Lethal Legacy: A Novel (Guardians of Justice)

by Hannon, Irene

  If he ever got into trouble, Cole hoped he’d be lucky enough to have a Kelly Warren in his corner. She had the tenacity of a bulldog when it came to defending someone she loved.

  Cole rose, planted one fist on his hip, and raked his fingers through his hair. When he’d come here today, he’d planned to let her down easy. To suggest her father had simply hidden his despair from her. Remind her that not everyone who committed suicide posted warning signs.

  But the strength of her conviction made him vacillate. “I can see I’m not convincing you.”

  “I knew my father, Detective Taylor.” She lifted her chin, in a dig-in-her-heels gesture he was coming to recognize. “Short of finding a note in his own hand, I won’t believe he took his life. Even then I’d have doubts.”

  “In your statement in the case file, you admitted he seemed a bit down in the last weeks of his life.”

  “No!” Her eyes flashed, and her nostrils flared. “I never used that word. He was a little . . . contemplative, maybe. Quieter. Who wouldn’t be, after hearing a diagnosis like that? But he was not depressed.”

  Her vehemence was persuasive. Drawing a breath, Cole capitulated. “Okay. Let me do this. I’ll talk to Detective Carlson after he returns. The two of us will review the case, maybe pull in a few more people to get some fresh thinking. Have you been through all of your father’s things?”

  “No. I’m getting ready to put his house on the market, but I hadn’t planned to sort through everything until I officially listed it with the real estate agent.” She linked her fingers and looked down at her clasped hands. “It’s very hard for me to . . . to be there right now.”

  “I can understand that. But there’s a chance you might find something helpful that only you would recognize as significant. And if you do, I promise you we’ll follow up on it.”

  She raised her chin, and a faint glimmer of hope reignited in her eyes. “So you’re not closing the door on this?”

  “No. If there’s been a miscarriage of justice, we’re as interested in fixing it as you are.”

  “Okay. I’ll start going through his things.” She exhaled, and her taut posture eased. “Thank you.”

  “I’m just doing my job. And now I’ll let you get back to yours.”

  He crossed the room toward the door, turning when he reached it. She’d followed him partway, and the late-afternoon sunlight backlit her as it slanted through the window, burnishing her russet hair and isolating her slender form in a corona of light. And she was, indeed, isolated. As he’d learned from the case file, she had no family left. Her mother had died when she was twelve, and there were no siblings.

  That had to be tough. All his life, Cole had been surrounded by love. He still had his mother, and while he might complain that Alison was too independent for her own good and Jake took his big-brother role too seriously, he knew he could count on them, no matter what. That in a time of crisis, they’d both be by his side.

  Kelly Warren didn’t have that kind of support system.

  And being strong and capable and determined didn’t compensate for that lack.

  For a fleeting moment, he was overcome by a powerful urge to take her hand. Link his fingers with hers and assure her she wasn’t alone. That if she needed help of any kind—case-related or not—he’d provide it.

  But that was crazy. As he’d told Mitch yesterday, he never mixed business and pleasure—and he didn’t intend to start now.

  Grasping the handle, Cole pulled the door open and stepped onto the small front porch. “I’ll be in touch, Ms. Warren.”

  With that, he strode down the walk toward his car without looking back.

  Because if he did, if he saw her solitary figure silhouetted in the doorway, he was afraid the urge to take a personal interest in this case would resurface.

  And he was even more afraid that this time he wouldn’t be able to resist.

  At the sudden ring of her cell phone in the oppressive quiet of her father’s house, Kelly dropped the file folder she’d just retrieved from his desk drawer and watched in dismay as the contents flew in all directions and wafted down to the carpet.

  Muttering in disgust, she rose from her chair, hopscotched over the cascade of papers, and trotted toward the kitchen. By the time her fingers closed over her phone in the depths of her purse, it was on the third ring. She jabbed at the talk button, not bothering to check caller ID before saying hello.

