Protective Custody (2 page)

She wondered if she would believe those words one day, but they seemed to ease Nick's mind a little. For her, though, just the fact that there were children involved would keep her up nights until this assignment came to an end.

Nick nodded. “Then pack your bags. I'll tell my housekeeper you guys are moving in for a while.”

 

Carly watched Nicholas walk up the steps and settle himself into the judge's chair. The bailiff took up residence off to the side. As the jury filed in, she noted their serious expressions. Several looked at the door through which the defendant would enter. Others watched their feet, never
lifting their eyes from the floor even as they settled into their chairs.

Interesting and odd, she noted, picking up on the undercurrents flowing around the group.

The prosecutor already sat at his table.

The door opened, and Seth and his partner led an orange-suited, leg-shackled prisoner through it.

Harrison Frasier. On trial for the murder of a local stockbroker. He claimed he was innocent, but the security video captured him in the office at the time of the murder even though it didn't actually show him pulling the trigger. The murder weapon was never found. However, a witness and DNA, along with the video, almost assured a guilty verdict.

Harrison Frasier. Carly tapped her lip as she studied the man. Good-looking, athletic build, early twenties. Looked like the boy next door you'd hire to mow your grass.

The jury foreman rose. Judge Floyd nodded to the man. “Has the jury reached a verdict, sir?”

“We have, Your Honor.” He carried it to the bench and handed it over.

Nicholas read it and handed it back without blinking an eye or changing expression, although Carly wondered if she was the only one who noticed the muscle jumping along his jawline.

The foreman returned to his chair and stood in front of it.

Harrison Frasier stood.

Nicholas cleared his throat and asked, “Would you please read the verdict?”

“We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty on all charges.”

Pandemonium broke loose.

“No!” A woman in her forties stood, tears streaming
down her cheeks. Carly recognized her from the news. She was the wife of the victim. An older gentleman who looked to be her father wrapped an arm around her shoulder and simply stared at Nicholas, then at the foreman.

Carly had to strain to hear the man's words over the chaos. “How could you let this happen?”

Nicholas stood and headed down the steps.

“Why didn't you do something, Judge? You should have done something.” This time she heard the man loud and clear.

Nick stopped and looked out at the man who'd hollered. Sadness covered his features, and he shook his head.

“You'll pay for this!”

Carly's attention meter stood at full alert as she and Mason hurried to Nick's side. A threat? She glanced at the officer nearest the door. He had his eyes on the individual who'd issued the threat. Carly relaxed a tad as she realized the man had directed his last comment to the defendant, who now stood a free man. Harrison Frasier laughed and turned his back on the elderly man.

Eyes blazing, cheeks still wet, the victim's wife grabbed her father's hand and pulled him toward the double rear doors of the courtroom, pushing her way through the throng of reporters and flashing cameras.

At Nicholas's side, Carly looked at Harrison and saw him hug his lawyer and another young woman. A sister? A wife? Girlfriend?

Escorting the judge back to his chambers adjacent to the courtroom, Carly opened the door. Mason entered, weapon drawn.

Nicholas stood just inside the door next to Carly. “Come on. Isn't this a bit extreme?”

She just looked at him, trying not to admire his handsome features. Right now, they were hard, as though
chiseled in stone. The only imperfection was on his jawline where he'd sliced himself with the razor.

Distracting herself from that line of thought, she asked, “Haven't you heard, ‘Better safe than sorry'?”

She thought she heard his teeth click together but was glad when he said nothing else. She really didn't want to argue with him. Mason came out of the bathroom. “All clear.”

Carly heard the rasp of the zipper on Nicholas' robe. He tossed it over the back of the chair. “Let's get out of here. I want to check on my family.”

Gladly.

Carly led the way out the door, checking the hallway as she listened to his footfalls behind her. She shivered as she felt his gaze touch her back. What was he thinking? Was he wondering what she thought of him? That it was because of him that her friend and mentor had been killed? Did he even know?

Mason brought up the rear as they approached the back door of the building. Shoving ahead of Carly and Nicholas, he pushed open the door. Carly laid a restraining hand on Nicholas. “Wait a minute.”

An impatient sigh hissed from him, but he held his tongue and stood still.

