Silent Protector

by Barbara Phinney

  All would be lost.

  Ian gritted his teeth. So, God, why are You doing this to me?

  SEVEN

  Liz was allowed to remove her personal things from the backseat of the car. They weren’t much, as she had told the tow truck driver, and Ian could see now that she was right.

  She really must have flown from the house, because all she had was her purse and a reusable shopping tote, printed with a picture of the planet and a grocery chain logo. In the bag were some basic toiletries and a few clothes, all dripping wet. Liz grimaced when she held it high.

  “We’ll take it to the rec center and let it dry in the ladies’ room. No one is going to be using it in the next few days.”

  They walked back to the center, where Liz took a few minutes to lay out her things.

  She reappeared a few minutes later and found him in the kitchen grabbing a cold glass of water. “Everything is soaking wet, but I think my ID and credit cards are fine. And I didn’t have too much money.”

  “Good.” Setting the glass down, Ian pivoted. “Liz, now that we confirmed what color of vehicle ran you off the road, it will help us in our search for William Smith.”

  “Do you think he’s here?”

  “There is no other reason for anyone to run you off the road, is there?”

  “Elsie said Monica had borrowed money from some people who were anxious to get it back. Maybe they mistook me for her.”

  “Unlikely.” He shook his head. “And I think it would be prudent not to get stuck on one hypothesis.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I need you to press Charlie for a statement. I have shown him a picture of William Smith, but that was before he was talking. We need to show it to him again and ask him if Smith was the—”

  “Forget it! I won’t pressure him before he’s ready. He is scared I’m going to leave him, like his father has. He’s still trying to come to grips with that loss, and I won’t add to his stress.”

  “He’ll have you there to comfort him. Liz, we need to know.”

  “Charlie is scared, and like any boy, he’s trying to push it away because he’s not ready to deal with it.”

  Suddenly, she pulled in a hiccupping breath and blinked rapidly. “There must be some other proof that William Smith was there. Charlie may not have even seen a thing!”

  “The police think otherwise.”

  “Well, they may be wrong. He just lost his father, and regardless of how I felt about that man, Charlie loved him. He needs someone he can trust. You don’t fit that bill, but I do.”

  “How do you know that? You’ve known me for less than a day.”

  “You have a work schedule that is so full that you have time for one meal, and you’ve pawned Charlie off on the Wilsons.”

  Pawned Charlie off. Years ago, some relative of his had made the same comment. She hadn’t wanted Ian and had asked why he was being pawned off on her. By that time, he was a troublesome teen with a heart hardened by all he’d had to endure after his parents’ deaths. His extended family hadn’t wanted what they considered the stigma of having a relative in foster care.

  That was why he’d gravitated to Charlie. The same kind of childhood. Ian’s mother and father hadn’t been good at parenting. They’d been inconsistent, and his mother had struggled with alcohol and depression. His father had wandered in and out of their lives, until a DUI accident took both their lives.

  Charlie’s father had come and gone but without leaving anyone to care for the boy. His addiction was to cocaine and the search for a fast buck.

  But even after all that, Liz’s cool words cut deep into him. She was right. He was too busy to be any kind of guardian to Charlie. The marshals had felt that Charlie would respond to a male better than a female, but he had no time for the boy. He was a pastor now.

  His unspoken words cut through him, right to his heart. He shut his eyes to the realization that he was just as much at fault as the relatives he hated.

  And on top of that, he didn’t like the selfish way he was thinking of Liz.

  He hadn’t sent Liz packing yesterday because she unwittingly became part of the WITSEC program. Charlie needed her, and Ian needed her to keep Charlie talking.

  “All the more reason to get that statement out of Charlie, before things get a whole lot worse,” he muttered, half at her words of pawning off and half at himself for knowing that he couldn’t and shouldn’t be looking after the boy.

  “No.” He looked at her and she went on, “I won’t subject him to any more stress.” She stared wide-eyed at him. “Do you have a car I can borrow?”

  He couldn’t lie to her. “I do, but because of the storm, I’ll need it to evacuate the village.”

  “To move the people who don’t have any other way off the island. I get it.” She looked dejected. “What about this resort that’s being built? Perhaps Charlie and I can get a ride out with someone there?”

  He pulled a face. “If we got Charlie to identify his father’s killer then we’d—”

  “And if he’s pressured, any good lawyer will get his testimony thrown out. As adults, we think that fingering the guy would probably help us grieve, but it’s not so with children. It’ll traumatize him further.”

  “So you think that the psychological damage will be worse than the physical damage? Think about how you’ll feel if he’s dead!”

  Liz bit her lip, and as her eyes watered, he wanted to snatch back his words. But he couldn’t. He had to be honest with her.

  Yet the look on her face, the torn indecision, the worry and fear, made him want to stop the world and pull her into a hard embrace. Something that could block out all the bad stuff and let her think in safety. Let her see that as difficult as this decision was, Charlie’s safety had to take precedence.

  He gave into his compassion and hauled her close. And now, as he felt her grip him back, her hands locked around his waist and her nose pressed into his shirt, he found himself wondering which of their choices were better.