  “Hey, Kelly. It’s Lauren. I just had a great idea. Why don’t we dig our skates out of the closet and hit the rink?”

  Kelly leaned a shoulder against the wall, surprised by her best friend’s suggestion. Although they’d met as sixteen-year-olds in a figure skating class dominated by kids half their age, these days their get-togethers were usually over lunch or coffee. “I haven’t skated in years.”

  “Me neither, but I’m game to give it a try. If we could pick each other up off the ice as teenagers while our junior counterparts snickered behind our backs, we can do it again. And I bet we could still do three turns and waltz jumps. Now that fall is here, I’m in the mood for winter sports.”

  Kelly stared out the window of her childhood home. Fall had arrived. In the almost two weeks since Detective Taylor had paid her a visit, the color on the three giant maples that dominated the backyard had gone from pretty to spectacular.

  Her dad had loved their glorious autumn display.

  The scene blurred, and Kelly turned away, blinking back tears. “I’m sure you have better things to do on a Saturday morning than risk breaking a leg at the rink. Go out with that gorgeous husband of yours. Or take the twins to the park on this sunny day. It might be your last chance before winter.” Although she tried to sound upbeat, Lauren wouldn’t be fooled by her too-bright tone. They knew each other too well.

  “My family won’t miss me for an hour or two, and Shaun needs some quality one-on-one time with the kids. I already convinced him to take them to the Magic House.”

  As Lauren talked, Kelly wandered back into her father’s office and surveyed the papers strewn on the floor. She’d been digging into every nook and cranny of the house, searching for something—anything—that might pique the interest of the police and give them a concrete lead to follow. A reason to reopen the case.

  So far, she’d come up empty.

  But she wasn’t yet ready to throw in the towel.

  “I appreciate the offer, Lauren, but with two deadlines looming I haven’t been able to put in as much time as I’d like going through my dad’s stuff. I was planning to spend the morning here.”

  “You’re there now?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want some company? I could pick up coffee along the way.”

  Throat tightening, Kelly dropped into the desk chair. Lauren knew she and her father had met every Saturday for coffee—and that his death had left an aching void in that part of her week. “I stopped at the coffee shop for a takeout on my way here this morning. But thanks for being such a great friend.”

  “Hey, I’m just looking for an excuse to get out of the house. If I hang around, I’ll have to clean bathrooms.”

  “Why? Use the quiet time to take a bubble bath instead.”

  “Ooh. Low blow. You know that’s one of my favorite indulgences.”

  “And I bet you don’t get to enjoy it very often with two five-year-olds in the house. We’ll meet for coffee next Saturday. I promise.”

  “Hmm.” A moment of silence passed. “I have to admit a warm bubble bath does sound better than a cold ice rink.”

  “Go for it. I’ll call later in the week and set up a time for next Saturday.”

  “Okay, okay. You convinced me. Good luck with your search.”

  “Thanks. Talk to you soon.”

  As the line went dead, Kelly turned off her phone and leaned back in her father’s chair, trying to stifle a niggle of envy. Lauren had it all. Great career as one of St. Louis’s up-and-coming attorneys. Devoted husband. Happy family. A home filled with
love to return to at the end of the day.

  Annoyed at the flutter of jealousy, Kelly dropped to the floor and began to gather up her father’s papers. Sure, she’d like all those things too, but that didn’t mean she begrudged Lauren the blessings that had graced her life. Their situations were just different. After all, meeting the right man wasn’t easy when you worked out of your home in a solitary occupation. Few men like Cole Taylor crossed her threshold.

  Kelly froze as an image of the tall, dark-haired detective flashed across her mind—then, with a shake of her head, she got up and tapped the file against the desk to settle the papers. Talk about pathetic. She must be really hard up if she was fantasizing about strangers. Cole Taylor was in her life for one reason, and one reason only—to dig deeper into her father’s death. There was no place for romance in that scenario.

  Obviously, she was spending too much time alone at her easel.

