Yuletide Protector (Love Inspired Suspense) (2 page)

Half-right, but she didn’t bother to correct him. The only time she’d ever been in church was for a funeral of someone she knew. Her wedding had been at City Hall. Her parents had never rejected faith, but they didn’t embrace it, either, and it was something that had never been a part of Daria’s life.

“I didn’t realize anyone was following me.”

“Keeping tabs from a distance. You weren’t supposed to notice and you didn’t.”

Someone had been “keeping tabs” on her, watching her move through her daily life, and she’d had no idea. A chill raced up Daria’s spine, making her shudder.

“You say you met with George last night?”

“That’s right.”

“Was that your first meeting?”

“For me, yes. Before that, I’d only seen him from a distance.”

Daria leaned against the counter and nervously pushed her fingers through her hair. “If my life is in danger, why am I just hearing about this now? Why didn’t anyone come to me sooner?”

“Until last night, there was only suspicion, no proof. I couldn’t very well come to you with suspicion of a possible conspiracy to murder you until I knew for sure that was George’s intention. Just because someone says
they want to kill their spouse doesn’t mean they’ll actually do it or hire someone else to do it. A lot of people say things in the heat of the moment. Most times it never comes to a meeting and it ends there once people blow off steam.”

“But George contacted you?”

“We had the word of an informant that George Carlisle was hunting for a hit man to kill his ex-wife. Things moved to a new level last night when I finally met with your ex-husband and he made his intentions clear. Your life really is in danger.”

Kevin sat back down at the table. It was then that she noticed the fatigue pulling at his crystal-blue eyes. He had nice eyes, darker blue on the outer edges to define the clear blue of the center. They were warm, with a spark of life that blazed when he laughed. She’d noticed them right away when she’d seen him at the market. How could he have been following her without her spotting him?

Daria nervously shook her head. Deep inside she felt like crying, but no tears would come. “You must be mistaken. George is a lot of things—I don’t have enough fingers on both hands to count them—but he’s not a murderer.”

“Exactly. This is why he sought out someone else to do his dirty work. He gets what he wants without getting any blood on his hands.”

Those words weighed heavy on her mind as Daria poured black coffee into a pair of coffee mugs. She suddenly felt the need to talk to her mother and father. To have some connection with someone safe. But her parents were still in Mexico and didn’t have a phone in their villa.

“Why would George want me dead? We haven’t seen
each other in months. What possible reason would he have after all this time?”

“He may have been planning it since before the divorce.”

She turned to the hard sound of his voice. “Is George in jail?”

Kevin paused. “No.”

“Why not?”

“We arrested him last night. But his attorney had him released this morning because we don’t have enough evidence to keep him.”

Her hands were shaking when she put the coffeepot back on the coffeemaker’s burner. Cream. Had Kevin said he wanted some? She put some on the table in front of him along with a spoon.

“I don’t understand any of this,” she said quietly. “You just said he contacted you last night. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Why not?”

The lines on Kevin’s face seemed to deepen. “I messed up.”

“Excuse me?”

To his credit, Kevin didn’t even try to look away like most people did when they were feeling guilty. Instead, he looked straight at her. “I was fitted with a wire. But somehow the signal got scrambled. None of the words George spoke to me during our meeting were recorded. There was nothing at all but static. But since I’d taken out my earpiece, I didn’t realize my team couldn’t hear what was going on. And thanks to the shadows we were standing in, they couldn’t see us clearly, either. George made a move toward me—he was reaching out to shake
my hand, seal the deal—but another officer thought I was being attacked and moved in to arrest George. My cover was blown. And without any hard-core evidence or corroborating witnesses to my testimony, the D.A. won’t prosecute him. She won’t even touch the case.”

Ignoring his coffee, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“I take full responsibility. The officer who made the arrest is a first-year cop and I should have anticipated him being eager to move in. I didn’t know the detectives in the van couldn’t hear what was being said or I would have aborted the meeting long before Officer Stanasloski moved in.”

“So George just goes free? Just like that?”

“Unfortunately, yes. For now.” Kevin swallowed hard, then looked directly at her. “We’re still watching him. Although, it’ll be harder now that he knows there is police involvement and we’re onto him.”

