Chain of Custody (Holding The Line Book 2)

by Carol Ericson

  The color drained from Nash’s tanned face and his body stiffened.

  “What’s wrong?” Emily pushed away from the crib and sat on the foot of the bed, clasping her hands.

  Nash ran a hand over his mouth. “Murdered?”

  Emily bounced up. “Murdered? Who? Marcus Lanier? God, not your friend and his girlfriend!”

  Nash shook his head at her. “Okay, thanks for calling, Valdez. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  He ended the call and sat still on the bed, cupping the phone between his hands, his eyes closed.

  “Nash?” Emily scooted closer to him on the bed and rested her hand on his thigh. “What happened? Who was murdered?”

  Without opening his eyes, he said, “Jaycee.”

  Emily cried out and covered her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes and spilled over her lids, creating hot trails down her cheeks until they met the edge of her hand.

  A lump formed in her throat and she sobbed, covering her face with both hands. Her shoulders shook.

  Wyatt’s mother—dead. He’d never know her. Never remember her. Maybe Jaycee hadn’t been the most careful mother, but she loved her boy. Even Emily could see that, although she herself had never felt that love before. Jaycee had loved him enough to leave him with a trusted friend when she felt his life—and hers—was in danger.

  Nash rested his hand on her shoulder. “They killed her.”

  She dropped her hands and reached for him. His sister’s friend, the childhood nuisance, murdered.

  He wrapped his arms around her and nestled his head in the crook of her neck. He grated out in a rough voice, “I should’ve done something. I should’ve protected her.”

  She stroked the back of his head, his thick hair springy beneath her fingers. “You couldn’t know. You didn’t know until I told you she was in trouble.”

  “I should’ve guessed. Why else would she drop her baby off on my porch? I should’ve seen that as a desperate move.” He drilled his fist into the mattress.

  “You tried, Nash. You tried to reach her, but she didn’t return your calls. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.” She pulled away from him and smacked her hand twice against her chest. “I was hounding her just as surely as those two men were. I should’ve demanded that Lanier take action right away.”

  Nash, his eyes bright with unshed tears, grabbed both of her hands with his. “Why’d they do it, Emily? Why’d they kill her? If they wanted to get to Brett, they should’ve taken her hostage to give him an ultimatum.”

  “Maybe Brett didn’t care?” She squeezed his hands. “Maybe they had her, gave Brett the option of coming in or losing Jaycee, and he chose his life over hers.”

  “And the baby? And Wyatt?” His gaze tracked over her shoulder to the crib. “My God, he’s just lost his mother and who the hell knows who his father is? Some selfish junkie or a possible drug cartel financier? What the hell kind of choice is that?”

  Emily flattened her hand against her belly. “Now that they don’t have Jaycee, they’ll be coming for Wyatt even harder. Maybe that’s why they accosted me last night. They’d already killed Jaycee and knew they needed Wyatt. H-how long has she been dead?”

  “I didn’t ask.” Nash wiped his hand across his brow. “I didn’t ask much of anything.”

  “You were in shock.” She cupped his face with both of her hands. “I’m so sorry, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on as soon as I met you.”

  “You were working for a client.” He encircled her wrists with his fingers. “Don’t blame yourself.”

  “But I knew those men were after her, and Lanier wasn’t responding to my texts. I should’ve figured out something was wrong.”

  “So, we’re both going to sit here and blame ourselves for Jaycee’s death when the only people responsible are the ones who killed her. Sure, she made some bad choices, but not one of those choices deserved a death sentence. Now Wyatt—” Nash’s voice hitched in his throat “—he’s an orphan.”

  “I’m going to have to call Lanier about this.”

  “Or you can pretend you don’t know anything about Jaycee. We haven’t publicized her name yet. That story is not going to be released for at least a day. Sit back and see what Lanier has to say. See if he gives away the fact that he knows Jaycee is gone.”

  “Lanier?” She dropped her hands to his thighs and curled her fingers into his flesh. “You think he had something to do with Jaycee’s murder?”

