Maliki (Guardian Defenders Book 2)

by Kris Michaels

  She hustled through the parking lot as the rumble of an afternoon thunderstorm growled in the distance. She'd been kicking herself in the ass for not considering the lack of box or chair last night. She'd totally missed it. It was little consolation that Granger and Dobson had missed it, too. What it reflected was a lack of training. The department needed an investigator. The funding to send one to school shouldn't be prohibitive. She glanced back at the parking lot. All of their patrol vehicles were new, the equipment inside the vehicles was top notch. Perhaps priority could go to training at least one of the deputies to handle these big cases. The BCI covered the entire state and helped when called in, but their lack of training handicapped the responding deputies.

  She opened the door and entered the building as the first drops of rain started.

  "Hey, Poet." Faye leaned toward the counter.

  She smiled and lifted a hand. "Hey, what are you doing here? Your shift doesn't start for another hour."

  "Sharon's kid had a school play. She'll pay me back when I have an appointment or need to leave early."

  "Ah. Did the sheriff ever call in?"

  "Not that I know of. He could have called Carter directly, but nobody mentioned it to me. Strange, huh? I didn't know he had family left." Faye pointed to the door.

  "Not yet. I'm waiting on Doctor Blue and––"

  Maliki ran up to the door and opened it as both men sprinted into the lobby. A flash of lightning preceded an almost immediate clap of thunder.

  "Damn, that is one heck of a storm." Asher wiped his face with his hand.

  "We get them occasionally." Poet laughed and nodded to the door. Faye hit the button and they entered the office area. "The bathroom is over there if you want to mop up."

  "Nah, I'll drip dry. Doc?" Asher looked at him.

  "I'm good. I've been told I'm not made of sugar, so I doubt I'll melt."

  "All right then, Maliki, you know the way to the back. I believe we'll be meeting in the conference room. I'll go grab Carter." She watched the men walk away before she headed the opposite direction.

  The door to the office was open so she knocked on the door frame. Carter lifted his eyes to her and then shifted his gaze to the clock. "Damn, time flies. Are you ready?"

  "They're here and waiting in the conference room. You okay?"

  Carter threw his pen on the desk and dropped back against his chair. "Shut the door." She stepped in and did as he requested. "I swear, Poet, I have no idea what the hell Jim's been doing. The more I look, the more I find, and it's not good. This desk is a powder keg of incomplete work, pending issues and demands from the county commissioners. I've been on the phone with three of the five commissioners today. They didn't say it, but I firmly believe Jim was heading for a disciplinary session."

  She sat down on the edge of the chair in front of the desk. "I knew he was under pressure. Like I said, he hadn't been acting like himself for––" she shook her head "––hell, a long time now. Has he called anyone? Do we know what emergency he's dealing with?"

  "Nope. I've known him since high school. Unless he has extended family, I thought he was all alone."

  She stared at Carter for a moment. He furrowed his brow. "What?"

  She debated her question for a moment before she leaned forward. "Have you found anything illegal or potentially problematic in the paperwork you're going through?"

  Carter shook his head slowly as his eyes scanned the piles of paperwork. "Other than being criminally behind? No. Why?"

  She shrugged. "Just grasping at straws. I thought maybe some of this might be what he is trying to get away from." That and Guardian taking over the cases, although the last message he left her indicated he believed the AG was taking over.

  "I couldn't see that. Why would he want anyone to see the mess he has going on here?" Carter stood and stretched. His back popped, and he groaned. "Death by paperwork. Are you ready to do this?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Wait, there was something. Hold on." Carter sat back down and started opening drawers. "I couldn't find any logbook entries about this, and yet, it's bagged and tagged. Do you know what it is?" He held out the evidence bag that contained the phone they'd found at the first death scene.

  She walked forward and looked again, to make sure she was right. "Yeah, it’s a phone we found at the first scene. The one with the websites on it that led to snuff films. Jim said he was going to get BCI to look into it."

  "Does the phone work?"