  He didn’t know, nor could he rely on his own painful experiences for the answer. The deaths of his parents, the distress of being plucked from one bad situation and shoved into another. To know firsthand how little a hurting kid was wanted. Maybe he was too emotionally attached here to make the right choices. But to call his supervisor and tell him that? Ian gritted his teeth.

  He couldn’t pull back his decision now. Smith needed to be caught. A cartel needed to be fingered and convicted. They needed to stop the horrible flow of drugs.

  Still, his painful memories remained.

  And he was only just beginning to admit how much he admired Liz for standing up for Charlie. He wished someone had done that for him twenty years ago.

  Liz didn’t know how she ended up in Ian’s arms. Did he really pull her into a hug right in the middle of their argument? What on earth had prompted that? Still, she liked it. She needed it. She’d been running on empty, pushing herself.

  But to end up wrapping herself around Ian, feeling his trim waist and strong arms and inhaling his clean, fresh scent…she, well, she needed the embrace.

  And she felt as though Ian did, too. Something had driven him to become a marshal. Then to leave it all for the ministry? Her pastor had often spoken of the mistakes he’d made and lessons he’d learned. Ian seemed to have a tight grip on that part.

  Like she had on him? So why aren’t you letting go? You like it. You’re just like your sister, attracted to danger. Shame on you for not learning that lesson.

  Liz sucked in her breath. If she were to go on in the same manner, it would be as if her sister died in vain.

  It was time to break this embrace. She peeled her arms from his torso and stepped back. Then she cleared her throat.

  “Um,” she began, looking everywhere but at him. “I still stand by my decision. We need to leave, and we need to give Charlie time to recover. Please don’t ask again.”

  He rubbed his hand down his face. “I can’t guarantee
that, Liz. You know things can change at a moment’s notice.”

  His words were calm, coaxing almost, in a strong kind of way. In another time, another place, she may have been interested in him. She might have considered his decisions more seriously.

  But not right now. Charlie needed security and love. He needed a father figure, one who could be trusted to be home for him every night, but Ian wasn’t that person.

  And what did she want and need in a man? She wanted strength, all right, but this man, whether he wanted to admit it or not, was only too willing to be a marshal again. Did she want a man who was so relentless that he put the law above emotional well-being?

  He took pride in his work, to the very limit. She should have a man who would love her more than his job.

  Love? Good grief, she wasn’t going that far, was she? They’d just met, just fought and shared a brief hug. Talk about jumping the gun on things.

  “I know things can change quickly, but you can’t rush grief. Haven’t you ever lost someone you loved?”

  He tightened his jaw. “I lost both my parents fairly young. When I read Charlie’s file, I could see a bit of myself in him. That’s why I agreed to take the case. So, yes, I’ve lost loved ones, too. I know all about grief, but—”

  He stopped his words. Then he continued, “The cartel believes in retribution. They like to tidy up all the loose ends, and that will include Charlie. Even if he identifies William Smith and puts only him behind bars, they’ll still want revenge. This isn’t just about drugs and money. There are cartels fighting each other, and showing power is important.”

  A wad of bitter fear rose in her throat and ice seemed to grip her heart. Could there be someone out there besides Smith? Someone equally dangerous?

  Her gaze skittered about the room, focusing anywhere but on Ian. She didn’t want him to sense her fear and use it against her. “I have to go. I don’t want Charlie to get worried about me.”

  Running away. That’s what you’re doing. Running away. You’re scared you’ll do the wrong thing and Charlie will get hurt. When your sister died, you failed to get him and take him away from that awful life.

  She shoved away those thoughts. Please, Lord, keep him safe. Give me the wisdom to know what to do.

  But as she slipped out of the center, into the heat unlike anything she’d ever experienced on the coast of Maine, she wondered if wisdom was so alien to her that she wouldn’t recognize it when the good Lord gave it to her.

  EIGHT

  Liz closed the children’s Bible she’d been reading. Both Charlie and Stephen had long since closed their eyes. The tiny window above the bed was open fully, and the gulf breeze had died to a mere breath, but that breath was cool compared to the heat of the day.

  She gently covered the boys with the sheet one of them had kicked off sometime between David gathering the small stones and slaying the giant. Comforted by reading to Charlie, and smiling as Stephen’s extroverted nature finally relented to sleep, Liz nevertheless finished the whole story.

  Out in the living room, Elsie and George were talking to each other. They’d once again opened their home and their hearts to her, and she was grateful for the hospitality. Sneaking Charlie out during the night was no longer an option—even if she did have a car. Beside the fact that George was a bit of a night owl, it seemed wrong to pay back the couple’s kindness with subterfuge.

  She stood and stretched, not tired enough to crawl into the bed made up beside Charlie’s in the tiny room. What she could do, however, was check out the village. If she needed to move fast with Charlie, she wanted to know the layout of the island, and be ready to leave.

  Ready to leave? Liz’s thoughts turned to the toiletries and personal items she’d left drying down in the rec center’s ladies’ room. She needed them.

  Except Ian was probably down there, and she didn’t want a confrontation with him again, especially after this afternoon. Their argument had ended in a tight embrace.

