by J. M. Madden
“Can’t help you.”
“Damn it, Nash! You have no idea how much your CI can help. It’ll save lives. It’ll save a lot more than that if you just help us out.”
He shot her another look, this one softer. “What do you know?”
“I can’t tell you.” God, how she wished she could.
“Tell me why you need my CI, and I’ll think about helping you.”
“I can’t tell you!” she repeated louder, desperate to think of a way around the gag order TREX had on her. She knew what he wanted more than anything. He also wanted to protect this CI more than anything. Maybe, just maybe, if she gave him what he wanted, he may just do the same for her.
She didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not like this. Using something so personal seemed wrong. They needed to talk about it, to do something to cut through the black cloud hovering over their past and invading their future.
Here goes nothing.
“I was ashamed,” she started softly, keeping her expression hidden behind a veil of hair. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified to tell you. I thought you’d be mad that we weren’t more careful. But then you came home and saw the test. I held by breath…” she swallowed as the emotions tightened her throat.
“I dropped on one knee right there and then,” he said, his voice thick. This tore him up as much as it did her. “I’d been carrying that damn ring with me for almost a month, looking for the right time to ask.”
Jerking her head up, she rounded her eyes. “You never told me that.”
“You never asked.” He glanced her way. Their gazes collided, and a lifetime of uncertainty and understanding passed between them.
It wasn’t enough. He needed the entire story. As painful as it was to remember, she had to get it out. For him. For her. She dropped her attention to her hands on her lap. “We were so happy. I was scared because of it. No one has a perfect life, but ours was pretty damn close.” Her breath hitched as her voice broke. Nash sucked in a quick breath. The pain wasn’t lost on him.
When she regrouped enough to go on, she did. “And then I lost the baby, and our world fell apart. I was so ashamed.” She wiped at her eyes and nose, pissed she couldn’t control her emotions.
“You had nothing to be ashamed about. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“No, Michaela. It wasn’t. Stop blaming yourself.”
“How can I if you still do?” As soon as she delivered it, she wished she hadn’t. He snapped his brow into a frown and stared straight ahead, closing the subject. Damn it. She opened the glove box in search of a napkin. Finding a bag, she pulled it out.
“No, don’t.” Nash went to grab it. She easily moved it out of his reach and opened the bag, pulling out the contents. It was a lighthouse with a plug.
“Is this a nightlight?”
He handed her a wad of napkins from a fast food restaurant and grabbed the light in a single move. She let him take it as she wiped at her tears. He returned it to the bag and kept it in his lap. “It’s a gift.”
“For?”
With a heavy sigh, he lost all expression. “My CI. She loves lighthouses and is afraid of the dark.”
Holy hell. His CI was a kid? Mike kept her comment to herself and finished wiping away the evidence of her meltdown. She thought confessing to him would make her feel better. It didn’t. Now, she only felt worse, all for telling him the truth. He blamed her for their misery. Why was he allowed to place blame and not her? They blamed the same person. Her.
“A couple years ago, I was on a sting in South Seattle and came across this tiny thing no bigger than a minute completely strung out on that damn drug we’re hunting. Instead of arresting her along with everyone else, I got her into a rehab program. She relapsed a few times, and each time, I was there to pick her up off the ground and start over. I never gave up, so neither did she. Eventually, she cleaned up and even got her GED. As a way to repay me, she kept me in the loop on deals going down.”
His expression twisted. “It was only a matter of time before they caught on to her being a snitch. She calls me one night and says she’s got a lead on the guy behind it all. The ringleader. I told her not to do anything until I got there, but the damn kid wouldn’t listen.” He blinked, and a single tear streamed down his cheek. Mike’s heart melted along with it.
“It was a trap. The guy attacked her and beat her so severely, she suffered permanent brain damage.” He inhaled sharply and blew out a long breath. “She used to call me her Nash light. I was like a lighthouse, leading her to safety. I was supposed to keep her safe…” He trailed off and shook his head. “So, you can understand my hesitation at turning her over to TREX. She’s been through enough.”