  "No."

  "Maybe he just sent in the websites?" Carter turned the phone over in his hands.

  Poet's gut clenched. "Yeah, maybe."

  Maliki sat and watched as Poet presented the cases to Asher and Carter. He filled in tidbits of information as he knew them, but basically stayed out of the woman's way. It took over an hour to cover the information they had on all the cases, including Shauna's and Doctor Giles'. "You need to know that Carter found the phone Jim told me he had sent on to BCI. Carter suggested that perhaps Jim just forwarded the website addresses."

  "Websites?" Asher looked from Poet, to him and then to Carter.

  "Snuff films. Poet though that one of them could have been filmed in the local area."

  "Do you still have those URLs?" Asher looked at Poet.

  "Yeah, I deleted them off my phone, but I have them stored on my computer." She motioned toward the office space outside the conference room doors.

  "All right." Asher glanced at the files spread in front of him. "Please send me those sites and I'll have Guardian confirm that the BCI has taken steps with the information. The crime scene photos of the older cases are helpful. I'll spend the night going over the new information. Deputy Carter, I appreciate the use of the conference room for this briefing, but I won't need the space on a day-to-day basis. For the most part, my SUV is my office. Guardian has hooked it up with everything I need. My partner is heading down tomorrow. We will go through each case, re-interview witnesses, family, friends. The medical examiner’s reports are being checked and the initial autopsies of the two bodies Guardian has already seized have been completed. I don't have the results. It takes a couple days for them to make their way through the system and then a month of Sundays to get toxicology and pathology. We have a priority on this, but those tests take time, even Guardian can't change science. Yet." He winked at Mal and they both chuckled.

  "Do you need anything else from us?" Carter stood and asked.

  "If I do, I'll call Deputy Campbell or drop by the office and speak with whomever is working. I believe I have all I need. If I've made any headway I can release without hindering further investigations, I'll call and brief you after I've informed my chain of command."

  "I guess that's all we can hope for. I'll release Poet to her work then. Doctor Blue, I just read my people's report on Doctor Giles' apparent suicide. Our thanks to you for responding to the scene. Gentlemen, if you need anything, the sheriff’s department is at your disposal."

  Maliki leaned forward after the acting-sheriff left and asked Asher, "Do you need me for anything?"

  "Honestly, Doc, I don't think so. I appreciate the offer, but I think I have it. Keep that piece on you. We may need you to step up if shit gets hairy, but for now, Jared said you were down here on vacation, right?"

  "I'm splitting time between visiting my parents and a new relationship." He winked at Poet and watched her eyes widen and her cheeks flame.

  Asher laughed and started gathering the paperwork. "I'm damn good. I pegged that when you opened the hotel room door."

  Mal stood up and blinked in surprise. "How's that?"

  "The light was off. You turned it on before you opened the door. Someone was sleeping." He pointed at Poet as he spoke. "I didn't want to assume… ah hell, that's bullshit. I totally assumed, but before you leave, can you point me to a good restaurant?"

  "Shorty's had good steaks, but it’s been closed since the shooting. Shauna's folks own it. The diner is closed by now, so you are stuck with fast food."
He turned and lifted an eyebrow at Poet, asking without asking.

  Poet yawned and stood up. She pointed to him, "He's a great cook, come have dinner with us."

  Asher looked at him and winced. "Normally, I'd defer, but I'm starving and didn't have time to grab anything to throw in my hotel fridge. I promise not to stay late."

  Asher watched Poet as she walked from the conference room. Mal hummed, agreeing, "I'll kick your ass down the stairs if you outstay your welcome."

  Asher laughed again.

  Strange, he hadn't meant it as a joke.

  Dinner was simple, pasta carbonara and a salad. He had it on the table within twenty-five minutes of them walking in the door, and Asher was good to his word. He left as soon as dinner was done, stating the review of the new documentation was his priority.

