by Virna DePaul
For a moment, he directed all the anger he felt for her stalker towards Mattie. At least he tried to. The anger faltered and redirected before it could even get started. Dropping his face into his hands, he faced the truth.
As much as he wanted to blame Mattie—as much as he wanted to hate her for what she’d done—he knew the blame lay with him.
Mattie had once offered him everything. Herself. Children. A home. He could have had his daughter. Instead, he’d given it all up. For what? For adrenaline, just as Mattie had said?
If so, that meant the last ten years of his life had been not only a mistake, but completely worthless. He just couldn’t accept that.
No. He’d become who he needed to be. He’d followed who he really was. And in doing so, he’d done some good.
He still had good to do. He needed to solve this case. Find Joel’s killer. And of more importance now, find out who was threatening Mattie and put a stop to it.
And then what? He didn’t know what would change if he could give Mattie what she needed. But he’d protect her and Jordan with his life if he had to.
One officer signaled to him and he stepped close to Mattie, deliberately brushing up against her, then putting a proprietary arm around her waist. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away.
“As I was telling Ms. Nolan, there’s not much we can do. There’s no visible signs of forced entry. Nothing has been stolen or damaged. We’ve processed the front door for prints, but—” The officer shrugged, clearly communicating his belief that no relevant prints would be found.
“What about a patrol car? Can you have someone drive by to check on her?”
“I don’t need—” Mattie began, stopping when Dom glared at her.
“I didn’t ask what you needed, Mattie. I asked what the police could do.”
She narrowed her eyes and pulled away from him, striding into the kitchen and grabbing her phone off the receiver. The officer cleared his throat, pulling Dom’s attention back to him.
“Though there’s no real reason to connect this with Ms. Delaney’s attack, given you’re a fellow officer and this lady obviously means something to you, I’ll do my best to make sure she gets some coverage. But based on what we know, it’s not going to be much and it’s not going to last very long. I’m sorry, but we just don’t have the resources to—”
Dom nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate whatever you can do.” He appreciated it, but it wasn’t enough. Given what happened to Joel and given that Frank Manelli was still missing, Dom wasn’t taking any chances with Mattie or Jordan.
Apparently, she wasn’t willing to take any chances with her daughter, either.
As the police left, he propped himself on the counter next to her, arms crossed over his chest, blatantly listening to her telephone conversation.
“Yes, it’s going to be great, Jordan. I’m glad the idea of staying with your grandparents makes you happy. I just talked to them and they’re thrilled to see you.” Mattie’s eyes locked on Dom’s. He cocked one brow, making her flush and turn away.
“I’ll pick you up at school tomorrow and drive you to your grandparents’ house.” She laughed hollowly, then stuttered, “M-me? I’ll be fine, sweetie. No. No, I won’t be alone. I mean, I’ll miss you, but I have lots to catch up with. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She hung up the phone, but kept her back to Dom.
“Since I remember your parents are dead, I’m guessing you’re close to your in-laws?”
Her finger began to trace the grout between the kitchen counter tiles. “I’m not as close, but they do care for Jordan, in a bit of a distant way. They live in a very secure, gated community. They’ll take care of her.”
He moved closer until he bumped up against her back. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “And who’s going to take care of you?”
Swiftly, she turned and placed one of her dining room chairs between them. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”
She scowled. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, you can come back to my place or I can take you to a hotel. Either way, you’re not going to stay here.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
He talked right over her. “Why don’t you get your things and tomorrow I can drive you to pick up Jordan—”
“You’re not driving me anywhere, and you’re not getting anywhere near my daughter.”
“Our daughter,” he reminded her.
“Biology doesn’t negate ten years of absence.”
“Of course it does, since I never even knew she existed. You kept me from her, Mattie.”
“You got what you really wanted. You became a cop.”
“I want to see her,” Dom said. “I will see her. Even if I have to get a court order to do so.”
She jerked back as if he’d slapped her. He hated the fear that so starkly radiated from her at that moment. “I’m not going to take her from you, Mattie,” he said softly. “But I do need to see her. I’m trained to protect people. She won’t be safer with anyone than she would be with me.”
Talking about Jordan’s safety seemed to do the trick. Mattie swallowed hard, then shrugged. “Fine. You can pick me up tomorrow. We’ll get her together, but you can’t say anything to her. About…you know.”
“No. I don’t know. You mean about me being her real father? Or about you deciding that wasn’t important enough to tell either of us?”
She looked away. “She’s a happy little girl, Dom. You can’t—”
“I won’t, Mattie. Not yet. But someday? I’m not making any guarantees. Now let’s get going.”
Again, she shook her head, making him furious. “I’m staying here. There’s no reason to think that whoever was here will come back or that they mean me any harm. They didn’t destroy anything or take anything. Heck, maybe I’m being a fool and I simply forgot to lock the door after all.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No,” she said, her mouth twisting regretfully. “I don’t. But I’m not spending the night anyplace else but my home.”
