“Got it.”
Carly left Catelyn, Ian and the other arriving officers and made a slow tour of the perimeter of the fence. The house sat at the top of horseshoe-shaped drive. Thankfully, there weren’t any dogs.
Carly finally found a spot where she could safely scale the fence. The back of the house nudged up against the woods. Several cut trees lay against the fence as though waiting to be hauled off.
Perfect.
Placing one foot on the wood, she carefully launched herself up and over the fence. Skirting the cameras she noticed on each corner of the house just in case, she made her way to the nearest window. The drapes had been drawn, but there was a crack, and she could see in. The den was empty, but the light was on.
Slowly, she moved toward the next window. The kitchen.
The parted blinds allowed her a partial view of the breakfast table. An older lady sat at one end, but she couldn’t see if anyone occupied the chair at the other. Then a small hand reached for a piece of toast, and Carly caught her breath. Christopher.
She was right. But who was with him?
A cold, hard object pressed against the back of her head, and she froze.
“Well, well, so you aren’t as dumb as I figured.”
“And you, Debbie Thomas, deserve an Oscar.”
FOURTEEN
Nicholas rode in silence to the courthouse. Two police cars followed behind, one ahead. They weren’t taking any chances making sure he got there in one piece. A fact he appreciated, but he couldn’t help wondering what Carly was up to. She’d asked him to stay away from Wayne.
A ridiculous request in his opinion, but now that he was thinking clearly, he was able to wonder what kind of information she had that she needed to check out.
He gave himself a mental slap. If he hadn’t reacted so strongly, so emotionally, he might have asked her what kind of evidence she had that made her suspect Wayne. And now she was going off and checking something out.
She would possibly be in danger.
His heart ached at the thought of her being hurt. The fact that he could lose her sent stabs of fear through him, and he realized with some amount of shock that losing her might be something he wouldn’t be able to recover from.
He also realized he was thinking of a future with Carly—and with Christopher. He couldn’t think of one without the boy. The lump that had been in his throat ever since he’d learned of Christopher’s disappearance seemed to swell, blocking his air.
He gasped, and Mason looked at him. “Are you all right?”
Nick shut his eyes for a moment and swallowed, trying to force the lump down. It didn’t go far. “Just thinking about Christopher.”
Understanding flashed on the man’s face. “Yeah.”
“Do you know what Carly found out?”
“No, she didn’t tell me. Said if she was wrong she just wanted to let it drop.”
“I should have asked her why she suspects Wayne. Instead, I went off on her. But she’s wrong,” Nick insisted. “Wayne wouldn’t have anything to do with that. I mean, why kidnap his own daughter? It doesn’t make sense.” He frowned. “Still, if Carly suspects Wayne, isn’t that dangerous, investigating that on her own?”
Mason gave a laugh. “Yes, but that’s Carly.” Compassion lit his gaze as he saw the worried expression on Nick’s face. “She’ll be careful, and she won’t be alone. She’s got backup.”
“So, she does this kind of thing on a regular basis?” He could lose her.
The shaft of pain that bolted through him stunned him.
Mason sighed. “Look, Nick. Carly is good at her job. Yeah, she had a rough spot for a while when Hank was killed, but she doesn’t have a death wish. She’s careful and she’s good. She’ll be fine.”
Nick wanted to believe that. With everything in him, he did. But could he?
He had to. Just like he’d entrusted Christopher into God’s capable and loving hands, he realized he had to do the same with Carly.
Please, Lord, watch over her….
And then there was the trial. The heaviness he’d carried on his shoulders since learning of Christopher’s disappearance seemed to triple in weight.
Oh, God, I need Your help, Your guidance. Show me what to do today. I still don’t know whether to recuse myself or sit on the trial. I know You’re a God of justice, and I feel like You’ve placed me where I am today to help carry out that justice…but, God…Christopher. Can I really follow through with this knowing they’ll kill him?
And with a clarity that startled him, he knew he couldn’t.
I can’t do it, God. I can’t. If I sit on that trial and they find Christopher’s body, how would I live with myself? I would feel like a murderer. How can You ask me to do this?
The prayer was silent, but the cry echoed in his heart and mind like a shout over the Grand Canyon. For the first time, real anger stirred past the fear, and Nick had to exert serious effort to tamp it down, reminding himself of God’s promises, His steadfast love, His plans known only to Him.
“We’re here.”
Mason’s voice cut into his prayers. Taking a deep breath, Nick waited for the marshal to come around and open his door. Police cars waited on either side of him.
They were waiting for him to exit the car so they could safely escort him into the building. The darkness of the parking garage pressed in on him. It angered him that he felt like he needed to look behind every car and cement pillar to make sure no one lurked, ready to shoot or jump out at him.
Squaring his shoulders, he released his seat belt and patted the BlackBerry that had been returned to him. Protection would continue throughout the trial and as long as the threat existed. He hoped that threat would be nonexistent after today.
Please, God, tell me what to do. I can’t put Christopher on the line. How can You?
“For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you, not to harm you….” He whispered the verse out loud.
Mason opened the door, and Nick stepped out. His phone vibrated, and he saw that Wayne was calling.
