None.
He watched the two men standing near the waiting room’s doorway, murmuring in argumentative voices too low for him to decipher. He’d talked to the one in the blue blazer, Detective Marris, for hours. The interview had been one way only, the man asking every question Nick could possibly imagine, but had answered none of Nick’s. He’d even brought in a police artist who’d attempted to sketch the young men Nick had spotted in the car—the men who had sprayed the sidewalk with bullets moments later. The whole time, Marris had been selectively deaf, hearing Nick’s answers but ignoring even the simplest question Nick asked. Even now, watching Marris arguing with an orange-haired D.A.’s investigator by the name of Calhoun, Nick felt that same wave of blind frustration building inside.
He pulled his gaze from the men and focused on the television suspended in the corner. Cartoon sound effects jangled through the room. Jason sat on the hard couch next to him, pudgy fingers clutching the book they must have read twenty times by now.
The pediatrician they’d seen when they’d first arrived at the hospital had given him a clean bill of health. The child psychologist they had seen next had said it might be a while before he could process everything. Nick didn’t know what to think. He wished he could make things easier on the boy, but he didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to deal with all that had happened himself. All he did know was that he needed to get his son somewhere far away from all this.
Somewhere safe.
The conference room door swung open and the blonde who’d sheltered Jason on the sidewalk slipped into the room. Nick had been impressed with how controlled she’d been in the midst of his panic. How she’d told him what to do, watching out for Jason the whole time. How she’d immediately tried to save the people who’d been gunned down. How she’d calmly reported everything to the police who’d finally arrived at the hotel.
She didn’t look so strong and in control now. Her face looked like porcelain, pale and brittle. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. And instead of in charge, she seemed nearly invisible. As if her will had drained away. She walked past the bristling men without giving them a glance and slipped into the chair beside the sofa. She focused on Jason and offered him a tentative smile. “How are you holding up, Buddy?”
“Melissa.”
Jason’s tremulous lisp sliced through Nick.
The boy reached small hands out for her. “Melissa.” He lurched forward, trying to reach her.
She glanced at Nick. “Do you mind if I hold him?”
“Please do.” Whatever helped his son feel grounded was fine with Nick. Obviously the boy knew Melissa better than he knew his own dad.
Melissa reached out her hands and gathered him onto her lap. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged. There was a desperation to the gesture, as if she needed anchoring as much as Jason.
Silence stretched between them like a chasm, silence he itched with the need to bridge. “I’m not sure what happened out there, but I don’t think we officially met. I’m Nick Raymond.”
“Melissa Anderson.”
He waited a beat for her to go on, to maybe throw him a bone of information, but she didn’t. Finally he cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, as if she had no idea what he was talking about.
“For taking care of Jason. For saving…” He eyed his son, unsure of how much he should say.
“Of course.” Her lips seemed to tremble. Then she pressed them together and sank back into silence.
Conversation had never been Nick’s strong suit, not that it had been too much of a problem. Usually people were eager to talk. Whether it be a guest at the ranch or an acquaintance in town, all he had to do was give them a little eye contact, and they were on a verbal roll. He had no clue how to draw out information tactfully. He usually just blurted things, another one of his coarse habits that had driven Gayle crazy. “The people that were shot, are they okay?”
She watched him as if she thought he should already know the answer.
Nick nodded in the direction of the detective and investigator. “No one has told me anything.”
Melissa pursed her lips into a tight line. For a moment he thought she was going to just leave his question hanging. Finally she let out a sigh. “The victim’s advocate, Essie, is in surgery. They don’t know if she’ll make it or not.” Her voice sounded as dry as a police report, the objective aloofness undercut by the trembling of her lips.
“And the detective?”
Her focus shifted away from his face and latched on to the television. “Jimmy died.”
“I’m sorry.”
She bobbed her head. Her mouth formed the word thanks, but no sound came.
He wished he could do something, say something. But he knew there was nothing to say. Jason had a better chance of bringing some kind of comfort with a hug than he could with all the words in the English language.
He watched his son nestle in Melissa’s arms. Time ticked by, only the cartoon voices marking the change. Eventually Jason’s eyelids started drooping, and he folded into sleep.
“If you want you can put him down here on the couch.”
“I’d rather hold him. If that’s okay with you.”
“Sure.”
She narrowed her eyes on him, scrutinizing him for so long, it was all he could do not to look away. “Has anyone told you what to expect? Where you’ll be going from here?”
“I hoped we’d be going home.”
She hesitated, as if unwilling to give him bad news.
“What is it?”
“Your son might be in danger.”
“Which is why I want him out of here.”
“And it isn’t just about your son. How much did you see of the car? The shooters?”
The same questions he’d fielded from more people than he could keep straight. “I’ve already answered these questions.”
“For police. I’m an investigator with the district attorney’s office.”
Like Calhoun. “What’s the difference?”
“Different boss. Different office. Please, indulge me.”
He let out a heavy breath. Why not? He’d gone over the details so many times already, he nearly had it memorized. “The car was a midnight-blue sedan with Colorado plates. There were four kids inside, maybe in their late teens or early twenties. They had tattoos on—”
“Ms. Anderson?” a male voice cut through his spiel before he could even get to the part about the police artist.
