Safe Haven

by Lisa Mondello

“Since you have my husband tied up these days I figure I have no choice.”

  “Sorry about that,” he said, a slight groan escaping his lips.

  Cassie didn’t remark about it. “I’m waiting for a call from Charlotte Tate.”

  “You’ve hooked up with Charlie again? Boy, that didn’t take long.”

  “She’s trained as a profiler. That’s good stuff. She’s been great about answering questions for my latest book.”

  “At least she knows you’re a writer. You don’t want the FBI on your doorstep again thinking you’re about to kidnap the entire Tiny Tots Preschool.”

  Cassie’s laugh floated through the phone line as he made the right turn at the red light.

  “I’m not going to make that mistake again. It’s a good thing I have friends in the FBI to smooth things over. Charlotte came through for me.”

  As crime novelist, Cassie Lang, Cassie was known to get so wrapped up in one of her books that she’d start a conversation with a shocking question before she’d told the person she was talking to what she did for a living.

  “Good. Get Jake out of the shower so I can talk to him.”

  “He’s already gone for the day. Left about twenty minutes ago. You’re working him too hard. I’m not sure I like you very much.” He heard the teasing in her voice, but still felt the twinge of guilt that worked its way under his skin.

  It was because of him, his mistake that his newly married partner was spending long hours at the station instead of home in bed with his beautiful wife. He knew all Jake wanted to do was rush home after a long day and get naked with Cassie. He’d seen the looks that passed between them, stood at the altar as best man as they both declared their undying love for each other. At a time when it was easy to be cynical about love, Kevin knew that his partner had found the one true thing in life that was real.

  But because of Kevin’s screw up, Jake was now doing overtime without the pay just to keep things from spinning out of control.

  “Ah, you love me. Don’t forget it.”

  “I know you’d do the same for him. In fact, you did it for both of us as I recall.”

  It wasn’t the same and Kevin knew Cassie saw the difference. Jake didn’t screw up where Cassie was concerned. They’d both been part of a barroom shooting. Being the only witness, Cassie was hunted down by the very people who’d sworn to protect her. It was Kevin’s duty, his job to do everything in his power to help Jake keep her from being killed.

  Jake hadn’t screwed up. It was because of him that Cassie was very much alive today.

  “If you talk to Jake before you leave for the beach will you give him the message to call me on my cell phone? I’m going to be getting to the station a little later than usual.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Good luck with the book.”

  He hung up the phone knowing he was going to need more than luck this time around.

  *

  The flowers were sitting in the center of her desk when Daria had arrived in her office. The curious stare from her admin assistant was telling, but nothing was said. Yet. It was only a matter of time before Marla burst.

  Daria stuffed her purse in her bottom draw and locked it, busying herself with all her usual morning routines before she gave attention to the oversized vase with flowers sitting in the middle of her blotter. She didn’t have to look at the card. She knew who they were from. And the cold chill that knowledge gave her after yesterday’s meeting with Detective Kevin Gordon left her raw.

  “You’re killing me,” Marla finally shrieked, standing at the doorway with her arms crossed.

  “Am I?” Daria said. It had been killing her as well, not that she wanted to admit it. She wanted to know and yet she didn’t want to know who’d sent the flowers. Her fingers itched to snatch the little card perched on the little plastic pitchfork.

  “Someone leaves you these big, beautiful flowers and you’re checking your inbox to see what’s in store for the day. Forget it! Check the note already, will ya? I’m dying here.”

  She opened the card under Marla’s watchful eye as her assistant dreamily touched one of the bright yellow and orange petals in the bouquet.

  My pretty little bird. That was all the note said. Frowning, Daria turned the card around to see if there was any writing there. Nothing. She placed the card on the blotter and stole a glance at the flowers. The Bird Of Paradise flowers were exquisitely arranged in tropical foliage in a crystal vase. Just the sight of them made her heart hammer in her chest—but with dread, not excitement.

  “These are gorgeous,” Marla said. “Must have cost whoever sent them a fortune.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Marla glanced at the writing on the card, which was visible since she’d place the card face up. “Cryptic.”

  “Typical,” she said. Daria knew exactly who’d sent her these flowers. She tried not to jump to any conclusions of why.

  “There’s nothing typical about these flowers. Man, I’m so jealous. Bruce never so much as picked me a daisy let alone sent me flowers like this.” Marla’s eyes twinkled. “So who do you think they’re from?”

  Daria glanced at Marla’s knowing smirk and shrugged.

  Marla gasped. “Come on. You know, they’re from George, silly. This is so like him, too. When you two were married he was always doing spontaneous things like this. Maybe this is his way of working himself back into your life. Maybe he wants to get back with you. Do you think?”

  She’d known immediately the flowers were from George, but just the mention of his name sent a trickle of fear through her. The intense urge to tear up the note and toss the flowers, vase and all, in the trash was overwhelming. But that would only end in questions from Marla.

  Instead, she shoved the note into her trash can, got up from her desk chair and carried the vase to the credenza on the other side of her office.

  “What are you doing?” Marla asked, watching in shock as Daria plopped the flowers on the credenza.

