Loe raamatut: «Deadly Christmas Duty»

ONE

Prosecutor Melinda Steele dug through her purse to find the keys that unlocked her office door. Her assistant, Dawn, was out to lunch, and the rest of the suite appeared empty on this Saturday afternoon. She found her keys but stopped when she went to slide one into the lock. Her door was cracked open; the latch never engaged.

Uneasiness prickled her neck. Dawn was always good about making sure everything was locked up before she left for lunch. It was possible she’d been distracted and forgotten, but a sinister dread crept through Melinda as it always did whenever something jarred her out of her normal routine.

Stop being so paranoid, she told herself as she tried to shake off those fears of bygone days when she constantly peered over her shoulder, always watching for the bad thing that was coming for her and her son. But Ramey was now six years old, and the big bad man had never come for them. They were safe here in Daytonville, Alabama, safe in the comfort and anonymity of the small-town life she’d grown to love.

She pushed open her door and walked inside, scanning her office. Everything looked fine. Everything was in its place, and nothing looked askew. That helped reassure her that she was being oversensitive. She touched the photo of Ramey on her desk as she walked by it and sat down. He was fine. They were both fine. They’d escaped the past, and no one was coming for them now. And the door had been locked. Dawn had simply forgotten to pull it shut all the way. It was nothing but a mistake.

She turned on her computer and took out a case file she needed to update as it went through the screens of booting up. A knock on the door grabbed her attention, and she looked up into the most beautiful deep green, long-lashed eyes of a man she’d ever seen. The rest of his face was masculine and his jaw strong. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, but he wasn’t a large man, just fit.

He stepped inside and extended his hand to shake. “Miss Steele? My name is Noah Cason. I’m Nikki Lassiter’s brother. I was hoping I could have a moment to speak with you.”

Nikki’s brother. The former Navy SEAL. That explained the muscles, as well as the hauntingly familiar eyes she’d seen staring at her from a photo on his sister’s mantel.

She stood and gripped his hand. It was strong and intense. “Certainly. Won’t you sit down? I knew your sister very well. She was my son’s teacher two years ago and we became close friends. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

The words seemed empty even to her as she spoke them, but what else could she say? Sorry the man who was supposed to protect your sister was a monster in disguise? Sorry your kid sister has vanished without a trace and is probably dead?

“Thank you.” He sat, but she noticed the way he scanned the room, probably memorizing each and every detail. She smiled, recalling how Nikki had told her about his tendency to do that even before he’d joined the service. He’d been good at assessing people and places and quickly understanding the situation. She’d been proud of her brother, but sad that they had grown apart after he’d left town to join the navy.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cason?”

“I arrived in town this morning and drove by my sister’s house. Imagine my surprise to see my brother-in-law outside mowing the lawn instead of sitting in a jail cell where he belongs.”

His words had bite, and she flinched at them. She understood his frustration that Wayne Lassiter was still a free man. She even shared it. She’d had confirmation from Nikki herself that her husband was an abusive, violent man.

“Believe me. No one wants to see Wayne Lassiter in prison more than I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Evidence. We don’t have enough. Without a body, we have no crime scene, and without a crime scene, we have no case. Everything we have on him is circumstantial, and it’s not enough to take to court.”

“My sister has been missing for a hundred and twenty-five days. Are you telling me the police in this town haven’t found one shred of evidence to put that monster away?”

“It’s not for lack of trying, Mr. Cason.”

He rubbed a hand over his weary-looking face. “My sister is missing. She’s been missing for months, and no one is doing anything to try to find her?”

“That’s not true. This entire community has rallied together to try to locate her. We held searches, and hundreds of people showed up to help. Nikki was loved by a lot of people in Daytonville.”

He stood and roamed the room, restless energy pulsing off him like a tiger on the prowl. She’d tried to contact him after Nikki vanished, but the man on the other end of the number she had for him informed her he was out of the country on assignment and could not be reached. What it must have been like for him working on the other side of the world to find his only sister had been missing for months without his knowledge.

“When did you find out?”

“Three weeks ago. It took me until today to make arrangements to get back to the States. My plane landed two hours ago and I drove directly here.” He turned to her. “What’s being done to investigate Wayne? Are you monitoring his phone calls? Staking him out?”

She was stunned by his sudden change in direction and floundered for an answer. “No—no, we’re not doing any of that. We don’t have the budget for high-stakes surveillance, and even if we did, we don’t have the evidence to support a warrant for one.”

He slammed his hand against her desk and she jumped, suddenly worried about what he might do. He was highly trained and obviously agitated. Was she going to have to worry about him going rogue and taking out Wayne on his own...and how upset would she really be if he did?

However, when he looked at her, she saw sadness gleaming in his green eyes. “I should have been there for her.”

