Maliki (Guardian Defenders Book 2)

by Kris Michaels

  She stepped back so she could see his face. "I'm happy you're here." She spun and practically skipped into the kitchen.

  "I told you woman. You better watch yourself, or you're going to end up falling in love with me."

  She laughed and tried to slide a serious expression on her face, almost certain she didn't master it. "I don't know, Mal. No Nintendo experiences? What other serious character flaws do you have? I mean, this type of void in your personality development is very concerning. I'm not sure I could love a man who can't play Super Mario."

  "Well then, I guess you'll have to teach me. I'm obviously lacking in your opinion." He popped her on the ass on the way into the kitchen.

  She rubbed her hind cheek and watched him disappear into the kitchen. You don't lack a thing, Dr. Blue. Not a damn thing.

  "Get in here, woman. You said we were cooking together." Mal stuck his head out from the doorway of the kitchen. "You are my sous chef. Veggies need to be cleaned and chopped."

  She dropped her head back between her shoulders. "Veggies? What are you trying to do to me? Please tell me you have something unhealthy in those bags." She followed him into the kitchen. An array of different color veggies and dark green lettuce like leaves, a carton of nuts, a... pomegranate and strawberries lined the counter.

  "What does that make?"

  He turned and looked at the counter and then at her. "Ah... that would be a salad. How rudimentary do we need to go on this cooking tutorial?"

  She closed one eye and pursed her lips as she stared at the veggies and fruit. "Why would you put fruit in a lettuce salad?"

  "That's baby kale and you put fruit in because it’s good."

  "Kale?" Her skin crawled. She'd heard horror stories from other deputies whose wives had made them eat kale.

  He nodded and pointed to the counter. "Wash all of it. Chop everything but the kale and the pomegranate."

  She reached for a knife, drawing it from the butcher block holder on the counter. "You're a slave driver."

  "Right... Stop bitching and start chopping."

  "Please tell me we are having meat." Her voice may have been a titch petulant.

  "Depends on your definition of meat."

  She stopped gathering the veggies and rolled her head toward him. "Explain that. Are we having a meat-based protein, or am I going to be forced to become a rabbit tonight?"

  "We're having blackened shrimp and cheese grits with our very healthy salad which will be dressed in a balsamic vinaigrette." He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her lips before he hip checked her and sent her in the direction of the sink. "Rinse and chop."

  With one eye on the clock she worked on the salad and was fussed at for eating more of the strawberries than were making it to the bowl. She side-eyed Maliki before popping another quarter slice into her mouth. Another glance at the clock and she sighed. "Okay, I can't avoid it any longer. I need to check in and call the sheriff back."

  "Did he leave a message?" Mal stopped peeling the shrimp and glanced at her.

  "Oh yeah, hold on, let me play it for you." She made quick work of retrieving her phone and playing the message.

  "Well that's easy. You didn't request anything. I did." He sliced the back of the shrimp open and removed a long black strand.

  "What is that?"

  "What?"

  She pointed to the sink where he'd tossed the strand. He chuckled and asked, "Don't you need to check in?"

  "Yeah." She slid out the chair, sat down and called dispatch, putting the phone on speaker. "Hiya, Faye. I'm back in the county and taking back my call. What do you have going on?"

  "Hey, Poet. Nothing right now. Quiet at the moment. I do have a message for you from day shift. The sheriff wants you to call him immediately. He said to check your messages."

  "Damn, I had the phone on silent. I'll do that now. Thanks, Faye."

  "No problems, sweets. Hope I don't have to talk to you again tonight."

  "Yeah, me too. I have a video game challenge I plan on winning." She winked at Maliki when he turned to look at her.

  Faye snorted. "That sounds completely boring."

  "Hey, I don't bust your ass about your quilting."

  "True, you don't. Enjoy your mind-altering digital fix."

  "Thank you, and don't sew your fingers together."

  "I haven't done that in at least a year. Hey, don't forget to call Jim. According to day shift, he was in rare form. Everyone was on patrol. No one wanted to be in the office with him."

