SB03 - The Defender's Duty

by Shirlee McCoy

  “I guess you’ve got some suggestions about that.”

  “Yeah. I guess I do.” Jude grinned, a feral curve of his lips that made Lacey glad she was his friend rather than his enemy.

  “Let’s do it, then. You want a ride?”

  “We can take my car. I just need my keys.” Lacey spoke quickly. A car meant a quick escape if she needed it, and she’d much rather have Bess with her than not. Especially because she had emergency chocolate hidden in her glove compartment.

  “Give me a minute, and I’ll see if I can get a firefighter in your house to get them.” Officer McKnight walked away, and Lacey hugged her waist, praying he’d hurry back. The sooner they got to the police station and got this nightmare over with, the happier she’d be.

  “You okay?” Jude put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

  “Me? You’re the one that nearly got shot in the head.” Just the thought of the blood running down his cheek made her shudder.

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t. I’ve cheated death twice. I guess God must have a reason for that.” Jude seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Lacey, and she slipped her arm around his waist, not saying anything. Just stood with him while the cold rain fell around them.

  TWENTY

  Jude paced Officer McKnight’s small cubicle, his head throbbing in time with his beating heart, each pulse a reminder that for the second time in just a few months, he’d been closer than he’d wanted to be to meeting his maker. If God was trying to get Jude’s attention, He’d succeeded in a big way.

  “Does that one look familiar?” McKnight’s words drew Jude from his thoughts, and he turned his attention to the small table where Lacey sat, a pile of photocopied driver’s-license pictures in front of her. Each belonged to a relative of a murderer Jude had helped put behind bars. Any one of them could have been the shooter. There was one there, though, that was different than the others. Jimmy Russell. A police officer. A good one.

  Was it possible he’d gone bad?

  Jimmy’s son had died. Jude had known people to turn dangerous over less.

  “No.” Lacey placed a photo in a discard pile near her elbow and lifted another one, studying it carefully. Her damp hair clung to her neck and cheeks, falling around her pale face in dark-gold waves. The black T-shirt a female officer had lent her hugged her shoulders and left her arms bare. The scars he’d only glimpsed before were pale white lines that snaked around her wrists and forearms. In some places, they were thick and corded as if skin and sinew had been scraped away.

  In his mind’s eye, he could see her, handcuffed and chained, yanking against her bonds, trying desperately for freedom. The anger he’d felt when she’d told him the story bubbled up again, churning and hot. What kind of man treated a kid that way? What kind of mother allowed it?

  And what kind of kid survived? Thrived?

  A tough one. And resilient.

  Those were qualities Lacey still possessed.

  She glanced up from the next photo she was studying, meeting his eyes. She must have known he’d been looking at her scars, but she made no attempt to cover them. Just lifted her chin a notch and turned her attention back to the photo. “This isn’t the guy, either.”

  “You’re sure.” McKnight rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at his watch. They’d been there an hour. At the rate Lacey was going through the photos, they could be there an hour longer.

  “Yes. He’s similar, though. Dark hair and eyes. Similar face shape.”

  Jude leaned in to get a better look. The guy in the photo looked gaunt and haggard, his face thin and his eyes deeply shadowed. Similar to Jimmy but more worn than Jude’s old sergeant had been.

  He lifted the pile, sifting through until he came to Jimmy’s picture. “How about this one?”

  She studied it with the same deliberate attention she had the others. “That’s him.”

  Jude’s heart jumped. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes. That’s what I remember most about him.”

  “It was dark, Lacey. You only saw him briefly.” McKnight slid the photo from her hands, frowning. He knew Lacey had just fingered a fellow police officer, and he didn’t like it.

  Neither did Jude.

  But cop or not, Jimmy Russell would pay if he was the one trying to kill Jude.

  “It might have been a brief look, but I saw him clearly. That’s the guy.” Lacey sat back in her seat, stretching and yawning. There were dark crescents beneath her eyes and her skin was ghostly pale. She needed to be in bed, being fed hot soup and tea. She did not need to sit for another hour in McKnight’s cubicle answering the same questions over and over again.

  “We’re going to have to find him and bring him in for questioning, McKnight. No matter how much we dislike the idea.” Jude stood. “For right now, I think Lacey has answered all the questions she can.”

  McKnight nodded and stood. “I’m going to send some men out to local hotels. See if Russell has checked in anywhere nearby. In the meantime, I’m going to set you two up in a safe house.”

  Safe house?

  The idea was so ludicrous, Jude almost laughed. “You’re kidding.”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?” McKnight scowled and stood, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I’ve been a homicide cop for five years, McKnight. I don’t believe in hiding from killers. I believe in hunting them down.”

  “Yeah? Well, I don’t believe in letting people die on my watch. The way things are going, that’s what’s going to happen if you two don’t go underground for a while.”

  “You know what Russell will do if I disappear? The same thing he did when I was in the hospital and had a dozen police brothers hanging around. He’ll go to ground.”

  “Not if he doesn’t know we’re looking for him.”

