hooked on his shoulder, summoning the dispatcher.

  Libby hesitated. She knew what would come next. How it would look if they tried to conceal the truth. Especially since she’d told them her position with the D.A.’s office. She had a duty. She’d sworn an oath.

  Her heart thundered. Her throat closed.

  “Sir…” She couldn’t look at Cal, though she felt his stare burning her. “Cal is a parolee from Lagniappe.”

  A pregnant silence filled the room for the space of a heartbeat.

  “Oh, really?” Edison said, clearly intrigued by the new information. “Then he’s in violation of his parole?”

  She heard Cal’s sigh, but avoided the accusing glare that nailed her. Her stomach pitched. “Yes, sir. He’s outside his jurisdiction and in possession of a weapon.”

  Cal swore under his breath, his tone rife with disgust and fury.

  She dragged her eyes to his. The accusation that blazed in his returned glare riddled her with guilt. “They would have found out as soon as they ran your name through the computer, Cal. It was better to be forthcoming. I have a duty to my office to—”

  He told her in colorful language what she could do with her duty. “I’m your husband. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  Libby struggled to draw air into her constricted chest. “Cal, try to understand. I had to—”

  “No, I don’t understand, Libby!” His anguish reverberated through her. “I will never understand why you think you have to hide behind your strict interpretation of the rules. What are you scared of? Why wasn’t the love I gave you enough?”

  A sob ripped from her throat.

  “Okay, pal. Enough. Let’s take a ride.” The older deputy pushed Cal toward the door.

  Libby tried to catch Cal’s eyes as he walked past, but he kept his gaze looking ahead. His face was molded with disappointment, defeat. And hurt.

  A razor-sharp ache sliced her to the marrow. A pain more devastating than any damage Ralston’s blade could have inflicted. She could easily lose Cal again. This time for good.

  And it was her own fault.

  Chapter 18

  Cal staggered numbly toward the patrol car waiting beside his truck. As he approached, the driver’s side door popped open, and Ally scampered out.

  “Daddy!” His little girl ran to meet him.

  He cursed the handcuffs that prevented him from lifting his baby into his arms. Would he ever get to hold Ally again?

  He was on his way back to prison. Any hope he’d had of skirting his parole violations had gone up in flames. Thanks to Libby. Her betrayal rose in his throat with the bitter taste of bile.

  He dropped to his knees, and Ally threw her arms around him. “It’s okay, baby. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

  His gut churned. He hated lying to Ally. Nothing would be okay.

  Going back to jail meant he’d lose his shot at custody. He’d lose the right to have his record expunged. He’d lose the chance to get his firefighting credentials reinstated.

  Why, Libby? Why!

  Hearing the shuffle of feet on the gravel, he raised his head and watched another sheriff’s deputy shove Ralston against the end of the patrol car.

  At least Libby’s stalker was in custody. She would be safe. A small victory.

  But no comfort for the sting that penetrated to the core.

  The evening air carried the scent of mountain heather even before the sound of footsteps signaled Libby’s approach. Even knowing how she’d betrayed him, the sweet scent filled his senses and made his body hum. He’d have to live with the fact that Libby was, and would always be, a part of him. Woven into the fiber of his being.

  Libby stalked toward Ralston.

  “You got off with a light sentence last time. But never again. I'll make sure you go straight to prison for this and that you stay there,” she growled.

  An evil glower darkened Ralston’s face. “At least lover boy will be going with me. Maybe there’s justice, after all.”

  Libby stiffened, glaring at Ralston. “What do you mean?”

  “I could hardly believe my good luck when Walters entered the picture. When the SOB who caused all the problems I’d been through married the wench responsible for ruining my life. It was too perfect. I could get my justice against both of you at the same time.”

  “Justice? For what?” Cal said, his tone dark and disbelieving. “You didn’t serve time. You got off with a slap on the wrist!”

