Defender

by Diana Palmer

  “Nice of you.”

  “Hey, I’m from Brooklyn,” Peter said. “We’re all nice!”

  Paul just smiled.

  He was on his way to the airport when his phone rang.

  “Fiore,” he answered.

  “When are you coming back to Texas?” Jon Blackhawk asked curtly.

  “I’m on my way to the airport now. I’ve got a volunteer watching the potential go-between for action on the Leeds man’s part. Why?”

  “Darwin Grayling’s dead.”

  His heart jumped. “When? How?”

  “He wanted to talk to Isabel in private, he told her bodyguards. She thought it was all right. She went into the study with him and he locked the door.”

  Paul was holding his breath. “Is she all right? Did he hurt her?”

  “He got in a pretty hard blow before her bodyguards kicked in the door. She needed stitches. But she’s all right. It’s just that he died while he was using the belt on her. She’s taking it pretty hard. Mandy called me and asked if you were coming back soon.”

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “Why did they want to know?”

  “Well, you see, after she got back from the hospital, Isabel locked herself in her room and she won’t come out for anybody, even for Merrie. She thinks she killed her father.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Paul assured him. “I won’t come in to the office, I’ll head straight down to Jacobsville.”

  “There’s more.”

  “Good God, what?”

  “Somebody took a shot at her.”

  * * *

  Sari was almost in shock. She held her arm, felt the throbbing pain where the pale flesh was patched back together. The belt buckle had bitten into her like a knife with her father wielding it.

  She’d hated him. She and Merrie had both hated him. But he was their flesh and blood, and she’d killed him. If she’d done things differently, he’d still be alive. He might have spent the rest of his life in federal prison, but at least Sari wouldn’t have had to bear the guilt for his death.

  That worried her far more than the gunshot that had grazed the porch where she’d stood waiting for the police and the ambulance to come.

  Her bodyguards had herded her back inside and given chase, but the sound of a distant car driving away was the only indication that someone had been nearby.

  Sari hadn’t cared overmuch at the time. Her arm had been bleeding, and hurting, and the shock of watching her father die had numbed her. She remembered Merrie hugging her close and telling her everything was going to be all right, felt Mandy’s arms around her, as well. But nothing would ever be all right again.

  She heard them calling to her through the door. She wouldn’t answer. She sat on the bed with her eyes closed, hating herself, hating her life. She just wanted to forget everything that had happened.

  * * *

  A long time later, the murmur of voices outside her door got louder. There was a pause, then a series of clicks and her door opened.

  Paul came into the room, closing it behind him. He put a small kit of some sort back into his suit jacket and approached her.

  “Hi,” he said. “How’s it going?”

  The sight of him brought back so many memories. Paul, teasing her when she was a teenager. Paul, her constant companion on the daily trip to San Antonio to college. Paul, in his bed while she sat next to him every night to gossip. Paul, holding her so close that she felt like she was a part of him in the car, during the storm, in San Antonio. Paul, gone in a heartbeat, without a word.

  Her eyes were dead as they met his. “I killed my father,” she said simply.

  “He tried to kill you, don’t you remember?” he asked gently. He sat down beside her on the bed. “You can’t stay in here and hide from the world. You have to give the sheriff a statement about what happened, so he and his investigator can go home. They’ve been here a long time waiting for you to come out.”

  She searched his eyes. “I don’t want to remember,” she said in a haunted tone.

  He caught her hand in his and linked his strong fingers into hers. “I’ll be right there with you. The whole time.”

  She swallowed, fighting tears. “How’s Merrie? And Mandy?”

  “Downstairs, worrying about you,” he said. He tugged her up from the bed, fighting the urge to drag her into his arms and rock her, hold her so close that she felt like part of his own body.

  “They took me to the hospital. My arm hurts. I was there a long time,” she added numbly. “It’s Friday night. They had a lot of accidents, because of the rain.”

  “It’s pretty wet outside,” he agreed.

  She hesitated for a minute, frowning up at him. “Were you here, when it happened?” she asked.

  “I was in Brooklyn,” he replied.

  “New York?”

  He nodded. “I got a flight to San Antonio and came straight here. Jon Blackhawk called me. Mandy called him, because she couldn’t get you to come out of your room. You scared her.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m… I was just…shaken.”

  “No wonder.” He grimaced at the evidence of the blow she’d taken on her arm.

  “My back looks like that, where he hit me,” she said dully. “So many scars. So many whippings. I never knew why. Mama tried to stop him. He hit her, too.” She bit her lower lip.

  His face was like stone. He was remembering why her father had left scars on her back. Because of him.

  “What do they want me to do?” she asked again. “I feel…foggy.”

  “They gave you something for pain, didn’t they?”

  She nodded. “It made me dizzy. I’m still dizzy.”

  “I won’t let you fall,” he promised. “Come on.”

  She started for the door, in a daze. “Have you ever killed anybody?” she asked suddenly.

  “Yes,” he bit off.

  She looked up at him. “Bad people?”

  “Some were.”

  He opened the door before she could ask any more questions. He didn’t want to tell her the truth yet. But one day, he might have to.

