Silent Protector

by Barbara Phinney

  Ian folded his arms. He didn’t have to admit anything. “Look, Liz, this may not have anything to do with Charlie.”

  “But you won’t rule it out, either. Ian, I need to take Charlie and leave. That’s the only way.”

  “Not without a marshal, and even if we called right now, another one wouldn’t be available immediately.”

  “What about you?”

  “Look, Liz, you’re both safer here. All the roads are jammed with people leaving, and all the hotels are booked solid. George and Elsie and I can handle the security better here.”

  “Security? You’re going to use Charlie as bait!” She tightened her jaw.

  “Apprehending Jerry’s killer is crucial to saving thousands of lives. We can lure him out without endangering Charlie. But if we move off the island into the general population, with no immediate destination, we risk not only our own lives but innocent strangers’ lives, too.”

  “Why isn’t there another marshal on his way, if this is so dangerous?”

  “Things take time to happen. The nearest marshal office is in Miami.”

  He felt Liz study him. Her eyes had narrowed slightly, and it didn’t take a psychiatrist to figure out she didn’t like him. And why should she? He’d taken Charlie and refused to give him up, telling her what she should do even.

  The coffee he’d just swallowed sat like molten lead in his stomach. She doesn’t understand, he told himself.

  “We need to get off this island, Ian. Someone ran me off the road, and someone set fire to a nearby house. We don’t know if they have anything to do with Charlie being here or not. I do know that these incidents could be proof that Charlie is in danger. This village is no longer safe for him.”

  “You’re not leaving until I say so.”

  She straightened, and her voice rose. “You can’t stop us.”

  He spoke back just as sharply. “I can and I will.”

  Liz set down her coffee cup and opened her mouth again. But before she could speak, Elsie plunked her hands down between them and drilled a dark glare at the arguing pair. “Look, you two, you both want Charlie safe, but you aren’t going to sort this out here, and I won’t have you waking up those two boys with your arguing. You need to discuss this, yes, but take it down to Ian’s office. You’ll be able to make the arrangements from there and shout at each other all you want, too.” She finished off her censure with an added glare at each of them.

  Ian sat back. Elsie was right. He was exhausted, and irritation grated on him more than he realized. He drew in a breath to restore his self-control and nodded. “Yes, we should talk in my office. Let me grab a shower and a couple hours’ sleep. It’s too early to call anyone anyway.”

  Liz blinked and frowned and then agreed with a nod of her own. With a stiff rise and stretch, Ian walked to the door. “Liz, I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I do want what’s best for Charlie.”

  Her own frown continued as he left.

  Two hours later, Ian stopped by the Wilsons’ to take Liz to his office. He’d grabbed a pretty good nap after a shower. He’d made a coffee and a sandwich and was now better prepared to talk to her. He’d expected the boys to stay sleeping, but when he arrived, Charlie was up, finishing his cereal. And he wanted to stay with Liz.

  The three of them walked outside in an uneasy silence. Liz broke it when she asked, “Which house was it?”

  “That one.” He pointed to the Callahans’ house. From the front, it looked normal. The rear was charred and burned. Though it was 8:30 in the morning, the village was quiet. Poco, the dog, was sniffing around the house, but when he spotted Ian and Liz, he didn’t bark. The Callahans didn’t mind letting the dog roam, and Jenny must have let him out sometime during the early morning.

  They made their way down to the rec center, Ian unlocking the building and then his office. Liz followed him in, watching him walk around to the other side of the desk to pick up the phone.

  “Are you two going to fight?” Charlie asked. He blinked innocently at Liz, and Ian watched as she returned the smile with a melting one of her own, her arms opening to let the boy walk into them. He climbed up onto her lap. Being a small, agile boy, he looked like he’d done this a thousand times before.

  “Ian is going to see about us leaving,” Liz said quietly.

  “Me, too?”

  “Yes.”

  Ian grimaced. Liz must have caught the twist in his mouth because she added, “No promises one way or another. He’s just going to make some phone calls.”

