SB03 - The Defender's Duty

by Shirlee McCoy

“I think we should call your doctor first thing in the morning and get an appointment for you to be seen.”

  “Sorry. I’ve got plans.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  “Finding-a-killer plans.” He limped down the stairs, and Lacey went with him.

  “You’re not going to be in any shape to find the guy if you don’t take it easy.”

  “I’ll manage.” He pulled two bags out of the back of his car and handed one to Lacey. “That’s yours. It’s got the extra pie.”

  “You’re not going to distract me by mentioning pie, you know.”

  “So how about I distract you by telling you how pretty you look in yellow?” He eyed her appreciatively, his silvery gaze touching on the sunny yellow turtleneck and jeans she’d changed into after church. Both were faded and soft with age, but the way Jude looked at them, they could have been the finest silk.

  “Flattery will get you nowhere, Jude. And it certainly won’t convince me to change the subject.”

  “I kind of thought that. Unfortunately, the subject is going to have to stay closed. I want to call Jack, see if he’s found out anything else about Jim.”

  “And you’re going to put your feet up while you do it?”

  “For you? Sure.” He smiled, hooking his arm around her waist and walking back to the house. “I think you still have my key.”

  “Right here.” She fished it from her pocket and placed it in Jude’s palm.

  He wrapped his fingers around her hand before she could pull away, his thumb brushing over the tender flesh on the underside of her wrist. “My phone call can wait for a little while if you want to come in for some coffee. We could dig out the pie my mom sent home, put a little ice cream on it and share.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “No?” His smile was slow and lazy, his thumb resting on her pulse.

  Could he feel the way it raced?

  “I need to go in.”

  “You can’t run forever, Lacey. You know that, right?”

  “I’m not running.”

  “Sure you are. From your past and your fears and from me.”

  He was right.

  Lacey didn’t deny it, but she wasn’t going to discuss it, either. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jude.”

  He stared into her eyes for a moment, trying to read the secrets Lacey had held so close for so long she wasn’t sure she could ever share them, then he stepped back, letting her go.

  “Good night, Lacey.”

  She nodded, her throat too tight to speak, then closed her door and locked it, her stomach churning with anxiety. She’d come to Lynchburg because she’d thought it was what God wanted, but instead of finding a client who desperately needed someone on his side, Lacey had found Jude. Irritating, frustrating, wonderful Jude.

  She scowled, pacing the downstairs, checking all the doors and windows by rote. Nothing had been easy since she’d arrived in Lynchburg. Maybe that meant Lacey had made a wrong choice, headed left when she should have gone right. Or maybe it just meant that the right things were often the hardest.

  She set the food Becca had sent on the counter, then opened the bag and pulled out a plastic container of pot roast and another that contained yeasty smelling rolls. The third container held two large slices of apple pie. Lacey’s stomach grumbled as the sweet smell of apples and cinnamon drifted up from the container. She made up a plate for herself, heated it in the microwave and sat at the small kitchen table to eat the food alone.

  She shouldn’t have minded. She’d eaten plenty of meals alone. Somehow, though, she couldn’t help wishing there was someone in the house to talk to and share her worries with.

  Someone?

  Jude.

  She frowned, stabbing at a piece of meat. “Lacey Beth Carmichael, you are not going to spend the evening mooning over your client.”

  Sure she wasn’t.

  And she wasn’t going to devour every bite of the food Becca had made, either. Or snack on the candy she’d bought. Or dig into the Twinkies Jude had left on the counter.

  And she wasn’t going to pace around the house, bored and lonely.

  “You are not bored and you are not lonely.” She muttered the words as she stabbed another piece of meat and shoved it in her mouth.

  There was no way she was going to spend another minute of her afternoon off thinking about Jude. She was going to enjoy her meal alone, and she was going to be happy about it.

  A soft rap came from the wall beside her, and Lacey jumped, her heart in her throat as she whirled toward the sound. It came again. One long beat. Two short. One long. Not a mouse, for sure. And not an intruder. The wall was the one that connected Lacey’s place to Jude’s, and she could picture him on the other side, knocking on the wall and grinning, his gray eyes flashing with humor, his long legs stretched out as he sat at his kitchen table.

  So maybe Lacey was alone, but not as alone as she’d been before.

  She smiled, echoing Jude’s pattern, then dug into the food his mother had sent, the evening settling around her as rain fell from the deep gray sky and darkness descended.

  NINETEEN

  Three in the morning.

  Lacey didn’t believe in ghosts, but as she stared out her bedroom window she could understand why other people did. With the moon sunk deep below the horizon, the darkness seemed filled with danger, every shadow shifting eerily. Rain pattered on the roof and splashed the windows, the sound mournful and lonely. Lacey was sure that if she listened carefully enough she would hear the wind moaning in the eaves.

  Sleepless, she stared out the bedroom window, waiting. For what, she didn’t know. The early morning had an air of expectation, as if the world were anxious for the sun to rise. Lacey was anxious, too, but for other reasons.

  She felt unsettled and unsure, and she didn’t like it.