  * * *

  She sat down with Hayes Carson and his investigator and went over what had happened in the study when her father came home.

  Hayes grimaced. He hated having to make her relive it, but he had no choice. There would be a coroner’s inquest, following the autopsy. It was a pretty obvious case, although because of who Darwin Grayling was, protocol had to be followed exactly. The media was already camped outside the gates. Bad news traveled fast.

  “He had headaches,” Sari said wearily. “Violent headaches. He got dizzy and his eyes glazed over and he hit us and hit us,” she droned. “Nothing we did or said made any difference when he got like that. Once Merrie accepted a date with a boy, and Daddy fractured her arm.” She winced. “It was worse, later, after…” She looked at Paul and stopped suddenly. She averted her eyes from his agonized expression. “He was like that when he came home, the night Betty Leeds died. He was complaining of a headache…”

  “Copper Coltrain thought there might be a medical reason for the violence in him,” Hayes said softly. “They’ll do a thorough examination during the autopsy.”

  Sari drew in a long breath. “He was so greedy,” she recalled. “He was never satisfied with what he had. Mama was rich. She left him a lot of money, millions, but he wanted more, always more.” She looked up at Hayes. “Why is money so important to people?” she wanted to know.

  Hayes managed a smile. “I wish I knew.”

  She finished giving her statement, which the investigator took down word for word on his small laptop. When she finished, he turned the screen and let her read it. She made a correction in two places and confirmed tha
t the statements were accurate to the best of her memory. He printed them out and had her sign and date them.

  “We’ll go home and get out of your hair,” Hayes told her. “But there’s one other thing. The shot that was fired…”

  “I can fill you in on that, I think,” Paul told him. “I’ve been in New York, getting evidence.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let me get Isabel back upstairs first,” he said, drawing her to her feet. “Bed for you, kid. You’ve had a hell of a day.”

  She smiled weakly. “Feels like it.”

  “Merrie, can you stay with her?” he asked the younger woman. “She shouldn’t be alone.”

  “Of course I can,” she said. She smiled. “Thanks, Paul.”

  He smiled back. “It was little enough to do. Where’s Mandy?”

  “In the kitchen, making more coffee,” Merrie said. “She figured we were going to need it.”

  “Not me,” Hayes said. “I’ve got to get up early and go to work.”

  “Same here,” his investigator said.

  They made their goodbyes and left.

  Mandy came back into the living room as Paul went outside with Hayes. “Doesn’t anybody want coffee?” she wondered aloud.

  “I’ll take a cup,” the taller bodyguard said.

  “Me, too.” The broader one nodded. “Thanks, Mandy. It’s going to be a long night.”

  “We called Eb,” the taller one added. “He’s sending over one of our guys with some sensitive surveillance equipment.”

  “Infrared,” his companion said somberly. “And a couple of drones with night vision. We’re going to have this place covered like clouds.”

  “Thanks,” Mandy said, her eyes going to the staircase Merrie was helping Sari up. “I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

  * * *

  “Do you have any idea where the Leeds man is?” Hayes asked Paul on the porch.

  “We’ve got people hunting him,” Paul said. “We lost him in Brooklyn, but one of Cash Grier’s friends is helping with that. So is the local US Marshals office. I’ve got a buddy there.”

  “If he set Sari up, it’s quick timing,” Hayes remarked.

  “Very quick. And if he missed, he’s sloppy,” Paul added. “It’s been my experience that when you hire a contract killer, he very rarely misses. If you do the work, you have to have the rep or nobody wants you.”

  Hayes raised an eyebrow. “Know a lot about that, do you?”

  Paul laughed hollowly. “Too much. My family was heavily involved in organized crime when I was a kid. Most of them are dead now. I have a cousin who’s still thick with the local crime bosses. I was the only one who managed to escape going to prison.”

  “My dad was sheriff before I was,” Hayes replied. “But my little brother got mixed up with drugs and died young.”

  “I’ll bet you never even smoked a joint,” Paul ventured, smiling when the sheriff admitted that he hadn’t. “Me, neither,” Paul added. “I like my brain the way it is. I don’t even drink.”

  “It’s a bad habit to get into,” the investigator remarked. “My father drank like a fish his whole life. Died of cirrhosis of the liver when he was my age.”

  “Addictions are unwise,” Paul commented. “Addictions of any sort.”

  “Well, we’ll be on our way,” Hayes said. “Let us know what you find out, and we’ll let you know what we find out.”

  “Deal,” Paul said.

  “Considering how easily an assailant got onto the property tonight, some additional security measures might be wise,” Hayes said.

  “Lot of good that did you when the drug cartel sent a hit man after you,” Hayes’s investigator said, tongue in cheek.

  “That is sadly true,” Hayes said. “Got me on my own front porch, and nobody knew he was even on the property. I had surveillance measures in place, too.”

  “No protection is foolproof,” Paul said.

  “It isn’t, but you might see if Eb Scott’s got anything new he could lend Sari and Merrie,” Hayes said. “This guy missed one time. He may not miss again.”