  “I don’t know, Emily. If he did, that means you’re in danger, too.”

  “After last night, I already figured that, but I have something Jaycee didn’t.” She pointed to her purse hanging over a chair with her .22 back in its pocket.

  “You have something else she didn’t.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “What’s that?”

  “You have me.”

  “Thank you.” She grabbed his arm. “I feel like I brought this danger to Jaycee.”

  “Jaycee would’ve been in danger without you...or without me. At least she had the good sense to separate herself from Wyatt.”

  “Now she’s permanently separated from Wyatt.” She glanced over her shoulder to look between the slats of the crib at the sleeping baby, unaware that he’d lost his mother for good. “Do you think she found Brett? That’s where she must’ve gone, right? She didn’t give you any hint? She must’ve left you a note with Wyatt along with all those instructions, right?”

  “She did.” Nash massaged his right temple. “It was brief. Something along the lines of watch my baby for a few days, and here’s the baby manual.”

  “What are we going to do now, Nash?” She clasped her hands, intertwining her fingers to keep from touching him. She wanted to smooth the lines of worry and sadness from his face. “If you hadn’t warned me about Marcus Lanier, I’d be headed to Phoenix right now to deliver his son to him.”

  He met her gaze, his blue eyes still glistening. “You know I’d never allow you to do that—even if I’d never heard of Marcus Lanier. Babies can’t be transported around the country by strangers, delivered to people just because they say they’re the parents. You understand that, right?”

  She lifted her shoulders to her ears. “You mean you have to follow the law, and in this case that means calling the Department of Child Services.”

  “You can tell Lanier anything you like and maybe he’ll even allow you to keep your retainer.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Is that what you think I’m worried about? Money?”

  “Then you agree that we need to contact the proper authorities now? Wyatt doesn’t belong to you, he doesn’t belong to me and he sure as hell doesn’t belong to Marcus Lanier—at least not yet.”

  “The proper authorities don’t always make the best calls.” She clenched her teeth. “We’ll be turning him over to strangers. He knows us. He belongs with us. We can protect him.”

  “Emily, it’s called kidnapping. We can’t do it. If we take off with Wyatt and then he’s taken from us by force, that’ll be a whole lot worse. Think about it.”

  “I—I see that.” She knew her way only led to trouble down the road. Hadn’t it gotten her fired? She stifled a sniffle. “Tomorrow? We’ll take him back to Paradiso tomorrow and call DCS.”

  “I’m going to notify the station that we have Wyatt, and I’ll have them call DCS. I think that would be safer.” Nash scooted past her off the bed and crept to Wyatt’s crib. He leaned over and touched one finger to Wyatt’s cheek. “What are you going to do about Lanier, Emily?”

  “I’m going to try him again today just to test the waters and to gauge if he knows anything he shouldn’t. Then tomorrow—” she swung her legs off the bed “—tomorrow I’m going to let him know that DCS has Wyatt because his mother was murdered and advise him to contact DCS to go through the proper channels if he wants custody of his son. And if
he wants his damned money back, he can have it.”

  “You’re going to have to make a statement to the police about the man who threatened you.”

  She opened her mouth, but Nash held up a hand. “You don’t have to tell them everything. After all, the guy who accosted you didn’t know you had a connection to Lanier, right? He just thought you were a friend of mine who had access to Wyatt. We decided to take a trip to Tombstone to get out of town and heard the news about Wyatt’s mom.”

  He spread his hands. “No covers blown.”

  “I can do that.” She pressed a palm against her forehead. “I’m going to try calling Lanier again. Wish me luck.”

  She strolled to the window and placed the call as she looked out on a cactus garden in the back of the house. The phone rang three times and then flipped to a message.

  She held the phone in front of her and turned to Nash. “I can’t even leave voice mail because his box is full. I don’t get it.”

  “Father of the year, unless they got to him, too.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Do you mind if we order food in for dinner? I don’t feel much like going out.”