  She’d spent the past eleven years learning to be Lacey Carmichael the confident professional rather than Lacey Beth the scared, rebellious kid. If she allowed herself to be vulnerable again, she might become what she’d been. And when she was with Jude, she was vulnerable.

  She sighed, forcing herself to move away from the window and the darkness beyond. There were better things she could do with a sleepless night than stand staring at nothing and worrying about everything.

  She grabbed her Bible from the nightstand and walked down the stairs, determined to refocus her energy. If she couldn’t sleep, she could study and pray. Maybe in the stillness and silence, she would find the peace that always seemed just out of reach.

  The armchair was the perfect place to sit and read, and Lacey settled into it, eyeing the fireplace and wishing she had the courage to go outside and look for wood. She could have a cheery fire, sip a cup of tea. But there was no way she was going out in the dark. Not after everything that had happened over the past few days. She stayed put and flipped open her Bible, trying to focus on the words and praying that God would give her insight that might ease her anxiety and help her sleep.

  A soft sound came from the front of the house. Something scraping against the wood. It was a discordant note against the rain’s gentle melody. Surprised, Lacey flicked off the light and stood, moved to the living room window and slowly pulled back the curtains. If something was out there, she couldn’t see it. Which was perfectly fine with her. She didn’t want to see it. Or him. Or anything else. She wanted to pretend that what she’d heard was nothing more than the wind blowing through the porch railings.

  She stepped back, started to turn away and caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. There. Just beyond the porch. A shadow moved. Low to the ground, but not an animal. It looked like a hunched-over person. There was a flash of light, a glimpse of a face. White skin. Dark hair.

  Lacey stepped back, her heart pounding, her mind racing. Something crashed onto the porch and exploded, raining fire and glass and smoke so thick Lacey could smell it through the closed window.

  She ran for the front door, grabbing the doorknob,
feeling the hot metal beneath her hand. Smoke poured from beneath the door, choking her, and she knew there was no escape in that direction. She pivoted, running through the living room and kitchen, grabbing the phone as she went. She needed to get outside, get Jude, call for help. Pray that whoever had started the fire was long gone.

  An alarm shrieked, spurring Lacey on as she yanked open the sliding glass door and raced into the icy rain. Her fingers slipped on the wet gate that separated her yard from Jude’s. She fumbled with the catch and shoved it open, fear crawling up her spine, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She wasn’t alone. She felt it in every heartbeat, heard it in the warning that shrieked through her mind.

  Danger.

  “Jude!” she shouted as she ran, terror lifting her voice over the splash of rain and scream of the alarm.

  “Right here.” He was in front of her, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the back of the yard before she even saw him. He was limping, but moving fast, and Lacey stumbled along beside him, her heart slamming against her ribs, her eyes straining to see in the blackness.

  “There was a guy out front. I saw him. He might be out here.” Her teeth chattered on the words, and Jude slid to a stop.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stay here.”

  “No.” She grabbed his sleeve, holding tight when he started jogging away. “We need to call for help. Let someone else deal with it.”

  “And let him get away again? I don’t think so.” Jude pulled open the gate. The sharp crack of a gunshot split the night, and Jude grunted, tumbling sideways.

  Lacey grabbed his waist, the stitches in her hand stretching and ripping as she tried to keep him from falling.

  “Get down.” He hooked his arm around her and lunged behind the gate as another crack echoed through the darkness. Wood splintered. Rain fell. Lacey landed on wet, cold ground, her face pressed into the earth, Jude covering her with his body. Something slammed into the ground near her shoulder and she screamed.

  “Don’t move.” Jude rolled to the side, used his feet to kick the gate shut as sirens screamed and more wood splintered.

  “Where is he? Where is he?” Lacey tried to look around without lifting her head, but all she could see was thick grass and earth.

  “Shh.” Jude moved close, covering her with his body again. Protecting her from a lunatic with a gun.

  “Is he still here?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispered near her ear. Lacey could feel the tension in his body, the tautness of his muscles.

  “We should—”

  “Wait.”

  “He’s going to walk through that gate and shoot us dead.” She’d felt all-consuming terror before and had hoped never to feel it again. It was back, though, crawling up her spine, claiming her thoughts and her mind. She tried to move, wanting to get up and run.

  “Let him come to us.” Jude pressed her deeper into the hard ground, his lips brushing her cheek as he spoke.

  “Do you have your gun?”

  “Does a banker have money?”

  “If he opens the gate—”

  “I’ll do what I have to.”

  “But what if—”

  “Shh. Just wait.”

  Wait?

  To be brutally murdered? To die in the icy rain in a town she’d never been to until three days ago? To die before she’d ever really lived?

  No, thanks.

  Lacey would rather run and take her chances.

  Unfortunately, Jude wasn’t budging.

  She tried to move, but he was a dead weight, pressing her down. Holding her prisoner. A different kind of panic filled her, and her body shook with it.

  Voices drifted from the front yard, the sound barely registering over Lacey’s terror.

  “Lynchburg Police. Anyone out here?”

  “We’re back here. Shots have been fired. The gunman is on the loose,” Jude called out, but didn’t move.