  He and Poet cleaned the kitchen. He grabbed her hand and led her into the bedroom where he undressed her, tugged her into bed with him, and turned off the light. She curled into him, and they found a comfortable position. She was asleep within minutes. He closed his eyes and drew in a contented breath.

  Poet's alarm blared, jarring them both awake. He slapped at the damn thing and finally determined he needed to slide the toggle to shut it up. He dropped back onto the pillows. "That is the most obnoxious alarm clock ever."

  "Right? I got it after basic training."

  She yawned and stretched against him. Her soft, sleep-warmed, skin slid against him. "What time do you have to be at work?"

  "Thirty minutes." She sat up and stretched.

  He glanced at the clock and then at the windows. "It's still raining."

  She turned her head and narrowed her eyes at the window. "Accidents."

  He blinked trying to follow her train of thought. "Say what?"

  "Rain equals accidents. People driving too fast, hydroplaning, driving too slow and causing a hazard." She groaned. "I'm not looking forward to what today is going to bring."

  He sat up and slid behind her. "Then focus on what tonight will bring." She turned toward him and smiled questioningly. He leaned in and kissed her shoulder. "A hot shower, together, dinner, and then fantastic sex."

  "I like that." She leaned forward and kissed him. "What are you doing today?"

  "I'll go to see my parents. Spend the morning with Dad and the afternoon with Mom." He needed to speak to both of them. His new found forgiveness–enough for not only himself, but for them—gave him hope he could find a balance.

  He lazed around until she finished her shower. He dressed in yesterday's clothes and walked from the apartment with her. She had to drop him back off at the inn as he'd ridden with Asher yesterday. They parted with a long, warm kiss under the overhang of the front door of the inn. It took him no time to get ready and head to his parents’.

  The men at the gate wore rain gear, and they were damn thorough, making sure to check his ID against the authorized entry listing. He parked in front of the house and sprinted up the stairs, making sure to wipe his feet, while he waited for Lucinda to answer the door. She smiled and stepped back allowing him access.

  "Good morning. Where's my father?"

  "It’s a good day today, sir. He's in the sunroom watching the rain."

  "Thank you." He strode down the hallway and into the sunroom.

  His father turned toward him and gave a lopsided smile, speaking with care, "Came in the rain?"

  "Of course. I wanted to spend time with you." He sat down beside his father. "Is that coffee fresh?" He pointed to the coffee service on the table. When his father nodded, he reached forward to pour himself a cup. Mal pointed to his father's insulated cup with a straw stuck through the top. "Do you want me to freshen yours?"

  "No, I'm good." His father’s words were careful and slow. He watched as his father leaned down and took a sip from the straw.

  He settled back into his chair, and they stared at the rain trailing down the glass enclosure of the sunroom. "So, I've been doing a lot of thinking."

  His father nodded. "Me too."

  Mal took a drink of his coffee. It was tepid at best. Perhaps his father had forgotten or lost time again. "What have you been thinking about?"

  "Regrets. You. Your mother." A tear fell from his father's eye. "Missed you."

  He leaned forward, put his coffee cup on the table, and took the opportunity to turn his chair so he faced his father. "It's okay—"

  "No!" His father's good hand clenched into a fist. "No. So wrong."

  Mal put his hand on his father's arm. "I forgive you, Dad. Life isn't about perfection. It is about doing the best you can do, each day. You're doing that today and so am I. I think we both deserve the chance to move past something that happened years ago. Let's do that."

  Old, tired, eyes swung toward him. His father's head shook. "How?"

  He wasn't quite sure what his dad was referring to, but he took a stab at it. "How did I forgive you?" He got a nod in confirmation. He drew a hand down his beard, stroking it as he carefully considered his words. "I'm seeing a woman who said something that struck a chord. Here's the thing, Dad... neither of us can change the past. No amount of wishing or beating ourselves up will change a single moment of time, or a word, or an action. It simply is what it is. But today, in this time we have, we need to strive to be the absolute best version of ourselves that we can be. In order to be that person, for her, and for myself, and for you and Mom, I need to let the guilt, hurt, and regrets of the past go. So, I accept your apology and I'll face today without the past keeping me from doing what I need to do." He reached up and wiped another tear from his father's cheek. "You were my hero. What happened hurt both of us. It's over, Dad. We need to move past that pain."