  As she walked back to her desk, Daria said, “George and I are finished, Marla.”

  Marla bent down, and looked at her squarely, her brown eyes flashing and her mouth agape. “Oh, wow, you’re really upset! You were expecting these to be from someone else, weren’t you?” She pointed a well-manicured red-coated finger at Daria accusingly. “If you’ve been holding out on me about some secret boyfriend, you’d better spill, girl. I need details.”

  Daria rolled her eyes, giving herself a silent admonition that for a split second she thought they might be from Kevin. What for, she couldn’t fathom. She was being ridiculous, both for expecting it, even for the slightest of moments, and for being annoyed they weren’t.

  “Get real, Marla. When do I ever have time for a man? If I’m not knee deep in plaster dust, I’m pulling splinters out of my palms from hauling wood to and from my truck.” She hoped her unrest didn’t show on her face. But she needed to know. “What makes you think they’re from George?”

  Marla pursed her lips. “Because he strut right by me this morning as I was walking into the office. What other reason would he have for being here if not to give you these flowers? They had to be from him.”

  Daria had told herself over and over again last night that George couldn’t possibly have said the things Kevin had accused him of saying yesterday. She convinced herself of it.

  It had been a long time since Daria had seen George. Would he be so bold after the meeting he’d had with Kevin the other night?

  Daria didn’t believe for one minute that George was trying to win her back. He hadn’t fought the divorce at all, but he’d made it clear he was angry—deeply angry—with her for initiating it. He’d always been all about appearances. He hadn’t cared about their marriage so much as their appearance as a perfect couple.

  It was so like George to care only about things that other people thought were important, things that impressed. Throughout their marriage, he had been very generous
with gifts, even when things were at their worst between them.

  In contrast, a man like Kevin Gordon had real depth. She’d been surprised by his determination to watch over her. It was such a contrast to the way that George, by the end of their marriage, only ever thought of himself. But even aside from George, how many men would do what Kevin was doing for her? Sure, he was a police officer, but even he said the department didn’t have the means to protect her.

  No, what he was doing for her—however frustrating it was to be smothered with his protection—came from character. His motives were honest and without any interest in what he could get back in return. It was refreshing to meet someone so unselfish. And she knew she should be grateful for the protection he offered.

  If George was determined to have her killed as he’d planned, she was going to need all the help she could get. Especially since he’d made it clear how easily he could get past the security guard downstairs and breeze right into her office.

  Daria glanced at Marla’s wide eyes as she gazed longingly at the flowers. A man like George could easily impress a woman like Marla. And it was clear he had. Her assistant wouldn’t be much of a roadblock if George came to the office again. But why today? Why would he send her these ridiculous flowers? Was he trying to scare her? If he was, he’d succeeded.

  Regardless, his card said it all.

  My pretty little bird.

  “What’s today’s date, Marla?”

  Marla gave her a questioning look and tapped her fingers on the small day planner on the corner of her desk.

  Daria stared at the planner and a chill raced up her spine, leaving her hands trembling. In that split second, she knew exactly what it meant. Divorced or not, George’s intentions were clear. To him, she was still his property.

  “Today would have been our anniversary.”

  Chapter Four

  “Carlisle was in her office, Matt,” Kevin boomed. He paced Captain Jorgensen’s office in a fury that gave him a burst of adrenaline. Ever since Ski had called to tell him George Carlisle was seen leaving the grounds of the building Daria worked, he hadn’t been able to keep still.

  He’d left her there. Even knowing she could still be in danger, Kevin had watched her stretch out of her truck and make her way toward the building. And he’d just left her there.

  Daria hadn’t given him the slightest backwards glance. She’d just kept walking toward the building, holding her purse strap in place high up on her shoulder with one hand and carrying a royal blue lunch bag in the other. And all the while George Carlisle, the man Kevin was supposed to be protecting her from, was inside. Or had been. Maybe he’d already come and gone by the time Daria had made her way to her office. Kevin didn’t know. But he’d been there.

  And as he paced Captain Jorgensen’s office, it irritated him to no end that he didn’t know a single thing about what had happened at her office building today. The only thing he knew was what Ski had reported to him shortly before roll call.

  What was Daria thinking? He’d just told her her ex-husband was trying to have her murdered.

  The captain pulled the pen cap he’d been chewing on out of his mouth. “There’s no law against George Carlisle dropping by his ex-wife’s office. We don’t have an active restraining order to keep him away. The building is open to the public. There has to be about thirty companies alone in that building. The man might have had legitimate business there.”

  “And maybe I’ll sprout wings and fly like Tinkerbell,” Kevin drawled.

  “If you do I’d buy tickets to see that. I’d even sell Tshirts.” There was no humor in the captain’s voice.

  “You don’t really believe he was there on legitimate business, do you?”

  “No. And neither do you,” Jorgensen said. “But it doesn’t matter what you or I believe. What matters is the law and as of right now George Carlisle has a free man’s right to walk the streets as he pleases. Until that changes, until he’s actually done something outside of his meeting with you the other night to warrant this attention you’re giving him, there isn’t a thing I can do.”