Mason's head popped back in. “We're clear.”

Carly stepped out, looked both ways then motioned for Nicholas to follow. “Give Mason your keys. He'll drive your car.”

“That's not necessary. I'll be…”

“Hey, Judge!”

The trio turned as one to see Harrison Frasier reveling in his newly declared freedom. One hand on the passenger door of a minivan, the man offered Nicholas a salute with his free hand. “Great job in there, my friend.”

“I'm not your friend, you—”

A loud pop cut off Nicholas's outraged growl.

Carly reacted by giving Nicholas a hard shove behind the nearest parked car and throwing herself on top of him. If a bullet was headed his way, it was going through her first. But when she looked back, it was Harrison who lay on the ground, a dark red stain growing across his chest.

“G
et inside,” she ordered as she scrambled into a crouched position beside him, “just in case our shooter is still somewhere nearby.”

Without comment, pulse pounding with adrenaline, Nicholas pulled himself to his feet and pushed the door open for Carly, then followed her through it. Mason headed over to the scene.

Nicholas's brain processed Carly's words as he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. His heart pounded in his chest as his mind replayed the image of Harrison being hit with the bullet.

Shock quickly followed the surprise on the man's arrogant features. Then he'd almost looked pleading as he'd dropped to the ground.

Absently, Nicholas heard Carly talking to someone on her radio. Calling for help? His mind went to Lindsey and Christopher. He glanced at his watch. They'd be home from school by now, and he had to make sure they were safe. Carly had assured him they weren't in any danger, but he wanted to hear that for himself from someone who had eyes on them.

Even as he subconsciously waited for the sound of
another bullet, he yanked out his cell phone and pressed the speed-dial number. “Hello?”

Forcing a calmness into his voice he didn't feel, he asked, “Debbie, is everything all right at the house?”

“Hi, Nick. Everything's fine. Two U.S. Marshals showed up at the children's school saying you'd been threatened and they were just there to keep an eye on things. They followed me home and are still here. Are you okay?”

He closed his eyes, picturing the children's nanny. Debbie had been a blessing in one of his greatest times of need. When his mother had decided to leave for California, the daughter of his best friend and fellow judge, Wayne Thomas, had volunteered to fill in as caretaker for Lindsey and Christopher until he could find someone on a permanent basis. “Yes, I'm fine.” He'd tell her about the shooting later. “I'm just going to be a bit delayed in getting home, all right?”

“Sure, Nick. No problem.”

“Thanks, Deb.” The fact that he'd been threatened wouldn't freak her out, but she'd be on high alert. Her father, Wayne Thomas, was also a judge, so she knew about threats and protective details. However, the fact that Nicholas had been present when a shooter actually killed someone might be a bit much for her.

He hung up and watched Carly walk toward him, holstering her weapon. His heart flipped into a weird beat at the sight of her, face flushed, dark curls escaping her ponytail. Mirrored sunglasses covered her eyes, so he couldn't read her expression. He swallowed hard. Was he attracted to her? Surely not. He had appreciated her friendship two years ago. But he'd been a married man then—and no matter how troubled his marriage had been, he would never have jeopardized it by allowing himself to get close to
another woman. Still, Carly had been easy to talk to, a true friend.

Focusing on her words, he pushed his thoughts away. “The shooter got away.”

Nicholas narrowed his eyes and determined to pull his own gun from the wall safe just as soon as he got home. The door opened behind him as he questioned Carly. “Why Harrison Frasier?”

“I have no idea.”

“I do.”

Nicholas turned to see Mason step inside.

A quick glimpse behind Mason as the door shut showed authorities swarming the area. The press had arrived in record time, since they were already on the premises for the trial.

Harrison had already been transported from the scene. Yellow tape marked the area where the crime-scene unit now worked. The door clicked shut, and the deputy marshal held something in his left hand that he offered to Carly. She took it.

“What is it?” Nick asked.

“Apparently, our guy is fond of letters. Two in one day.”

“So, the shooter isn't the father of the victim.” Nick stated the thought that had been in his head ever since he'd seen Harrison go down.

“No, I'm going to say not.”