He didn’t bother to hide his frustration. “I have to work, Mattie. I can’t stay with you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
He stared at her. At the stubborn, defiant expression on her face. She’d fight him if he tried to make her leave. And what good would that do them? She was right. There was no solid evidence that she was in danger. Still…
“Your brother,” he clipped out. “Does he have a key to your house?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. When she did, she just nodded, her eyes daring him to anything about it.
Instead, he said, “I’ll be back in five minutes.”
“Wait! What—”
He took off in his truck and drove straight to a hardware store. Minutes later, he was back with what he needed. If little Ms. Independent didn’t like it, that was too bad. She obviously watched out for her friends and family. She could let someone watch out for her for a change.
Sure enough, she tried blocking his entry by standing in the doorway. He merely held up the plastic bag. “I’m going to change your locks. Unless you think you can actually get to sleep knowing someone out there might have a copy of your key?”
Biting her lip, she stared at the bag. Then with another shrug, she took several steps back. “Thank you,” she muttered.
He changed the locks with stiff, jerky movements, acutely aware of her eyes on him. When he was done, he stood, wiped his hands on the towel she offered, then handed it back to her. Prowling from one room to the next, he checked to make sure that every window and door was locked. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said finally.
When he turned to leave, he felt her hand on his shoulder. She wouldn’t be able to miss the frustration vibrating through him.
“I did what I thought was best for all of us, Dom.”
He didn’t turn
toward her. He drank in her touch and tried to imagine how she’d felt when she’d learned she was pregnant, knowing that her baby’s father had just walked out on her. He couldn’t be angry with her for not telling him. Not then. And not now. But that didn’t mean he was going to let things continue the way they had been.
“I know that. And I’m going to do the same, Mattie.” He started down the walk.
“Is that a threat?”
He stopped and turned, gave her a wolfish grin, and winked at her. “That’s a promise, babe.”
In the squad room an hour later, Dom threw his pencil down and ran his hands wearily through his hair. He’d wanted to stay and protect Mattie, but she wouldn’t have allowed it. He thought he could do more by solving the case. He’d gone through the evidence over and over again in his head. Linda’s assault. The subtle threats against Mattie. There was more to them than a cheating spouse trying to cover his ass, even if that spouse was a public official. It all had to lead back to Joel and Guapo. Probably Manelli as well.
There had been no word from Manelli. No sign of foul play, nothing to indicate that he hadn’t just up and disappeared to start a new life and avoid having to pay his soon-to-be ex-wife alimony payments.
Obviously, Guapo was of no help. He’d just gotten word that the bastard had attacked his cell mate and landed himself in solitary. Days before, when a prison guard had asked him about Joel Bustamante and Frank Manelli, Guapo had simply laughed. Even if he had the man in front of him, even with all his skill in interrogating witnesses, Dom wasn’t so sure he could refrain from strangling him long enough to get the information he needed. But then again, he knew no matter how skilled he was, questioning Guapo wouldn’t get him the answers he needed. Mattie’s brother Tony had to be key, but he hadn’t learned anything useful about him, not from her, the police databases, or from the neighbors he’d interviewed. As far as everyone knew, Tony Cooper was a saint among men, and that right there was a sure sign of trouble. Dominic turned to Cameron, who was steadfastly reading something on his computer screen. “What’s been the department gossip about Joel? Is there still talk of suicide?”
“No one’s stupid enough to say it out loud, but there’s still speculation. With the brass. The new shrink. Internal Affairs.”
Dom snorted. “How’s that for gratitude. Joel was a poster boy for this office, good enough to promote to sergeant but at the slightest hint of trouble—” Dom pounded his fist on his desk, rattling pens and several empty coffee cups.
“It’s tough adjusting to the real world, isn’t it? Where the things we do don’t seem to make a difference and sometimes the bad guys live better than a cop ever can.”
Cam’s sarcastic reply caught Dom unaware. He stared at the man. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Leaning back in his chair, the tall Brit shrugged. “No offense, but maybe you’ve forgotten how things work around here, Dom. You don’t believe it, and neither do I, but based on the objective evidence, Joel committing suicide because he was on the take isn’t a completely bogus theory. And—” he interrupted before Dom could rise to his feet “—before you think about plastering me again, I want to reiterate that I don’t believe it. But people have jobs to do, and that means following the evidence until it can be disproved.”
Dom forced his tense muscles to relax. He remembered what he’d told Mattie—that sometimes the most obvious answer was the answer. “What exactly do you think needs to be disproved?”
“You were on assignment for a long time, Dom. You weren’t around when Joel took over, and you weren’t around to see that something was bothering him the week before he died. I tried to talk to him about it, but he dug in. Said he couldn’t talk until he knew for sure.”
Dom stroked his chin. “The last time we talked, Joel said he had a feeling that something was wrong with the warrant Manelli wrote up for the Guapo raid. Who signed the warrant? Judge Butler. He also thought Guapo’s attorney might have been killed with the help of someone in Judge Butler’s chambers. What if the thing he wasn’t sure about was Judge Butler’s involvement in something nasty?” It wasn’t that far of a stretch. The question was whether he would stoop to using Mattie’s brother to do his dirty work for him.