“Terrific,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Look, I know you’re scared and I don’t blame you. No one wants to hear that their life is in danger, especially from someone they cared about. Thing is, men like George don’t stop. He’ll keep going. Now that my cover is blown, he’ll find someone else to take my place. And he’ll be more careful next time. No matter how much you want to believe there isn’t a threat to your life, I’m here to make you see the truth.”

Daria shook her head. It was all too much. “There has to be a mistake. You must have misunderstood what he said. I can’t imagine George being that vicious. He’s not that kind of man. Even when we had our biggest fight—when I filed for divorce—he never lifted a hand against me.”

“Desperate people do desperate things, Mrs. Carlisle.”

“If you can’t put him in jail, why are you here? Why are you even telling me all this?”

Kevin drew in a deep breath, stretching his shirt taut against a wall of muscles that were his chest and shoulders. “Because if you stay in town, you’re going to die.”

“I
suggest you leave Providence as soon as possible. As in, right now,” he said.

It was hard to find her voice behind the mammoth-size lump of fear clogging her throat. He’d said from the start that George had tried to hire him to kill her…but somehow hearing the words—that she’d die if she stayed in town—made it all feel very real. “You’re not making any sense at all.”

Shrugging, he said, “I know and I apologize. It was a long night. But if you’ll listen to me for a minute, you’ll understand that it’s the only way to ensure your safety.”

Kevin stood up and yanked the chair next to him away from the table, motioning with his hand for her to sit.

“Please.”

Her glance darted from the chair to his angular features. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I want to hear any more of this.”

Blue eyes that seemed much too sincere for what they were discussing penetrated her. “I’m afraid that’s not an option. But we do have a crisis counselor at the station. If you want, we can go—”

“No! I don’t want to go to the police station.” Somehow going there now would make all of this worse.

Daria’s chest hurt. Weighing the burning fear she felt against the simple act of sitting next to this man she’d been so attracted to at the market, she decided she was being utterly foolish. He was only speaking words.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me.
The taunting childhood song echoed in her head. Didn’t that apply to words, too? There was nothing Detective Kevin Gordon could say that would hurt her.

She did as she was told, seating herself at the table and folding her hands in front of her. Never in her life had she felt so shaken.

She couldn’t believe it. George kill her? No. It wasn’t possible. The man who’d wooed her with white roses and cried when he’d asked her to marry him? The man who would have given her anything she asked for?

Not that she ever did, Daria thought with a pang of regret. It was one of the differences between them that ultimately destroyed their marriage.

Daria blinked away the sudden tears stinging her eyes and forced memories of their marriage from her mind. Back then she’d always wanted to please George and always seemed to come up short. But that was in the past. She wasn’t letting anyone else make decisions for her now.

Abruptly, she got up from the table and strode out of the kitchen, down the hall and into her bedroom. She quickly threw open the double doors of her closet and rummaged through the shelf until she found the hatbox where she kept her special keepsakes. Clutching the box to her chest, she brought it into the kitchen and plopped it down on the table in front of Kevin.

“What’s this?”

“Pictures. I don’t have many. I didn’t feel the need to keep them, but…”

She paused when she found the picture she’d been searching for, the only photo of the two of them she’d taken with her when she’d left George. She stared at it for a long time, trying to imagine George actually doing what Kevin said he’d done. She handed it to Kevin.

“This is my ex-husband with me on our wedding day.”

Kevin stared at the image, his square jaw tight, his posture straight as he scrutinized the faces of two people who’d been so happy that day.

“Is this the man you met with last night? The man who said he wanted you to kill me?”

She held her breath as he continued to stare. She had to know for sure. Couldn’t Kevin be talking about someone else? It had to be someone different. Anything else was unthinkable.

“He looks different,” he said sharply as he tossed the photo in the box.

Relief washed over her whole body, leaving her trembling and weak. She let out all her breath in one quick burst. “Then there has been a mistake.”

“No, I’m afraid not. Your ex-husband looks different in this picture than the ones we have on file. His hair is lighter now, thinner. But I’m afraid it is the same man I met with last night at the salvage yard.”

The relief Daria had felt just a few short seconds ago now vanished, leaving her cold.