Nicholas leaned over Carly's shoulder to read. Her scent swirled around him and, against his better judgment, he breathed in deep. Then the typed words pulled the air from his lungs.

“Do you understand our power now, Judge Nicholas Floyd?” he read aloud. “Mr. Frasier was guilty. You know it and we know it. But we wanted a not-guilty verdict. So
we got it. Drop the de Lugo case or you will die and leave poor Lindsey and Christopher true orphans.”

His back teeth ground against each other. Through tight lips, he muttered, “I knew someone got to that jury as soon as I saw the verdict.”

“What do you mean?” Carly asked.

“The evidence was too clear-cut—and Harrison was too cocky. It should have been an open-and-shut case. The de Lugos got to the jury and swayed the judgment—just to prove to me they could.”

“How many jurors do you think they got to?” Mason asked.

He shrugged. “It would only take one if he or she had the right personality. But I'm guessing it was probably more than one. All you have to find is a juror with a kid. Threaten the kid, and get the juror to do anything you want.”

“Then we need to talk to the jurors,” Carly stated.

He shot her a wry look. “If you think it would do any good. We already know who was doing the threatening, but yeah, we'll send a report in and let the proper authorities take care of it.” His jaw hardened. “Can't hurt to have one more charge to bring against the de Lugos.”

“All right, we need to get you into a secured area.” Mason shoved his gun in his shoulder holster. “Right now, that's going to be your home. How many people live there?”

“There's six of us right now. My housekeeper, Stella, and her husband, Carl, a nanny, Debbie, myself and the children.”

“Two marshals will stay on the children as they go to and from school. You might want to consider letting the nanny go for her own safety.”

“Fine. What about Stella? She's trained to defend herself.”

Carly remembered the woman from the last time she'd been in his home. “She's an ex-police officer. Her husband is the groundskeeper, right?”

“Right. She's the niece of my mother's best friend. She was wounded in the line of duty and took an early retirement. By the time she'd recovered, Mom decided she couldn't handle the housework anymore and asked Stella if she'd be interested in doing it. She wanted someone she knew and trusted and didn't want to go to all the trouble of interviews, etcetera. I didn't think Stella'd be interested, but fortunately for us, she jumped on it. She said she needed something to keep her busy, but I think she enjoyed being around us and the children since she couldn't have any of her own. She and her husband, Carl, live in the mother-in-law suite attached to the house. To ask them to leave would really put them out.”

“They can stay as long as they understand the dangers.”

Nicholas rubbed his eyes. “I'll give them the option of moving into a hotel at my expense, although I don't know what they would do with their two dogs.”

Mason raised a brow. “Dogs are good. They bark.”

“True. In this new house, I had the security system upgraded with motion sensors and security cameras. Plus, I had a wrought-iron fence installed. And all of this in a gated community.”

“What else?” Carly urged.

“It's an electric fence. If anyone tries to go over it, they'll get a pretty nasty shock. That's about it.”

“It's better than a lot we've worked with in the past.” Thank goodness. The thought of Nicholas or one of the children ending up dead sent shivers of fear all over her. The thought of being around Nick 24/7 made her stomach
clench, too, although she wasn't sure if it was from dread or the pull of attraction she couldn't deny feeling.

She shrugged off her feelings. Time to do her job. “All right, let's get going.” Carly held up the paper bag with the second letter. “I'm just going to turn this over to the crime-scene guys. Then we can get out of here.”

 

Two minutes later, they were on the road. Carly drove the unmarked police car and Mason followed behind in Nicholas's car. He watched Carly's slender fingers grip the wheel.

When she'd invaded his home two years ago, just a few months before his wife's death, they'd butted heads on the protection issue yet Carly in his home brought a certain peace to the household that had been distinctly absent before her arrival.

His wife, Miriam, had basically closed herself in their bedroom and become a hermit for the duration of Carly and her partner's stay. It had been a relief, he remembered with guilt. Miriam had changed in their six years of marriage, depression stealing her sweet, happy-go-lucky personality away from him.

She'd wanted a baby, and they hadn't been able to have one. The fact that no doctor could tell them why just compounded the problem. His home life had started to unravel and quickly became unbearable. And while Nick never thought he would consider divorce, he had to admit it had crossed his mind in the weeks before Miriam had been killed.