Mike wiped at her eyes, not realizing she’d been crying along with him. They’d just overcome a major hurdle. He knew why she’d left. She knew why he protected his CI.
Now what?
“What do we do now?” he asked the nagging question plaguing her thoughts.
“Now we find a way to crack this case without involving your CI.”
He looked at her, the shock evident in his eyes. “What about your orders? Won’t TREX have your ass for failing your mission? Aren’t you tasked with your find at any cost?”
“Not at the expense of dragging that poor girl through hell again. There’s got to be another way.”
“If there was,” Nash ground out. “TREX would have already found it. Son of a bitch. That’s why they sent you instead of a complete stranger. You were the only person able to change my mind about something I was set on. You still are.” He whipped a U-turn and punched it.
“Where are we going?”
“South Seattle. It’s time you meet my CI.”
* * *
“Nash! Here I thought you’d just gone and forgotten all about us.” Mary Devereux, the state-appointed caregiver, pulled him into her strong arms and hugged him so tight it popped his spine. A tall, lean woman in her fifties and a heart of gold, Mary was the perfect in-home nurse Kristen required. Her southern charm was only half of it. It was her ability to put the fear of God into anyone who crossed her that really kept people in line.
“I could never forget about my favorite ladies.” He hugged her back. “Mary, this is Michaela Starr. She’s my partner.”
“Is this the Mike you go on and on about whenever you visit?” She didn’t wait for an answer and embraced Mike. “Thank God you contacted him again, baby girl. He’s been moping about since the day I met him.”
“Anyway,” Nash sang and pulled them apart, moving Mike behind him. Mary was like a mother hen to everyone, including him. He’d lost his parents years ago, so she was like a surrogate, fussing over him every chance she got. “How’s Kristen doing?”
“Oh, you know. She has her good days. Today isn’t one of them. Maybe seeing you will cheer her up. She’s out back watching the ducks swimming in the pond. Head on out there. I’ll get us all some sweet tea.”
“Thanks.” He took Mike’s hand and led her around the small trailer. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to live, which was more than Kristen had when he’d met her. Mary kept it tidy, inside and out. Flower baskets hung from the metal awning, adding brilliant color to the scene. It didn’t look anything like the rundown rust bucket it used to. A new roof, fresh paint, and a little TLC, and the place looked like a different trailer. It needed a hell of a lot more before it would be what he wanted for her, but he could only do so much on his salary and spare time. “I found this place for a steal. The state seized it after a drug bust.”
Mike slowed, drawing his attention. “You bought this?”
“It was the least I could do.” He shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal about it. Kristen didn’t deserve to live the rest of her life in fear. He’d do whatever it took to make sure she didn’t. “She’s a good kid.”
“With a guardian angel,” she added after they’d rounded the side and entered the backyard. “Or should
I say, guardian lighthouse.”
He grinned and even chuckled. He liked the sound of that. Studying their surroundings, he noted two new wind chimes hanging from the giant fir tree. Kristen hated the silence. The chimes serenaded her with their hypnotic sound, adding to the peace and tranquility.
Spotting her sitting on the bench he’d built by the pond, he led Mike through the grass and down the slight incline. It needed a good mowing. He made a mental note to get over here this weekend and do some much needed yardwork. Mary could only do so much. She was Kristen’s caregiver, not the groundskeeper.
Kristen glanced up from the pond. When she spotted Nash, her wide grin went from ear-to-ear. She threw her arms into the air and waved for him to hurry. “Hug! Hug!”
“Hey, beautiful.” He lifted her into his arms and hugged her gently, careful not to hurt her. She’d lost more weight, which didn’t please him any. He helped her return to the bench and held up the nightlight. “Look what I brought you.”
“Lighthouse.” She accepted it and gave it a hug. “My Nash light.”
“Your Nash light,” he agreed with a smile. “Kristen, I want you to meet Michaela. She’s my new partner.”