  "I love you." Tears spilled down his father's cheeks.

  "I know. I love you too, Dad." It was a fragile feeling––tenuous and new, but it was there. He blinked back the emotion and smiled at his father before he enfolded the man in a hug. His father's good arm wrapped around him, and he felt his father shoulders shake as he cried in his arms. He held him tighter and breathed, "We're okay, Dad. I promise. We're okay."

  Chapter 16

  Maliki parked his SUV behind Poet's apartment building. The last two weeks had been a blur of activity punctuated by many, many moments of sublime pleasure. He'd introduced his mother and father to Poet. His father had days when he didn't remember their conversation about forgiveness. It didn't matter. He'd repeat the words to his father as many times as it took. He and Poet had endured an uncomfortable dinner with his mom and her lover, Richard Prentiss. The man was attentive and polite, but the fact he and his mom were 'keeping company' while she was still married to his father made for an awkward evening. One he hoped to never repeat.

  Asher checked in every other day or so, and while he didn't get updates on the case, per say, Asher assured him they were getting closer. Guardian's inquiry about the websites had earned a resounding no. They hadn't been forwarded, so Guardian shipped them to the FBI. That bruised the state's ego and ruffled feathers. They'd had to subpoena telephone records for several of the victims, which took time, Asher was hopeful he’d have all the records by the end of the week. He confirmed there was a link between the cases. He wasn't divulging what that link was, but he validated Poet's initial concerns, and for that, Mal was grateful.

  He now had a key to Poet's apartment, but still maintained a room at the inn. When she was called out at night, he left and spent the night in the hotel. They weren't living together... yet. He smiled and hoisted several grocery bags from the passenger seat of his SUV. He was early, but his mom had a date, and his father's mental acuity deteriorated in the afternoons, so he went to the store, purchased ingredients for dinner, and headed over to her house. He'd texted her he was going to start cooking, but she hadn't responded–normal for her. If she was busy, she'd text back when she could.

  He took the stairs two at a time and used his butt to push the crash bar on the fire door to open it.

  Tillie walked from her apartment at
the same time as he entered the hallway. "There you are. Dude, I need to talk to you and Poet. You need to settle your jets; you know what I mean?"

  He stopped and shook his head. "I have no idea what you mean."

  "Look, I know you're all like macho man and everything, but that noise this morning was not appreciated. Some of us need our beauty sleep."

  He narrowed his eyes. "What noise? I wasn't here this morning. Poet was called out last night."

  Tillie's eyes rounded to the size of saucers. "But–"

  He dropped the groceries and flashed to the door, shoving the key in the lock, only it wasn't locked. The door swung open.

  "Holy fuck!" Tillie gasped behind him.

  "Call 911." He withdrew his automatic from its holster and glanced back at Tillie, who stood staring into the apartment. "Call 911, now, damn it! Get into your apartment." She nodded and spun, shoving her hand into her purse.

  There were drops of blood on the beige carpet. Pictures hung lopsided on the wall, several of Poet’s plaques had fallen from their mounts. Her mementos from the countries she'd been stationed in had fallen from their perches and several were broken. A bloody smudge on the oak colored shelf chilled him to the bone. He moved forward. The footstool had been tossed on its side, and the television hung off its shelf, dangling from the cable connection at the rear of the screen. He moved past the couch when he saw the spray of blood. Not much, nothing life threatening, but blood, nonetheless. He worked his way past the living room. Her bedroom wasn't disturbed. Her sheets had been thrown back, as if she'd just gotten up. He squatted at the far side of the living room and looked at the mayhem. He palmed his phone and called her. The phone went to voicemail immediately. He tried again. And again. He heard a siren in the distance. He placed a call to Carter Hopson.