Loe raamatut: «Duty To Defend»

One

Stomach fluttering, Daci Marlowe paused outside her boss’s closed office door and ventured a tiny smile. This was it—her first assignment as a US deputy marshal.

Finally!

After dealing with her siblings’ toddler-then-teenage tantrums until her twenties had faded in the rearview mirror, she was more than ready to begin her own career. Not even the joker who had left the ribbon-bedecked basket with its smelly contents outside her duplex door this morning would cast a shadow on this moment.

Oh, yes, she would find out who the culprit was. That was a promise. The medium-size wicker basket had contained one jar of opened and spoiled baby food, a baby bottle a quarter full of curdled formula, an assortment of crumpled and dried baby wipes, and a diaper anointed with what her nose told her was vinegar. The block-lettered note read, “ENJOY YOUR NEW LIFE.”

The personal nature of the practical joke should have narrowed her suspect list to one of her rowdy siblings, but something didn’t quite fit, and she couldn’t put her finger on what was off. But if she went with the theory, her brother Nate would top the list because he was the only one who lived within easy driving distance of Springfield, Massachusetts. However, he, as well as her other siblings, had called either last night or early this morning to wish her well on her first day on the new job, and her deeply ingrained imp-o-meter hadn’t detected any pending mischief in their tones.

What if the culprit was none of them but, instead, an unseen watcher of her life? The question slithered like a snake down her spine. Daci suppressed a shiver. Stupid thought. No one but one of her brothers or sisters would link the trials and tribulations of an older sister raising a small herd of younger siblings with her first day of work in the Marshals Service.

She glanced down at herself for a quick ready-or-not inventory. Her shiny badge hung neatly from a lanyard around her neck. It lay face-out against her button-down shirt, while her government-issue firearm rested snug against her slacks-clad hip, its weight an underscore to the gravity of her new duties.

Today, I honor your memory, Grandma, by joining those who bring criminals to justice.

Inhaling a deep breath of law-enforcement office odors—scorched coffee, printer ink and stale pizza—she lifted her fist and rapped smartly on deputy commander Ross Reynolds’s door.

“Come in!”

Her boss’s gruff bark invited her into a square room just big enough to contain a large, well-used desk stacked with paperwork, a wheeled office chair in which he sat, a metal filing cabinet, and a pair of steel and plastic guest chairs. Daci suppressed a grin. Reynolds didn’t like people getting comfortable sitting around. Yet, someone already occupied one of the guest chairs. She had expected to see the thick, jowly man seated behind the desk. The lanky blond in a navy suit and coordinating tie who assessed her with cool blue eyes had not featured in her visualization of this moment.

The stranger in the suit rose and stuck out his hand. “Jaxton Williams,” he said. “Call me Jax.”

She shook the man’s long-fingered hand and murmured her name, following his lead by sticking to Daci, not the formal-sounding Candace. Jax’s grip was firm and betrayed slight calluses. Despite his clothes, the guy wasn’t a total pencil pusher, though not a member of the Marshals Service, either. What was he doing here?

Her gaze darted to Reynolds, who had folded his hands over his middle-aged paunch. The corners of his lips twitched as if he battled amusement. Was she interrupting another meeting? Hadn’t she been told to report at 9:00 a.m. sharp? She resisted the impulse to check her watch.

“Shut the door and have a seat so we can get started,” her boss said in that gravelly voice of his.

Fixing her eyes on him, Daci complied. The mystery man resumed his seat, also. Apparently, she’d get the answers to her questions soon enough.

Reynolds twiddled a pen between the thick fingers of his left hand, all humor erased. “You are aware of the situation with escaped felon Liggett Naylor.”

“Of course, sir.” Her heart leaped.

Surely, she wasn’t being assigned to the fugitive recovery task force. Rookies didn’t get high-profile cases. And this was as high profile as it got. Two deputy marshals were dead, for crying out loud, and the Marshals Service had a serious black eye for losing a major crime boss during transport from one detention facility to another.

But if she wasn’t going to join the fugitive recovery task force, then why bring up Naylor at all? And what could this Jaxton Williams have to do with the case? She cast him a sidelong look. Faint swipes of gray highlighted the temples of his neatly trimmed blond hair, and crow’s-feet lined the corners of his eyes. Around forty probably, less than a decade older than her age of thirty-two. Good-looking in an upper-crust sort of way. She’d had her fill of that type.