“Could be. Given who the judge’s friends are, Joel wouldn’t have wanted to say anything until he was sure. But what about the warrant Manelli wrote? You got it?”
“Yeah.” Dom flipped through several stacks of paper on his desk before handing Cam the warrant. “I’ve been over it. It looks clean. A confidential informant from within Guapo’s organization made a deal to avoid doing hard time on another case and gave up the details of an upcoming buy. That in turn led to the tossing of one of Guapo’s main drug labs.”
“And the CI’s identity?” Cam asked as his gaze ran down the warrant.
“Sealed and confidential. I don’t even know if Manelli knows his real name.”
“You’re assuming it’s a man?”
“Well, I—” Stunned, Dom stared at the warrant. “I just assumed—but you’re right. It very well could be a woman.”
“Pretty articulate informant, don’t you think?”
The careful way Cam made the statement immediately raised Dom’s antennae. “What do you mean?”
“Look, you guys are always giving me crap about my background and my accent, right? Well, look at the portions in this affidavit that Manelli attributes to the informant. Sounds a little well-educated for a common thug to be using, don’t you think?”
“Give me that.” Dom stared at the affidavit, took out a pencil, and started circling. “You’re right. It almost sounds like legalese. Like someone who’s been working in the law for awhile.”
“Right. So what if someone called Manelli under the guise of being part of Guapo’s organization. He—or she—had insider information and for whatever reason wanted Guapo brought down.”
“But how would Judge Butler have that kind of information?”
“Maybe he wouldn’t. But maybe someone on his staff would. Anyone on his staff strike you as particularly smart?”
Mattie, Dom thought automatically. She’s smart. Records legalese all the time. She’d be familiar with the terms. With the process. And maybe she had a reason to want Guapo brought down. A personal reason having to do with her brother?
He’d already searched the computers for his name and the guy had never been arrested let alone convicted. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been using or selling drugs that Guapo had supplied.
“Then again, this could all be nothing. Could be Manelli is smarter than we give him credit for and simply substituted his own words for that of the CI.”
Unlike Cam, Dom had never had reason to question Manelli’s intelligence. “So what’s the news on Manelli?”
Cam turned back to his computer screen. “It’s Lewis’s case. I wasn’t friends with the guy.”
No, the two of them had never been friends, and everyone in the office knew why. Cam hadn’t liked the way Manelli ran around on his wife. And Manelli hadn’t liked Cam’s obvious attraction to her.
“Have you paid her a visit yet?”
Cam’s fingers stilled above the computer keyboard. “Yeah. She told me to get lost.”
Dom winced. “I’m sorry, man.”
Cam shrugged. “I’ve got a date this weekend who’s more than willing to make me feel better. I can ask her to bring a friend along, if you’re of a mind.”
“No, but thanks for the second eye on the warrant. I’ll check it out.” Dom reached for the phone and dialed the county jail.
“Deputy Miller.”
“Hey, Ron. This is Dominic Jeffries at Sacramento PD.”
“Hey, L.B.”
“L.B.”—short for “Lover Boy.” Dom winced at the unwanted moniker. He’d known Ron Miller for years, and for some reason the guy had gotten it into his head that Dom was some kind of stud. Of course, it hadn’t helped that Dom was a serial dater. He satisfied his body when he needed to,
but not since Mattie had he ever been tempted to form more than a physical relationship with a woman. Ron was a dedicated bachelor committed to putting as many notches in his bedpost as possible. He always called Dominic “L.B.” with a hint of admiration and jealousy in his voice, even though his own conquests likely had reached triple figures.
“Heard you were pulling bailiff duty for awhile. How they hanging?”
“Off center at the moment.”
Cam snorted behind him.
“Anything I can do to help with that?”
“I need to schedule an appointment with one of your inmates. A follow-up interview with Dusty Monroe. You know him?”
“Yep. I heard he caused some trouble for you and Pete the other day.”
“You talk to Pete about it?”
“Overheard him some. He had a few choice words to say about you.”
I bet he did. “Anything you want to share?”
Miller chortled. “I think you can use your imagination. Pete deserved a slap down from IA. He’s been too sloppy for years. But he’s not a murderer.”
Dom tensed. “Who’s saying he is?”
“Apparently not you, since you’re calling for old Dusty.”
“Tell me,” Dom snapped.
“He’s dead, Dom. Got hold of some bad stuff and overdosed in his cell. The solicitor general and IA are checking into it. And given what Pete’s spouting off, I think they’ll be giving you a call sooner than later.”
Right. Dusty would’ve blabbed about the deputy that had threatened him, but Dom didn’t feel a hint of unease. Not for himself, anyway. He’d meant every word when he’d warned Dusty not to go near Mattie again.
“What about Martin Johnson, the inmate he was transported with? Was he anywhere in the vicinity when this overdose occurred?”
“He was searched and his cell was tossed right after we got your report. We didn’t find anything. His attorney bailed him out within hours after that. He’s out of here.”
Damn, there went his best chance for information about why Dusty had bolted into the courtroom that day. And, he’d bet, any chance of finding the person who’d given Dusty the means to overdose in his own cell.
