His To Protect

by Patricia Werner

  “You know that missing murder weapon that killed our buddy Meyer last year?”

  Roland turned his silent attention to Matt. He gave a slight nod.

  “I have a funny feeling it turned up on the grass at the assault yesterday and was confiscated.”

  Matt saw the muscles in Roland’s jaw work. “And?”

  Matt glanced over his shoulder, then leaned closer. “It belonged to Tracy Meyer, which was why it was at the bank in her safe-deposit box. Problem is, it’s not in the evidence room now.”

  “Ballistics checking it out?” asked Roland. His sharp eyes scanned the hallway to make sure no one was listening to them.

  “Nope. Shelly says it never came in as evidence.”

  Roland’s sharp blue eyes studied his friend. “What’re you going to do about it?”

  “I’m not sure. There were some bullets in Tracy Meyer’s safe-deposit box. They’ve disappeared, too, just like that.” Matt snapped his fingers for emphasis.

  When Roland did speak a whole sentence, it came out as a growl, the creases in his weathered face deepening. “It’s not our territory. You’re not going to get any cooperation.”

  “I know that,” Matt grumbled. “I believe what Tracy told me. She has a right to know what happened to that gun.”

  Roland gave him an understanding smile. “Lines are drawn in this agency, my friend. You’re supposed to know your role and not try to do anybody else’s job.”

  Matt knew that Roland was only giving him a friendly reminder. In an agency as large as this one, it usually didn’t pay to buck the system. But his mouth formed a grim line.

  “Sorry, I can’t let it go,” he muttered. “That gun might have killed Meyer.”

  Roland refilled his paper cup from the water cooler. “You want someone to pay.”

  Matt nodded slowly, the old anger like lead in his belly. “I don’t want the guilty party to get away with it.”

  “You still think one of our own did it and not the suspects on the run.” Roland spoke to Matt but scanned the hallway for listeners.

  “You saw the diagrams of the angles of the shots and read the testimony of the witnesses. From where Meyer was deployed, it would have been impossible for those suspects to have shot him in the back.”

  “The conclusion was that an inside accomplice got away,” said Roland blandly.

  “Likely story. No accomplice was ever identified.”

  “Yeah, well, I wish you luck if you’re going to try to get the case reopened.”

  Matt put a noncommittal expression on his face, but his friend read his thoughts correctly. He was going to do this his way.

  “Watch your back,” warned Roland.

  Matt lifted an eyebrow in reply.

  TRACY FLIPPED THE PAGES of the morning paper, reading headlines as she sipped her coffee. After Matt had left, she’d gotten herself and Jennifer ready and taken Jennifer to day camp. Then she’d gone to the bank to sign the release form so they could lock her safe-deposit box back up. The police had her statement typed up, and she met them there to sign it, as well.

  Back home now, she had time to do some thinking before making the phone call she knew she needed to make. She wanted to talk to Andrew Leigh personally. Try to make him understand why it would be better for Jennifer to remain here.

  But before she confronted that task, she fixed herself a bracing cup of coffee and scanned the newspaper. Pictures from the bank robbery were all over pages one and four. She made a sour face looking at them. She didn’t even want to read the text; she didn’t need to be reminded of what had happened.

  Other news also caught her eye. On the page opposite was an item about another incident that had occurred yesterday. Federal felon Jax Schaffer had escaped from the police van that was transporting him from the holding facility to the federal courthouse. The officers guarding him were slain and the prisoner freed. The escape vehicle was eventually found abandoned along Coal Mine Road. Schaffer’s mug shot was pictured.

  Tracy shook her head at the incident. She didn’t like to think that she and Jennifer lived in an area with so much crime. It reminded her again of Carrie, and she glanced over at the phone.

  What was wrong with the police that they couldn’t find her? That motorcycle couldn’t have gone that far. In spite of herself, suspicion niggled at the back of her mind. Like Schaffer, who no doubt had his escape planned with changes of cars and hideouts, Carrie’s abductor must have had places he knew he could go to ground. But Carrie was pretty smart. It seemed that she could have left clues along the way if she’d wanted to.