  Ralston snorted. “I lost my job because of that conviction! A good job. But that was just the start. My whole life went to hell, one piece at a time. All of the fines and legal expenses drained my bank account, and without any income, I finally had to declare bankruptcy two months ago, and I lost my house to the bank. Do you know what it does to a man’s pride to tell the world you’re broke?” He narrowed a lethal glare on Libby. “It’s humiliating. Goin’ broke was the last straw. If I had to suffer, then the scum who did this to me had to suffer, too.” Ralston pulled against the restraints on his arms, snarling at Libby then Cal. “All because you didn’t mind your own friggin’ business.”

  The sheriff’s deputy who’d brought Ralston over to the patrol car put a restraining hand on the thug’s shoulder. “Settle down!”

  “Your hitting a woman was my business.” Cal knew he was pushing the officers’ patience, but he no longer cared.

  “She was a lying, smart-mouthed slut,” Ralston growled.

  Libby stepped forward, squaring off in front of her stalker. “That doesn’t give you the right to hit her.”

  “I had every right! Just like my daddy did. Women need to learn their place around men!” Ralston snarled like a pit bull on the end of a short leash. “Like you, lawyer bitch! Women belong at home, not in the man’s world.”

  “All right, let’s take this mess downtown and straighten things out there.” The older officer pulled Cal to his feet.

  Ally continued to cling to his neck and wrapped her legs around Cal’s waist with a whine.

  Libby smoothed a hand down Ally’s back. “Honey, your daddy has to go with these men. I’ll take you home.”

  Cal flicked his gaze up to Libby’s. She’d put her life on the line to save his daughter. He had no doubt Ally would be in good hands with Libby.

  Steeling himself, he murmured, “Go with Libby, kitten.”

  Libby cradled his daughter in protective arms and continued to stare at him with pain swirling in her dark eyes. “Cal, I’m sorry. I had to—”

  “Save it.” He turned abruptly and lowered himself into the back seat of the patrol car. He didn’t want Libby’s excuses. She’d made her choice.

  With a resounding thud, the deputy closed the door, locking Cal in the patrol car. The sound vibrated with an ominous finality in Cal’s soul.

  “Cal’s in jail? Why? What did he do?” Renee clutched Ally to her chest and gaped at Libby with wide eyes. Eyes that were bloodshot and puffy from crying.

  “He violated his parole when he went after Ally. He left the parish, and he took my gun with him.” Libby stepped into Renee’s apartment, where a small amount of clutter was strewn about and the hint of marijuana still hung in the air. Overall, though, the place was considerably cleaner than the last time Libby had been there. Renee’s boyfriend was nowhere in sight.

  Frowning over the top of Ally’s head, Renee narrowed her eyes. “Did Cal shoot someone?”

  “No, but even being in possession of the gun breaks the rules of his parole.”

  “So…they’re putting him back in jail because he tried to save his daughter’s life?” Renee dropped her mouth open again. “Is that some screwed-up system or what?”

  Libby drew herself up and took a calming breath. The whole night had been chaotic, emotional, confusing. A roller coaster ride. “There are good reasons why laws regarding parole are written the way they are. The
y aren’t just arbitrary dictates.”

  With a sniff of disagreement, Renee turned and marched into her kitchen with Ally still in her arms. “Well, if you ask me, it’s stupid to punish someone who’s just tryin’ to protect his family. Cal and I had our problems, but I never doubted for a minute that he was a good man, deep down.” She set Ally on the counter and bent at the waist to meet Ally’s eyes straight on. “You want a snack? How ’bout some chips and milk?”

  Ally rubbed her eyes tiredly, pouting. “I want my daddy.”

  Renee let her chin fall to her chest, and her shoulders heaved as she drew a deep breath. Then, raising her head again, she stroked Ally’s head. “I’m sorry about tonight, punkin. I’m gonna do better, though. I swear it.”

  Hope blossomed in Libby’s chest. She walked closer to the kitchen to listen, wanting to believe, for Ally’s sake, that Renee would keep her promise. “Do you mean that?”

  “Mean what?” Renee reached into the cabinet and took down a bag of corn chips.

  “That you want to change. For Ally.”