  As she set the file on the desk and prepared to tackle the next drawer, she was glad she’d committed to coffee next week. An hour or two with her friend would help fill in some of the gaps in her social life.

  But much as she looked forward to seeing Lauren, it didn’t have quite the same appeal as a date with a handsome detective.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Cole circled the table at the popular West County Sunday brunch spot and leaned down to give his new sister-in-law a hug. “Welcome back from Bermuda.” Straightening up, he shook Jake’s hand. “How was the honeymoon?”

  Jake grinned at him, wiggled his eyebrows, and tugged his bride close. Liz blushed.

  “Never mind.” Cole’s lips quirked into a smile as he slid into the empty chair and picked up a menu. “I get the picture.”

  “So what have you been doing all morning?” Beside him, Alison rested an elbow on the table and propped her chin in her palm.

  “Working.” He hid behind the oversized menu.

  She pushed it down with one finger. “You couldn’t spare an hour to go to church with your family?”

  Cole shot her an annoyed glance. Since he’d stopped attending services four years ago, she’d been relentless in her quest to prod him back onto the straight and narrow. She should have become an FBI interrogator instead of a Children’s Division social worker. She had the dogged determination for it.

  “She’s right,” Jake chimed in. “It wouldn’t hurt you to darken the door of a church once in a while.”

  “Like you’ve been so diligent.”

  “I am now.”

  “I wonder why?” He sent a pointed look toward Liz.

  “Hey—it was his choice. I only dictate people’s fate from the bench,” his new wife protested.

  Jake reached over and twined his fingers with hers. “Judge Michaels is correct. She did get me thinking about it, but I came to the decision on my own. To use a cliché, I saw the light.”

  “Say . . .” Alison leaned forward, her expression speculative. “Maybe that’s the answer. If we match Cole up with a nice churchgoing woman, she might have a positive influence on him.”

  Cole eyed the exit. Maybe he’d fake a phone call and pretend he was needed for a case.

  “Yeah.” Mitch joined in the fun. “How about that redhead you were ogling at work a couple of weeks ago?”

  “What redhead?” Alison’s head swiveled toward her fiancé.

  “Let it go.” Cole shot his colleague a warning look.

  “No way,” Alison protested, refocusing on him. “Now I’m intrigued. Who is this woman?”

  “She’s part of a case.”

  “She won’t be once it’s resolved.” Mitch swirled the orange juice in his glass, grinning. “And you must be interested. You’ve brought her up a dozen times in the past two weeks.”

  Had he? Cole felt heat begin to creep up his neck.

  Yeah, maybe.

  “And I saw you googling her website the other day. Looking at watercolor paintings of woodland fairies.”

  Alison’s mouth dropped open. “Woodland fairies!?”

  Cole gritted his teeth. “I was doing research. She’s a commercial artist.”

  “And a churchgoer. Didn’t you mention she and her father always attended services together?” Mitch added.

  Huffing out a breath, Cole surveyed the table. “Okay. I came for brunch, not the third degree. Alison, since you started this, I’ll address my comments to you. If and when I decide to return to church, I promise you’ll be the first to know. Until then, to put it as diplomatically as I can, back off.”

  His sister stared at him, sniffed, and went back to perusing her menu. “Fine. I was just trying to encourage you to do the right thing. From now on, you’re on your own.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  She made a face at him. “I guess that means you’re not going to tell us about this woman, either.”

  “Nope.” He took a drink of his water.

  “That’s okay.” She tucked her arm in her fiancé’s and gave Cole a smug smile. “I’ll get it out of Mitch later.”

  Across the table, Jake stifled a chuckle behind his napkin. Liz didn’t even try to hide her amusement.

  Cole pinned Mitch with an intent look. The other man gave him a sheepish shrug. Meaning the tough, former Navy SEAL was putty in his intended’s hands.

  Good to know. From now on, he’d pick and choose his words carefully around his future brother-in-law.