The stern set of his aquiline features and neatly squared shoulders screamed some sort of authority. A politician? Sure, that was it. The powers-that-be must be screaming for quick action against Naylor. But her deduction didn’t answer the question of why she would be included in a political pacification meeting between a bigwig and her boss.

Reynolds pursed his lips. “It seems you have a particular skill set we need in this situation.”

Daci’s breath caught. What skill set had captured her boss’s attention? Maybe he’d noticed the training record she’d set in Search and Seizure? Or the natural aptitude she’d demonstrated for interrogation? Few would suspect those skills were honed to a razor’s edge before entering the training academy. A person didn’t raise four younger siblings without morphing into a cross between professional detection dog and a finely calibrated lie detector.

“When Naylor went down for multiple counts of murder, racketeering and grand theft,” Reynolds continued, “it’s a little-known fact that his girlfriend, Serena Farnam, caved under interrogation and told us where to find him. We don’t know if Naylor is aware of her role in his apprehension, but whether he knows or not, there is a slim chance he may be dumb enough to try to contact her—either to kill her in revenge or to reunite with her if he believes she’s still loyal. We need you to stick to this woman like grease on a rag until Naylor is apprehended.”

Dry mouthed, Daci stared at her boss. Multiple questions flew through her mind, but only one stuck to her tongue. “Why me?”

Reynolds looked away, focusing on some spot in the corner of the ceiling behind her head. Something about this situation had her boss a little reluctant—probably her inexperience. Daci sat up straighter. Whatever the mission, she’d do her best to exceed his expectations.

Jaxton Williams angled his body toward her. “We think you stand a good chance of bonding with Serena at her new work site, maybe even becoming a trusted friend.”

We? Daci gaped at him. Since when did a politician get consulted on Marshals Service assignments?

Her boss’s gaze turned hard and sharp. “Because of his professional obligations to interact with Ms. Farnam—and his experience in the Marshals Service—Jax will be your backup in the woman’s work environment. Somewhat in her home, as well...provided you succeed in getting invited into Ms. Farnam’s social circle. We need you to make that happen.”

Daci narrowed her eyes at the suit. “You’re a marshal?”

“Former.” A grin lifted one side of his chiseled lips. “This guy here—” he motioned toward DC Reynolds “—used to be my team partner, but I changed careers about five years ago and became a—”

“Kiddie lawyer,” Reynolds burst out.

A wicked smile lit Jaxton’s face, sparking his blue gaze and propelling Daci’s silly heart into a backflip. “That’s Mr. Kiddie Lawyer to you, Rey-Rey.”

“Big talk from the guy who sits behind a partition in a warehouse reno where the phones never stop ringing and the voices never stop jabbering.”

“I like my wide-open spaces. Beats your claustrophobic ‘splendor’ any day of the week.” His gaze traveled the circumference of the small office. “And don’t forget my private conference room in the back. It’s furnished with a top-of-the-line folding table.”

Reynolds snorted. “We can’t all hit the big time.”

The guys grinned at each other, and Daci heroically resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her twin brothers, Nate and Noah, used to banter like this all the time at the dinner table, which was not a bad thing—usually. But the habit drove her nuts when she was trying to have a serious family discussion, and the discussion right now was about as serious as it got.

She still had no idea where this assignment was taking her—other than cozying up to a vicious felon’s former girlfriend. It sounded like it would be an undercover operation—certainly an unusual choice for her first assignment. How would anyone come to the conclusion she had the skill set for this?

“What exactly is a kiddie lawyer?” Daci enunciated her question with the slightly too loud, slightly too cold precision that used to get the boys’ attention at the meal table.

The smirks fell away, and both men fixed their stares on her. Daci raised her eyebrows. Apparently, the method worked with adults, as well. Who knew?

Jax offered a sober nod. “I work for a nonprofit specializing in defending the rights and best interests of juveniles and/or mentally and emotionally handicapped adults who have entered the social services system. We’re not in the system ourselves, so we can take on the system to address corruption or mismanagement if we need to do so. We follow our clients closely, even making regular visits to home or caregiver sites.”