She nodded. She felt similarly. She’d known about the abuse Nikki had suffered at Wayne’s hands and she’d wanted to help, but Nikki had to be the one to want out, and Melinda had never been able to convince her friend to leave. She’d come close once, until Nikki discovered she was pregnant and insisted on sticking out the marriage for the sake of her child.

“Do you think he killed her?” Noah asked so softly that at first Melinda wasn’t certain she’d heard him, but he glanced her way, waiting for her response.

In most cases she would never tell a grieving relative what she really thought if she couldn’t back it up with evidence, but this was no ordinary situation. She wasn’t looking at this from a legal standpoint where she’d only heard suspicions of abuse in the relationship. She’d had the confirmation from the victim herself, and she got the impression from Noah Cason that he really wanted to know her opinion. “I absolutely believe it,” she told him truthfully.

“She deserves better than this. She deserves justice and a proper burial. I need your help to make that happen.”

She nodded, suddenly intrigued at the idea of having another set of eyes on the case. The local police had long given up on uncovering additional evidence, and she suspected it had more to do with Wayne Lassiter’s friendship with the chief of police than the lack of leads to follow up on.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Nikki was my friend and I want justice for her, too. Let me get her file.” She reached under her desk for her briefcase. She’d taken the file home with her last night as she often did to peruse it and look for new clues. She pulled out her briefcase, but something stopped her—another image under her desk that caught the corner of her eye. It was pushed farther up under her desk. She reached in and pulled it out. It was a backpack that she didn’t recognize.

“What in the world?” she muttered as she set it on her desk. Her mind worked backward, trying to figure out who had been inside her office with a backpack in the past few days. She couldn’t think of one person.

“What is it?” Noah asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen this before.” She unzipped the main compartment and pulled it open. Her stomach rolled when she spotted electrical wires that clued her in to what was inside the bag.

Noah pushed to his feet. “What’s the matter? What is it?” He pulled the backpack open as she backed away from the attached ticking clock and the containers of dark liquid.

Her blood ran cold as she fearfully stuttered out the answer to his question. “It’s a bomb.”

All his senses went on alert at the word bomb. He rounded the desk and looked inside the bag.

She was right. It was definitely a bomb, most likely homemade. The backpack contained two canisters of a brownish liquid he knew was probably gasoline, with attached batteries for the detonation and a timer. One glance at the timer showed him they had only minutes before it went off.

“Who else is in the building?” he asked as he grabbed her hand and hurried her toward the door.

“I—I don’t know. No one. My assistant is gone to lunch and it’s Saturday, so most people are off.” He saw her glance around the suite. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone else when I came in.”

“Run outside. Get clear of the building and call 911. I’m going to make sure no one else is here.”

She nodded and ran for the door. He checked his watch. He had only four more minutes until that bomb went off, and hopefully it didn’t explode early. He hollered for anyone who could hear him, then quickly ran through the offices, looking for signs of life. He saw none. No one but Melinda Steele was working today.

He hurried outside and saw her on the phone as he cleared the doors. He had no idea how much damage that device could do, but he suspected it would tear apart the inside of the building. He scanned the street. Few people were out and no one was close to the building, but he felt the need to warn them anyway.

“Get down!” he shouted as he sprinted across the lawn toward Melinda. “There’s a bomb in the building!”

People turned at his yelling then screamed and dropped. Melinda spun around as he ran toward her, and he saw the shock on her face as the bomb ignited and fire blew out the windows of the building. It also sent him scuttling to the ground, his back nearly on fire from the heat of the blast, a reminder of how close he’d cut it to making it out safely.

“Get down!” he shouted at her as glass sprayed the lawn and curb. She screamed and dropped to the ground, covering her head just as he did. The smell of fire and gasoline took him back to the embassy where two men had died and he’d nearly suffocated on the black smoke of fire bombs being thrown into buildings. His eight-man team had endured the heat and blinding smoke to search for the ambassador and his aide, who were known to be inside, but they’d been too late to help; too late because of political bureaucracy and his own hesitancy to act without orders.

The heat flowing off the building pushed him back to the present, where he crawled toward Melinda, away from the burning structure. Her face was smudged with soot, her soft brown eyes wide with fear. Her clothes and hands were riddled with shards of glass. That would be unpleasant to remove, but at least she was alive. His ears were ringing from the explosion, but he swore he heard the whirl of sirens mixed in with it.

He grabbed her arms and checked her over. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but she was shaking and tears were sliding down her face, making trails between the soot and blood. He pulled her into his arms to try to calm her, and she leaned her petite frame into him. She’d had quite a scare, certainly a bigger one than anyone from Daytonville had ever experienced.

“Was there anyone else inside?” she asked him in a small but concerned voice.

“No. No one.”

