Executive Protection

by Jennifer Morey

  Minutes later, Thad raced to a stop in front of Rosanna’s house, where police had already strung up crime scene tape. He knew the officers there and some of the other crime scene investigators. He hadn’t been called officially because he was still on leave.

  “We should have kept her with us,” Lucy said, breathless. The scene frightened her. It should. He dismissed the thought that they were behaving like worried parents. Under less serious conditions, he’d expect Lucy to tease him or tell one of her stories. If only that were the case.

  Rosanna was dead and Sophie had been kidnapped—he had to assume this was related to the threat he’d gotten.

  Thad faced her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I think you should wait out here.”

  In a daze, Lucy nodded.

  Reluctantly, Thad left her and approached a detective he’d worked with on other scenes who stood at the front door. After greeting him, he went inside. He saw Rosanna facedown on the floor, a pool of relatively fresh blood beneath her. He’d seen it many times before, but this time it felt more personal.

  “She made the call after the child was taken,” the detective said. “She was stabbed three times in the chest.”

  And as she lay dying, she’d called for help, knowing that Sophie had been kidnapped. “Murder weapon?”

  “Haven’t found it.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  The detective shook his head. “None so far.”

  “Who took her?”

  “The ex, or soon-to-be. She told the operator.”

  Thad nearly closed his eyes. At least he had a lead. A solid one.

  When he imagined what the little girl might be enduring, a cold sweat broke out in him. Quickly following that, brewing rage. He would do anything to bring Sophie back to safety. Anything.

  Surveying the scene and taking in every detail, Thad spotted some photos on a white bookshelf. Going there, he looked at each one and stopped when he saw one of a birthday celebration. He couldn’t tell whose it was, but Layne was in it. He stood on a balcony. The day was sunny and in the background was a river. It looked like some kind of vacation home. There was a planter shaped like a fish, and a fish wind chime hanging from a jutting soffit.

  “Do we know anything about this?” he asked.

  The detective came over to the shelf. “What about it?”

  “Did Layne have a vacation home by a river?” A fishing house, as Sophie had called it.

  Suddenly, a feeling in his gut had his feet moving.

  He went back outside to Lucy. She hugged herself, guilt-ridden over not keeping Sophie with them. He felt a little of it himself. He was relieved when Lucy had taken her back to Rosanna. The child would no longer be around to challenge his views and his reason for having them. Now he struggled with doubt over whether those views were justified, or even real.

  A scream emanating behind them caused them both to turn around. A woman tried to break through two officers blocking her attempt to gain entry to the home.

  “Rosanna!” she cried.

  Police tried to calm her. Letting her inside would not only disturb the scene, it would gravely upset the woman.

  “I’m her mother! Rosanna!”

  One of the officers spoke to her and Thad could tell when he revealed that Rosanna was dead. The woman crumbled to the ground and screamed louder and much more gutturally.

  Thad went over to the group. “May I?”

  “Sure,” one of the officers said.

  Thad crouched before the woman and told who he was. “Ma’am?”

  The sobbing woman looked at him. With tears shining on her face, she said, “You have to find Layne. He did this.”

  Lucy turned her head sharply toward him, and he nodded once to let her know that’s what he’d learned when he’d gone into the crime scene.

  “Rosanna was afraid of him,” the woman said. “He threatened her more than once.” She leaned with her hands on the lawn and cried again. “Get him out of the house, I told her. Get him out. We thought she’d be safe once she did.” She resumed her sobbing.

  Thad was certain he wouldn’t take Sophie to his new residence. “Did Layne have anywhere else he could go other than here or at his new home? A vacation home? There’s a picture inside of a place where he fishes.”

  The woman regained some of her composure. “Yes. He fished a lot. Near Jordan Lake. His parents have a place there.” She gave him detailed directions on how to get there but didn’t know an exact address. It was enough.

  “Do you have any idea why he’d kidnap Sophie?” Lucy asked.