Warmth spread through Daci’s insides. Score a big one for the suit for choosing such a difficult, yet worthwhile, career. Numerous crises embedded in her past could have used such an advocate. She smiled at the nonprofit lawyer, and he blinked back. Did his square jaw drop a few millimeters? What was up with that? Her frizzy strawberry blond locks, barely contained by a wrap net at the nape of her neck, and well-defined but ordinary features weren’t exactly knock-’em-dead material.

Reynolds cleared his throat. “Jax has accepted a temporary assignment with the Marshals Service for this case.”

“Very temporary and limited in scope.” Jax’s intense gaze turned toward Daci’s boss. “My primary focus will be the child—not Serena, not even Naylor. That’s where our goals and interests intersect. If I have to choose between protecting the boy or apprehending Naylor, I will choose the child.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Reynolds nodded.

Daci tapped a finger against her lower lip. “Am I correct in understanding that this child is Ms. Farnam’s son?”

Honestly, it was like pulling teeth to find out what this case was all about. She’d learned during her orientation that Ross Reynolds was generally forceful and direct. Something about this situation had him tiptoeing like a ballerina on a crowded bus.

Her boss leaned his elbows on the scarred desk. “Yes, she has a little boy. A six-month-old infant that is assumed to also be Liggett Naylor’s son—another reason there’s an off chance he may try to contact her. You are assigned to shadow the mother under cover as her coworker. You and she will be starting work together on the same day, which should add additional opportunity for bonding.

“Because Serena has problems that have called into question her fitness as a mother, she has lost custody of him—at least temporarily. Jax has been assigned to the son as his legal representative, which gets him access to monitoring the child. He also observes the mother at her workplace for confirmation that she is rehabilitating and during set times when mother and son are reunited for supervised home visits. When you’re around Serena, you and Jax are to behave as if you are strangers. But behind the scenes, the two of you will coordinate efforts on everything.”

Daci shifted in her seat. What kind of parental-fitness problems? “How much do the people at this workplace know about the danger Serena Farnam may attract toward them? I mean, I don’t want to speak out of turn and say too much on the job.”

“The director, Naomi Minch, knows the whole picture,” Jax answered. “I filled her in, and she agrees that Naylor would be a fool to approach his former girlfriend if he doesn’t want to be recaptured. He’s probably on his way out of the country as fast as he can go. However, she’s on board with the two of us operating under cover to keep an eye on the situation, just in case.”

“Right.” Reynolds jerked a nod. “While Serena is aware that her former boyfriend is in the wind, she laughed when police suggested he might seek her out. According to her, before he was arrested, Naylor was already losing interest in her. He’s more than old enough to be her father and has a reputation for preying on vulnerable younger women, then discarding them. We offered protective custody or a protection detail, but she refused, so the arrangement we are discussing is Plan B. Serena has no idea we are planting undercover deputies. She needs to stay in the dark so she will trust you. Since her interaction with Jax has been somewhat adversarial, it will be important that she not realize you and he are working together. Now, go study the case file on your computer and get busy on this as of yesterday. Any further questions?”

“Lots,” Daci said, “though I assume they will be answered in the case file. But, right now, I’d like to know why the baby is in the system.”

Jax frowned and glanced toward his polished shoes. “Chase has fetal alcohol syndrome.”

Daci went rigid. An image of her youngest brother Niall’s FAS-distinctive features flashed across her mind’s eye so clearly that it was as if it were only yesterday she’d so briefly held him close before he disappeared from her life.

“Sir,” she said to Reynolds through gritted teeth, “from the detailed background check in my employment file you should know enough about my history to see this circumstance makes me the wrong person for this assignment.”

Scowling, her boss slapped a palm on the desk. “Suck it up, Marlowe. You’re a professional. Act like it.”

Daci’s hands balled into fists. “I’m not a professional actor, and I have no experience with undercover work. A job like bodyguard I could do in a detached manner regardless of the circumstances, but I have doubts about my ability to make this woman believe I want to be her friend.”

Reynolds sat back, eyeing her grimly. “Then let me tell you the aspect of this case that makes you perfect for the assignment. Ms. Farnam has gotten herself on the straight and narrow and will start work tomorrow on a probationary basis at a day care. She’s nervous and excited about her new career. You begin in the morning as her coworker—a very experienced and helpful coworker who can take her under your wing. Get the picture now?”