“Mike?” Her eyes brightened even more. When Mike nodded, Kristen waved her arms once again. “Hug!”
Mike leaned in and hugged her, holding her firm and burying her face against the girl. They embraced for longer than Nash would have expected. Even when Kristen released her hold, Mike didn’t. After several seconds, Mike back away and wiped at her eyes.
“Don’t cry,” Kristen reached forward and wiped at Mike’s cheek. “Crying is sad.”
“You’re right.” Mike sniffled and smiled through her tears. “Crying is sad. I won’t cry.”
Nash took a seat next to Kristen and motioned for Mike to join them. Kristen pushed at him and shook her head. “Mike sits here.”
“How quickly I’m replaced.” With a chuckle, he slid over, opening the spot for Mike, who sat and took Kristen’s hand when she offered. They all stared at the ducks swimming in the small pond Nash built last summer. It needed more water. He needed to patch the holes in the liner before adding more. He sighed. This place needed so much more than he could do to it.
“He’s sad,” Kristen said and leaned her head on Mike’s shoulder. Mike rested hers on Kristen’s. “Nash misses you.”
“I’m here now.”
Nash’s heart gave a little jolt. Yes, she was here now, but for how long?
“Are you going to marry him?”
“I don’t know. Marriage is a pretty big step. We just got back together yesterday.”
They were back together? He held perfectly still in the hopes they’d forget he sat on the bench with them, hanging on every word.
“Can I be in the wedding?”
Mike laughed. “If it comes to that, then absolutely. I’d want you right up there with me.”
How could two women who’d just met suddenly be close enough to talk wedding plans together? They held hands, practically cuddled like lifelong friends, and were probably watching the same duck. The opposite sex completely baffled him.
He’d let the silence ring for long enough. Standing, he moved and knelt in front of Kristen to be eye-level. She lifted her head from Mike’s shoulder and blinked at him. Sweet Jesus, she broke his heart with that look. Vacant, perplexed. Her injuries reduced her maturity and brain capacity to that of a four to six-year-old. The doctors said she’d never be back to where she was, not without significant therapy. The state wouldn’t pay for it, and he couldn’t afford it. Without help, she’d be trapped inside the limitations of her mind for the rest of her life.
“Mike and I want to ask you a few questions about things that happened before you got hurt.”
She shook her head and pinched her face into a frown. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
“I know, sweetheart. I don’t like to talk about it, either. Sometimes we have to talk about stuff we don’t like.”
“I don’t like to talk about it,” she repeated in a whimper and grabbed Mike’s arm.
“Let’s talk about something else.” Mike nodded for Nash to back away. He did, but hovered close by, his protective nature over the girl on overdrive. “Better yet, let’s play a game.”
“I love games!” Kristen grinned once again, having already forgotten the push for her to talk about what had happened. She sat up straight and waited for Mike to instruct her on what to do.
“Do you like puppets?”
“Yes!”
Mike brought up her hand, fingers together as if using them as a mouth. “This is Mr. Mean.”
Kristen snorted. “That’s your hand.”
“What? No, it’s not.” She moved her wrist so her invisible puppet faced her. “I see eyes, ears, and even a mouth.” She opened and closed her fingers. “Can’t you see it? He’s an ugly guy. Don’t you think?”
To Nash’s shock, Kristen brought up her hand like a puppet, using it to talk. “He’s bald and stinks like cigarettes.” Mike jumped her gaze to Nash. He nodded, keeping track of everything they said.
“Hello, Kristen.” Mike dropped her voice, doing a terrible impression of how a man sounded. Nash would have laughed had he not been so damn surprised something like this worked. “Do you like my eyes? All Mr. Means have eyes like mine.”
“I don’t like black eyes. You look like a shark. Ice does, too. He’s a Mr. Mean.”
Mike regarded Nash, the question lingering in her eyes. Nash shook his head as every muscle in his body tensed. Just hearing that street name fall from her lips had him ready to beat the shit out of him all over again. This time, he’d leave him without a pulse. The piece of shit didn’t deserve three meals a day and free use of the prison’s library when Kristen could barely read now.