  “To the marshal people?”

  “Yes,” Ian answered tersely. He didn’t like how much Charlie noticed things around him. But Jerry Troop had been right about one thing. The kid was smart. No wonder Liz was able to locate the boy. He noticed everything and could articulate better than Ian realized.

  With a shake of his head, he let his gaze shift around the room to land on the credenza.

  The light on his printer was blinking. He glanced down at the paper tray at the bottom of the printer. Empty.

  He hadn’t printed out anything since before Vacation Bible School began a week ago. Why was his printer on now? What was waiting in the print queue?

  After walking over to his computer, where he confirmed it had been improperly shut down, he turned it on. Then, after grabbing paper from a new bundle in the cupboard of the credenza, he shoved a short stack into the tray. Without hesitation, he hit the resume button.

  “What’s wrong?” Liz asked, with Charlie on her lap.

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember leaving this printer on, especially in the out of paper mode.” He looked up at her, feeling his brows furrow. “There’s something in the printer’s memory. Someone printed out something then ran out of paper and left it.”

  “Maybe Monica. You said she’s helping you here.”

  “Maybe.” By now, the printer had responded, spitting out printed paper at a speed he knew would use the minimal amount of ink in the shortest time.

  He picked up the first few pages. After setting Charlie on his feet, Liz came up close to him and looked down as well. She gasped. “It’s about Charlie!”

  SIX

  Ice crawled up Liz’s spine, spreading over the nape of her neck to make her curls feel as though they were standing straight up. The paper in Ian’s hand was part of a marshal report on Charlie. Everything a person would need to know about him, including hints on how to gain the boy’s trust. Ian picked up the last sheet. It was a memorandum on Jerry’s death with scribbling on the bottom right corner: “Suspect child of witnessing murder. Acquire statement at all costs.”

  “Whoa,” she whispered through her horror. “Why do you…what reason would you have to get this…stuff? You said you were once a marshal, but all of this? A personality profile? Advice on gaining his trust?” Her jumbled words died away, and she found she could no longer speak.

  Ian ignored her. He scooped up the remaining papers, one even out of Liz’s hands before unlocking his filing cabinet. A moment later, he’d pulled a file from the top drawer and tucked all of the sheets into the light brown folder. Then he slammed shut the drawer and locked it again. After that, he sat at his computer.

  “What’s going on, Ian? Why did you print this out?”

  He said nothing, and with tightened shoulders, she walked around his desk to stand behind him and openly read his computer. She didn’t care if it was an invasion of privacy. This was about Charlie, and anything involving him involved her, too.

  Ian was flipping through files in various programs back and forth and checking his printer record all too quickly for her to read. He wrote down a date and time and quickly exited all the programs.

  “Talk to me, Ian. I need to know if this is about Charlie and—”

  “Someone accessed my computer and printed out confidential files. I had password-protected them and hadn’t even printed them out myself. I’d only read them on the computer. Someone tried to print them out but was cut short for some reason, p
robably running out of time and paper. They took what they had and left in a hurry.”

  Liz grabbed Ian’s arm. She pressed him. “Who would be able to get this information? Who has keys to this office and knows your password? Talk to me, Ian. Do you think this has anything to do with that fire last night? This all affects Charlie, remember?”

  She waited for him to answer, impatiently filled with fear for Charlie. Her hand still rested on Ian’s warm arm. She could smell his clean scent. She could feel the concern emanate from him along with a host of complicated feelings.

  And slowly came the complete and obvious understanding that regardless of how attractive she found Ian, regardless of how much he cared for Charlie, he was someone she needed to stay far away from. For Charlie’s sake. She needed to remain calm, in control, trustworthy and focused on helping Charlie heal. She wouldn’t get that hanging around Ian.

  And on the heels of that reaction nipped disappointment. Almost as strong as the fear and dread.

  “It was Monica.”