  "Sounds like I picked the perfect day to have a doctor's appointment."

  Faye's voice lowered, "Everything okay?"

  "Yeah, annual stuff."

  "Eww... gotcha. Hate it, but yah gotta do it."

  "Ain't that the truth. Let me go, I'll call Jim next."

  "Have a good night, I'll log you in as on call."

  "You too, and thanks."

  She hung up and hit the speed dial for Jim before placing that call on speaker too. The phone rang and rang and rang. "This is Sheriff Watson. If you have an emergency hang up and call 911. If you have business with me, please leave a message and I'll return your call."

  When the beep sounded, she said, "Jim, this is Poet. I got your message, and I don't have a clue what you're talking about. I absolutely did not request anything from the AG. You told me not to call the state. I would never violate a direct order, and I've not spoken to anyone at the state about any case. Give me a call if you have any questions."

  She hung up and drummed her fingers on the kitchen table. "Well that was really anticlimactic."

  "Probably for the best, though." Maliki stood at the stove.

  "Yeah. Anyway, I'm on call, but I have some sweet tea or sodas if you'd like a drink."

  "Oh, so you're on call and that means I can't drink?" He used the whisk on a white creamy mixture. The grits, maybe? She'd never tried them, even in basic training where they were a staple for every chow hall breakfast line.

  "Do you want a drink?" She pointed to the living room and her little bar.

  He shook his head. "I'll be fine with water. I need to stay sharp so I can beat you at Super Donkey Brothers."

  She rolled her eyes and had no idea if he was joking or not, but something told her he wasn't.

  "Jump!" She laughed as Mal's Mario fell off the floating bricks.

  "I jumped! Aww, man that was my last life, too." He held the controller, jabbing the button.

  "You didn't jump soon enough, but you did really well this time. You haven't gotten to this level before." She was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him. "Try it again." They'd been playing for about an hour, and watching Maliki master the controller and then learn the game had been far more entertaining than winning on every level, so they went to one player and she tried to help him advance.

  Her phone, which she'd put on ring after she'd checked in, shrilled as he started a new game. He hit the pause button silencing the annoyingly repetitive music. "The sheriff?"

  She glanced at her phone. "No. Dispatch." She swiped the face and answered, "Campbell."

  "Poet, we have two units on the way to Doc Giles' residence. His son called in. He found his father hanging from the rafters in the garage."

  "En route. Has the sheriff been informed?"

  "I haven't been able to contact him."

  "All right, I'm en route. ETA, ten minutes." She hung up and sprinted to the bedroom as she yelled over her shoulder. "The medical examiner is dead."

  Mal's voice came from directly behind her. "Want me to come along?"

  "Do you have a current license to practice medicine in Virginia?"

  "I do. Why?"

  "Because our medical examiner usually declares the victim deceased at a death scene. We're going to need a stand in."

  "Done." He spun and headed down the short hall.

  She threw on a long-sleeved t-shirt and shoved on a pair of boots. Mal entered the bedroom wearing his automatic under his light jacket and presented her with he
r service weapon.

  She clipped it to her belt along with her badge and handcuffs. She snagged her cell phone from the front room and grabbed her keys on the way from the apartment. It took twenty seconds to secure her apartment before they launched down the hallway and into the stairwell.

  Maliki buckled into the passenger's seat and she lit up the parking lot, running her emergency lights, but waited to hit the siren until they cleared the residential area.

  "I'm calling this in. The investigator assigned will need to know."

  "It could be a total coincidence." She rolled through a four way stop and hit the gas again.

  "You don't believe that any more than I do." He grabbed the 'oh shit' handle as Poet took a corner on damn near two wheels. He jabbed the button to contact Joseph. His friend answered, "I'm sweaty, sandy and hungry. This better be damn good."

  "The medical examiner is dead. We are on the way to the death scene."

  "Why are you going?"