Following Mason as the man crossed the parking garage toward the elevator, Nick noticed two police officers following close behind.
He hesitated, Carly’s words ringing in his ears. Then he cleared his throat and answered his phone, “Hello?”
“So, what’s the verdict? Are you going to do the smart thing and let me preside over this trial? I’m here and ready to step in.” Nick froze. Are you going to do the smart thing? Are you going to do the smart thing? Are you going…
His breath left him.
“Nick? Nick? Are you all right? You need to keep moving. You can’t just stand here in the garage. It’s not safe.” Mason’s voice seemed to come from the end of a long tunnel. Nick blinked, fury rising up in him. He took a deep breath.
“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, Wayne, let’s talk.”
“I’m in my chambers.”
“I’ll be there in less than a minute.”
Nick’s footsteps echoed back at him as he hurried down the hall, Mason trailing behind him. He ignored the man’s command to slow down. Rage thundered through him. He had to know…
Rounding the corner, a sudden thought occurred to him, and he did a one-eighty. Mason pounded along beside him. “What are you doing, Nick?”
“I need to get something from my office.”
“All right. But I can tell. You’re up to something.”
“I need to talk to someone.”
Nick knew his words were clipped. He wasn’t keeping Mason in the dark on purpose; he just wasn’t finished processing what he suspected.
Without stopping, he shoved open the door to his chambers and waved Jean down as she popped to her feet.
“Good morning, Nick.”
“Morning.” Never breaking stride, he hit the door to his inner chambers. He went straight to his desk, yanked open the top drawer to his right and pulled out what he’d come for. He slipped the device into his suit coa
t pocket and whirled back for the exit.
Mason once again shadowed Nick’s footsteps. “Nick, if you’re going to see Wayne, I need to ask that you not do that. Not until Carly finishes looking into whatever it is she’s looking into.”
“I don’t have time to wait on her. I’m going to get to the bottom of this myself.”
Mason placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder and brought him to a halt. Narrow-eyed, the marshal told him, “I can’t let you do that.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“It might not be safe.”
“I’m willing to take that chance. You don’t have to come with me. In fact, as of this moment, you’re off the case.”
Mason snorted. “Right. If you’re dead set on doing this, you’ll need someone to have your back.”
Nick stopped, looked the officer in the eye. “Thank you.”
The marshal’s shoulders lifted in a resigned shrug, and Nick felt a twinge of guilt. Was he putting Mason in danger? He couldn’t do that.
“No. If I’m acting irresponsibly, I can’t put you in harm’s way. You stay out here.”
A laugh erupted from Mason. “As if. To borrow your line, you can’t stop me from going with you.”
Nick gave a short nod but was deeply appreciative of Mason’s willingness to be so diligent in his job. He whispered a prayer for his safety.
Jaw set with purpose, he walked over one hall and turned left. At the first door on the right, he raised his fist and knocked.
The door opened, and Wayne Thomas stood there in his judicial robe, his left hand completing the task of zipping it.
“May we come in?”
“Sure, but make it quick, I have a trial starting shortly.”
“Tell them it’s going to be delayed for a bit. We have to talk.” Nick bit down hard on his tongue to keep from hurling the words his brain wanted him to speak.
Wayne’s eyes grew wary. “What’s this all about?”
Mason stepped to the side, eyes watchful. “Nick? You want to fill me in on what you’re doing?”
“I’m exposing the man who had my nephew kidnapped.”
Mason tensed, and his eyes darted to Judge Wayne Thomas. “Come on, Nick, you can’t just throw that out without some serious evidence to back it up.”
Nostrils flaring, Wayne glared at Nick. “Exactly. After all the years of friendship, working together, getting each other through the lousy times in our lives, you would accuse me of having something to do with Christopher’s disappearance?”
Nick felt his phone vibrate. He ignored it. “I just put it all together.”
Wayne crossed to his desk, settled into his chair and laced his fingers across his stomach. Disdain dripped from him. Not the emotion Nick had been hoping for. Hurt or shock, maybe even disbelief are what he’d wanted to see on his friend’s face when Nick dropped his bombshell.
Grief ripped through him. The disdain said it all. “Why, Wayne?”
The man’s hand flashed like lightning, and before Nick could blink, he was staring at the wrong end of a serious weapon—complete with silencer. Mason moved almost as fast, but before his hand could pull his own gun, a slight pop sounded and the marshal dropped to the floor, a hole in his chest and the red stain spreading fast. “Ah…”
A phone rang, and Nick raced to the fallen marshal. Ignoring the ringing phone and Wayne’s orders to leave the man alone, he grabbed the clean handkerchief he’d put in his pocket that morning and held it against Mason’s chest. “Hang on, Mason. We’re going to get out of this.” He couldn’t tell exactly how badly the man was hit. Rage hit him—anger and extreme guilt at himself for putting Mason in danger, and bitter fury at the man who’d done so many despicable acts. He looked at Wayne. “Are you crazy?”
Wayne held the gun on Nick. “No. Tired. And maybe a little desperate.”
“Desperate? You just shot a man! A U.S. Marshal! He needs an ambulance.”