  Both Ian and Liz turned to Charlie. The boy still sat on the chair, his eyes wide behind the glasses that Liz wanted to rip off his face and stomp on. “Monica? Why do you say that?” she asked him. “Did you see her?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know she printed anything out?”

  Charlie shrugged. “I saw her go back into Ian’s office when she told him about you falling into the water. Then she came down the road to where Auntie Liz’s car was.”

  “When we were on the causeway?”

  He nodded. “When Ian told me to stand near the sign. She came up to me, and she had something shoved in her dress. Dad would sometimes put stuff down his pants and have to hold it there cuz it would fall out.”

  Liz swallowed. She didn’t dare ask what his father would put there. Jerry had been as thin as a rail, a man whose jeans were always baggy. If he’d shoved drugs in his pants, they’d surely fall down his pant leg. She stole a fast look at Ian.

  “How do you know she had something in her dress?” Ian asked calmly. “She wouldn’t show you.”

  Charlie giggled, a sweet sound so totally out of place for the situation, but being a young boy, he’d find the whole notion silly. “Course not. But a couple of papers fell out, and she hid them in the woods. I bet she took the papers from here. She always looks over your shoulder when you’re at the computer.”

  Beside Ian, Liz peered down at him. She should rely on his expertise here, but every part of her was screaming that she should leave with Charlie now and forget about all of these people.

  Abruptly, the phone rang. Ian turned away from her, his eyebrows close together as he reached for the telephone on his desk. “Hello?”

  He listened closely, grabbing a pen and paper. He scribbled down something and then turned to the computer.

  When he’d hung up, he looked up at her. “The tropical storm that’s east of the Yucatan is increasing in strength. They expect it to become a hurricane by tonight. And it’s supposed to move eastward.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Everything to us. Evacuations, preparations for that.” He ran his fingers through his hair. Hadn’t George warned him last night about having too much responsibility?

  Yes, one more reason to leave. “May I borrow your phone? I’d like to order another car.”

  “They won’t deliver one until after the storm.”

  “Let them tell me that.”

  Liz slipped in behind the desk. A few minutes later, the rental agency said they couldn’t deliver another car until after the storm. Ian was right and had allowed her to discover that for herself. She needed to trust him more.

  And no sooner had she set down the phone did it ring again.

  Ian answered it, and after hanging up, he said, “That was the tow truck. He’s almost to the causeway.” He glanced over at Charlie.

  Liz read his thoughts. “I’ll take Charlie back to the Wilsons’ house, and then we’ll go.” She stood and took the boy’s hand. “We’ll talk about leaving later. We may even be able to get a ride with the tow truck driver.”

  Before he could contradict her, she and Charlie walked out of his office.

  Ten minutes later, she met Ian in front of the rec center.

  “The driver is at the causeway, waiting for us,” he said tersely. “He called after I’d finished telling my supervisor about Monica.”

  And my desire to leave, Liz thought.

  They hurried down to the causeway in time to see the driver’s assistant standing on the rocks, hook in hand, looking grimly down at the water. He wore a wet suit but no goggles. His face was flushed and sweating in the heat of the morning.

  After speaking to the driver who stood near the bumper, the younger man waded into the water. He dipped down under the water and resurfaced a moment later without the hook.

  Liz watched, held her breath without knowing why and all the while berated herself for the unsettling feeling. It wasn’t as if there was a body slopping about in there. Though it felt like that.

  Yuck. She’d watched too many crime shows on TV.

  At the front bumper, the driver picked up the winch control and took up the slack. With sickening groans of suction and scraping, the rental car slowly emerged, hood first. The driver parked it on the rocks to drain it.

  Ian walked around the back of the truck, and Liz followed. When they reached the far side, Liz stopped and gasped.

  The whole side of her car was scraped. Long blue streaks started from the mirror, which was now dangling, all the way to the rear bumper. Her rental was red. The blue stood out starkly.

  Crossing her arms, she shivered, despite the heat of another sweltering day. The driver told them he was going to turn around and back in to hoist the car up and over the remaining rocks, before he towed it away. To the police station, he added after pointing to the scrapes on the side.