  “With a little luck, we may be able to find out who the Leeds man hired,” Paul said. “If he’s known, his methodology will also be known. It could give us an edge.” It chilled his blood to think a contract killer had Isabel in his sights. He was going to do whatever it took to keep her safe.

  “I’ll see what’s needed,” Paul assured him. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  * * *

  Paul went back inside. “Any coffee going?” he asked the bodyguards.

  “Mandy just made a pot,” the taller one said. “Eb’s sending Sarkey over with some infrared stuff and a couple of night-vision drones.” His face was hard. “We thought we had all our bases covered, but that coyote got under the wires.”

  Paul’s eyes were old and sad. “Contract killers are wily,” he said.

  “I guess you run into them in your line of work a lot,” the taller bodyguard said.

  Paul laughed curtly. “I grew up around them in Jersey,” he corrected. “My old man was a small-time crime boss. He had his own cleaner.”

  The bodyguards stared at him in surprise.

  He shrugged. “I joined the Trenton police force when I was seventeen, straight out of high school. My old man disowned me and none of the rest of my family except my cousin ever spoke to me again,” he recalled. “They said I’d dishonored my blood.”

  The bodyguards chuckled.

  “It was just as well,” Paul confided. “They were a bunch of losers, most of them.”

  “You ever have to arrest any of them?”

  Paul’s eyes became haunted. His face tautened. “One.”

  “Hey, man, I’m sorry,” the tall one replied solemnly. “Shouldn’t have gone there.”

  Paul scowled and looked him in the eye.

  The man grimaced. “Yeah, I know,” he said heavily. “We both do.” He indicated the broader one. “Hell of a thing to happen to somebody. Just trying to do the right thing.”

  “It felt like the right thing when I started out,” Paul said. “It didn’t end that way.”

  “Nobody gets out of the world without a few nightmares along the way,” the broad one said softly. “We just do the job and keep on going. Right?”

  Paul smiled. The man had the sunniest damned disposition for a merc. “Right.” He sipped coffee. “I’m going up to say goodbye to the girls, then I’m headed back to San Antonio. We’ve got a task force meeting.”

  “The Leeds man, right?” the tall one asked.

  He nodded. “I feel sorry for him. His mother shouldn’t have had to die for what she did. But killing other people isn’t going to bring her back, and it’s going to land him in federal prison.”

  “Better he’s off the streets before he hurts someone else,” the broad one said. “Where did he find somebody so quick, though?”

  Paul frowned. “You know, that thought just occurred to me, too.”

  “Odd coincidence. He goes up to Brooklyn to bury his mother, and this happens even before the funeral. Nobody works that fast. Not even a contract killer.”

  “Especially a contract killer,” Paul replied. “I know how they work. They stalk. They plan. They outline what they’re going to do. Sort of like a squad leader in the army, planning a snatch and grab.”

  The broad one grinned. “That sounds like something from personal experience.”

  Paul chuckled. “There was this Iraqi general, and they wanted him real bad at HQ. So me and a few of the guys stole a jeep, hid out in a native village for three days, made friends, won hearts and found out that the general had a son who’d married somebody local. There was a wedding that he attended. Except he didn’t get to stay
for dessert.”

  “Remind me never to tick you off,” the tall one said.

  Paul smiled. “I just catch crooks now. Big difference.”

  “Yeah.” The broader one chuckled. “Less sand, no camels.”

  Paul laughed heartily as he went up the staircase toward Isabel’s room.

  He knocked gently. Merrie came to the door. She looked worn out.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  Merrie opened the door. Sari was still crying, facedown in the pillow, clutching it with her hands.

  “I’ll go downstairs and make some chamomile tea for her,” Merrie said. “It calms her down.”

  “Has she taken her migraine meds today?” he asked. “This kind of stress is more than likely to bring one on.” He smiled sadly. “My cousin Mikey used to get them.”

  Merrie nodded. “She did take her meds. I made sure of it.” She managed a smile. “Thanks for coming, Paul.”

  “I’m sorry, about what happened to you two when I quit,” he said grimly. “I had no idea…”

  “You didn’t know,” Merrie said gently. “It’s okay. Really. You didn’t do it. Daddy did.” She drew in a breath. “He was a sick man. Really sick. I’m sorry he died like that, but I’m not sorry he’s gone,” she added. “It’s like being sprung from a prison cell. That’s exactly what it feels like. No more people watching us night and day, every step we take… Oh.” She was watching Paul’s face. “They’ll still be watching us, right?”

  “For a while, honey,” he said gently. “The Leeds woman’s got a son…”

  “The bodyguards told us. I doubt Sari even heard, she was almost in shock. But they told us he’d gone up north to try and find a hit man. I thought it was for Daddy, because he was responsible for Betty’s death.” Her pale blue eyes looked up into his. “But they said he wants to kill Sari and me, to hurt Daddy. He won’t know Daddy’s dead, will he, Paul?”

  “Not yet,” he agreed.

  “So if he’s hired somebody to kill us…” She drew in a sharp breath. “Can you call off a hit?” she asked.

  “Not if money’s already changed hands,” Paul said coldly. “It’s a matter of personal honor, for the man who contracts to do it.”