The bottom dropped out of Daci’s hopes and dreams. This was her adult job. Finally! And her first assignment in her law-enforcement career was taking care of kids—just as she’d been doing for so many years. Really, God?

* * *

Jax’s brows knit together. What had sucked the blood out of Daci’s face?

This woman had already proved to be an intriguing enigma. She was respectful toward her boss without the usual eager-to-please rookie mannerisms. Perhaps entering the Marshals Service a decade older than the usual fresh-faced greenie contributed to her maturity and stability. It certainly seemed to make her more sure of herself than any rookie he’d met before. In fact, when it came to male banter, she’d decisively redirected the conversation. He’d almost burst out laughing at the irony of a rookie taking charge, but decided a sober face was the better part of wisdom. Certainly, the better part of professionalism.

He needed to make professionalism his plumb line in working with this intelligent, attractive deputy marshal, especially since she was precisely the sort of woman he would consider asking out...if she had any other career than law enforcement. The very nature of the job included extra danger and could get cops and their families killed. Had gotten his family killed. Bile scorched the back of his throat. He couldn’t go there ever again.

“Get out of here, you two.” Rey made a shooing motion with both hands. “Study that file together, then make like law officers and catch me a bad guy.”

Daci rose slowly, blinking as if a bit dazed. “Is this really our best chance of nailing Liggett Naylor?”

“I hope not.” The DC frowned, reaching for a folder on his desk. “We’ve got multiple teams working around the clock to track him down. If I had my way, we’d have this lowlife in custody before you showed up for kiddie duty tomorrow.”

“We’ll hope for that, then, sir.” She turned on her heel and marched out.

Jax followed her into the bull pen of this branch office of the United States Marshals Service. Three other federal deputies and a clerical assistant/IT technician had computer desks placed at intervals throughout the space. Only the clerical desk was occupied, and the IT guy seemed mesmerized by his computer screen and didn’t bother to acknowledge their entrance.

At the federal district courthouse yesterday, Jax had noted that the routine Marshals Service duties of providing protection and guard detail were being covered by other agencies. With all the stops pulled out to track down Liggett Naylor, the other deputies would be out scrambling after leads.

Grabbing a stray guest chair, Jax followed his new partner to a spot in the corner of the room near the printer. Everyone in the bull pen would have to walk behind her chair, sometimes bumping her desk, to get to their printouts. Newbs always got the worst desk placement. By the pinched look on Daci’s face as she woke up her computer, this newb also thought she’d received the worst first assignment. Why? Given Rey’s selection of her, she must have a history with kids. Maybe the problem was with the mother. She’d seemed very upset at the mention of FAS. Maybe he should finesse matters in that area.

He hunkered down beside her. “You’ll no doubt discover a few things about Serena and Chase’s social-services status when you bring up the file. Serena was thrown out of her home as a young teen and, unsurprisingly, got caught up in the street culture of drugs, alcohol and prostitution. Naylor was three decades older, but he took a fancy to her. Staying with him gave her a place to live and his money facilitated her...um, habits. When she showed up at the hospital drunk and in labor, and then Chase was born with fetal alcohol syndrome, he was immediately removed from her custody. Fortunately, that was a real wake-up call for her to get help for her alcoholism. The county put her in a three-month in-patient program, followed by three months at a halfway house, and now she’s in intensive outpatient treatment.”

“And the baby?” She arched a fine, dark brow.

“Chase will remain in foster care until his mother is nine months sober, and because of his special needs, the foster parents found a day care that offers therapy for challenged newborns. By arranging for Serena to work there, her job will teach her the skills to care for him and also provide daily supervised interaction between mother and son. She seems passionate about gaining the opportunity to raise him.”

Sometime during his speech, Daci’s stare had gone flat. She had the richest brown eyes he’d ever seen, unusual and a bit exotic with the light hair, but something about this conversation unearthed an ancient pain that lurked in their depths. “Why are you putting him at risk by letting her have him again? I thought you were the child’s advocate, not the mother’s.”

