by KaLyn Cooper
“Uhm, this is…”
Obviously intimidated by the new arrivals, Logan jumped in before the young man stumbled over himself. “I’m Marine Lieutenant Colonel Logan Jackson, godfather to the Davis children who are currently with their godmother. We have not yet informed them about the loss of their mother. I’m not sure if you are aware that their father’s funeral was yesterday.”
“We know,” the woman said.
Logan continued, tired of repeating himself. “Look, I’m just here to pick up some pajamas for them to sleep in tonight and a change of clothes for tomorrow morning. May I proceed?”
“I’m Melissa Cook from Fairfax County Department of Family Services. Exactly where are the Davis children?” For such a young little thing, she was rather demanding.
If there was one thing Logan Jackson despised, it was repeating himself. “Brann and Anora Davis are curled up on their godmother’s couch on the north east side of Falls Church.”
“Why were the children not with their mother?” Her question was quick and crisp.
Okay, where to start? Before he answered, he needed to find out who the man was. “Who are you?” Logan asked bluntly. He purposely looked at the man’s weapon. “Are things that bad around here that social services personnel carry G30s?” He said referring to the Glock subcompact .45 auto pistol in the man’s holster.
The corner of the man’s mouth kicked up. “You know your guns.”
Logan raised one eyebrow. “United States Marine Lieutenant Colonel. Guns are the difference between life and death in my business. I’ll only ask you this one more time, who the fuck are you?” If the pompous little shit didn’t answer him this time, he would simply walk past them into the house.
The cocky little bastard seemed to roll the question around in his brain before he finally answered. “I’m Detective Connor Russo, Major Crimes Investigation Division. This is my crime scene.”
Logan wanted to roll his eyes. If this guy was in charge, he was going to write it off as a suicide.
“Now, U.S. Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel Logan Jackson, answer Ms. Cook’s question,” the little prick demanded.
Answer only the question asked and tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, as clearly and concisely as possible, Logan counseled himself. “At approximately 1400 hours, that’s to two o’clock in the afternoon civilian time,” he sarcastically added for Detective Russo, “Teagan Williams and I took the children to the national zoo so Marsha could remove all of their father’s clothing from the house.”
When Russo started to ask a question, Logan pushed on. “On our way to return the children here,” he tilted his head toward the house completely lit up inside and out as darkness approached, “Matthew Saint Clare telephoned me asking me not to bring the children home. He said he had found their mother’s body with a gunshot wound to the head. We took the children to a park approximately eight blocks from here so Teagan and I could discuss the situation alone in the car. We decided the best course of action would be to take them to her apartment, feed them and allow them to sleep there overnight.”
He purposely focused his attention on Miss Cook. “As their godmother, they have spent several nights at her place.”
The young woman seemed to be appeased by his answers. “I will allow them to spend the night with her tonight. You mentioned you had not yet told the children about the death of their mother. If you would like, I can be there tomorrow morning and break the news to them.” She lifted her gaze to Logan’s. “I’m trained on handling this exact situation, and to reassure you, this isn’t my first, or my tenth.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” he instantly agreed.
Miss Cook giving the children the bad news could work out perfectly. They would never have to know that he and Teagan knew of their mother’s death the evening before. He was sure Teagan would also appreciate someone else delivering that heartbreaking news.
“I will accompany you to the children’s rooms.” She turned on her low, sensible heels and headed toward the house.
Logan started to follow when Detective Russo reached out and grabbed Logan’s elbow. He froze. He forced himself not to react. This man was a police officer. Breaking his hand, arm, or dislocating his shoulder would be a very bad idea.
Staring at the man’s hand on his arm, Logan warned, “Are you that damn dumb? Don’t you know any better than to touch an active duty military man, or woman? Do you have any idea how many ways I could…hurt you?” Thank Christ he caught himself before he said the word kill. “You have no idea who I am, so let me tell you. I command a battalion of the Marine Corps’ most highly trained special operators. Our version of the Army Green Berets, Navy SEALs, but better. We start with the Marines. And I can guarantee you I got this job by being the best of the best. If you know what’s good for you, remove your hand. Now.”