Nick turned toward the doorway. Marris and Calhoun were gone, replaced by a man wearing a nice suit. Green eyes so intense they were almost shocking focused on Melissa. “Can I speak to you?”
Melissa glanced to Nick. “Sorry.” She carefully handed Jason over to Nick and pushed herself out of her chair. “I’ll be right back.”
Jason snuggled warm against his chest, his thumb jammed in his mouth with purpose, refusing to wake up. Nick strained to hear their murmured conversation from the hallway. But except for a somewhat startled expression on Melissa’s face, he couldn’t pick up any of the exchange.
Finally Melissa stepped back into the room. The well-dressed man followed tentatively behind her, as if entering the room wasn’t his idea but hers. He glanced at Jason and then at Nick. “Mr. Raymond? I’m Chief Deputy District Attorney Seth Wallace.”
Nick nodded a greeting.
Wallace gave him a tepid, white-toothed smile. “I’m sorry your son has had to go through this. I hope we can make your stay here in Denver comfortable, in light of the circumstances.”
“My stay in Denver won’t be long. I’m leaving today.”
The man’s brows arched toward sandy hair. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Your son is a witness to a murder. Now, I’m afraid you are, too. I’m going to request that you stay in the city, at least until we can determine what happened here. I’ll do my best to arrange for protection.”
“Protection?” Heat rus
hed to his face. He’d been careful to hold his tongue around Jason all day, not wanting to frighten his son even more. But with the little guy asleep, he didn’t have to hold back. And now was certainly not the time to let tact get in the way. “Looks to me like you’ve already tried to provide protection. And it almost got my son killed.”
“I’m sorry for what happened today. And rest assured that we are launching a separate investigation. We’ll get to the bottom of this. You have my word on that. And it won’t happen again. We’ll keep your son safe, we’ll keep you safe, and we’ll make sure justice is done.”
“I’m all for justice, but not if it endangers Jason.”
“We’ll be sure it doesn’t.”
Nick blew a derisive breath through his nose. “You must think I’m some kind of Wyoming rube.”
“I assure you, that is not true. This district attorney’s office takes your concerns seriously. Melissa and I take your concerns seriously. And I promise you, we will get to the bottom of this.”
“I’d like to help you out. I really would. But not at the risk of my son’s safety.” Nick glanced from investigator to deputy district attorney. “What happened this morning is your problem. Mine is keeping my son safe, and I don’t trust anyone in Denver when it comes to that.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, sir, but I’m afraid I can’t let either one of you go anywhere.” He focused on Melissa. “You’ll take them?”
She nodded.
No, no, no. After a day of waiting, things were suddenly going too fast. “Wait a second. Take us where?”
He glanced at the men in the mouth of the room. “A hotel. Think of it as a safe house, of sorts.”
“Of sorts?”
“It’s for your own protection.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can’t make me go anywhere.”
“Actually, I can. Either you go with Detective Anderson right now, or I get a material witness warrant to hold you. How do you feel about a jail cell?”
Nick frowned. He liked to think he could keep up with city types, but he had to admit that without a law degree, he was no match for this guy. His gaze landed on Melissa Anderson. She might not be on his side, but he was pretty sure she was on Jason’s. “This warrant will put me and my son in jail? Is that true?”
“You’ll go to jail.” She met his gaze with dispassion, but behind the mask, he thought he saw a glimmer of… sympathy…something. “For him, we’ll have to make arrangements through child services.”
So he wouldn’t even be with Jason? “You can’t do that.”
The deputy D.A. shook his head. “I just told you, Mr. Raymond, we can.”
He kept his attention on Melissa. If he looked at Wallace right now, he’d probably spring out of his chair and choke the lawyer with his own power tie. “I mean you can’t do that to a kid who just lost his mother. He needs some stability. He needs to go home.”
Melissa nodded. “And he’ll be able to. Eventually. Once we get the chance to sort through a few things.”
So much for his ally. He blew out a heavy breath.
“So what’s it going to be Mr. Raymond? Jail? Or go quietly with Ms. Anderson?”
Nick looked to Melissa Anderson. His impression from earlier flitted into his mind. She was grief stricken over the police detective who’d died, suffering from the same adrenaline rush aftereffects as he was, and she had a soft spot for Jason. All things he might be able to use to manipulate her and slip away. Not that he was wild about taking advantage of her, but if it came down to choosing between her and getting his son the hell out of this town, his choice was an easy one. “Shall we leave, Ms. Anderson?
MELISSA PUSHED HERSELF OUT of the waiting-room chair. Looked like she was in for babysitter duty again. She’d like to say she resented it, but that wouldn’t be true. She loved being with Jason. He was such a sweet kid, and the tragedy he’d been through broke her heart. Keeping him safe couldn’t be higher on her list of priorities. But being around his father?
That she could live without.