Then the marshals had arrived. He smiled at the irony. He hadn't wanted the marshals at that point in time any more than he wanted them this time.

But then he thought about the nights they'd sat up talking, the three of them; Carly, Mason and himself. A friendship
had formed. Since then, he and Mason had gotten together for the occasional game of racquetball or met up at the high school football stadium to watch the local teams go at it.

He hadn't seen Carly since they'd found out the threats had been a hoax. But that hadn't kept him from keeping up with her.

Through Mason, and frequent chats with Ian, Carly's brother and Nick's former college roommate, Nick had gotten snatches of what her life had been like over the last two years.

He also knew that she blamed him for something he'd had no control over. He'd let a killer go. The one who'd ended up murdering Hank, a good friend of hers. His stomach twisted itself in knots every time he thought about it. He didn't have to wonder what she thought of him.

He could read the wariness in her eyes. The borderline contempt she tried to hide.

And yet, because he knew the kind of person she was, he had no doubt she would do her job to the death for him if it came to it.

He vowed it wouldn't.

Lord, let me get a chance to explain why I had to let that man go. Please. And let her understand.

“Why did you move from the house at the beach?”

Her question seemed to come out of left field as he shook off his thoughts. “Because we all needed a change.” He pictured the large, sprawling estate and felt a pang of nostalgia. “I loved that house, but I built it for my wife. When she and my sister were killed…” He shrugged and sighed. “Plus the children had to ride past the accident site every day on their way to school.”

“How did they even know where it happened?”

“Lindsey was having nightmares about it. The therapist suggested taking her to the site and placing a memorial
there. We built a little cross and put her mother's name on it, and I let her pound it into the ground. She seemed to get a little better almost overnight.”

“But?”

“As time passed, it continued to affect them. Especially Lindsey. She'd do better, then worse, constantly back and forth. If there'd been another route to the school, I would have taken it, but there wasn't. I suggested changing schools, and Lindsey completely freaked at the idea, so…” He shrugged again. “Then Mom left for California…” A deep breath. “When my buddy Wayne encouraged me to come back to Spartanburg so we'd have some support, it seemed like the right thing to do. With my sister gone, I became an only child and didn't have any close family around, so we moved.” He turned the tables on her. “Why do you do this?”

She shot him a startled look. “What? My job?”

“Yes.”

She blinked then focused back on the road. “Because I like it.”

“I know a lot of your family is in law enforcement. But why did
you
choose it?”

A faint smile curved her lips, and he wondered what they'd feel like. The thought came out of nowhere, and he quickly put on the mental brakes.

Someone was threatening him.

It was Carly's job to protect him.

End of story.

“I don't know. I never had any major catastrophe in my life or anything that pushed me toward this kind of career. But I grew up with it. It's what I know. I suppose it was a natural choice with Ian being in the army and my dad being a cop. He was just so
satisfied
every time he put a bad guy in jail. It was literally the highlight of his day. That really
influenced me.” She smiled at him. “He retired a couple of years ago.”

“Ah, so that's why.”

She shrugged. “It probably had a lot to do with it. But I just really like the job.”

“Then why don't you want to do it?”

 

Carly nearly swerved off the road. Instead, she took a moment to gather her composure and said, “Why would you say that?”

“I get the feeling that you don't want to be here. With me.”

She bit her lip. How to explain? Should she even bother explaining? And how had he picked up on that, anyway? Had she gotten that bad at hiding her feelings?

But he was trained to read people. And he'd read her like a first-grade primer.

Squaring her jaw, she shot him a look. “Your feelings are wrong.” Sort of. Actually, they were dead-on. “I want to do my job. I
will
do my job, no matter what it takes, got it?”

He remained silent for a moment, his eyes searching for things she'd rather keep hidden. “Do your feelings have anything to do with the fact that I let Richie Hardin go and he killed your friend Hank?”

Bingo.

She blinked and did her best to cover her initial impulse to blurt out “yes!” Instead, she took a deep breath and said in a low voice. “That's irrelevant to what I have to do here with you. I don't want to talk about Hank's death or the cause of it.”