“Ice works for me,” Mike said through her puppet, not phrasing it as a question but definitely asking it at the same time.
“I know. That’s why I followed him. You were there.”
What the hell? Nash moved in and drew a breath to push the question, but stopped when Mike shot him a look in warning. As hard as it was, he retreated and waited for her to retrieve the answers locked in Kristen’s mind.
“Are you sure it was me? There are a lot of Mr. Means out there.”
Kristen nodded, both with her head and her hand. “You talked funny.”
“Did I talk like this?” Mike switched to a Spanish accent. When Kristen shook her head, Mike changed to a French accent and asked, “Or did I talk like this?”
“Like Boris.”
“Boris?” Mike repeated and shook her head at Nash, who mirrored the gesture. He had no idea who the hell that was.
“From Rocky and Bullwinkle,” Mary explained as she walked out carrying a tray with a full pitcher of tea and four glasses. “She watches that movie every day. Natasha and Boris are the bad guys defeated by a moose and squirrel. It’s silly, if you ask me. But, she sure does love it.”
“Mr. Mean needs to be defeated,” Mike said in her normal voice. “Kristen, what should we do to defeat him?”
“Use the Nash light on him.” She lifted her gaze to him and waited. Mike did, too.
“That’s your cue, handsome.”
He jumped into action, making it a big production stomping toward them, his arms extended. “I am the Nash light.”
Kristen giggled. “Look out, Mr. Mean. It’s the Nash light.”
“Oh, no.” Mike bounced her hand back and forth as her puppet tried to escape. “Not the Nash light.” Nash covered her hand with his. She pretended to cough as her hand collapsed, resting palm up and fingers flat. As with any good death scene, she ended with a long groan before falling silent and still.
“Is he dead?” Kristen asked, staring at Mike’s hand.
“Thanks to the Nash light.”
She swung those large eyes up to him. “You did it. You saved me from Mr. Mean.”
Nash swallowed as his throat closed. No, he didn’t
save her. She was trapped inside the mind of a six-year-old for the rest of her life because of him. “We should go.”
“I just made this tea,” Mary protested.
“Sweet tea!” Kristen exclaimed. “Can we watch a movie?”
Mary smiled and nodded. “I can guess which one. Come on, sweetness. It’s time for you to get out of the sun anyway. Nash, always good to see you. Mike, you best not be a stranger.”
“No, ma’am.” Mike hugged Kristen and kept a smile firmly planted on her face until they were out of sight. She then turned to Nash. “We have to get a hold of Weber now.”
“Why?”
“I know who Mr. Mean really is, or at least who he’s associated with. It’s all starting to make sense.” She jumped into the passenger’s side. “Which means we found a way to get our intel without having TREX know the identity of your CI.”
He climbed behind the wheel and backed out of the driveway. “Aren’t you TREX?”
“Not when it comes to Kristen. I’ll protect her, Nash. You can trust me.”
He was counting on that.
SEVEN
“Detective Lee speaking.”
Mike hurried her words into the phone as her excitement got the better of her. “I know who Mr. Mean is.”
“What hell are you talking about?” He didn’t sound pleased for the call, which confused the hell out of her. She expected him to be ecstatic. “Mike?”
“I have the intel.”
“Hot damn!” he yelled into the phone. “I’ll put the meet together. Nicely done, rookie. Give me a few hours to gather the right players. Be back at the house by six.”
Six? She checked her watch. That was five hours from now. “We can’t move up the meet?”
“Believe it or not, these things don’t happen instantaneously. Weber is usually the hardest to reach. Allen will want in on this if I can break him away from his newborn daughter. He’s a couple hours away, so no, we can’t move up the meet.”
The word of a newborn struck her like a million poisoned needles straight to the heart, which made no sense. She’d been around babies since losing hers. But, for some reason, right now, especially after spending time with Kristen, she’d never felt the loss more than she did at that instant. “Yes, sir.”
