Saving Madeline

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  When they reached the motel she pulled up outside the lobby, but he didn’t get out immediately. “Caitlin.” His voice came softly, sounding a bit gravelly.

  She met his gaze as his hand reached out, touching her arm lightly and searing it through the cloth that separated them. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. “Me, too.”

  He glanced at the backseat where Amy was sprawled, snoring soundly, and then back to her face. “I’m attracted to you. I want you to know that. And for the record, I haven’t had a casual relationship since I met Dakota.”

  She didn’t reply. It was all she could do not to lean over and put her arms around him, let him kiss her. But if she did that, tomorrow she’d regret it.

  “Good night,” she said firmly.

  His hand slid from her arm, leaving it cold. “Good night.”

  Back at home inside her room she lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling.

  Chapter 13

  Parker spent an uncomfortable night on the hard motel bed. Not that the mattress was uncomfortable but rather his thoughts. His mind was full, not of Madeline and the court case as they should have been, but of what had happened between him and Caitlin.

  Caitlin was happy they’d been interrupted, so he had to be satisfied with that. He knew that on some level she was attracted to him, despite their different economic and social circumstances. But attraction hardly made a difference if she wasn’t willing to admit to it.

  He sighed as he shaved and dressed for work in the small bathroom. Last night in Caitlin’s car, he’d dared hope she was reconsidering the possibility of a relationship, or that she might admit the connection between them was as strong as he felt it was, but she had made her intention to keep away from him clear. At least she was still helping him with his case. Despite his growing attraction to her, the only reasonable thing for him to do was to pull back or risk losing her help.

  He was dressed and had eaten cold cereal from the breakfast alcove in the lobby when she arrived at the motel, wearing a gray suit that was snug at the waist, showing the outline of her figure to advantage. Her hair was swept up tightly, but that didn’t detract from her beautiful blue eyes or those soft lips. Dragging his eyes away was more than difficult, and after a while he gave up trying.

  “Sleep well?” she asked casually.

  He gave her a lazy smile and said, “I couldn’t sleep. I had, uh, other things on my mind.” The way he said it while watching her so intently left little room to misconstrue his meaning, and he loved the way her face flushed. Did she do that in court? He wondered. No, because she didn’t really care about those cases. Her heart wasn’t in them as it was in his. Or was he just fooling himself?

  “Well,” she said, turning from him, her voice going cool, “maybe it was sleeping in a different place.”

  “I’ll need to find an apartment. A guy at work said he knows of a place available on a week-to-week basis. Another guy says he knows some people in a house who are looking for another tenant.”

  Caitlin met his gaze again, but this time her emotions appeared completely under control. No telltale flush. “I hope they have a washing machine.”

  He wanted to jump up from the table and reach out to her, to kiss her again to see if there was still a reaction. But she was the one calling the shots, and if he wanted to protect Madeline, he had to follow her rules.

  • • •

  Detective Crumb was waiting for them at the precinct when they arrived, Parker’s truck keys in hand. “I already authorized the release,” she said to Parker. “Sorry it was too late yesterday. I hope you managed all right.”

  “We managed,” Caitlin said shortly. “Thanks.”

  The detective looked at her closely. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Caitlin blinked at her innocently. “Everything’s fine.”

  She seemed fine to Parker, but if Sally saw something different in Caitlin, maybe she was right. The two seemed to be close. “We had a late night,” Parker volunteered.

  “Oh?” Sally reminded him of a hawk, pouncing on its prey. “How is Amy after her little escapade?”

  “Same as ever.” Caitlin glanced at Parker as though daring him to add anything further. “Well, I’d better get to work. Parker, I’ll call you if I have any news. We still need to go over a few things.”

  “Wait.” He touched her arm, felt her stiffen and pull away. “I’ll need to find my phone, give you the number.”

  Detective Crumb grinned. “Oh, that’s right. The missing cell phone. Well, look what housekeeping turned up. You’re lucky it wasn’t stolen.” Drawing her hand from the pocket of her slacks, she held out his thin black phone.

  “Stolen from a police station?” Parker said. “Not likely. But thanks, Detective Crumb.”

  “Call me Sally. Seems we’re going to be around each other a bit in the next month or so.” As he nodded, she continued, “Good move hiding the phone—I guess. Though it made no difference in the end.”

  “What’s the number?” Caitlin punched it into her own phone before turning away.

  “You sure everything’s okay?” Sally asked her. “You look

  different.” Sally’s gaze shifted to Parker, examined him, and then back to Caitlin.

  “I’m fine.” Caitlin clicked her tongue in irritation. “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

  So she’d been awake last night, too. Parker caught her gaze, and to his amusement, she flushed. He smiled gently. This was the Caitlin he was getting to know. The Irish part of her that burned fiery and emotional instead of the cold outer shell she normally showed the world.

  “I’ll call you,” she said again. Turning on her heel, she strode down the hall.

  Detective Crumb—no, Sally—watched her leave. “I’ll call you about lunch!” she yelled after the retreating form. Caitlin waved a response but didn’t turn.

  “What did you do to her?” Sally asked Parker bluntly.