  "I have a license to practice in Virginia. The ME is the person who usually declares the decedent dead. Deputy Campbell asked me to fill in."

  "Well, fuck. Keep your phone with you." The connection dropped and Mal pocketed the device. "How much further?"

  "About two miles from town." She hit the county road and flipped on the switch for the siren.

  Minutes later she decelerated quickly and turned into a driveway. The whirling lights of two other sheriff's vehicles directed them to where they needed to be. They parked near the garage. Poet stopped, and they both hit the ground and headed toward the open garage door.

  "Granger? What do you have?"

  "Hey, Poet. The man stood up from beside the now prone body of Doctor Giles. "His son, Martin, came home and couldn't find his old man. His car is parked out front. The kid called his phone. Heard it ringing. He opened the garage door and found his old man swinging." He pointed to a red nylon rope that had been tied to the crossbeam of the garage. It had been sawed in half, frayed and jagged.

  "Who cut him down?"

  "Dobson and I did. The kid had grabbed his father's legs and was trying to keep pressure from his neck."

  "Have you moved anything else?" Mal leaned down next to the man. The break in his neck was obvious. Mal glanced around.

  "No. We cut him down. There was no pulse. He was grey and cold. We didn't do CPR."

  "Thank you." He turned so his back was to the other officer and glanced at Poet and then motioned to Granger with a tilt of his head. Her eyes widened in understanding. "Do we have a suicide note?"

  "Dobson is inside with the kid. He's pretty shook up; I don't know if they looked yet."

  "Do me a favor, head in and get the kid's permission to take a look."

  "Roger that." Granger headed into the house.

  Mal adjusted his weight on one knee and waited for the door to close. "What's missing here?"

  "Missing?" Poet looked around. "Cars?"

  "No. This man's neck is broken. To do that requires a substantial torque, such as a significant drop. It doesn't appear as if he choked to death—no petechial hemorrhages of note—and the break is inconsistent to the area where the rope tightened." He pointed to the break and then the area of the neck where the rope had obviously been wrapped. "Notice the lack of bruising around the ligature marks. That indicates blood wasn't flowing while he was hanging. There is nothing in the garage he could have stepped on to get up to that noose. Nothing that he kicked away or slipped off of. This is not a suicide by hanging. No, there are too many things missing."

  "Murder. To what end? Is someone covering up something with the two bodies that were taken today?" She whispered her question.

  He stood and shook his head. "I don't know. We need validation of my opinion. Let's call it a suspicious death. Until an experienced ME can get x-rays and do an autopsy, I wouldn't hurry to classify it as a suicide."

  "Hey, Poet, we got a note." Granger held a single sheet of paper in his gloved hand. She held up her hands. "Hold that for us, we don't have gloves on yet." Granger complied.

  Martin,

  I'm sorry to leave you this way. I love you. Forgive me.

  Dad

  "It isn't signed." Poet glanced at him and then back to Granger.

  "It was in the printer in the Doc's office along with his wallet. I've bagged that, and I'll get this in an evidence bag, but I figured you'd want to see it."

  "Thanks. Good work. Do we have an ETA on the ambulance?"

  "The one that covers this area is transporting a patient into Charlottesville. The other rig is coming over from the west. Five more minutes maybe. You going to have them transport to the county morgue?"

  He shook his head. "No, he should go to the hospital's morgue."

  "Why's that?" Granger angled his head and narrowed his eyes. "You keep showing up. Who are you?"

  "I'm a doctor with Guardian Security. I was with Deputy Campbell tonight when this call came in." He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "Look, this guy was the Chief Medical Examiner. Are you really going to make his own people see him like this?"

  Granger blinked and then glanced down at Giles. "Damn, didn't think about that."

  Poet propped her hands on her hips. "Yeah, damn good call, Dr. Blue. Granger, have Faye call the hospital and make the arrangements after you get that note into an evidence bag."

  He waited until the officer retraced his steps before he spoke. "The computer needs to be taken as evidence. The keyboard needs to be dusted for prints."