  “Well, sure. Tonight was horrible. I was so scared.” Handing the bag to Ally, Renee got a plastic cup next and poured her daughter some milk. Once Ally was snacking, Libby took Renee’s arm and pulled her into the front room.

  “If you really want to change, you need to get help. Professional help.”

  Renee wrinkled her nose. “Like a shrink?”

  “Like a rehab center. You need to get clean. Stay away from drugs.”

  Renee hesitated, staring at Libby with a dubious frown.

  “Think about it, Renee,” Libby pushed. “If not for the drugs, would you have ever let that man get near Ally?”

  The young mother’s face crumpled in regret and self-disgust. “Cal was right. I’ve been a terrible mother. I cared more about my next hit than my own baby. That’s not right. There’s no excuse for it.”

  Libby tugged the corner of her mouth up in a reassuring grin. “You made a mistake, but you’ve seen where you went wrong and know what you have to do to change things. That’s a start.”

  “If I hadn’t gotten stoned tonight and passed out, Ally would have been safe. That guy just walked in and took her ’cause I was so out of it.” Recrimination darkened Renee’s face. “While I waited for some news about Ally, I kicked Gary out. He was a leech, anyway. And I promised myself, promised God, that if He’d bring my baby back alive and well…” Her voice cracked, and she paused to clear her throat and swipe at her eyes. “I want to be a good mom.”

  Libby touched Renee’s arm, squeezed. “Then get clean. I can help get you into a good rehab center. If you’re willing. You have to be committed.”

  Renee gave a jerky nod. “I am. I’ll do whatever it takes. I love Ally. I do!”

  “I know you do.” Libby smiled and gave Renee’s arm an encouraging pat. “I’m proud of you. The first step is often the hardest. I know a good clinic in Shreveport. I can call them tomorrow and make arrangements for you to check in right away.”

  Renee scowled and looked toward the kitchen, where Ally munched chips straight from the bag. “I’d need someone to take care of Ally.” She frowned. “But if Cal’s in jail, then—”

  “I’ll do it,” Libby said without hesitation. Accustomed to taking a long time to make major decisions, Libby waited for the flicker of doubt and second-guessing that should have followed her split-second decision. But the doubt never came.

  “You will? But…” Renee’s skepticism was written in the wrinkle of her nose.

  Libby squared her shoulders. “I’m her stepmother. And I love her. I want to help.”

  Renee blinked. “What about Cal?”

  An arrow of guilt shot through Libby. “What do you mean?”

  “What’s going to happen to him? This whole parole thing. Don’t they make exceptions to those rules you were talking about? Ever?” Renee tucked a bare foot under her as she flopped down on the sofa.

  Libby sat beside her. Exceptions to the rules?

  She’d been so focused on calming Ally on the drive back from D’Arbonne, so mired in her guilt for having turned Cal in to the authorities, that Libby hadn’t had time to really think how she might get Cal out of this mess.

  In the past, Libby had considered exceptions and loopholes as cop-outs. She’d never dared to look for a way around the law.

  “It would be up to his parole officer whether he wants to pursue the violations or excuse them,” she told Renee. Her heart picked up an excited tempo against her ribs as an idea formed. “If Boucheron doesn’t press the matter, Cal could be released.”

  Renee sat forward and grabbed Libby’s hand. “His parole officer just has to release him. Cal did what he did out of love for his daughter. The man has to see that!”

  Love doesn’t follow rules.

  Libby stood and paced across the dirty shag carpet to a window with a view of the parking lot. She turned the budding plan over in her head, looking at it from all angles.

  The law was very clear about limitations on parolees. And she was an officer of the court. Wasn’t upholding the letter of the law her obligation?

  I’m your husband. Doesn’t that count for anything?

  “I turned him in,” she thought aloud.

  “You?” Renee appeared beside her, her expression incredulous. “Why? I thought you loved him?”