“It’s too late to worry about him. The people I work for want me on the de Lugo trial, and that’s the way it’s going to play out. I was hoping you would do the smart thing and recuse yourself, but your lousy integrity just wouldn’t let you do it, would it?” He sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
Cold fear and a fury like he’d never felt before swept over Nick, blinding him for a moment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had to keep his cool or he was a dead man. And if he died, where did that leave Christopher and Lindsey? He whispered a quick, desperate prayer, then looked down at the unconscious man whose blood now covered his hands. And now Mason was hurt because of him.
Taking a deep breath, Nick faced the man he thought he could trust with his life. The man who would gain custody of Lindsey and Christopher should anything happen to Nick. His stomach turned at the thought.
There was no way he could let that happen.
“You won’t get away with this, Wayne.”
Wayne smirked. “Oh, don’t be so clichéd. Of course I will.”
“You’re in de Lugo’s pocket. That trial two years ago, the one that I passed over to you, the defendants were connected to the de Lugo family, weren’t they?”
“Yes.”
Pain nearly shattered him. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “So is Debbie in this with you?”
“Of course. I couldn’t have done it without her.”
“She let you know where we were the whole time, didn’t she?”
“Yes. All we had to do was track her cell phone. Now, we’re going to move out of here and down the hall like everything is just fine.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Where’s Christopher?”
“Christopher is just fine. A very happy little boy who loves my daughter like his own mother.”
Nick’s fingers curled into fists, and he wanted nothing more than to smash the man’s face. God help me. With effort, he pulled in another calming breath, ordering himself to keep calm. He couldn’t act on impulse. “Speaking of Christopher’s mother, my sister—you had something to do with her death, didn’t you?”
Surprise lifted Wayne’s brow. He paused, still standing behind his desk. “Now, what would make you ask that?”
“Because two years ago, right before she died, when we were still working together in Myrtle Beach, you started pressuring me to recuse myself and hand a specific trial over to you. I refused. Your words, ‘Are you going to do the smart thing and let me take care of it?’ were the same as the ones you said to me while I was on the way up here. I refused back then, and my wife and sister died in a one-car ‘accident.’ I refused this time, and my life is threatened and my nephew kidnapped.”
“Could have just been a coincidence. But you’re right—it wasn’t. Still, I don’t have time to explain.” Wayne waved the gun then pointed it back at Nick. “Now, we need to get going. I gave my secretary the day off because I figured I might need to take some drastic action. I didn’t picture it quite like this, however. Now, I’ve got business to take care of.” He looked down at Mason. “And I’ve got to get that cleaned up. Help me get him hidden in the bathroom.”
“Help you? I don’t think so. We’re not doing anything until you explain yourself. You’re admitting you had my wife and sister killed?”
Sickness almost overcame Nick. How had a man he’d loved and trusted become so warped and twisted?
Wayne pointed the gun at the wounded man and growled. “Yes. Now move him, or I’ll put another bullet in him. This time I’ll aim for his head.”
Right now, Mason was still alive. Barely, but he seemed to be hanging on. If Nick refused, a bullet to the head would end all hope of Mason surviving.
Feeling helpless and hating it intensely, Nick shot Wayne a glare. Offering a silent plea for forgiveness from Mason, Nick reached down and slid his hands under the marshal’s armpits. Being as gentle as possible, trying not to do any more damage, he pulled Mason inch by inch into the bathroom.
He laid him on the rug in front of the shower. The wound had opened up and was ble
eding again due to the movement. Nick laid two fingers against the man’s throat. His pulse was slow and thready. Mason needed help, and he needed it fast. Whispering a prayer over the marshal he’d come to respect and consider a friend, Nick left him in the hands of God.
With a wary eye on Wayne—once his closest friend— Nick stepped out of the bathroom.
“Shut the door.”
Nick didn’t bother arguing. He shut it.
When Wayne grabbed the Do Not Disturb sign, Nick knew that once the man hung it on the outer chamber door, no one would dare enter. Mason would lie there and bleed to death while Wayne took care of Nick elsewhere. But he needed Nick alive for now. Nick still hadn’t recused himself from the case.
Of course, if he were dead it wouldn’t be an issue. But then again, the trial might be postponed and there would always be the chance that another judge other than Wayne would be appointed to it. If Nick recused himself, he could recommend that Wayne replace him and no one would think anything of it.
“Why not just shoot me here?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know why.” Wayne smirked. “Plus, it’s too much trouble to clean up two dead bodies. One, I might get away with, but two? I don’t think so.”
Nick dug in his heels. “I’m not budging. Tell me why you killed Miriam and my sister.”
A disgruntled sigh blew from the judge. “It wasn’t supposed to be them. It was supposed to be you. Miriam was driving your car.” He shook his head as though disgusted. “I figured we’d have to try again. However, after their deaths you did us a huge favor. You fell apart, and we didn’t have to worry about you for a while.”
It was all Nick could do to contain himself from launching across the desk and strangling the man. However, the gun held in Wayne’s very steady hand made him pause and reconsider.
Then Wayne came from behind the desk and said, “Walk toward the door.”
Stubbornly, Nick held his ground.
Protective Custody Page 15