  And Thad understood the reason she’d asked. He wondered the same. And the image of that man taking pictures kept running in his head.

  “No.” The woman shook her head. “He didn’t care much for kids. Not like Rosanna. Rosanna loved children. She wanted some of her own someday.” More tears spilled free. “He must have done it to spite her.”

  But Rosanna was dead. If Layne had killed her, why take Sophie? Rosanna was no longer alive to care. No, the man who’d taken pictures had discovered what Sophie meant to him. More than even Thad had had time to comprehend.

  “Thank you.” Thad stood and said to the policemen, “Take care of her, would you?”

  The one closest to him nodded. “We will.”

  Thad took Lucy’s hand and hurried to his car. There, he called Darcy, who could help him find the place Layne’s parents owned. Sophie could be anywhere. This was a shot in the dark, but it was the only one they had.

  * * *

  Lucy saw the average-sized house as Thad drove by. There were a few lights on, but no activity was evident from here. After they were out of sight from the house, Thad parked.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  But Lucy got out with him. “I’m coming with you.” If Layne hurt Sophie, she’d kill him.

  Not arguing, Thad pulled out his pistol from the holster he hadn’t bothered to cover when he’d left the estate. He’d put it on over his T-shirt. Going to the front door, he tried the handle. It was locked. Listening, he heard no sounds. No cries from a child. No talking.

  Around the back, he kept to the side of the house, the roar of the river a hundred yards from there. He saw the balcony he’d seen in the picture. There were stairs leading up to it. He tried the sliding glass door on the lower level. It also was locked.

  Lucy trailed behind him, searching the darkness in case anyone appeared. They crept up the stairs. The blinds covering the windows on the lower level were all closed.

  Trying the balcony door, the handle turned. Thad looked back at Lucy and mouthed, “Stay here.” When she nodded, he pushed open the door. He heard a television from somewhere down the hall that played a cartoon.

  An instant later, a man’s form jumped out from the enclave of the kitchen, holding a pan. It was Layne. Thad blocked the swing and then drove his fist into Layne’s sternum. When Layne grunted and bent over slightly, Thad grabbed his wrist and used his weight to force him backward, slamming him against the stainless-steel refrigerator.

  Thad pounded Layne’s wrist to the metal refrigerator door until the frying pan dropped and clattered to the tile floor. Then he rammed his knee into Layne’s chest and chopped his throat with the side of his hand. That sent Layne to his knees.

  Pointing his gun at Layne, he demanded, “Did you hurt her?”

  Lucy appeared inside the kitchen. Seeing that he had Layne under control, she ran down the hall toward the sound of the cartoon. She vanished into a room, and Thad heard Sophie begin to cry and say her name.

  “I’ve got you,” Lucy said, emerging into the hall carrying the crying child, who clung to her. “I won’t let you go, I promise.”

  Something in Thad shifted, the love Lucy had for the child touching the cold spot in his heart
. Sophie trusted her and returned the love. The sight of them and the realization of that love choked him.

  Sophie wailed unintelligible things, a patchy account of what had happened to her. Layne had come into her room and put something over her mouth that made her go to sleep. She woke up here, and he’d threatened to kill her if she made a single sound.

  He’d drugged her. A child. That was so dangerous. What if he’d given her too much? Fury roiled, and Thad had to force himself to stay under control. The only positive in this was that Sophie hadn’t been aware of what happened to Rosanna. She may have heard the struggle and perhaps Rosanna screaming, but she hadn’t seen her body. Still a traumatizing experience, but it could have been worse. She’d woken in a strange place, kidnapped by Layne, a man she didn’t like. She’d been scared.

  Rage propelled Thad to kick Layne, planting his boot on his chest and banging him backward against the refrigerator.

  “Why did you do this?” Thad needed him to talk about the man who’d taken pictures.

  Layne looked up at him, lip bleeding.

  “Why?” Thad yelled.