Besides the lack of people, her office had been the only one not dark, something he’d noticed when he’d entered the building only a few minutes earlier. Melinda Steele had been the only person working then...which meant she’d been the target of a bomber.

Melinda clasped her hands together, trying to stop the chill of fear that was inching up her neck. She’d nearly been killed, and would have been had Noah Cason not arrived in her office and intervened. She recalled the feeling of having her feet glued to the floor, unable to move to even save herself. But he’d taken charge of the situation and saved her life.

She glanced up at him now, conversing with the police, probably describing the workings of the bomb to them in the hopes of identifying whoever was behind this attack. Her brain was having trouble grasping the fact that this bomb had been placed beneath her desk. It wasn’t a random incident. Its placement had been targeted and precise. After all, it was Saturday, when most government employees were at home, and the building was clear of everyone except for her...and Dawn. What a blessing her assistant had taken her lunch out of the office today.

She needed to call Dawn. Her phone had been damaged beyond use when the explosion knocked it from her hand and tossed it to the ground. Melinda borrowed an officer’s cell phone and dialed Dawn’s number. The call went to voice mail, and Melinda left a message. “Hello, Dawn, it’s Melinda. There’s been an incident at the office. I found a bomb beneath my desk and it went off. I’m fine and no one else was hurt, but I wanted you to know before you arrived back here.”

She disconnected the call, then realized she should have suggested Dawn not even return to the office. What was the point? They certainly wouldn’t be doing any work today. She didn’t know when they would be able to work again. The prosecutor’s office in Daytonville had essentially been shut down.

As she watched the fires still burning, she realized all her files were lost, including Nikki’s. She could reorder the reports, but the physical evidence that had been stored in the prosecutor’s office was now certainly destroyed or at least compromised. Had that been the bomber’s intention all along? From the moment she’d seen the mass of wires and canisters, her first thought, her only thought, was that Sean had finally found her and her son. She was tired of running, tired of looking over her shoulder, and beyond ready to put her past behind her. Lord, when will this end? When will I finally be free of him?

But she had to admit it was possible this bombing had nothing to do with her except in a prosecutorial role. Had someone tried to blow up the office in order to destroy evidence in their case? Latching on to that scenario comforted her. This had nothing to do with her past. She was certain of it. However, that didn’t stop the sudden desire she had to see her son, Ramey, and make sure he was okay. She wasn’t scheduled to pick him up until after 4:00 p.m., but she wasn’t certain she could wait that long.

She pushed through the crowd and saw Chief Lyle Peterson. “I’d like to go home now,” she told him. She didn’t want Ramey to see her with dirt and soot all over her, and she’d have just enough time to shower and change first if she left now.

“This is a crime scene, Melinda. You know that. I need you to stay put until we get your statement. I’ve already spoken to your friend over there. Now I need to hear your side of events.”

“If you spoke to Noah, then you already know everything I do. Please, Chief. I need to clean up before I pick up Ramey at the Campbells’. I don’t want him to see me this way.”

She and the chief weren’t always on the best of terms, but he wasn’t heartless, and she saw his compassion for her situation. He nodded, agreeing to let her go. “Fine, but I want you in my office ready to give a statement after you get Ramey.”

She thanked him then headed for her car. Noah stopped her. “What are you doing?”

She looked up at him. He was also covered in soot and dirt, but it looked surprisingly good on him, especially with his green eyes sparkling. “I need to get my son. I don’t want him to see me this way so I’m going home to change.”

“That’s not a good idea. Someone just tried to kill you, Melinda.”

“I’m sure he just wanted to delay or destroy the case, and he succeeded. I doubt I’m still in danger.”

“You’ve got it all worked out in your head, don’t you, that it isn’t about you?”

“Why would it be? I’m just a small-town prosecutor. I’m nobody.” She hated the hysterical sound of her voice, but she couldn’t stop it.

His gaze was so intense as he stared at her that she was certain he knew that wasn’t the truth. He knew all about her husband and her secret past. “I don’t like to hear a woman, any woman, say they’re nobody. You are somebody, Melinda. You’re an important person to your son.”

“Which is why I really want to get to him.”

“Fine. I’ll go with you. Let’s take my car.” He turned and started walking away as she stared after him. Who was he to make decisions for her?

“I don’t need a chaperone,” she insisted.

“I think you just might. Besides, am I right in thinking my sister’s file was in that office, as well?” When she nodded, he continued. “All the information on her case is gone. You were her friend as well as the prosecuting attorney, and I’d stake my life that you know everything that was in that file. You’ve been over it time and time again, looking for some new piece of information that could break her case. That makes you my new best friend and my partner in finding her. Besides, your car isn’t actually operational.”