Logan knew he didn’t get through to the idiot when the younger man squared his shoulders and squeezed Logan’s elbow, ever so slightly but he felt it, before he let go. “After you get the kids’ clothes, I want to talk to you.”
“I’ll bet you do.” Logan caught up to Miss Cook, who had turned and waited for him.
“His case of little-man syndrome got so much worse when he got promoted to detective three months ago,” Ms. Cook said in a quiet voice. “He has no respect for the military. He’s just a bitter little man because he didn’t get into West Point, or the Naval Academy, or the Air Force Academy.” She gave him a fake grin. “But he got into the police academy. Aren’t we lucky?”
Logan grinned as she led the way into the house and up the stairs to Brann’s bedroom. Knowing they were far away from Detective Russo, he asked, “You seem to know a lot about him.”
She started opening drawers, but halted and turned to face him. “Every woman affiliated with the Fairfax County Police Department knows about the ‘Con’ man. He considers himself quite a lady’s man. He chased me for weeks when I first started working in this area of the county. Then he found out that I was a Navy brat, and that I had been married to a SEAL, his advances stopped cold. Trust me, I was ecstatic.”
Logan glanced at her left hand. He was well aware of the divorce rate in special operations. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with your SEAL.”
Her lips went into a straight line. “I loved Erik. And always will. We had three great years together.” Her voice broke as she looked down at her feet. “Firefight in northern Africa. Two other men were lost at the same time.” Her eyes met his. “I’m not supposed to know that, but Daddy knew, and he told me.”
“Is that why you moved to Fairfax County? To get away from the military?” Logan snagged a pair of jeans, a couple pair of underpants, and two T-shirts. That should last Brann several days.
“No. Kind of. Maybe.” It was as though she was trying to decide for herself as she spoke. “Daddy got transferred to the Pentagon and I just wanted to live closer to him and Mom. I had what they call a mortality check and realized my parents weren’t always going to be there.” She snickered. “They’re not always going to be here either. He’s decided to retire. Now, he just has to figure out what slice of oceanside beach he wants to live on.”
They moved across the hall to Anora’s room. Logan wasn’t sure he’d ever been in there. Llamas. There were fucking llamas everywhere. Llamas on the pillows, sheets, bedspread, curtains, walls. A stuffed llama stood in a chair. And pink. He hadn’t known there were so many shades of pink. The drawers of her dresser started light pink and were nearly red by the bottom drawer.
Ms. Cook was laughing. “You’re not used to little girls, are you?”
“It’s that obvious?”
She had already selected several little outfits, some long pants, a couple of shorts, tops with guess what…llamas, all shades of pink and purple. The social services woman grabbed a small pink suitcase from the corner, decorated with Disney princesses.
“Do you want to throw the boy’s clothes in here too?” She offere
d.
“Sure, what the hell.” He handed her the clothes and she laid them neatly into the suitcase.
As she stood, she looked at the picture on the dresser. “Is this her mother?”
Logan moved closer. “Yes. And her Aunt Ashley.”
Ms. Cook whipped around to look at him. “Are you directly related to the children?”
Logan shook his head. “No, I’m not a blood relative, and neither is Teagan. We are the children’s godparents. Marsha and Teagan were roommates back in flight school. They both flew Navy Seahawks and roomed together for years. Teagan introduced Marsha to Gabriel, her husband.”
She studied him for moment. “Are you and Teagan married?”
“No.” Fuck. Logan could see where this was going.
“Is Teagan married? Or are you?” She pressed.
“No.” He wouldn’t lie about this. Ever.
Ms. Cook picked up the picture. “Does Marsha have any other siblings?”