  Quietly, she left the bedroom and padded down to the living room.

  Liz fully expected to find George and Elsie still up, but in the living room sat only George, his soft snores in front of the TV telling her he’d fallen asleep. The sound of a shower told her Elsie was preparing for bed.

  She’d wanted to thank the couple for taking in Charlie and to tell them she needed her toiletries, but it seemed unkind to wake up George.

  Besides, they’d protest her going out, and yes, as much as she didn’t want to run into Ian, she needed her things badly. She wouldn’t be long, she told herself—probably back before George even woke up. Mounted on the wall beside the door was a rechargeable flashlight, and Liz carefully pried it free.

  Then, quietly, Liz crept to the door and unlocked it during a loud commercial break.

  Of course, the Wilsons would lock their doors, but Liz recalled what Charlie had said on the phone, something that had led her to find him here. But now it had a new meaning.

  “It’s small here, Auntie Liz. My new friend, Stephen, says the Everglades don’t got cities. They only got keys, which don’t make sense cuz no one used to lock their doors here, ’cept Monica. Stephen says now he’s gotta make sure the door is locked all the time!”

  Before, no one locked doors except Monica. It might have been because she’s a young, single woman, but now another family locked their doors all the time? Had Charlie’s arrival prompted extra vigilance? Or had something, or someone else, caused it? Like the man who’d run her off the road?

  And Monica, what of her? Ian needed to confront her. He needed to find out why she’d been at his computer, printing out information on Charlie. Liz had heard Elsie tell Ian earlier that she hadn’t seen the woman today at all. Perhaps Ian was doing something about her.

  With great care, Liz padded down the steps and leaped over the crushed shell path to the sandy ground beyond.

  The dirt road was impossible to see without the flashlight, and as she rounded the slight bend in the road, the security lights from the rec center came into full view. They had been hidden behind a house and a huge live oak that spread and drooped in the center of the village.

  Under the tree lay a large dog, which lifted his head, barked once and watched her closely as she walked past.

  The noise was deadened in the humid air. Now that she could see better, Liz shut off the flashlight and hurried toward the center.

  Only one light was on inside. Ian was still working, his back to the window as he typed on his computer.

  Someone had accessed Charlie’s file. Was Ian searching now for proof of whom it could have been?

  She should ask what he’d found so far, but breathing down his neck wouldn’t help him find the answers any quicker.

  And would it be a good idea to stick close to him after the rather intimate embrace she’d shared with him?

  No. She should leave him alone. She’d only be in the way. And considering the heat rising in her cheeks at the memory of their embrace, she should let sleeping dogs lie.

  Her decision left an odd feeling of disappointment in her, but it was too bad, she told herself. She had her own tasks.

  She could take this time to check out the road to the causeway to see if the authorities had put up barricades. It would only take a minute.

  The rec center’s security light shone on to a dark opening near where that road entered the village. She’d seen the opening earlier today but not paid much attention to it. Not as wide as the road, it was still wide enough for an all-terrain vehicle, and she wondered if that was a trail to the resort, a shortcut, perhaps. In the quiet of the night, Liz caught a low growl, constant enough to catch her attention. Then it stopped suddenly with an odd, cough-like sound. It didn’t sound like an animal. What could it be?

  A short walk up the trail shouldn’t hurt and might show her an option should she need to secret Charlie away. She’d been in the woods at the back of her house at night many times. She’d traipsed through dense, virgin forests at dusk. A trail
here shouldn’t pose any trouble.

  Smacking a mosquito that landed on her neck, Liz picked up her pace. As soon as she entered the trail, leaves rustled ahead.

  She focused her attention on the trail. It was wide, all right, and curved to the left, but enough of the rec center light filtered through the trees to guide her way. Careful where she stepped, Liz padded quietly around the bend and looked up.

  Two men were talking, not twenty feet ahead of her.

  NINE

  Liz could hear them talk, but the fast words were indistinct. One man, the taller one, whose back was slightly toward her, was the dominant one, throwing up his arms in what looked like frustration.

  The smaller one, his head turning away and looking down, folded his arms.

  In the dim light filtering through the trees, she could see little else. Who were they? Her heart leaped into her throat. What if they were here for Charlie?

  Slowly, she began to back up, afraid to make even the slightest movement for fear of being spotted. Thankfully, though, both men looked deep in conversation. The bigger man shook his head and slapped a bug that landed on his leg, and in that instant, she caught a glimpse of his profile—strong nose, hawk-like, but broad, well-tanned and sporting a short goatee.

  She even caught some snippets of the conversation.

  “You heard me. Don’t think I won’t do it.”

  “All right! Just don’t tell them, okay?”

  “It’s you who’ll decide that, now, isn’t it?”

  They talked for a bit more, with Liz not seeing who was saying what. Both had deep voices. “The girl, too?” one of them muttered.

  “I can’t take…” A word Liz didn’t catch. “…knows…you said…” Another jumble of words. “Just do it, or—”

  “I know!”

  She shivered and bit her lip. Something bothered her about the bigger man—the sinister nature he wore so easily as he towered over the other man.