  “Nothing.”

  “It better be nothing. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that I’m a police detective and Caitlin is my friend.”

  A none-too-subtle warning. “I get it.” He jingled the keys in his hand. “Now where’s my truck?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Once in his truck, Parker checked his phone. One message looked like it came from Dakota’s phone, though he had never given her this number. He punched in the code to retrieve his messages.

  “Daddy, it’s me. Where are you? Why is Mommy so mad at you? She was calling you bad words, but I plugged my ears. I miss you a lot. I wish I could go to Grandma’s. Oh, Mommy’s coming. Bye.”

  She’d left the message last night after ten. He smiled, feeling happier than he had since having to say good-bye. He had to see her somehow. Since he hadn’t yet been convicted of

  anything, there must be a way to secure visiting rights. This was America, after all. Wasn’t he supposed to be innocent until proven guilty?

  Only he’d learned that sometimes it didn’t always work that way, especially where custody issues were concerned, even if he knew he’d acted for Madeline’s benefit. He’d wait until she called again, and she would call. Madeline was the most persistent child he knew. Well, really the only child he knew, unless you counted Amy. He knew Madeline would love Amy and vice versa.

  His smile faded. Unless they never had a chance to meet. Even he might not be allowed that close to Caitlin’s personal life again. The knowledge was hard to take, given that every time he closed his eyes he saw her face with her eyes half-closed, her lips lifting to meet his.

  Then there was the more pressing problem of the drugs Dakota was using. He had to fight back, and that meant calling Family Services—calling them every day until they made an investigation. Someone had to protect Madeline, and if the authorities wouldn’t do it, he would be forced to take other measures.

  Opening his cell phone, he dialed information. “Hi, I need the number for Family
Services in Salt Lake. No wait, I think it’s called the Department of Child and Family Services. DCFS, or something. Thanks.”

  He spent the entire twenty-five minutes it took him to drive to work to be transferred and re-transferred to a Mrs. Turnball in CPS—which he assumed meant Child Protective Services. It took additional conversations during his breaks and his lunch to get her to agree, not to open a case against Dakota, but to a late meeting to discuss visitation. The terse Mrs. Turnball wasn’t happy about the after-hours meeting, and the child advocate assigned to Madeline’s case, a Mr. Reeve, seemed even more annoyed when Parker finally caught up with him. But Parker had learned that part of success in anything depended upon your ability to keep talking politely when every hope seemed lost. Finally they agreed to meet at six, and he was to bring representation if he had any.

  He didn’t—at least for visitation. Not yet. But maybe Caitlin would help this once. He was sure if Mrs. Turnball and Mr. Reeve met with him, he would be able to sway them to his side regarding visitation with Madeline. If they recommended him, surely no judge would deny his request.

  Shortly before his last break ended, his phone rang and he answered without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

  “Daddy?”

  “Madeline. Oh, sweetheart, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

  “Are you coming to get me on Friday?”

  “I’m trying to. I have a meeting with some people today to make it happen.”

  “Good, ’cause I’m bored. Mommy just sleeps or talks to Lyn. They keep kissing and kissing. It’s gross.”

  “Are you eating well?”

  “Lyn said he’s gonna take us to eat. But Mommy’s gonna take us to her friend’s house instead.”

  Parker nearly growled in frustration. He would be more than willing to watch Madeline, and even the boy, Reese, but Dakota would never allow that now unless she was forced to. “I meant did you eat anything today.”

  “Cereal, pizza. And we had crackers and milk. You know, the brown ones.”

  “Graham crackers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Reese is here all the time now. His daddy went away to work.”

  “Is that good?”

  “I like him here. We play, even though he’s so little.”

  “Is Mommy acting funny?”

  “No, but Reese fell asleep. I’m bored.”

  “What about your princess books? You could look at them. You could draw me a picture.”

  “Okay. You want purple or pink?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “Okay.”

  Parker wanted to stay on the phone forever with his little girl, but he had to get back to work. The money would be what would get them to a new life if Caitlin wasn’t successful.

  “I love you, Madeline.”

  “I love you, too, Daddy.”

  Chapter 14

  Caitlin regretted last night. But what she couldn’t say for sure was if she regretted that the moment between her and Parker happened at all, or pushing him away after it had. She was still thinking about him when a knock came on her office door. “Come in,” she called, looking up from the brief she was preparing—or pretending to prepare, since every few minutes she kept stopping to reread bits of Parker’s file. She’d have to ask Jodi to go over the brief to make sure it was comprehensible.

  Mace Keeley smiled at her from the doorway. “Hi. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.”

  The Legal Defenders Association wasn’t exactly on his normal beat, so Caitlin knew she should be flattered, but the truth was she’d forgotten all about Mace since she’d seen him last. When had that been anyway? It seemed she and Parker had been in a world completely their own. She shivered, not appreciating the analogy. Parker was a client who needed her help. End of story.

  Mace sauntered forward as she stood. “So, today’s the day.”

  “What?”

  “Chet Belstead’s sentencing.”

  “Oh, right.” Knowing the outcome, she’d already put Belstead out of her mind, though she would have to appear one last time in court with him, an unpleasantness that couldn’t be avoided.