  “How can he not know? I’ve got a buddy in New York looking for him. You’re going to have guys here looking. He’s a police officer. He’ll know how to find that out, and he’ll know what it means. I’m not going to hide, McKnight. You may as well get that through your head.”

  “I can’t force you, and you know it. What about her?” He pointed a thumb at Lacey.

  “She needs to be in the safe house. Just make sure it’s really safe.”

  “Hey, I’m still here.” Lacey stood and stretched, the black T-shirt riding up to reveal an inch of creamy skin and what looked like a deep-purple scar. Another injury suffered at her stepfather’s hands?

  Jude’s stomach clenched, and he gritted his teeth. There was no way he was going to let her be hurt again. “Good. Then we won’t have to explain the plan to you.”

  “I appreciate the thought, gentlemen, but there is no way I’m going to a safe house.”

  “Sure you are.” Even if that meant Jude carrying her there.

  “Look, that guy—” she stabbed at the photo on the table “—could have killed me tonight. When the bullet grazed your head, I stood there like an idiot trying to keep you upright. All he had to do was take another shot, and I would have been dead.”

  “I pulled you down, Lacey. That’s why he didn’t shoot you.”

  “I don’t think so. He took the first shot the second you opened the gate, and he just missed taking your head off. It was only after I stepped up beside you that his aim was off.”

  “He was your sergeant. How good of a shot was he?” McKnight tapped a pen against his thigh, and Jude knew he was thinking Lacey might be right.

  And maybe she was.

  He and Russell had gone to the shooting range a few times, and Russell was a decent marksman. “Pretty good, but that was years ago.”

  “I’m thinking the guy doesn’t know Lacey saw him tonight. If that’s the case, and he’s got some kind of vendetta solely against you, I think she’ll be safe enough.”

  “I want her in a safe house, McKnight. Tonight.”

  “So it’s okay for you to walk around town while a crazed lunatic hunts for you, but I’m not
allowed to when we both know I’m perfectly safe?” Lacey’s eyes flashed emerald fire, and her chest heaved with indignation, but she wasn’t going to win the argument, and the sooner she realized it, the better.

  “You’re going. End of discussion.”

  “You overbearing—”

  “Much as I’m enjoying your little spat, I’ve had a long night, and I’m ready to go home. So here’s the deal: I can’t justify putting someone in a safe house if she’s not in danger. Lacey, you’re free to go.”

  “Thank you, Officer McKnight.” Lacey smirked at Jude and grabbed her purse. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I’m going to get my chocolate fix.”

  “I still want you in that safe house, Sinclair.”

  “Forget it. I know the risks. I’m willing to take them to bring Russell in.”

  “Watch your back, then.”

  “You know it.” Jude offered a quick wave and hurried after Lacey. He caught up to her a few feet from the front door.

  “If you’re running because you think I’m going to keep arguing about the safe house, you can relax.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and slowed her pace. “Relax? Our house was burned, you were nearly shot in the head and now you’re planning to make yourself bait for a killer. How am I supposed to relax?” She slammed her hand against the door, shoving it open and stalking out into gray morning light.

  “Better watch it, Lacey. Keep getting so upset about what happens to me, and I might think you care.” He meant it as a joke, but she speared him with a look that could have made a hardened criminal run for cover.

  “Of course I care. Your brother hired me to take care of you. Letting you die isn’t part of the job.”

  “So that’s the only reason the thought of someone killing me upsets you?”

  “You’re a human being. I wouldn’t want anyone to be killed.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s the entire truth.” He grinned, tilting her chin up with his finger and staring down into her eyes. “Come on. Admit it. You like me.”

  “Not as much as I like chocolate. Which—” she shifted away from his touch “—you’re keeping me from.”

  “I guess you have a plan for getting some.”

  “Getting some? I’ve got some.” She opened her car door, dug into the glove compartment and pulled out a Hershey bar. “Want one?”

  “How many do you have in there?”

  “Enough to keep me supplied on long road trips.” She unwrapped the chocolate and bit into it, pensive and quiet, her thoughts well hidden behind a bland expression.

  “Something is on your mind. What is it?”

  “I need to call Helping Hands today. You’re going to have to find another place to stay while the duplex is being fixed. I doubt the person you’ll be staying with will need my help around the house. That means I need to move on.” She took another bite of chocolate and frowned, rewrapping the bar and throwing it on the backseat of the car.

  “I thought you needed a chocolate fix.”

  “It didn’t taste as good as I thought it would.” Her voice broke, and she turned away.

  “You’re crying.” He urged her back around, pulled her into his arms.

  “No, I’m not.” The words were muffled against his chest, and Jude smoothed a hand down her back, her hair velvety soft beneath his palm.

  “Then what do you call it?” He leaned back so that he could see her face, traced the single tear that slid down her cheek.

  “Goodbyes are always hard to say, Jude.”

  “So don’t say them. Just because the house is damaged doesn’t mean you have to get a new assignment. Your contract with Grayson was for a month. There’s still plenty of time left.”

  “I can’t stay.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t take your brother’s money and not work.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and smiled. “And because putting off saying goodbye will only make it hurt worse.”

  “Lacey—”

  “What happened this morning made me realize something. I’m starting to care too much.”