“No. There’s only Ashley.” Before Logan let this get out of hand, he quickly added, “She’s currently in rehab. Again.” He shrugged. “I’m not even sure which one, or for what, this time.”
Disappointment crossed the social services agent’s pretty face. Holding his gaze, Ms. Cook asked, “What about Mrs. Davis’s parents?”
The last thing Logan wanted to do was to turn those beautiful children over to Marsha’s parents. Neither seemed interested in their grandchildren. “They’re at an RV rally somewhere over on the Eastern Shore. They planned to drive north to Maine, taking the entire summer to get there.”
“They may be a possibility, but we prefer siblings.” she said as much to herself as to him. “Are you familiar with Mr. Davis’s family?”
“I know his father died from cancer several years ago and I think his mother passed before that. Gabe never mentioned any close relatives,” Logan admitted. He thought about it for a few minutes and couldn’t remember a single conversation involving brothers or sisters. Reflecting back, that wasn’t unusual. Logan rarely spoke of his family. “Perhaps Matt, that’s Matthew Saint Clare, downstairs, maybe he can answer that question. He worked with Gabe for over a decade.”
“I’ll ask him.” Her smile was sweet. “In the meantime, I’m satisfied leaving the children with you and…”
“Teagan,” he filled in. “Teagan Williams. Their godmother,” he added for reinforcement of their position.
Small pink suitcase in hand, Logan started down the hall. He peered into the open door of the master bedroom. Several cardboard boxes with folded tops sat next to the door, ready to be taken away. A stack of men’s suits was carelessly tossed onto the bed as though Marsha had been interrupted in her task.
Had someone rung the bell? Or broken in and forced her to the office downstairs? He needed to talk with Matthew. And to see the office.
Chapter Five
Teagan picked up a sleeping Anora and placed her on one of the twin beds in the spare bedroom that she thought of as theirs. She quickly stripped the little girl out of her shorts and top and slid the nightie over her head.
“Come on, buddy, let’s get those teeth brushed.” Logan was so good with Brann, Teagan thought as she covered Anora with the pink polka dot sheets and princess comforter. She loved the nights her godchildren spent with her.
“I love you, Anora. Sweet dreams,” The child was already asleep as Teagan bent and kissed her soft forehead.
She didn’t bother to hide her smile as she watched Logan tuck Brann into bed. “Night, buddy.”
“Good night, Uncle Logan,” a sleepy Brann mumbled. “Love you.”
Logan’s entire body froze for several heartbeats before he raked his fingers through the boy’s long bangs. “Sleep well.” He’d spoken the words just above a whisper.
Teagan stepped over to Brann’s bed and leaned in, kissing him on the forehead. “I love you, too.” Halfway across the room she realized Logan was still standing there staring at the young boy, already breathing evenly in his sleep.
She wrapped her fingers around Logan’s huge bicep, as much as she could. This man must work out every single day. He was in such good shape. She, on the other hand, hadn’t bothered with regular physical fitness since she left the Navy.
His eyes sliced to her but immediately softened before he laid his big hand over hers. When he started to speak, she shook her head and tilted it toward the door. She tugged him out of the children’s room and down the hall.
“I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.” Teagan said as she released his arm and turned into the kitchen. “I’m having red wine. Beer is in the fridge if you want one.”
He’d already opened the door and was snagging a bottle. “Who knew kids were so exhausting?”
She snickered. “Me. Parents. Grandparents who take the kids for a day.” She caught the fatigue in his eyes and knew it wasn’t physical. “Today has been exceptionally hard.”
“No shit,” he said as he sat on one end of the couch.
She took the other end and curled her legs under her. “For Christ sake, don’t keep me waiting,” she demanded.
He took a long swig of beer. “Be glad you didn’t go. I thank Christ that Matt called us. I wouldn’t want the children anywhere near there. The place was crawling with cops and the detective in charge was a snot-nosed, fucking little prick.”