  “I do love him!” The same panic that had choked her at the cabin clamped down on her chest again. “But the deputies saw Cal with the gun when they arrived. They would have run his name through the computer anyway and seen for themselves that he was in violation of his parole. It would have looked bad for him if he tried to conceal the truth. It’s much better for his case that we laid it all out up front.”

  That much was true on the surface, but something still nagged her, chafing her conscience.

  I will never understand why you think you have to hide behind your strict interpretation of the rules. What are you scared of?

  Libby sucked her bottom lip in and bit down.

  Losing control scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?

  Cal had seen through her from the start. She’d clung to the only security she’d ever known, hidden behind the structure and predictability of rules because the alternative was too frightening. The instability of her childhood had scared her. And she was still hiding.

  “Libby…” Renee narrowed her eyes and crooked an eyebrow. “You sure you weren’t just covering your own butt? Your job with the D.A.? I’m sure it would have looked bad for you if it appeared you were—what’s it called—aiding and abetting?”

  The pressure in Libby’s chest doubled. Breathing was impossible. “Maybe a little.” She forced air into her lungs, struggled to steady her voice. “All right, a lot. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. My job is important to me.”

  “More important than Cal?”

  Libby fell back a step, as if pushed. Blood roared through her ears, and her spinning thoughts coalesced into one pinpoint of light. Why hadn’t she been able to boil it down to such a simple, straightforward question? Her dilemma wasn’t shades of gray at all. She loved Cal. Period.

  The constriction in her chest loosened. The one real certainty in this whole situation was that she loved Cal. That was black-and-white.

  “Will you and Ally be all right tonight? Do you need anything?” Libby asked as she turned and made her way to the door. She had something pressing to take care of, something that wouldn’t wait until morning.

  Renee followed Libby to the door. “I guess not. You’re sure about keeping Ally when I go to Shreveport?”

  “Positive. I’ll call the clinic in the morning and stop by first thing tomorrow to get Ally.”

  Renee quirked a lopsided grin. “Thanks. For everything. And, uh…tell Cal, if he gets this parole thing straightened out—” Renee rubbed her arm and raised her chin “—I’ll work with him to arrange joint custody. Something that will give him more time with Ally.”

  Li
bby’s smile broadened. “Thank you, Renee. I’ll tell him.”

  On her way out, Libby detoured by the kitchen long enough to get a milky kiss from Ally and give her a tight hug. “I’m gonna get your daddy out of jail, kitten. I promise.”

  No matter what it took.

  Hearing the jangle of his jailer’s keys, Cal sat up on the thin mattress in the holding cell and rubbed his eyes. It had been a long night with no sleep. He’d been transferred to the police station in Lagniappe within hours of being taken into custody by the D’Arbonne department.

  While he was being processed at the Lagniappe facility, the police had brought in a handful of thugs netted in a drug raid. Including Roach. From the snatches of conversation he’d heard between Roach and the police, Renee’s dealer was in deep trouble. He’d be behind bars for a long time.

  Just like me.

  Cal would have an arraignment hearing today, but the court appearance was a formality. His fate was sealed.

  “Walters,” the cop at the cell door called. “You can go.”

  “Go?” His ears were playing tricks on him.

  “You’re cleared for release to the custody of your P.O.”

  The hearing. Had to be. But it seemed awfully early for that. He pushed to his feet and shuffled along behind the officer to the room where he’d been processed last night.

  Boucheron was waiting for him. Cal gave his parole officer a grim nod, feeling he let down the man who’d tried to help him get back on his feet. The man who’d showed faith in him by pulling strings to get him on with the volunteer fire department.

  Call gritted his teeth. He’d let a lot of people down.

  Including Libby.

  Although her reasons for turning him over to the deputies made more sense to him in hindsight, her actions still pricked him, still cut deep.

  But the consequences of his actions were his own fault. She’d tried to warn him, begged him not to break his parole. He’d made his decision and had to live with it. Even though it meant losing his freedom, losing his daughter. Losing Libby.

  She’d probably divorce him the way Renee had. Being married to a convict would put her reputation, her career, in jeopardy. An A.D.A. had to be above reproach.