“Would it really matter if it wasn’t George?” he asked. “There’d still be someone out there who wanted you dead. Your life would still be in danger.”

Would it have mattered? Yes, Daria realized. Some
crazy stranger with a blank face trying to kill an unsuspecting woman was a lot easier to take than knowing someone she used to love wanted her dead.

“Look, George probably seemed like a great guy when you were with him. But even seemingly nice guys can be dangerous.”

Kevin ran his hand down his face, rubbing his shadowed jaw for a few seconds. “I know you want to believe that this isn’t happening to you. I wish it weren’t. It must seem like a nightmare,” he said delicately.

He had no idea.

Tears sprang to Daria’s eyes and she clamped her teeth over her bottom lip when it started trembling. She shoved the picture back into the hatbox and slammed the cover on top.

Kevin sat back down at the table, brought the mug of coffee to his lips to take a sip and then dropped it on the table again. His grimace only magnified his fatigue, deepening the creases carved around his crystal eyes.

Daria automatically picked up his mug, brought it to the sink and dumped it out before pouring a fresh cup.

“What are you doing? You didn’t need to do that,” he said, his eyes wide with surprise.

“You didn’t like it.”

She was trying too hard to please again, Daria realized. It was a bad habit she’d gotten into with George. She’d let him dictate her life, make all the decisions, because it had been important to him to have a submissive, obedient wife. She wasn’t that woman anymore. But the habit was hard to break.

“It’s okay,” Kevin said. “I usually load my coffee with sugar. I’m more inclined to get my caffeine from
the soda machine than the coffeepot at the station because their coffee can be pretty nasty.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any sugar,” she said quietly as she placed the fresh cup of coffee in front of him.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t have any soda either, I’m afraid.” She flipped a lock of hair behind her ear, feeling the same sense of panic hit her square in the chest.

“Stop apologizing.” Then his voice softened. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault.”

Daria held up her hand. “You were there. Can’t you testify against him?”

“Sure. But all we have is my word against his. That’s sometimes enough to make an arrest but not enough to make it stick. We need the audio file for it to stand up in court. Since George has a high-priced lawyer and no ironclad proof against him, we had no choice but to let him go. As soon as he hit the street, I came over here to warn you.”

She fiddled with a paper napkin, wiping a stubborn dried ring on the table.

“We tried to say that he was acting out of character by even being on the scene, but George’s doorman backed his statement that he goes for a walk nearly every evening. The doorman verified that George left at roughly the same time he usually does when he takes his walk. Even got concerned when George didn’t return as usual. George was at the station at that point.”

“George suffers from insomnia,” Daria said, staring into the coffee she’d poured for herself, but hadn’t sipped. The wrinkled napkin lay beside her cup, wound as tight as a toothpick. “Taking a walk helps him sleep.”

“That’s what he said.”

Daria closed her eyes for a brief moment. “So what are my options? Do I get police protection? An escort? Guard dog or something?”

“No.”

“No? I don’t get any help from the police at all?”

Kevin sighed. “We’ve set it up so that your street will be patrolled more often. But we just don’t have the resources to offer protection custody except for witnesses that are set to go to trial.”

“So, you’d be able to protect me if I actually saw my ex-husband commit a crime, but since he didn’t kill me and I can’t testify you can’t do anything?”

His mouth twitched. “That pretty much sums it up.”

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment. “Well, I guess that’s that then. Thank you for stopping by, Detective. I appreciate the warning. If you hear of anything else, please be sure to let me know.”

Kevin stared at her, his eyes wide with confusion. “Mrs. Carlisle, you do understand everything I’ve just told you, don’t you?”

Anger surging through her, she balled her fists in her lap. “Please don’t call me that anymore. I’m not Mrs. Carlisle. My name is Daria.”

“Okay, Daria. You can’t stay here. As I said earlier, you need to leave as soon as possible.”

Uncurling her fingers, she planted her palms on the table, pushing herself out of her chair. She grabbed her full coffee mug and dumped the contents into the sink along with the mug, watching the liquid slosh up the sides and splash the faucet with the force of her movement. Her eyes stung with the hot tears she was holding back.