“I am, which is why she didn’t get Chase back as soon as she graduated from the halfway house.” He offered a smile that wasn’t returned. The old Williams charm must be experiencing an off day—or else an extra-challenging subject. “Ultimately, it’s the judge’s decision, but I fought hard to keep Chase in a guaranteed stable environment until the mother has a chance to get her feet under her in the real world. Thankfully, the judge saw the wisdom in that idea. On the other hand, I believe in giving families a chance to heal and reunite. Continued sobriety is possible.”

Daci’s upper lip curled. “But not probable, especially when the scrutiny comes off and the stakes of losing the kid goes away.”

“You speak from experience, I take it?”

Rather than answering, she turned back toward her computer screen, revealing a fine-boned profile enhanced by a delicately upturned nose and a firm, rounded chin. If she’d tried to charm him with a smile, he had no doubt it would have worked. Just as well for him that she hadn’t tried.

“Can you see well enough to read along with me?”

The tone of her question left no doubt that she wouldn’t allow him to direct the conversation back to his question about her past experience. Let no one say he couldn’t take a hint, but the legal bloodhound in him was on the hunt. Would it be out of line for him to request her file from Rey? Probably. He’d have to satisfy his curiosity the lawman-turned-lawyer way—evidence collection and finessing information from witnesses.

Marlowe wasn’t a terribly unusual surname, but it did ring a bell from some type of years-ago media hoopla about tragedy and scandal in a filthy rich founding father–type family from Boston. Surely, this down-to-earth Marlowe wouldn’t turn out to be from that bunch, but he wouldn’t rest easy until he’d tracked down the reason for his hazy recollection. Online homework for tonight.

Two hours later, he and Daci had exhausted the information in the files on Serena Farnam and Liggett Naylor, uncovering and discussing some extremely disturbing facts about the latter. A career criminal from a single-parent household—father unknown—he’d been involved in everything from home burglaries and drug dealing to bank holdups and freight-cargo heists, most of these involving the murder of any possible witnesses.

By the time law enforcement brought him down, he was a kingpin in various criminal enterprises ranging from stolen-vehicle chop shops to hot-property fencing rings and racketeering. Anyone who got in his way was annihilated. Homicidal maniac would be a mild description of the charismatic and remorseless criminal with a trail of dead bodies and destroyed lives in his wake.

“How does society breed these animals?” Jax shook his head.

“You’re blaming society as a psycho-mill now?” She gazed at him coolly.

He almost responded with a quick defense of his comment, then noted the slight curve at the corners of her mouth. She was teasing him—and a goofy heart-thump startled him into openmouthed silence.

Her grin broadened. “With your years in the Marshals Service, I’d think you would have run into plenty of this type along the way. What soured you into litigator over lawman?”

“Soured?” The sudden taste on his tongue matched the word.

The churning in his gut was a toxic cocktail of grief, guilt and regret. A timely reminder of why he could not allow himself to respond to his attraction to this woman.

He sat back in his chair and looked away from those deep brown eyes. “It was either get out of law enforcement or have my own humanity eroded into oblivion. God opened the door for me to do something that daily allows me a different way to protect the most innocent from the most depraved.”

“God opened the door, or did you make a choice that required drastic action?” Again, that fine eyebrow went up, but then she waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. I guess I used to have more of that faith stuff than I do now. Bottom line, I admire you for admitting when you needed a change and then making it happen.”

Jax bit back further remarks on faith. Who was he to talk when he sometimes wrestled with his own?

He leaned closer to Daci. “My bottom line? If this guy does try to reenter Serena’s life, we need to nab him before he can inflict any damage—either by hurting Serena or grabbing his son. Serena and Chase are so close to becoming a healthy family.”

Her mouth tightened. “If that’s going to happen, she needs to do more than stay alive and off the sauce. She’s going to have to perform an extreme makeover on her taste in men. That’s rare. I rate their chances a long shot, but I’m all for offering them the full protection of the law.”

A low rumble originating from her belly punctuated her last sentence, and a blush crept up her neck.

“Hungry?” Jax grinned.

She managed an answering smile and rubbed her middle. “Time got away from us, and my tummy noticed.”

Jax rose. “I know a place a few blocks away that serves the best clam chowder in a fresh-baked bread bowl I’ve ever tasted.”

“Sam’s Clams?”

“You’ve eaten there?”

“The day I came in for orientation. My new coworkers recommended it. Apparently, the charm of the place is an open secret around here.”