  "I'm on it. Are you good waiting here with him?"

  Mal palmed his vibrating phone from his jacket. "Yeah, I'm good." He swiped the phone and watched her jog into the house as he answered. "Blue."

  "Jared here. Joseph's on the line, too. What do you have?"

  He swung his eyes to the door and moved away. He lowered his voice. "I'll need someone to validate my suspicions, but I believe we have a murder someone staged as a suicide. The deceased was discovered hanging by his neck in his garage. There is a note, all printed, no signature and generic. The break of the neck vertebra isn't consistent with the positioning of the rope. There was no bruising or typical strangulation indications other than the damage to the exterior dermis, and there isn't a box or chair that this guy could have stepped off. My opinion is someone killed him, and then strung him up."

  "What the hell did you get yourself involved in?" Joseph's question rolled through the connection. Yeah, that question was foremost in his mind, too.

  He walked to the driveway to make sure no one could overhear him. "I don't know, J. Gut instinct says Deputy Campbell found a frayed edge, and now, whatever is happening around here is coming unraveled. Why would someone kill the ME?"

  "Why does anyone kill? Greed, lust or power. Our investigator will be there tomorrow. Asher Hudson will hit the ground running. He has the case files you sent but will want to sit down with you and the senior deputy. The switchboard will patch him through to you. I'll give him this update but be prepared to sit down with him tomorrow. Do you have a place the three of you can meet where there won't be any interruptions?"

  "Yeah, either the deputy's apartment, or I can use my folks’ place, but I don't want to bring them into this if I don't have to do it."

  "I understand that. If nothing else, use your hotel room to talk to him. You can put the deputy on the phone and do it virtually. Oh, I arranged for a contractor to look at your folks’ place tomorrow. They are taking some temp guards with them to leave in place until they get the systems online and make permanent hires."

  He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, I'll rest easier."

  "Based on your professional opinion that this was a murder, are you and the deputy safe?" Jared's concern was obvious.

  "I've been watching my six since the sheriff's original confrontation. The deputy has worked with this guy a long time. She's tuned in to the man's actions." He'd double check with Poet on that before he left her tonight, or tomorrow morning.

&nb
sp; "All right. Hunker down until Asher gets there. He'll bring the full authority of this investigation with him; it is now officially an open case with Guardian as the lead agency. The AG is acutely aware of our interest and wants constant updates, but hopefully Jason can keep him from sending someone down to muddy the investigation."

  Red flashing lights bounced against the front of the house as the ambulance drove down the driveway. "Roger that. We're sending his body to the hospital morgue, not the ME's office. I didn't want it to turn up missing."

  Jared acknowledged his actions, "Good thinking. I'll up channel the request for authority over the postmortem. Let me get that sorted. Do you need anything else?"

  "I'll let you know if something comes up."

  "All right. I'm clear." Jared exited the conversation.

  "I don't think I'll let you go on vacation again." Joseph added.

  "Hold on." He directed the ambulance crew to the dead body and told them to transport to the hospital, not the county morgue. "All right, I'm back."

  "See if you can keep yourself and that deputy alive long enough for the investigator to arrive."

  "I'll work on that." He chuckled a bit and rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the ambulance crew spread a body bag. "This isn't what I expected when I was working with the teams at the facility."

  "What exactly did you expect?"

  "I thought... Hell, I guess I thought with two people, the shit that happened with Foxtrot Team would be impossible. That communication would be clearer, the work would be... different."

  "The work will always be the same. Answer a question for me. Can you read minds?"

  He drew a deep breath. "No."

  "Well then, stop beating yourself up about what happened in the past. You couldn't have prevented it. Survivor's guilt will eat you alive. Cut yourself some slack." Joseph didn't seem in a rush to close the conversation tonight.

  Mal leaned against the deputy's vehicle and watched Poet as she entered the garage. She was all business but glanced around until she found him. He raised a hand, and she returned the gesture before she went back to work.