Defending the Duchess

by Rachelle Mccalla

  The computer seemed to freeze up for a moment, and Linus feared they’d crashed it trying to open the bulky document. The computer had to be at least two years old, if Julia had owned it since the time Fletcher had sent her the file. For most things, two years wasn’t old. But for computers, two years could be a lifetime. He prayed the machine wasn’t dead.

  Finally the document opened.

  “Yes!” Julia exclaimed gratefully.

  Linus freed her fingers and her right hand flew to the mouse pad, dragging down through the document to the pages that had been replaced in her file.

  “There it is—there it is!” She nearly squealed with relief as she jumped out of her chair.

  Linus wasn’t quite ready for her sudden action. He started to jump back, but she already had her arms around him.

  “It’s Fletcher’s file.” She held him in a tight celebratory hug.

  Linus held her to him, so relieved at the break in the case that he didn’t immediately peel himself away.

  That, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else but close to her.

  A moment later, Julia pulled back. Though she turned her attention immediately to the computer, Linus could see the blush that colored her cheeks. “Sorry,” she whispered, glancing at the closed door behind them, “I know I’m not supposed to—”

  “It’s okay.” He squeezed her hand and nodded toward the image that filled the screen. “It’s different from the one in your file, isn’t it? It’s subtle, but it’s different.” Linus was no automotive expert, but he’d stared at the pages from Julia’s file long enough to spot a few changes.

  “Yes, I think you’re right. Can we print this? I don’t want to lose it.”

  Linus helped her connect her laptop to a printer. While several copies of the document churned out, they backed up the document and emailed a copy to themselves and Jason. Holding the printed pages, Linus felt the lingering hand of doubt suppress his relief that they’d retrieved the evidence. “Julia?”

  “Yes?” She held another copy and paged through it, still clearly marveling that she finally held the important pages in her hands.

  He hated to burst her bubble, but the question needed to be asked. “What does it mean?”

  Her expression fell slightly. “I don’t know, but someone went to an awful lot of trouble to make these pages disappear. It has to be something important. It was worth killing over.”

  * * *

  Since Julia had originally come to Lydia for the express purpose of spending time with her sister, she knew she ought to do so when she had the chance that afternoon, even if she felt a burning desire to study the photographs of the burnt documents laid out on the conference room table at the royal guard headquarters. She was nearly certain Linus would be there, though she was equally sure he was supposed to be off duty after all the overtime he’d put in on her behalf. But he’d intimated that he had no intention of letting the investigation go on without him, not as long as Julia’s attackers remained at large.

  The thought warmed her, though she also felt a twinge of guilt. The warring emotions kept her distracted as Monica discussed the plans for the titling ceremony.

  “Would you prefer a cake, cupcake tower or cake pop display?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Yoo-hoo.” Monica waved her hand in front of Julia’s line of sight, and giggled. “I’m over here, planning your reception. Where are you?”

  Julia got her mouth open, but couldn’t force any words out.

  “You’ll have a full royal guard escort,” Monica continued. “Would you prefer to see Linus in a bow tie or ascot?”

  Julia stared at her sister and blinked.

  Monica laughed. “I thought that would get your attention.”

  “I, uh...” Julia cleared her throat and tried in vain not to blush. “Linus?”

  “Yes.” Monica’s eyes danced with amusement. “That guard you keep hoping to see every time you hear footsteps enter the room.”

  Footsteps sounded on the parquet wood floors behind them, and Julia turned to look, half-certain it would be Linus this time, and fearing he’d overheard Monica’s teasing.

  But it was only King Thaddeus with Prince Peter on his shoulders. “We’re off to the dedication of the new playground,” Thaddeus announced, blowing his wife a kiss.

  “Have fun, darlings.” Monica blew a kiss back, and the king stepped out again, with Peter blowing kisses behind them.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go with them?” Julia asked hesitantly. She enjoyed spending time with her sister, but she’d have welcomed an excuse to end the queen’s line of questions.

  “No. I want to spend time with you.”

  Julia realized with a pang why they couldn’t both go along to the playground dedication. They’d already determined that the safest place for her was within the palace walls. They didn’t want to risk another attack—and a playground dedication was no place for an encounter with the desperate men who’d killed Fletcher and shot Scott.

  “Julia?” Monica’s expression sobered at her sister’s extended silence. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Maybe I shouldn’t have teased, but I need to know if you want Linus to serve as your escort for the event. Given the circumstances, it makes sense to have a member of the royal guard beside you at all times, and what better place for him than on your arm? But if you don’t want Linus—”

  “Of course I want Linus.” Julia clamped her mouth shut after she’d said it, unsure if she should have spoken, but unwilling to make her sister babble on and on. She wished Monica would go back to her teasing—the serious tone was worse. Julia would have preferred that her sister not pick up on her feelings for Linus, especially when she herself had yet to sort out what those feelings were.