  Lucy put her hand on Sophie’s head, making sure she didn’t see what Thad did to Layne, and then talked into the girl’s ear to calm her.

  Thad leaned down and yanked Layne’s head back with one hand and pressed the barrel of the gun to his temple. Layne was no hardened criminal. If he’d killed Rosanna, it was a crime of passion.

  “Tell me now,” Thad said.

  Layne looked up at Thad’s face, at his eyes, and relented. “I was paid.”

  Just as he’d thought. “Who paid you?”

  “You’re Thad Winston, aren’t you?” Layne asked rather than answering.

  Had he recognized him from a picture or because of who his mother was? Maybe both.

  “He warned me that you might come after me,” Layne continued.

  “Who paid you?” Thad repeated.

  Leaning against the refrigerator, Layne stretched his legs out in front of him and wiped his lip. Thad kept the gun aimed at his head but allowed him to get more comfortable.

  “He wouldn’t tell me his name,” Layne said. “He just offered me a lot of money.” Layne explained about the call he’d received and although he’d been skeptical, he’d met the man an hour later, when he’d given him cash.

  “Half today, half after the child was delivered,” Layne said.

  “What did the man look like?” Thad asked.

  Layne thought for a moment. “He wore a hat and sunglasses. He wasn’t as tall as you and had on a dark suit.”

  That wasn’t much to go on and Thad hadn’t gotten a good look at the man who’d watched them before he drove away, which had been right after he’d been spotted. He hadn’t seen the license plate, either. “After you had Sophie, what were you supposed to do?”

  “He was going to contact me to arrange giving her to him. He hasn’t yet.”

  Thad had gotten here in time. “How was he going to contact you?”

  “My phone. Cell phone.”

  Thad searched him. Not finding the phone, he scanned the kitchen.

  Finally having calmed Sophie enough to put her down, Lucy picked up a cell phone from the kitchen island and showed it to Thad.

  Layne had agreed to kidnap a young girl for money without knowing who hired him or why. He hadn’t set out to murder Rosanna. He’d been desperate for money. And once embroiled in the plan to kidnap Sophie, there was no turning back.

  Hearing sirens outside, Thad was assured of Layne’s arrest, but without a solid lead to identify the man who’d paid him to kidnap Sophie. He could only vow to protect Sophie from further harm. And that came with another kind of danger—one to his heart.

  Chapter 11

  Darcy lay propped up on his elbow, looking down at Avery’s pretty face as she slept. Her thick, soft blond hair fanned over the pillow and one fine breast. Over the past week, he’d spent every night with her here at her apartment. They hadn’t had sex until last night. He was still in awe. The sex had clinched what he’d begun to suspect. Avery hadn’t been ready before last night, but he had been ready since the day he met her.

  He’d gone slow with her, spent more than an hour loving her before spreading her legs and doing what he’d dreamed of doing for days. It had been better than he’d imagined. She’d been timid that first time, the aftereffects of nearly being raped. The second time, she’d climbed on top of him. Together they were a couple of 1.3G fireworks.

  The night before last, she’d worked a night shift at the hospital while he worked his latest murder case. She’d gotten back to the apartment at 6:00 a.m., about fifteen minutes before he’d arrived. It was so refreshing to be with someone who understood his irregular schedule. She could change hers to match his. She had a sweet arrangement at work.

  Just then her eyes fluttered open.

  “I love you,” he said, and kissed her.

  Still groggy and waking up, she blinked a few times and kept looking at him.

  “I’ve been lying here watching you sleep, thinking about that,” he said. “I’m sure of it. I love you. I can’t believe how fast it happened, but I do. I’m madly in love with you.” There. It was out in the open.

  “Darcy...” she finally said, sounding hesitant.

  He controlled the wave of dread. “You don’t feel the same?”

  “I...” She sat up, holding the sheets to her chest.

  He sat with her. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so honest yet.