  “Funny how he almost got off.” Mace curved his lips in that beautiful smile.

  Caitlin walked around her desk to stand beside him. “Well, in the end he was guilty, so I guess it worked out. I couldn’t get him to accept your plea deal.”

  “That’s good for everyone else. Sorry you lost the case.”

  “But it’s one more you won, right? I don’t think you’ve lost a case in years.” She still had the files by her desk to prove it. “At least not one I’m familiar with.”

  Mace shrugged, leaning against the desk. “A streak of good luck.”

  He was closer than casual conversation merited, but Caitlin didn’t back away. “I guess,” she said, and then because she was an attorney and accustomed to probing for more, she added, “Maybe it’s your case assignments you’ve been lucky with.”

  He pushed away from the desk, standing at his full height. There was definitely a tension in him that hadn’t been there before. But why? It didn’t seem a big thing to be assigned cases that happened to be open and shut. Unless he’d engineered it.

  Something in her mind clicked, but she rejected it almost immediately. What would be the purpose of wrangling for only easy cases? Half the satisfaction of being an attorney was matching wits with other competent counsel. Besides, such a thing didn’t seem like the confident Mace Keeley.

  “I’ve watched you in the courtroom,” she added. “You do good work.” She was honest in saying this, though she now understood the cases he’d prosecuted—at least those in connection with the LDA—had been relatively simple. Even Wyman might have been able do justice to most of them.

  Mace relaxed, but that too was subtle. If she hadn’t studied people as long as she had, she might not have noticed. But his next words showed her that he hadn’t appreciated her comment. “What about you? Do you often lose your cases at the last moment? With condemning evidence showing up out of nowhere?”

  Caitlin laughed. “My clients are almost always guilty. Believe me, that can happen anytime.”

  “Ah.”

  Her laughter had broken the tension between them, though there was still an odd look in his eyes. Caitlin didn’t know him well enough to perceive what it might mean. His hands moved toward her, touching her arms lightly, pulling her closer.

  Oh, that’s what it means. Though she’d dreamed of this moment for months, her inner walls were rising fast. She’d spent the last years trying not to get involved with anyone she worked with or went up against in court on even a semi-regular basis, and old habits were hard to break—even if it was for someone as good-looking as Mace.

  His lips touched hers, so briefly she wondered why he’d bothered. It hadn’t lasted long enough for her to decide how she felt about it, or if she wanted to react. So different from the way she’d felt with Parker. “I’m looking forward to our date on Saturday,” he said.

  One more thing she’d forgotten. Why had last night with Parker erased everything she’d held dear? “Me, too.”

  “Talking about these people you represent,” he said, his hands falling from her. “I don’t know how you do it. I mean, like you said, they’re often guilty. Don’t you sometimes just want to do something to help lock them away?”

  A chill rushed through Caitlin. “Well,” she said dryly, “I did apply to the DA’s office. Anyway, it makes no difference how I feel. I have a duty to protect my client, and that’s what I do. It’s only when a DA doesn’t do a proper job that I have to set a criminal free.”

  He studied her face for a long moment. “I guess you’re right.”

  She tilted her head. “So about the Hathaway case . . . will you be prosecuting?”

  “The ex-wife wants us to go as far as we can. He is guilty. Is there any reason you feel we shouldn’t prosecute?”

  “He was tr
ying to protect his daughter.”

  “If the police hadn’t picked him up when they did, that mother might never have seen her little girl again.”

  That was also true. Caitlin felt weariness bow her shoulders. When she was with Parker, she believed in him completely, but he had taken Madeline. Mace obviously believed it was a case he’d easily win, and if she didn’t find evidence soon, Mace was going to use his charm in the courtroom to try to lock Parker away. Or at least keep him from Madeline until she was too old to care.

  Mace took a step toward the door. “I can’t wait for Saturday. Is six-thirty okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’ll pick you up at your house then. Wear something . . .” He paused. “Wear something dressy.”

  She nodded, lifting a hand in farewell. But he seemed to change his mind about leaving and came toward her again. His arms went around her and this time when he kissed her, she was left with no question about how he felt for her or about his expertise. While his touch didn’t evoke the emotion that Parker’s kiss had, it was promising, and there was a measure of comfort in knowing she was in control of her actions. He continued the kiss, and she allowed herself to respond.

  Not bad at all. Too bad it had to follow last night’s experience with Parker. That was hard to live up to. But Mace was more her type. She had to remember that.

  Mace drew away, smiling. “Saturday,” he said, leaving her no doubt as to his meaning. She watched him leave. A scene like this had been in her daydreams for months, and the reality was pleasant indeed. Yet at the same time his confidence irritated her.

  She leaned on the edge of her desk, frowning at the door, pondering both her feelings for Mace and his involvement in Parker’s case. Mace seemed so sure that he would win, and he hadn’t been wrong or lost a case in a very long while. It would be so much easier if she were going up against Wyman.

  Wyman. Her hand went to the phone. She had his number here somewhere, and maybe he could shed some insight on her recent discoveries. Within a few minutes she was connected.