  But Monica’s brow only furrowed deeper. “It’s more than just a silly crush, then, is it? He hasn’t hurt your feelings—”

  “Of course not!” Julia protested, perhaps a little too adamantly. She tried to sound casual. “Linus has only ever been a gentleman. He’s been perfectly...perfect.” Julia wished she could think of a way to assure her sister that Linus was an excellent guard, in spite of whatever they might later learn of his juvenile criminal record. But how could she do that without bringing up the very record she wished to keep hidden?

  Monica continued to probe for details. “You do like him?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Monica nodded.

  Julia wondered if Jason or the other guards had caught on to anything. She couldn’t let Linus risk a review, not with everything else going on. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I shouldn’t even be thinking about such things until this whole matter with my attacker is resolved.”

  Monica nodded solemnly and let the subject drop. “What do you think of cake pops? Too trendy?”

  Her abrupt willingness to end the discussion aroused Julia’s suspicions. “You’re not going to say anything to Linus, are you?”

  “Julia...” Monica placed a hand over her heart as though she’d been insulted. “Of course I’m not going to speak to Linus. I just needed to find out if you want him as your escort on Sunday.”

  “I don’t know if I do.”

  “Of course you do. Now let’s just talk about the cake.”

  * * *

  Linus used a magnifying glass to inspect the photographic images of the burned pages, making notes of any words or parts of words he could pick out. His notes looked like a mess of random letters. Squigg. Envirotek. EEGS. They weren’t even real words.

  He couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. But neither could he give up.

  Jason cleared his throat from the doorway. It was an ominous throat clearing, the kind that usually preceded a lecture. Linus had known his supervisor long enough to interpret the sound before he’d even laid
eyes on him.

  One look at Jason’s face confirmed it.

  “What did I do?” Linus lowered the magnifying glass.

  “For one, you don’t seem to understand the words off duty. It’s seven in the evening and you haven’t had dinner yet. You weren’t even scheduled to work today.”

  “You’re still here.”

  That edged a smile to Jason’s lips, but he cleared his throat again, and Linus knew that hadn’t been the subject the head of the guard had come to lecture him about.

  “I spoke with their majesties the king and queen. They’re worried about Julia.”

  “I’m doing everything I can—”

  “That’s why they’re worried. More specifically, I believe Queen Monica is concerned about the nature of your attention to her little sister.”

  Linus felt his ears flame red. “I haven’t—I haven’t done anything or said anything.” He’d specifically kept his emotions in check, even when it had been quite difficult to do so. What could the queen possibly have seen?

  Jason rubbed his hands across his face. He was only a few years older than Linus, but the burden of running the royal guard in such trying times had already begun to show its toll. “This isn’t a good time for this. The fact is, Linus, Queen Monica would like to request you to be Julia’s personal escort for the titling ceremony.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  “But she needs to know that her sister...” He rubbed his face again and made a grunt of frustration. “If I may speak plainly—”

  “I wish you would.” Linus met Jason’s eyes and might have laughed if his old friend hadn’t been acting so frighteningly serious.

  “I know you’re an honorable member of the royal guard, but we have standards to uphold. You know your record. I wish I could erase history, but if you come up for review, it will also have to come out. I can’t set a double standard for my friends.”

  “Are you worried that there might be something between me and Julia?”

  “Worried?” Jason shook his head somberly. “You’ve been my friend far too long to try to hide. I’ve seen the two of you together. I know there’s something going on. The queen suspects it, as well. Just promise me one thing, if you can.”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t cross the line with the duchess. If you get caught, you’ll be subject to immediate review. Understood?”

  “Completely.”

  “Excellent.” Jason smiled. “Then you can come with me now. The duchess has received a large envelope via international mail. I’ve asked Sam to bring her to the conference room to open it.”

  Linus straightened. “Any ID on the sender?”

  “The return address indicates one Fletcher Pendleton.”

  “You know he was murdered, right?” Linus had filled his boss in on all those details, but it wouldn’t have surprised him if, with everything else that had been going on, the name had slipped his mind.

  “Before his death, Fletcher told Julia to expect a package, correct?” Jason entered the conference room and stepped to the side as Linus followed him in.

  “That’s right.” Linus spotted the package on the table, with Oliver hovering warily nearby, almost as though they feared the envelope might be stolen if it was left unguarded. “So this is the package he sent her?”

  “Oh, my!”

  Linus turned in time to see Julia enter the room, her fingers covering her mouth. She looked warily at the envelope as though it might hurt her.

  She glanced up at him, then back at the parcel. “He really did send me a package.”

  “He did,” Linus confirmed, wishing he could wrap her in his arms and comfort her, but he’d just promised Jason he’d do nothing of the sort.

  “I suppose I should open it.”

  “When you’re ready.”

  * * *

  Though the package on the table frightened her, Julia took comfort knowing that Linus was there, even if he wasn’t technically on duty. She approached the package cautiously and tried not to think about the fate of its sender.