  Only then, sitting alone in her kitchen and having the time to ponder what had happened, did Tracy truly wonder if Carrie Lamb was running from something. But the more she tried to figure it out, the less it made any sense.

  She got up to refill her coffee cup, then sat down and pushed the newspaper aside, concentrating on what she was going to say to Andrew Leigh. Fifteen minutes later, she had him on the phone.

  A grumpy, hurried voice said, “This is Andrew Leigh.”

  “Tracy Meyer,” she said into the phone.

  A slight pause. “Mrs. Meyer. I assume your lawyer has received papers from my lawyer.”

  “I don’t have a lawyer yet, Mr. Leigh. It seems to me that if you and I could talk about this sensibly, we might reach an understanding.” Tracy squeezed her cold coffee cup. “I’m willing to try.”

  “I think I understand things clearly, Mrs. Meyer. You’re hard up for cash and Jennifer needs care. I wouldn’t be in my right mind if I left her there without any blood relatives to make sure she’s being taken care of.”

  Tracy gripped the phone with both hands, speaking into the mouthpiece intently. “I do care for her, Mr. Leigh, to the best of my ability. She needs some stability right now, and a move would be upsetting to her. This is her home.”

  “I understand your feelings, but I can’t agree. My information says she’s in a public school, probably not one trained to deal with asthmatics. You can’t afford to continue her care without financial aid. You need to go to work, Mrs. Meyer, and that will leave Jennifer without anyone at home.”

  “I won’t do that to Jennifer.” Tracy heard her voice rising. “I quit work so I could take care of her.”

  “I am her grandfather,” interrupted the gruff voice. “You can’t keep her away from me.”

  “Blood relations aren’t everything, Mr. Leigh. Surely there is a way we can work things out so we both see Jennifer.”

  “She is blood family, and I want her here in Chicago where I can see her. She’s all I’ve got left. I won’t change my mind.”

  “She is family to me....” Tracy had to stifle a rising sob of frustration. “Surely—”

  “You’re wasting your time, Mrs. Meyer. Have your attorney call mine.”

  “I said I didn’t have an—” But he hung up.

  She stared at the phone, her heart cracking. She couldn’t believe it. He had hung up. Exhaling, she replaced the phone in its cradle and sat down at the kitchen table before her wobbly legs gave way. Then she placed her elbows on the table and braced her head in her hands. She would have to get a lawyer. And she couldn’t afford one good enough to fight the powerful Andrew Leigh. She might as well hand Jennifer over right now. There was just no winning against him.

  After five minutes of rubbing her eyes and slumping over the table, she got up to pour a fresh cup of coffee. She couldn’t give up. She just couldn’t. But where to turn? Amanda Fielding had not only refused to help with the trust fund, but the poor woman was now also suffering from a blow to the head.

  Tracy’s hand reached for the phone to call Denver General to find out about Amanda’s condition again. She knew it was selfish. She would hardly spare more than an appropriate sympathetic thought for the sophisticated bank president were it not for the fact that she was intricately involved in Jennifer’s trust fund.

  A quick phone call informed her that Amanda Fielding had gone home and would be
resting there. Tracy sighed. Hardly the time to call and badger her. No, she’d have to think of something else.

  For the time being, she needed to drag herself around the house and take care of the endless cleaning. It was the day for the bathroom to be scrubbed to guard against mold spores forming that could trigger Jennifer’s asthma episodes.

  After changing into grubby work clothes and getting out the cleaning supplies, she threw herself into the hard physical work. It was the only thing she could do that would keep her from going crazy.

  TRACY WAS READY when Matt rang the doorbell at four o’clock. She had managed to dress, pick up Jennifer and return home in time to splash water on her face before he got here. Vanity prevented her from letting Matt see her looking as hot and frazzled as she felt.