Leave here? Was he kidding? Her whole life she was
leading up to the very thing she’d finally achieved when she’d bought this house. She finally had a home. After nearly twenty-six years of living out of boxes with her vagabond family and making new friends every few months, only to have to leave them,
she
finally had a chance to dig in some roots and call someplace home.

Standing at the sink, she stared out the kitchen window to her backyard. Right now the ground was cold, but in a few months it would be bursting in green with the coming of spring. But even in winter it looked beautiful to Daria because she knew this place had all the makings of something wonderful. Something that would be
hers.

And he wanted her to up and leave? Where would she go? She couldn’t afford to go to Mexico to stay with her parents. And she certainly couldn’t afford to buy or rent someplace else to live in. It had taken every penny she still had after the divorce to buy this place. She had no savings left. There wasn’t a friend from her past she could call that she felt close enough to impose on, either.

Kevin’s deep voice floated to her and broke into her thoughts. “You can leave here. The sooner the better. Go someplace far away and set up in another town someplace. Change your name, even. We have it within our resources to help you do that. You can make it so that it seems as if Daria Carlisle really is dead. Or at the very least, fallen off the face of the earth. Do whatever you can do so that George Carlisle and whoever he may hire in the future won’t have a chance to find you. If you stay here, you aren’t safe.”

She spun around to look him in the face. There was no teasing there, no slight twitch of his lips to indicate Kevin was about to burst into laughter as he told her the punch line of his joke. There was no punch line, she realized.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think you understand. The police can’t protect you. Leaving is the only way.”

“I’ll get a dog. A big one.”

“A dog isn’t going to do squat against an assassin’s bullet.”

Her back straightened. “Okay, then I’ll hire a bodyguard.” With what, she didn’t know. Hiring a bodyguard meant spending a great deal of money and she was already mortgaged up to her eyeballs. “I mean, how long would I have to be watched anyway? It’s not going to be forever, right?”

His incredulous laugh came out in a short burst. “I can’t believe this. You’re actually considering staying here? I have no idea how long you’ll need protection. And hiring a bodyguard that really has the ability to protect you would cost far more than just leaving.”

Kevin looked at her as if she had five heads. She sounded insane. Of course she did. But how could he know what this house meant to her? What it represented?

“Well,” she said, “I’m staying. You see, I just bought this house a few months ago. I know it doesn’t look like much now, but I’m going to be spending the next week stripping layers and layers of cruddy wallpaper in my bathroom so I can see just how awful the walls are in there and decide whether or not I have enough money to retile or just spackle, paint and stencil. And if I have enough money, I want to buy a big Christmas tree for my front window. I don’t care that I don’t have a lot of ornaments to put on it. I want to be in my own home for Christmas. My home. Not some hotel somewhere or
someone else’s house. The only relocating I want to be doing is moving junk from this house. And I’m not included in that.”

Kevin pulled himself to his feet, towering over her. He had to be well over six feet tall, dwarfing her average height.

He poked his finger on the table. “You don’t understand how serious this threat is.”

She charged back. “Oh, yes, I do. But you’re telling me I have to just up and leave my house, the home I’ve spent the last six months pulling apart to make livable again. Do you have any idea what this house looked like when I moved in?”

He started to speak, but she halted him by raising both hands in the air.

“It was awful. Truly hideous. I had a small fridge and microwave in my bedroom up until a month ago. I had to be careful where I stepped for fear the stairs would break, and there are still places I have to watch out for when I’m upstairs. I had to buy a membership to the gym just so I could shower there until I’d saved enough money to pay for new plumbing, which, let me tell you, costs a pretty penny in an old place like this.”

She stalked to the back door and swung it open, letting in a rush of cold air that blew her hair into her eyes. She swiped the errant strands away with a quick brush of her hand.

“Do you see that tree out there?”

Kevin leaned forward to peer out in the direction she was pointing.

“The little one that looks like a twig being held up by a stake?”

She huffed. “It’s a hummingbird vine. I planted one
of these with my mother when I was ten years old when we lived in Georgia. We’d only stayed there for about five months. I remember I was so excited about watching something that I had planted grow and bloom. Why? Because I never have. I never stay in any place long enough to see it.”