  Linus helped her peel back the seal, peeking inside when they had it halfway open. “It just looks like a bunch of papers.” His tone bore a mixture of relief and disappointment.

  “Hopefully the papers will give us some answers.” The adhesive loosened its grip under her steady hand, and a moment later the envelope gaped open.

  “Careful now.” Linus spread out his hands to catch the contents as Julia tipped the envelope toward him. A sheaf of papers slid out neatly, and he caught them.

  The top page was a cover letter on Fletcher Pendleton’s personal stationery, dated August 14, the same day Julia had arrived in Lydia the first time. The same day—or within twenty-four hours—of the break-in at her house.

  She took a tiny gulp and turned the paper to read, standing back from the table so the guards could see everything she saw. She read quickly, unable to absorb every word in her haste to sort out the meaning. Certain lines stood out far more starkly than others.

  It is imperative that someone know the truth... No one from Seattle Electronics will talk to me... As you know, Seattle Electronics was awarded all my work on the engine I designed for them. At the time, I felt guilty for my involvement. I gave them every scrap of paper, every file, every sketch of the design I had created.

  I saw the headlines about the malfunctions with the SE323... I realized something was wrong. I convinced one of my key associates from Seattle Electronics to pass along to me the current design. Though mostly unchanged from my memories of the original engine, it contained a few minor but horrifying alterations.

  The engine I designed was safe. It would not have malfunctioned...

  I no longer have the documents detailing my original design, but I have recreated them from memory and highlighted the differences for you.

  Scour your files for some evidence of my original design... These changes may have caused the accidents, including the one that killed Balfour and Chen.

  Julia felt a chill run through her as she read the letter. She’d have found Pendleton’s words alarming enough if she’d read the words a week before. Now that Fletcher was dead—murdered—the words hit her like blows to the stomach.

  She studied them for several long minutes even after she’d first read through the letter.

  “Oh,” she moaned and clutched at the base of her throat, trying not to let her stomach lurch, though her thoughts spun with sickening madness.

  Why would Seattle Electronics sabotage their own design? Balfour and Chen were the engineers who’d died trying to prove the engine was safe. Why would their engineers test a prototype they’d knowingly tampered with? Had Balfour and Chen committed suicide?

  Or had they been murdered, too?

  Along with the other guards looking over her shoulders, Linus had studied the letter for several long minutes. He now looked up at her with a face drained of color beneath his Mediterranean tan. “He says he’s included the original engine design.” His bass voice fell even deeper than usual, a hollow whisper filled with dread.

  Julia wished she could pinch her eyes shut against the truth, but still she flipped through the pages Pendleton had sent her, hoping against hope that the changed portions of the design weren’t the same as those that had been replaced in her file.

  But of course they were. She’d studied them too closely in the last day not to recognize them immediately. The copy Pendleton had provided her with, which he’d obtained from a Seattle Electronics associate, looked identical to the pages that had been replaced in her file.

  Jason must have realized what they were both thinking. “The printouts you two made of the design from Julia’s file,” he said, then looked at Sam. “Bring those in for a side-by-side comparison. Also grab the copies of the fingerprinted pages f
rom Julia’s file cabinet.”

  While Sam ran down the hall to fetch the requested documents, Julia laid out the pages in a line—one row of Fletcher’s recreated original, the other row of the altered design Seattle Electronics had sent to production. Sam returned with the pages she’d printed out. She arranged them above the others.

  She was no engineer, but with the help of Fletcher’s highlighted alterations, she was quickly able to match one design to the other. The only trick was figuring out why the switch had been made, and how it connected to the attack against Scott, the attack against her and Fletcher’s murder.

  “The design Fletcher emailed me two years ago matches his recreated design,” she recounted. “Seattle Electronics altered that design before they sent it into production. And then—” Her voice faltered as she reached for the copied pages that still bore Scott’s dusted fingerprints.

  Linus picked up her line of thought. “Someone broke into your office and replaced the original design with the altered design. They wanted it to look like the design that caused the accident had been the real design all along.”

  “But why bother?” Oliver shook his head as he scowled at the pages. “She wasn’t going to look at the pages again. They were filed away and forgotten. Why stir things up?”

  “Fletcher was asking questions,” Julia said as she picked up the cover letter included in the package. “He had someone from Seattle Electronics forward him the production design. Who knows who else he talked to and who overheard? Whoever made this change didn’t want anyone to know about it—that’s when they decided to cover their tracks.”

  Linus nodded. “That’s when Fletcher started calling you, wanting to meet.”

  “He wanted his original design. I just thought he was acting creepy.”

  “He may have been acting creepy precisely because he suspected these guys were on to him,” Linus concluded.

  “And he was right,” Julia said with a sigh, “but who are they? What did they have to gain by making the design worse instead of better?”