  Just before she reached to open the door, a twinge of guilt assailed her. It was almost as if Scott were watching them, and she tried to deal with her reasons for looking forward to seeing Matt so much.

  Scott is dead, she reminded herself. I’m not cheating on him. Man and I never so much as looked at each other while Scott was alive. He was just another cop on the team, albeit a good looking one.

  But then she opened the door and stared at Matt’s strong, sexy presence standing in the shade on her porch, and her hormones raged. His tight black T-shirt outlined bulging muscles and left his tanned, powerful arms bare from the biceps down. And his tight-fitting jeans outlined trim hips and thighs that bulged against the denim.

  It stung her to realize the force of her attraction to him. She’d never thought of him this way when she’d known him as her husband’s friend. But now with Scott gone, she and Matt looked into each other’s eyes and heat sprang between them. Her breath became quicker, and she flushed in embarrassment, hoping he would think it was just the sun.

  His eyes registered pleasure at her appearance, and she wiped her hands down the sides of her sturdy white cotton shorts. They were cut modestly, with deep pockets and cuffs across her tanned thighs. But she saw his gaze glance across the curve of her breasts, firmly supported in an athletic bra beneath the lime-green T-shirt.

  “Come in,” she finally said.

  His handsome lips lifted in a sensuous smile, and she imagined that if it hadn’t been for Jennifer getting ready in her room, she and Matt might have made themselves comfortable on the couch and spent the rest of the afternoon indulging in what single, consenting adults did when aroused to the frenzy she was beginning to feel hovering beneath their social veneers.

  He stepped into the living room and shut the door, but she was still aware of the heat of his gaze on her back as she moved into the room.

  “All ready?” he asked.

  “Yes. Jennifer should be ready in just a minute. Would you like anything to drink before we go?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Dear Lord I’m not, she thought, feeling wobbly and still not recovered from the anxieties of the night and morning.

  She led Matt into the kitchen, giving Jennifer a few more minutes. She purposely didn’t hover when Jennifer was changing clothes. It was important that a child with a disease such as she had be as self-reliant as possible. So Tracy let her make her own decision about what to wear to the picnic.

  Matt also seemed to turn his thoughts to the serious matters before them. By the time they’d reached the kitchen, his face had lost its look of anticipation and was replaced by grim concern.

  “Did you have any more phone calls?” he asked.

  “No. What’s happening downtown?”

  “Nothing new.” He looked down as if thinking about whether he should continue. Tracy sensed he was withholding something.

  “What is it?” she asked quickly.

  He pulled his lips sideways before he spoke, but then looked into her eyes. “I paid a visit to the evidence room this morning to check on your gun.”

  “And?”

  “It wasn’t there.” His tone rang with irony. “My friend Shelly, who typed up the list, assured me it hadn’t been turned in as evidence.”

  Tracy frowned. “Why not?”

  “You tell me.”

  It wasn’t accusatory. He was just conveying the fact that it made no sense.

  He continued. “Why would someone on the scene confiscate a weapon and ammunition and not turn it in?”

  “Did you ask?”

  Matt gave her a mocking look. “This isn’t exactly my territory. The FBI has a task-force leader on the case, and they’re rather territorial about their turf. If I’m going to play by the rules, I don’t get to ask.”

  Tracy felt a low thrum of warning. “Then you’re not going to play by the rules.”

  He just lifted his chin stubbornly, but didn’t answer.

  She shook her head. “But why would anyone take the gun?”

  Matt’s face seemed to darken slightly, and the creases in his cheeks and forehead revealed themselves a little more sternly. “Someone would take it only if he had something to hide.”

  Tracy gave a shiver. “And what would that be?” She was afraid she knew the answer. “You think that gun killed Scott.”

  He nodded. “And whoever took it knew that.”

  Tracy closed her eyes. Feelings that she thought she’d dealt with and buried rose up to cause a nasty tightening in her throat. She spoke with her eyes still closed. “What good is it? We can’t prove anything.”