She gave him a sarcastic grin. “Were we not able to make friends and play nice?”
“I was in no mood to put up with his little-dick syndrome.” Logan took another sip. “He came charging out of the house with the social services lady before I even got to their walkway. At least she was nice. After a while.” He looked up at Teagan and held her gaze. “Melissa Cook will be here tomorrow morning. She’ll tell the children. She has training dealing with kids in this kind of situation.”
Teagan closed her eyes and sent a prayer to God and all the angels in heaven, thanking them for relieving her of that burden. Heaven’s newest angel popped into her head. Marsha. Fighting back the tears, she decided to take comfort in knowing that her friend was sending what she needed to take care of her children. She let out a long sigh. “Thank you for asking her to do that.”
“She volunteered. She’ll be checking us out at the same time.” After a second, he amended, “Mostly you. She said they normally prefer the children to go to a family member, but once I told her about Ashley, she seemed to be okay with you taking care of them, at least for tonight.”
“They don’t have anyone else,” Teagan pointed out. “And like I told you before, those two little kids are not going into the system.” She would do everything within her power to keep them with her.
“What do you know about Gabriel’s family?” His question didn’t surprise her as much as her answer did.
“I don’t know much about Gabe at all,” she admitted. “I don’t even know where he’s from.”
“Nobody seems to know.” Logan took another sip. “Matthew didn’t know about Gabe’s past, either. He offered to try to use the resources at the CIA to see what he could find, but he didn’t sound hopeful.”
“Do you think social services will try to take them away from us, tomorrow?” She really needed to know what to expect so she could prepare to counter anything they said.
Deep furrows appeared between Logan’s eyebrows. “Teagan, I think what you really mean is; will Ms. Cook try to take the children away from you. You’re the one who has been part of their lives. I’m just another fun uncle to Brann. Whenever I’m in town, I’ll stop by to see him. I’ll take him to a baseball game, go to the batting cage, or sometimes just take him out for burgers and a movie. I told you before, I really don’t have a relationship with Anora.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rolled the beer bottle between his palms. “I’m supposed to be back at Camp Lejeune within three days. I wish I could help, but I don’t know how.”
The severity of the situation hit her.
She was in this…alone.
Damn. I am such an idiot.
Logan was active duty. He had to go wherever Uncle Sam sent him and do whatever he was ordered. He didn’t have time for a seven-year-old boy and a four-year-old girl. He lived three-hundred fifty miles away. If she needed him, it would take him at least six hours to drive.
Worse, he didn’t seem to want to help.
Children were such a huge responsibility. Parenting wasn’t a job she could leave at the end of the day. It was twenty-four seven. And kids weren’t easy. They were little people. Teagan knew from experience that both children got tired and cranky. They could say things they really didn’t mean, but the words still hurt. There were so many lessons they had to learn about life that parents taught every day.
For the first time, she wondered if she could handle it. In the past, she’d taken care of Anora and Brann for a day, here and there. Sometimes they would stay overnight. Once, she’d even had them all weekend. She was so exhausted by Monday, she called in sick and slept the entire day. She knew Marsha didn’t do that. Her friend must have secretly been superwoman to work a full-time job, take care of two children alone, and maintain her sanity.
Teagan didn’t think she could do it. Before she started into her own personal pity party, Logan’s voice broke the silence of the room.
“On the desk computer was what could be considered a suicide note.” He held up his hand before she could protest. “Matt had his computer guru already on it before the local PD arrived. It’s possible that someone, not in the room, had typed the note. Since the computer was technically Gabe’s, Matthew told the locals that it was CIA property and may contain classified information, so they were not allowed to even touch the keyboard. He was going to take everything back to Langley and have his lab test for fingerprints and outsiders using the mainframe remotely.”
“So, Matt believes that she was…” Teagan’s throat seized. She couldn’t say the word. Murdered. “Why the hell would anyone want to hurt Marsha?”