  “Stay where you are, sir. We’ll be with you in a minute.”

  More than a minute ticked, Lacey’s heart keeping time, her body trembling, her breath coming too fast.

  “It’s okay.” Jude eased onto his elbows, lifting his weight from Lacey. “Take a deep breath, Lace. Relax.”

  “Relax? Someone tried to kill us.”

  “It’s not the first time.”

  “Sir? Are you out here?” The back gate opened and a light bobbed across the ground.

  “Right here.” Jude stood, taking Lacey’s hand and pulling her to her feet, swaying a little.

  Had he been hurt? Shot?

  “Drop your weapon, sir.” The officer’s voice hardened as he trained his flashlight on the gun Jude held.

  “It’s my service revolver. I’m a New York City homicide detective.” Jude slowly lowered his gun to the ground, then took a step away from it, something deep-black and wet sliding down his cheek.

  He had been hurt!

  “Are you okay?” Lacey moved toward him, but the officer put up a hand, gesturing for her to stay put.

  “Let’s just take everything slow. What happened here?”

  “Someone doesn’t like me very much. He’d be happy if I didn’t survive to see the sunrise. I guess he figured he could set the house on fire, wait for me to run outside, and take a potshot.” Jude wiped blood from his cheek and scowled.

  “Looks like he was almost successful.” The flashlight beam rested on Jude’s face. “Paramedics are out front, but we’ve got to secure the scene before they get out of the truck.”

  “There’s no rush. I’m fine. I’ll be even better if you find the guy who did this.”

  “You two can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” Officer McKnight stepped into the backyard. Dressed in civilian clothes and a baseball cap, he took in the scene, his gaze resting on Jude’s temple and then cutting to Lacey. “Are you injured?”

  “No.”

  “Then how about we go down to the station to discuss what happened here tonight? I’ll come to the hospital when we’re finished, Sinclair.”

  “There won’t be any need for that. I’m not going to the hospital.”

  McKnight shrugged. “Suit yourself. Better get the wound bandaged up before we go, though. I don’t like blood in my work area. My men have already fanned through the woods behind the house. I think it’s safe enough to go back out front. Ready?”

  Jude seemed eager enough, but Lacey wasn’t so sure.

  “Maybe we could answer your questions inside the house.” Her voice shook so hard, she was surprised the words were audible.

  “Not until the fire marshal gives the all clear. You’ll be more comfortable at the station, anyway. Too much smoke around here right now.”

  “But I’m not even dressed.”

  “I’m sure one of our female officers will be happy to lend you some clothes.”

  “But—”

  “You’re not wimping out on me, are you, Lacey?” Jude bent close, speaking softly as he pressed his hand against her lower back and urged her out the back gate.

  Yes.

  “No. I just don’t think it’s appropriate to leave the house dressed in flannel pajamas.”

  “It is when they look as good on you as yours do.”

  “How do you know what they look like? It’s pitch-black out here.”

  “I’ve got a great imagination.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” Thank goodness the darkness hid Lacey’s cheeks, because she was sure they were suddenly the color of a ripe tomato.

  “I’m inventive.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you needed a distraction, and I invented one.”

  True. They were already around the side of the house and her legs hadn’t given out yet. “I think I might need more than a distraction, right about now.”

  “No problem.” He slid his arm around her waist, pulled her close to his side. “You’ve got me.”

  What coul
d she possibly say to that?

  Nothing, so Lacey kept silent, her eyes widening as she surveyed the house. Firefighters sprayed the still-smoldering front porch and the soot-stained vinyl siding. “It’s ruined.”

  She didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud until Jude responded. “It’s damaged but not ruined. In a few weeks, it’ll be like it never happened.”

  “Too bad I won’t be here to see it.” The comment slipped out, and she bit her lip to keep from saying anything else.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Sure I do. Helping Hands will send me off on another assignment, and I’ll leave this burnt-out shell of a house behind.”

  And Jude.

  She’d leave him behind, too.

  “We’ve got a paramedic waiting to patch you up, Sinclair. The sooner we get to answering questions about what happened tonight, the better.”

  “Right. How about you ask questions while I get patched up? Then we can kill two birds with one stone.” Jude grimaced, his arm dropping away from Lacey.

  “Then let’s start with the obvious. Did either of you see anything?”

  “I did.” Lacey hovered near the ambulance as Jude’s wound was cleaned. “I couldn’t sleep and heard a sound out front. I looked out the living room window and didn’t see anything at first. Then I saw a shadow moving near the front porch.”

  “That’s it?” McKnight tapped a pen impatiently against his notepad.

  “There was a flash of light and I saw his face.”

  “No mask?”

  “No. He had dark hair and eyes. Pale skin. Clean-shaven. I couldn’t tell how tall he was. He was crouched low to the ground.”

  “Have you seen him before?”

  “No.” She shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

  “Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’m done here. Let’s head to the station and see if you can pull up some suspects for Lacey to look at.” Jude brushed off further help from the paramedic and climbed down from the ambulance. A white bandage covered his left temple and he was limping, but none of his pain showed on his face.