  Kevin ground to a halt, fisted both hands and let out a curse that would make a sailor faint. “The whole thing is a shit storm.”

  “I can’t argue with you on that.”

  There were days the boundaries that closed around him while on the job were frustrating.

  Captain Matt Jorgensen, newly appointed as captain of the precinct only six months ago, leaned forward and propped his elbows on his desk. He was a lean man, a good six to eight years older than Kevin, and kept himself fit so his years didn’t show. His dark hair was slightly thinning on top in the way of a high forehead, but it didn’t seem to bother the man.

  Matt’s buy-the-book code of policing, leaving no wiggle room where the law was concerned, had advanced him up the ranks of law enforcement at an earlier age than most cops, even though he’d started his law enforcement career only ten years ago. Kevin supposed his code was more from character than career advancement and was possibly the only way he’d been able to keep sane in a world that sometimes worked so utterly out of order. There had been rumors in the locker room that Matt had been married once, but the captain never spoke of his life before being a cop.

  “Is Daria Carlisle looking to get a restraining order? Did she ask for your help?” Matt asked.

  “No,” Kevin reluctantly admitted. Which only irritated him further. Daria had to have known George was at her office. Ski had seen Carlisle carrying flowers on his way into the building, but not on the way out. When she’d found the flowers, she should have called him.

  She didn’t.

  He sighed. Maybe she hadn’t gotten the flowers. Maybe Carlisle had used that as a cover to gain access to her office without anyone taking notice. Most people regarded this kind of common sight as harmless. But Kevin wasn’t about to write off any move George Carlisle made as being innocent.

  “I told you before, Detective,” Matt said, leaning back in his chair. “George Carlisle hasn’t broken any laws. And he has a viper attorney who will strike at us if we even breathe George Carlisle’s name the wrong way. I feel your pain. But we have done all we can in this situation.”

  “Have we? Really?”

  “Within the confines of the law.”

  “I didn’t. I should have walked away from that meeting as soon as I heard the static in my piece. I should have known something was wrong when the other guys didn’t come in for the arrest. If I’d done the job right the other night, George Carlisle might be behind bars right now.”

  The captain’s shoulders drooped in impatient form. “Might be is the operative phrase. Look, we’ve been through all this before.”

  “And neither of us came out happy in the end. Least of all Daria Carlisle.”

  Matt threw his hands up by his side. “I don’t hear Ms. Carlisle complaining. Do you? You told her what happened down at the salvage yard. You offered her a solution and she flat out rejected it. She hasn’t called this office asking for help as far as I know. And until she does, our hands are tied.”

  “She won’t believe he’s capable of murder,” he drawled. “She doesn’t believe she’s in any danger. She thinks she knows him. But she’s wrong.”

  With a shrug, Matt said, “We’ve seen that before. Are you really surprised?”

  No, he wasn’t. Kevin had seen women run back to their husbands after a standoff with a loaded gun to their head. He never understood why a person would choose to live in fear like that.

  Of course, he knew the reason why they did it. Some women simply refused to believe they were actually in danger. They chose to ignore the signs of trouble. He’d seen it firsthand, when his sister’s best friend had been murdered. Lucy had believed she had nothing to fear from her ex-boyfriend. And now she was dead. How many women had he seen follow Lucy’s path in the years he’d been on the force?

  Too many, he decided. He didn’t wan
t it to be too late for Daria, as it had been for Lucy. It had been nearly twenty years since Lucy’s death, but Daria’s case brought all the fear and frustration back.

  Daria wasn’t Lucy. But she did need protection. And he wasn’t going to let her down.

  “She needs help, Captain. We need department support to tail Carlisle. Between me, Jake, Dylan, and Ski, there aren’t enough hours in the day.”

  “Or enough dollars in your bank account to pay off-duty officers.” Matt shook his head and darted a pointed finger at Kevin. “I’m going to forget you even mentioned that. I don’t even want to know what you, Santos, Montgomery, and Stanasloski are doing on your off hours. I have a feeling it’ll just piss me off more than I already am and I’m sure it won’t make Carlisle’s attorney any happier. As far as getting the department to authorize the overtime, no can do. I just can’t justify the expense to the commissioner when the lady hasn’t even asked us for help.”

  “I can assure you I won’t be happy until George Carlisle is behind bars.”

  Matt’s attention turned to the people gathered in the hall outside his office door. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he said as he rose from his seat behind the desk. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?”

  Kevin threw open the door and stared into the cold eyes of George Carlisle’s attorney. He was Lawrence Bingham, a partner at one of those uptown law firms with a string of names no one but the partners ever remembered. Kevin had met the man the previous morning when Bingham strode into the station in high-class loafers and Sunday casual clothes that probably cost more than a month of the average cop’s salary. Kevin had never begrudged anyone with money. He’d always had enough to satisfy himself and figured most people worked for what they wanted or needed. But he’d never cared for people who flaunted their wealth as a way to set themselves above others.

  “What is going on here?” Matt asked.

  District Attorney Martha Landers stepped into the office beside Bingham, her expression tight.

  Bingham’s cool smile had just enough edge to be annoying. “That’s what I’d like to know.”