  “I don’t feel much like eating. Whatever you like, but that garden out back looks nice. Wyatt will probably want some fresh air when he wakes up.”

  “He’d like that.” Nash sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

  Emily shoved her phone into the pocket of her skirt. “What’s going to happen to Wyatt?”

  “As a cop, you should know the drill. They’ll contact Jaycee’s next of kin, see if she had a will, which I doubt, and try to place him with her family.”

  “Unless the father steps up.” Emily crossed and gripped her upper arms. With Jaycee out of the picture, Lanier would have a clear path to Wyatt. Had he been responsible for Jaycee’s death? Had those two men been working for him, as Nash had suggested at the beginning?

  “Who is Jaycee’s next of kin? Does she have siblings?”

  “She may have half brothers and sisters. I don’t know. When she lived in Paradiso, she and her single mom rented a house my family owned. Her mother lived with a couple of guys while they were here, and my parents finally had to give her an ultimatum because the men were using and selling drugs from the house.”

  “Poor Jaycee. No wonder she fell into that lifestyle so easily.” Emily dug her fingers into her biceps. Wyatt shouldn’t have to repeat that upbringing. “D-do you think her mother will want custody?”

  “I don’t know, Emily. I hope to God not.”

  Wyatt stirred in his crib, making mewling noises in his sleep.

  Emily said, “I’ll get his bottle ready.”

  “No, let me do it.” Nash smashed his fist into his other hand. “I need to do something before I go off and tear this room apart.”

  Blinking back tears, Emily nodded. Jaycee’s death had deeply affected Nash, probably partly out of guilt and partly from childhood memories, but he hadn’t been able to let go. She wanted to tell him it was okay if he wanted to cry and let loose. She’d seen her father cry over particular murder cases where he didn’t even know the victims, and he’d always seemed more the man for doing so.

  But Nash had to deal how he had to deal, and she let him go through the busywork of mixing up Wyatt’s formula and warming it up while she hovered over the baby.

  Wyatt uncurled his hands and blinked his eyes. His mouth opened for a big yawn.

  Emily reached into the crib and rubbed his back. “Hello, sleepyhead. Are you ready for a bottle?”

  His unfocused eyes found her face and a smile touched his lips. He recognized her. He was happy to see her standing there. Her heart swelled. Nobody had been happy to see her in a long time.

  She slid her hand beneath his body and lifted him toward her. Still sleepy, he nuzzled his head against her shoulder, and she rested her cheek against his soft hair.

  The tears came again, silently sliding down her face and running into Wyatt’s hair. She choked back a sob.

  In a second, Nash was beside her, holding her and Wyatt both in the circle of his strong arms. He bent his head to hers, and his body shook as he cried.

  As Nash held her and this motherless child safe in his comforting embrace, Emily’s heart filled with a warmth she hadn’t felt since the night her father was murdered.

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT, after tacos outside within feet of the cactus garden, Emily put Wyatt to bed in the crib and joined Nash on the patio for a beer.

  She rolled the sweating bottle between her hands. “I saw you texting earlier when I was putting Wyatt down. Any more news about Jaycee’s murder?”

  “No.” Wyatt scratched at the soggy label on his beer with his fingernail. “That was Rob Valdez, one of my coworkers. I told him that I would bring Wyatt into the office tomorrow and to notify DCS.”

  “So, this is it, our last night with Wyatt.” Emily traced her finger around the lip of her bottle. “I hope Jaycee’s mother takes care of him. I hope he’s happy—no matter who he has for a father.”

  “I don’t think it’s Lanier. If he told you a true story, he would’ve been in touch with you as soon as he found out these other guys were after Wyatt. His silence is telling.”

  “If he isn’t Wyatt’s father, his intentions from the start were nefarious...and I played right into his hands.” Emily took a gulp of beer. “I’m not much of a PI, am I?”