It wasn’t that she disliked him. Actually, the opposite. Something about those broad shoulders, the cowboy swagger in his gait, the sincerity in his eyes, and she had to admit, the way those jeans hugged slim hips… the whole package made her feel weak.
And there was nothing she hated more than feeling weak.
Exactly why she didn’t want to be around him or anyone else right this moment. After Jimmy’s death and with Essie hanging on to life by a thread, she was feeling anything but strong. She needed to get home, draw the blinds, curl up in the fetal position and lose it.
Alone.
But if what Seth Wallace suspected was true, she had little choice. Jason needed her. And she would do whatever she had to in order to keep the four-year-old safe. And his father.
Besides, it would only be temporary.
They had just reached the lobby floor when Nick stopped. “We’d better use the restroom before we leave.”
“All right.” Melissa stretched out her arms for the boy.
“I think he might need the visit, as well.”
She eyed Jason. His cheek flattened against Nick’s shoulder, his mouth open, a little drool glistening on his lips and forming a wet spot on his father’s shirt. “He’s totally out.”
“I’ll wake him if I need to.”
She shook her head. “We aren’t going that far. I’m sure he can wait.”
“No, it’s better this way.”
She wanted to ask who it was better for, but decided to let it go. If she thought she felt a little out of it, Nick Raymond was in undoubtedly worse shape. At least she worked around tough situations every day. Gang violence. Domestic abuse. Homicide. Nick was a cowboy. He was used to horses and wide-open spaces, not the tragedy of a modern city. Maybe the thought of being away from the son he’d just found again was too much for him. She could understand that. “All right. I’ll wait here.”
He touched the brim of his hat and nodded.
A little shiver ran up her spine.
God, she was pitiful. She could just imagine how she’d react if he’d called her ma’am or some other cowboy cliché. She’d been on this job—as a police officer and now a D.A.’s investigator—for a long time now. Too long for a gesture like Nick Raymond’s cowboy-hat tip to make her feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. She was cynical. She was strong. She was ambitious. And she was obviously in far too frail a mental state right now to deal with a sexy cowboy straight out of her starry-eyed preteen fantasies.
Seth better arrange for protection quickly, as he’d promised. She was in for a long couple of hours as it was.
She turned away and walked to a seating area near the side door and lowered herself to a bench. At least the bathroom was in an older section of the hospital, an area small and isolated, so she didn’t have to worry about a lot of people going in and out. She tried to focus on the crowd filing into the main hospital entrance down the hall, rushing to visit relatives or have procedures, some with worry lines etched into their foreheads and some carrying balloons proclaiming that it was a girl. But try as she might, all she could think about was what had happened to Jimmy and how she was going to bring the scumbag who’d killed him to justice.
She’d lost track of time when she’d finally pulled her gaze from the stream of people and checked her watch. Nick and Jason had been in the restroom for more than fifteen minutes.
She pushed up from the bench and strode into the hall leading to the men’s room, her heels echoing in the quieter part of the hospital. She stepped to the doorway and pushed the door open a crack, careful not to look inside. “Nick? Nick Raymond? Are you okay?”
No answer.
He had to be all right. She’d been sitting on the bench right outside the restroom hallway. This wasn’t a busy area. No one suspicious had gone in or out. She would have seen them.
She pushed the door open wider. “Is anyone in here? Anyone at all?”
Again, no answer
.
“I’m coming in.” She shoved it open all the way and stepped inside.
The room was small, only two stalls flanked one wall and two urinals at different heights hung on the other. The yellow tile seemed of a long ago age, a sharp contrast with the more modern part of the hospital. The smell of disinfectant and strange sweet scent of pink urinal cakes tinted the air. And something else. A mixture of fresh air and exhaust from the street outside.
The ground-level window gaped wide open.
Chapter Three
“Mommy?” Jason yawned and squinted his eyes open, looking around the inside of the pickup and parking garage.
Pressure assaulted Nick’s chest. He wondered if the four-year-old would wake when he transferred him into his car seat, but he wasn’t ready for him to ask for his mother. He wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m going to take you home, Jason.”
“To Mommy?”
He couldn’t lie to the kid, could he? “No. I’m sorry. Mommy won’t be there.” He stretched the belt across the booster seat and clicked it into place.
Jason nodded. “I’m not going to see Mommy anymore. She’s dead.”
The matter-of-fact way he stated it made Nick’s heart ache. He had no idea what to say, what to do. He settled on giving the boy a nod.
“Will Melissa be at home?”
The D.A.’s investigator. “Melissa won’t be there, either, Buddy.”
“That’s what Melissa calls me. Buddy.”
“Oh.”
“But you can call me Buddy, too.”
“Okay. You can call me Daddy, if you want.”
Jason just stared at him.
Guess he needed more of an explanation than that. “I’m your daddy, Jason. Remember what Melissa said?”
He nodded slowly, but his lower lip pushed out and started to tremble. “I want to see Melissa.”
Distraction. Wasn’t that what those parenting books he used to read suggested? The way to head off tears was with a distraction. “Look here. I have a movie for you to watch. Do you like movies?” He motioned to the DVD player.
A Rancher’s Brand of Justice Page 2