  She opened her eyes when she felt his hand on her arm. The heat radiating from his hand communicated a deep intensity that she felt right down to the soles of her feet. She looked up into his eyes.

  “You can’t let it go, can you?” she asked him.

  “Can you?”

  She waited a moment before she spoke. “I don’t know,” she said levelly. “I’ve let go of Scott. He’s gone. My life goes on. I have to survive alone and deal with all these problems.”

  Her gaze flitted to Jennifer’s room, since she didn’t want her to overhear. “I feel like I can’t take on one more burden.”

  He loosened his grip, but still rested his hand on her arm.

  “I understand. And I want to help you with those problems. But Scott was my partner. I can’t let go of something like that. If his death wasn’t an accident, I have to find out.”

  She pulled her arm away slowly. She didn’t feel resentment exactly, rather a cynical feeling that contained no sympathy.

  “You guys are all alike that way. Obsessed with everything about your jobs.”

  The intense desire she’d been feeling for Matt cooled a little, and she stepped away. It helped her get some perspective on him to remind herself that he was like Scott in many ways.

  Starting to rely on another member of the high-and-mighty SWAT team would be a mistake. Here one minute, gone the next Work always coming first That was the part of her marriage she had never worked out. There just wasn’t a choice about it.

  She tried not to snap at him, but she tossed her head as she spoke. “Do whatever you like. Whoever may have caused Scott’s death, inadvertent or not, plunged me into deep financial problems. I suppose I should want to strangle that person.”

  Matt looked sympathetic. “Don’t you miss Scott?”

  “Of course.” It came out in an angry tone, and she wasn’t able to bite back the bitterness. Her chin went up, and she wasn’t able to stop the words from pouring out. “But not in the way you think. Not anymore. Half the time, he wasn’t here, anyway. Jennifer wouldn’t have known she had a father if she didn’t know he slept here.”

  Matt’s brows furrowed, but she went on, circling the kitchen as she spoke.

  “Our relationship wasn’t the greatest He was out on call so much of the time or away for training. I guess I was asking too much, wanting a normal family life. I wanted to spend Saturdays with Scott and Jennifer, going to the mountains, feeding the geese in the park, working on the house. She is a special child and she needed his attention. I couldn’t do it all myself. I still can’t.”

  Grief and frustrat
ion began to well up. She had to raise her hands to her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she croaked, beginning to break under the stress.

  Matt was beside her in a heartbeat. She felt his arms slide around her and pull her to his chest. He held her close and just let her lean on him until she got her feelings under control. He didn’t say anything, just pressed her head against his shoulder and rested his cheek and jaw against the side of her head.

  She felt him communicate his strength to her. He didn’t apologize for the life of a cop, something about which she realized she held deep resentment. He just comforted her. And that made her want to cry all the more.

  “It’s okay,” he finally whispered. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

  She sniffled like a baby against the soft cotton of his black T-shirt, but she grasped his firm torso and drank in his warmth and his fresh masculine scent. He dropped comforting kisses on her ear and stroked her back. It wasn’t demanding, but it was all the more arousing because of his gentleness. Scott hadn’t had this kind of gentleness, she couldn’t help but think. And in the next breath, she admonished herself for making the comparison. She shouldn’t be getting involved with Scott’s partner.

  She wasn’t planning to get involved with Matt, but she felt their embrace turn into something else. He held her so close that the desire throbbing through his veins began to make itself felt against her. She twisted her head so the skin of her forehead lay against his neck and felt the heat flood through her. Crazily, she felt her hands stroke his back in answer to his own strokes. But with deep breaths, she began to push herself away from him, swallowing deeply. They couldn’t let their lust run amok with Jennifer coming out to join them momentarily.

  “All right,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I understand you want to find out if Scott was murdered. But you have to understand that I have a list of other, equally important priorities.”

  Her gaze into his golden, burning eyes was pleading. “I need help sorting out the rest of it, as well.”