She looked at her car, the blown-out windows and the water raining down on it from the fire hoses. He was right. She couldn’t drive it, and she didn’t have time to wait around for a cab if she wanted to clean up before she picked up Ramey.

He opened the passenger’s door to his car, which she noticed he’d parked across the street. She reluctantly slipped inside. He was right. Despite her bravado, she was still scared. She’d convinced herself this bomb had nothing to do with her, but protecting Ramey still had to be her number-one priority. She would help Noah with his sister’s case and, in exchange, he would make sure her son was safe from harm. They needed one another. But as he got into the car and headed for her house, she blushed at how easily she’d given in to spending time with this handsome stranger.

He liked the look of Melinda’s house. It was a cottage-style home on a quiet cul-de-sac. The cozy porch and Christmas decorations on the lawn welcomed him, and as she unlocked the door, a large Labrador greeted her. She patted the dog’s head then motioned Noah inside. He grabbed his overnight bag from the trunk of his car and followed her. The dog seemed friendly, but he knew from experience that dogs were unpredictable. Thankfully, the Lab began rubbing on his leg. He scratched the dog’s ear then bent down and petted him, prompting a lick in the face.

Melinda laughed then called off the dog. “Ranger, get down.”

The dog did as he was told and hurried across the room to curl up in a doggie bed.

She motioned toward the bathroom down the hall. “You can use this one. I’ll use the one in the master bedroom.” She disappeared into a back room and closed the door behind her.

It felt good to wash the soot and grime from himself and change into clean clothes. It was like a renewing after the battle, and it always made him feel better. He only wished he could wash off the guilt and shame he felt over his sister’s disappearance the same way. His heart had broken when he’d received the news. He should have been here watching out for her instead of halfway around the world.

Again, the sting of failure pinched at him. Why, God? Why do You keep allowing such terrible things to happen? He’d been asking that question for most of his life and he still hadn’t received an answer.

Once he was finished cleaning up, he waited for Melinda in the living room. A small Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated with mostly handmade craft ornaments and strings of popcorn. Photographs lined the room of a little boy in different stages of growth, some taken with Melinda and many more without. This must be her son, Ramey. He couldn’t help noticing there were no pictures of a husband or father in any of these.

“That’s Ramey when he was four years old,” she stated from behind him, referring to the photo he was staring at of her son with a soccer ball.

“He’s a handsome boy. How old is he?”

“Thank you. He’s six now.”

“I notice there are no pictures of his father. Are you divorced?” That was the most likely reason a woman didn’t display photos.

“Actually, I’m a widow. My husband died in a boating accident before Ramey was born.”

That seemed odd. Widows generally had photographs of their husbands displayed, but Melinda didn’t have even one picture that he could see. Still, it wasn’t his business. “My condolences.”

“Thank you. It was a long time ago.” She tugged a strand of hair behind her ear then glanced at the clock. “I told Susan Campbell I would pick up Ramey by four o’clock.”

“We should go, then.” He led her outside and opened the passenger door for her. She directed him toward the Campbells’ home, where he parked at the curb. As she got out of the car, a blond boy rushed out the door and jumped into her outstretched arms.

He enjoyed watching them together. There was no hesitation in the boy’s face or actions, nothing like he or Nikki had felt at seeing their folks. They’d never known what mood they would find their mother and father in from day to day, or what imagined slight they might have done to them. On a good day, the yelling and hitting would be minimal, but on a bad day... He pushed away those memories, preferring to focus instead on how happy this child seemed to be to see his mother.

She walked to the door and spoke a few words with a woman—Susan Campbell, no doubt—who handed her a booster seat and a bag. She walked the boy to the car. “Ramey, I’d like you to meet Mr. Cason. He’s a friend who’s helping me with something. Can you say hello?”

The boy grinned up at Noah, again his face open and welcoming. “Hi, Mr. Cason.”

Noah knelt and shook the boy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ramey. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Are you going to marry my mommy?”

“Ramey!” Her face flushed and she shushed him. “Don’t ask things like that.”

Noah found himself grinning at such an innocent exchange. “It’s okay. Your mom and I are friends, Ramey. That’s all.”

The boy shrugged and accepted that, then crawled into the back seat of the car as Melinda set up his booster seat and buckled him in.

“I’m sorry,” Melinda whispered once he was secured. “He shouldn’t be asking that. He’s just not used to seeing me with a man.”

“No problem,” he assured her. He wasn’t insulted. In fact, he liked that she didn’t parade men in front of her son. He’d been captivated by her beauty from the moment she’d glanced up at him and he’d taken in her narrow face and delicate neck framed by her long, dark hair. But it was the smile that played on her face as she watched him that he’d noticed first. She was quick to smile, and he liked that. Now his opinion of her was growing just from this small exchange. She was a good mom, and that said a lot about her in his eyes.