  She looked at him, her beautiful blue eyes uncertain but full of desire. “No. I do feel the same...but it scares me.”

  It scared him, too. He kissed her. “Good. Let’s go find breakfast. I know a diner that’s open 24/7.” It was 2:00 a.m.

  She got up with him. He started the shower. They’d developed the habit of taking showers together. Quiet and averting her eyes from him, she stepped under the spray with him. She had a big enough shower for the two of them. It was separate from the tub.

  He turned on the stereo, and a jazzy tune played. She laughed at his playfulness and looped her arms over his shoulders while water rained down on them. He kissed her, enjoying the wet contact.

  “Darcy...” she breathed.

  “Yes.” He moved her so that her back was against the wall.

  “Stop doing this to me.”

  “I’m going to do this to you.” He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around him with a soft, sultry laugh.

  He found her and pressed her to the wet tile wall with each thrust, holding her waist. After she came, he quickly followed, the love he felt making the build and release so much more powerful.

  “Darcy,” she whispered.

  “I know.” He kissed her softly, tenderly.

  Neither of them had to voice what they felt. This had come on so fast. What had him worried was that he might be more prepared to deal with it than Avery. He didn’t like thinking about losing another woman he loved. This was so much different from his marriage, but he was afraid he felt more for Avery than he had for his wife the entire time he was with her.

  * * *

  Darcy sat across from Avery at Gracie’s Diner. At first glance it looked like a good place to get botulism, but once inside, the aroma beckoned and the food never disappointed. He knew the owner, Gracie. She ran a tight ship. This place was clean. There wasn’t a corner that didn’t shine.

  Avery looked over the restaurant. Chrome, black cushioned stools and booths formed an L around an open kitchen. Framed pictures of various cartoon characters cluttered the walls. Gracie didn’t have the decorating sense that Avery did.

  “How did you find this diner?” she asked.

  “It was near a crime scene. Been coming here ever since.”

  “I love it.”
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  At her mention of the word love, Darcy grew uncomfortable. He’d felt so sure she was on the same page as him. He still thought she could be, but he shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t like him to blurt out what he thought and felt.

  “Darcy.” She reached over and put her hand on his. “Do you think we’re reading too much into this?”

  Why did she think they were exaggerating? Because their divorces were so fresh?

  “I was ready to be alone for a long time before I met you,” he said.

  “So was I.” She looked down, drawing her hand back. This was really bothering her. Sex had changed the dynamics.

  Gracie carried two plates over, her short, curly, white hair unruly, big-hooped earrings swinging, and chewing gum just like a scene in a movie.

  “Here ya are,” she said, putting the plates down with a clank as she eyed Avery. He’d already introduced her, and Gracie had asked if she was his new partner. When he’d said no, she’d absorbed every detail about Avery. She’d seemed surprised Darcy had brought her so early in the morning.

  Darcy looked down at his and Avery’s plates. Steaming eggs smothered in spicy green chili. Avery loved Mexican food as much as he did. They had identical plates, right down to the whole wheat toast—hold the butter.

  “Thanks, Gracie.” He hoped she’d leave them alone now. No such luck.

  “Kate Winston was released from the hospital, I heard,” she said.

  “Yes, she was.” Gracie was always chatty when he came in, catching up on the latest news.

  “Heard on the news that your friend has been by her side the whole time.”

  She didn’t have to say Thad’s name for him to know that’s who she’d meant. But why was she pointing that out? “It’s his mother.”

  Gracie smacked her gum. “Is he part of the investigation? I heard the feds were leading it.”

  She’d heard a lot. “He’s doing what he can.” Darcy couldn’t talk much about that. Chief Thomas had too many eyes and ears as it was.

  “Well, if anyone can catch that shooter, it’s you and Thad.” Gracie turned to Avery.

  “Did you know he came here to my restaurant every day after some gang members killed a teenage boy in my parking lot?” she asked Avery.