  They ordered, and the talk shifted to Bermuda, then to Mitch and Alison’s wedding plans. Cole let the conversation flow around him, tuning out much of it, focusing on his food once his order was delivered. The topic depressed him. He’d never worried much about finding the right woman and getting married. It was just one of those things he assumed would happen eventually. Though he had to admit the women he’d been dating for the past few years didn’t fit his criteria for a life partner.

  As for his relationship with God—he doubted a reconciliation was in the cards.

  All at once, the bite of eggs Benedict in his mouth lost its flavor, and he took a swig of orange juice to wash it down. Then he set his fork on the table and shoved his plate aside.

  “What’s with you?” Mitch gestured to his food. “You usually scarf down every bite of that dish.”

  The conversation stopped as everyone checked out his half-eaten meal. Once again, his neck warmed.

  “Are you sick?” Alison frowned at him.

  “No. Full.”

  “You sure everything’s okay?” Jake narrowed his eyes.

  Exasperated by the attention, Cole opened his mouth to express his annoyance.

  And then he thought of Kelly Warren, who had no family left to bug her. Or care about her.

  He closed his mouth.

  Alison lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to tell us to butt out?”

  “No. I appreciate your concern.”

  She glanced at Jake, then back at him. “Is this for real?”

  “Yeah. I know you guys have my best interest at heart.”

  Alison set her own fork down and gave him her full attention. “Cole Taylor, the diplomat. This is a new one. To what can we attribute your remarkable new sensitivity and tact?”

  “Could it have something to do with Kelly Warren?” Mitch grinned at him.

  “Who’s Kelly Warren?” Alison asked.

  “The redhead.”

  “Ah.” Alison gave a sage nod. “Interesting.”

  It took every ounce of Cole’s self-control to maintain a cool, nonchalant demeanor. “You all are jumping to too many conclusions. I’ve only seen the woman twice.”

  “Twice? She came in again?” Mitch’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

  Great. He’d walked right into that one.

  Feigning indifference, he lifted one shoulder and picked up his coffee. “I delivered the bad news about my case review in person. She was on my route home.”

  “Very considerate.” Mitch hid his grin by opening his mouth and shoving in a forkful of food.

  Cole shot him a
dirty look over the rim of his cup.

  “I’d like to meet this woman,” Alison said.

  “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Why not? Don’t you ever want to get married?”

  Cole choked on the sip of coffee he’d just taken. At least the coughing gave him a few seconds to regroup. “Alison, I know you have romance on the brain now that you’re engaged, but not everyone is panting to rush down the aisle.”

  “You’re thirty-six Cole. I’d hardly call that rushing.”

  “Very funny.”

  Liz, who’d been watching the whole exchange with amusement, finally took pity on him. “I have a suggestion. Since this is supposed to be a brunch, not a barbecue, why don’t we stop grilling Cole and talk about Thanksgiving plans instead?”

  As the conversation shifted yet again, Cole telegraphed a silent thank-you to his new sister-in-law. She responded with a wink.

  But half an hour later, the earlier conversation about Kelly Warren—and his faith—came back to him as he maneuvered his car through a surge of traffic exiting from a church parking lot. Though he’d never admit it to his siblings, there were some gaps in his life. He had no significant other, and his relationship with God was toast.

  Neither had bothered him a whole lot until recently. But all at once, he had a yearning for the companionship of a woman who would be more than a fun date. An intelligent woman of character and substance and courage.

  A woman like Kelly Warren.

  And as he merged onto the highway and accelerated into the traffic, he also felt the first stirring of a need to reconnect with his faith. A subtle longing to feel again the absolute trust and confidence in God that had once been the foundation of his life.

  Too bad he had no idea how to achieve either of those goals.

  3

  “Cole? I got your message. What’s up?”

  Angling away from the copy machine, Cole took in Alan Carlson’s sun-bleached blond hair and dark tan. “Wow. Did you spend every minute on the beach?”