  “But first, I’ll drain it all completely. And check for snakes,” he added.

  “Snakes?” Liz echoed.

  “Yup. Got them old water moccasins here and they can be nasty. That’s why my guy’s wearing that suit. He doesn’t like to get bit, and those snakes are mean. We’ll drain the car and see if any of them hitched a ride.”

  Liz shot a shocked look at Ian. “You have poisonous snakes here?”

  “Relax. We have traps all over the place. Under the rec center are at least four of them.”

  “Traps? How good are they?”

  “They work. But don’t forget, water moccasins like to live in water, hence their name.”

  “Not all the time,” the guy in the wet suit called over his shoulder.

  Liz blinked at Ian as he led them out of the other men’s earshot. “And have you told Charlie about all of this? He’s a typical kid, and no-doubt will want to catch a snake. Ian, this place isn’t safe.”

  “It will have to be, Liz, because you can’t leave. You have no car until after the storm, and I won’t let you leave without a marshal.”

  “Who won’t come before the storm, either, I suppose.” She shoved her hands on her hips.

  “Liz, this is all for your own safety and Charlie’s. Why can’t you accept that?”

  “Charlie’s safety means more to me than my life. It’s just that you’re busy doing a laundry list of things. You can’t look after Charlie in the way you say he deserves. So why are you being so adamant about keeping him here?” She paused, drew in a breath, and opened her mouth slightly in understanding. “It’s not his safety, and it’s not just so he can finger his dad’s killer. You don’t want him to leave because that would be a failure on your part. They reinstated you as a marshal, and if you fail now that would make you look really bad, wouldn’t it?”

  Ian looked away, and Liz pursed her lips. She knew immediately that she’d struck a nerve.

  He wanted to succeed. Maybe he had a perfect record, or maybe he’d failed the U.S. Marshal Service in some way, perhaps by leaving before retirement.r />
  It didn’t matter to her. Nobody’s pride or feeling of self-worth mattered while Charlie’s life was in danger. Nobody’s. Not even her own.

  She turned to watch the assistant open the car doors and the trunk. The driver pulled up on the chain to tip the back end down, allowing more murky water to cascade back into the inlet.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. Someone had wanted her dead. They didn’t want her to take Charlie. Could it be Jerry’s killer? Was he already here on Spring Island?

  She walked over to the driver. “Excuse me? Is it possible for you to take me into Northglade? Is there a car rental place there?”

  “Sorry, I can’t do that. Company policy. Insurance stuff, I think. But your rental company should bring you a new car.”

  “Not until after the storm, I’m afraid.”

  The driver checked the sky. “Oh, the one heading over this way. I bet you’ll have to evacuate this place. Isn’t there a resort being built here? Maybe they’ve got someone who’s leaving this place?”

  Liz sagged. “I’ll look into it. Thanks.”

  Ian heard her request. He was still bristling from her cool remarks about how he didn’t want to fail. Truth hurts, all right. He’d had a perfect record, and if Liz or Charlie became injured or they were forced to leave, it wouldn’t look good on him.

  He hated that he’d even have that thought. He shouldn’t be so selfish. Nor should he be blaming Liz for her keen observation.

  He wiped his face and shoved his hat farther down on his head. Liz didn’t know the details surrounding Jerry’s death. Charlie could identify William Smith, and with his statement, they could bring down many evil people. A whole cartel could theoretically be eliminated, reducing the flow of drugs into this country by a considerable percentage. That would save lives, more than “The Shepherd’s Smile,” right?

  Ian blew out a long breath. Was he meant to be a marshal or a missionary?

  But where did that leave the citizens of Moss Point? If he returned to the U.S. Marshal Service, it wouldn’t convince Liz to coax a statement out of Charlie.

  But if he stayed here on Spring Island, Charlie and Liz would be gone, forcing him to request another marshal with less experience dealing with children.