  “If I’m supposed to be upset by that, I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

  “You don’t understand.” She hunched her shoulders and frowned.

  “Why don’t you explain it to me so I can?”

  “For a long time, my life was really difficult. Every time I thought I couldn’t be hurt anymore, I was. After…when I left Vermont, I promised myself no one would ever hurt me again.”

  “No one will, Lacey. Not if I can help it.”

  “You can’t. Relationships hurt. People hurt. There’s no way around it.” She got in her car, started it up. “We’d better go. You’ve probably got a lot of phone calls to make this morning.”

  He knew he should let the conversation drop. There’d be time to talk about their relationship after Russell was behind bars.

  But he couldn’t let it go.

  He’d been through a lot in the past few months. Injury, near death, a renewal of his relationship with God. All those things had brought him to a parking lot at sunrise with a woman he might very well be falling in love with.

  He leaned into the car, looking deep into Lacey’s eyes and seeing what he never thought he’d find.

  “You’re right. Relationships hurt. People hurt. But what hurts more is being so afraid to feel pain that we never feel love.” He touched her cheek and closed the door, rounding the car and getting in.

  Lacey didn’t speak as she pulled out onto the road, and Jude didn’t push her to. There’d be more time to discuss their relationship.

  If he survived.

  And Jude intended to.

  After years spent living for himself, Jude finally understood what was important. Not independence and freedom, but love. Of God. Of family. Of a woman who would complete his life. He’d fight for that as he’d fought for life. God willing, he’d win.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Relationships hurt. People hurt. But what hurts more is being so afraid to feel pain that we never feel love. Jude’s words echoed in Lacey’s head as she turned onto the road that led to the duplex. She didn’t want to hear them. Didn’t want to acknowledge their truth.

  But they were true.

  She was afraid.

  To love.

  To be loved.

  Up until now, it hadn’t mattered. She’d cared deeply for her clients and built relationships with each of them, but she’d put nothing on the line, risked nothing. She’d known when the jobs began that they would end, and she’d been happy with that.

  Jude had changed the rules.

  She wanted to go back to the way she’d been before they’d met, when going from place to place and client to client had felt like God’s plan for her life and she hadn’t questioned the path she’d chosen a decade ago.

  She wanted to, but didn’t know if she could.

  Jude had slipped through her defenses and she wasn’t even sure how it had happened.

  “The house has seen better days.” Jude’s dry comment pulled her from her thoughts, and she surveyed the charred house. The porch was blackened and waterlogged, some of the front siding melted. Most of the windows were still intact, but it would be a while before the place would be habitable again.

  “Where will you stay until it’s repaired?”

  “Somewhere where Russell can find me easily. How about you? Will it take long for Helping Hands to find you another assignment?” It sounded as if he had accepted that she was leaving.

  Lacey knew she should be happy about it, but she wasn’t.

  “A couple of days. Maybe less. They’ve always got plenty of work for me.”

  “Will you let me know where you’re going?”

  “Sure.” She smiled brightly, parking the car and hopping out. The sooner she packed her bags and found another place to stay, the easier things would be.

  “Lacey?” He limped around the car, his eyes storm-cloud gray. “This isn’t over. I
want you to know that.”

  “This?”

  “Us. As soon as my business with Russell is finished, I’m coming to find you.”

  “Jude—”

  “You don’t want me to? Say the words and I’ll stay away.” His hands rested on her waist, his fingers warm through the T-shirt she’d borrowed. Craggy and hard, his face had seared itself into her mind and she knew she’d never forget it.

  She knew what she should do, but the words she needed to say were lodged in her throat.

  “I’ll take that as, ‘Of course I want you to find me, Jude.’” He smiled, his hands tightening on her waist and pulling her closer.

  She let the moment happen, inhaled the heady masculine scent that was Jude, wrapped her arms around his waist and felt like she was home. Finally. After years of wandering, she’d walked through a door that led to the place where she belonged.

  Surprised, she pulled back, gasping for breath, staring up into Jude’s stormy gray eyes. “I need to go.”

  He nodded, his hands slipping away as he stepped back and gave her room to move and to breathe. “My mother has put some feelers out. I’ll call her in a little while and see if she’s got a place lined up for you to stay.”

  “I don’t want your family to go to any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble. You should know that by now.”

  She nodded. There was no sense arguing. In a few hours, she and Bess would be on the road, leaving the house and the little garden plot behind. Leaving Jude behind. That was the safe thing to do.

  But is it the right thing?

  She ignored the question as she picked her way up the singed porch steps and across the waterlogged and burned porch. Her door was black with soot and fire damage, and she gave it a gentle kick, watching as it slowly opened. The floor was water-stained, and glass littered the floor where the living-room window had exploded inward. The curtains sagged listlessly and the paint had dark, wet patches, but other than that, the interior of the house seemed undamaged.

  Lacey cleaned the kitchen, quickly boxing up the things she would take with her. Candy. Soda. Twinkies. Her throat felt tight with emotions that she refused to acknowledge. If she pretended enough, she might believe that leaving Jude was no different than leaving any other client.