  “Even an investigation you’d run on a client wouldn’t have turned up Lanier’s shady financial deals. We had a forensic accountant working on Lanier, and he’s still not sure about the connection to the cartels.” Nash eased out of his chair and knelt before hers, sliding his hands up to her hips. “Don’t blame yourself. As soon as you explained yourself to me, I believed you. Call me an idiot. God knows, I have plenty of reasons not to trust women, but I knew.”

  Leaning over, Emily set her beer bottle on the tile and placed her hands on Nash’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I tricked you. I really did think I was doing the right thing for Wyatt. I’d seen those men questioning Jaycee and knew they were trouble—trouble coming for Wyatt.”

  “You did a good job protecting him. You did a good job taking care of him, especially since everything you know about babies comes from online videos.”

  Her lips turned up on one side, the first time she’d cracked a smile since finding out about Jaycee. “I did okay, didn’t I?”

  “You did more than okay. You saved me.”

  She joined her hands together, entwining her fingers behind his neck. “There’s something special about us. I felt it from the beginning.”

  “So did I.” Nash’s gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth as his hands moved up to her waist.

  She parted her lips, which had started tingling. That ended when Nash pressed his mouth against hers.

  She returned the kiss, inching her hands up his throat. With her fingers laced behind his neck, she pulled him closer and he deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

  She sighed against the kiss and melted into his embrace. Could they make love with Wyatt in his crib? Was that even legal? If not, she’d be willing to break every law to be with Nash Dillon.

  Nash’s body jerked, and he pulled away from her.

  “I—I agree.” She put a hand to her hot cheek. “Bad idea.”

  “Shh.” He rose to his feet and turned toward the sliding door that led to their room.

  “What is it?” She touched his back, straining her ears for Wyatt’s cry.

  Nash lunged forward and charged through the door.

  With the adrenaline rushing through her system, Emily stumbled after him. She tripped over the sliding door track and screamed as she saw Nash tackle a man hovering over Wyatt’s crib.

  Nash threw himself on top of the man’s skinny frame, shoving his forearm against the man’s throat. The
intruder bucked and thrashed beneath him, choking out words and foaming at the mouth.

  Nash punched the man’s face and blood spurted from his beak-like nose. With one knee pressed into the squirming man’s midsection, he turned around and ground out, “He was trying to kidnap Wyatt.”

  Emily yanked her purse from the chair and whipped out her weapon. “Do not make another move or you’re dead.”

  The would-be kidnapper gasped, “Stop. Stop. I’m Wyatt’s father.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Nash cranked his head back to stare into the man’s face, the high cheekbones prominent, his bug-eyes wild. “You’re not Marcus Lanier.”

  “I’m Brett Fillmore.” He held his hands in front of his face. “No more, man. I can prove it. My wallet’s in my back pocket.”

  Emily, her gun clutched in her hand, approached from the side. She leaned over the man, and her gaze scanned his face. “It’s him. It’s Brett Fillmore.”

  Brett blinked. “How do you know who I am? Who the hell are you?”

  Nash reached for the man’s pocket anyway and patted him down after snatching his wallet and throwing it at Emily’s feet. Shoving his fingers into Brett’s front pocket, Nash pulled out a knife. “I’ll take this.”

  “Hey, a guy needs protection.”

  Nash pushed to his feet, using Brett’s body for leverage. “You’re sure he’s Brett Fillmore? You saw him before?”

  “I did.” Emily swept the wallet from the floor and flipped it open, glancing inside and then showing Nash Brett Fillmore’s driver’s license. “He was in Jaycee’s apartment when I was surveilling it—before she left for the border.”

  Brett used his elbows to prop himself up. “You were spying on us? On Jaycee?”

  Nash narrowed his eyes. “I don’t care if he’s Santa Claus and Mother Teresa rolled into one. He was trying to kidnap Wyatt.”

  “You can’t kidnap your own son.” Brett wiped his arm across his bloody nose. “Can someone help me here?”

  Emily responded by leveling her gun at Brett’s head. Nash knew there was a reason why he liked this woman.