Warrior Without a Cause

by Nancy Gideon

  "Nothing except to trust her and love her."

  He jerked his head to the side to glare with a savage intensity into the flames. "Easy for you to say."

  No, it wasn't. It wasn't easy for her to say or easy for her to conceive of. Could she forgive her father if she found out he was guilty? Could she absolve him of his sins after she'd spent her whole life struggling only to fall short of his impossibly high expectations?

  "You have to do what's in your heart, Jack," she advised at last.

  "There's nothing in my heart. Nothing but darkness. I don't have the luxury of feeling. That was taken from me in a jungle in South America when I let a woman endure unimaginable pain and then take a bullet that should have been meant for me. When she suffered so, I lost the right to feel alive."

  She curved her hand to fit the side of his face, tugging gently to direct his attention back her way, so he could see the conviction in her own expression as she spoke.

  "Jack, she died so you would live and she knew she'd be leaving her most precious gift with you, in your care. If she thought you were the kind of heartless monster you think you are, she never would have left Rose without knowing you'd do the right thing by her. She trusted you with all her heart, Jack, with the most important thing in her life. Don't you dare disappoint her."

  "I've given Rose everything she needs." He argued in a fierce, flat tone that lacked the conviction it should have contained if what he said was true. Then Tessa exposed his charade with one simple fact.

  "Except love. That's all she really needs. That's all she wants from you."

  "Then she wants too much. And Esmerelda trusted the wrong man."

  "I don't think so, Jack. I don't think you give yourself near enough credit. Your dad said you were one of the good guys. When are you going to start believing that again?"

  "Are you going to make me a believer, Tess?" His tone was as cold as his mocking smile. But she refused to be discouraged. She could sense the fear behind his angry bravado. She recognized it from her own earlier behavior. Well, he hadn't let her hide behind bluff, either.

  "Is that a dare? You know I can't back down from a challenge."

  "Back down from this one, Tess," he warned somberly. "You can't win. You'll get hurt."

  "Didn't you promise you'd never let anyone hurt me again? Was that a lie, Jack?"

  Before he could answer, the shrill ring of his cell phone interrupted. He rolled up and over her to snag it off the belt of his discarded trousers.

  "Chaney," he snapped. Then he was immediately all rigid angles. "When? Where? Son of a— On our way."

  He closed the cell lid. The muscles in his arm were shaking as if he fought the desire to crush the phone into little micro receivers. His expression was one of stark fury and despair.

  She was almost afraid to ask.

  "What's happened?"

  "That was your mom. Get dressed. Stan's in intensive care. They don't know if he's going to make it."

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  Barbara D'Angelo huddled over a cold cup of vending machine coffee, looking small and tired in the empty waiting room. She lifted her head when she heard them approach. Her gaze swam with sorrow and relief. She looked to her daughter, awaiting a sign to go to her for shared comfort and grieving, but the sign didn't come. She slumped back into the seat cushions.

  "He's in surgery," she said dully, her stare fixing on the contents of her cup. "A ruptured spleen and possible other internal injuries."

  "What the hell happened?" Jack demanded. When he saw the fragile shake of Barbara's shoulders, his tone softened. "Barbara, what happened?" He assumed the chair next to the distraught woman while Tessa remained near the doorway, tense and silent.

  Barbara clung gratefully to the hand Jack slipped over hers. "It all happened so fast. Stan went to check on a mal function with the garage door. It kept going up and down and he thought something was stuck under the censor. He stepped out the door and told me to lock it behind him. The minute I did, they were on him, three of them with masked faces. They had Robert's golf clubs—" Her voice broke. Jack rubbed a comforting hand across her shoulders.

  "And what were you doing while they were beating the hell out of him?" was Tessa's icy question.

  "Stan led them out into the front yard, away from me. All I could think to do was to distract them. I turned on the lawn sprinklers and the floodlights we use for holidays and parties. That got them to stop. And when I activated the alarm system, they ran away. I told the police Stan had stopped a robbery attempt. I wanted to ride with him in the ambulance so they said they'd come down later to take a statement. What do I tell them? Was it a robbery?"

  "That's how we'll play it." Jack gave her an encouraging hug. "You did the right thing. You kept them from killing him."

  "Maybe not." She looked up, her eyes bruised by misery. "We won't know for another hour or so."

  "What the hell happened?" came another intruding voice.

  They turned to see Michael Chaney wheeling into the room. He looked as if he'd dressed in the middle of a hurricane but his eyes were rock steady.

  "Pop, what are you doing here?"

  "I heard the call on my scanner. I'd been listening, you know, just in case. How is he'?"

  "Not good. He's in surgery. Hello, Michael."

  "Barb, I'd say it was great to see you under different circumstances."

  She nodded.

  Silence settled as they clustered together, restless and uncomfortable in their helplessness. A man they all loved and respected was beyond the double doors, beyond their reach, beyond all but their prayers. And it wasn't enough.

  Jack came up out of his chair, the explosive movement catching Tessa's attention. His voice was deceptively calm. "Pop, can you stay here with the ladies for a while? I've got to check something. Are you packing?"

  The elder Chaney patted the inside pocket in his chair. "Don't leave home without it."

  Tessa stepped to intercept Jack. "Where are you going?"

  His impassive features told her nothing but his gaze was hot with rage. "I'll only be gone for a little while. I'll be right back. There's nothing I can do here but maybe out there… You stay here where you'll be safe."

  While he rushed headlong into who knew what.

  Unwilling to be brushed off by that placating statement, she gripped his arm. "Betsy and I will go with you." She touched a hand to the small of her back where a holster held her Smith & Wesson. "It's part of my new ensemble," she said in response to his raised brow. "I don't leave home without it, either."

  "I'd feel better if you stayed here and out of trouble."

  Out of my way, was what he meant. Well, too bad.

  "You won't know what to look for."

  He thought a minute, studying her determined features, weighing the pros and cons of having her along. Apparently the pros won out. His nod was curt. "Do what I tell you."

  "Don't I always?"

  He quirked a wry smile. Then to the other two, he said, "We won't be long. Call if there are any changes."

  * * *

  The minute all the hoopla died down at the D'Angelo estate, Stan's attackers had obviously gone inside. They'd done a thorough, if hurried, job.

  Tessa stood in the center of the destruction, surveying it with emotions quaking, afraid she was going to throw up. This was her home. She recognized the work. She was seeing her apartment all over again. The acid bite of fear burned in the back of her throat. Then Jack touched her elbow.

  "You up to this, Annie O?"

  She swallowed that bitter taste and nodded. "Just getting mad."

  "Let's make it quick. You're not safe here. Look for anything they might have missed. Anything out of the ordinary that might give us a clue about what they were looking for."

  Anything they might have missed. She noted the slashed couch cushions, the overturned curio cabinet. Even the rug had been torn up from around the baseboards. It didn't look as
though they'd missed a trick. Angry tears smarted until she blinked them away.

  "Divide and conquer?"

  Jack's tone was level and sensible. "Stay in the room with me."

  She didn't bother to chide him for his caution. She was seeing those creased trousers as she quickly began an up-close evaluation of the damage done. They went through the downstairs rooms, following the trail of savagery. Tessa fought against the hot emotion threatening to blur her vision. Crying over ruined memories wouldn't help them. These were just things. Her mind held the true remembrances of the past. Those wouldn't shatter or tear or topple.

  The first floor was bad enough but the upstairs, where their more private lives were contained, became a more personal assault upon Tessa's vulnerable spirit. They started in neutral territory in her brothers' rooms where sports and music memorabilia cluttered the walls and desktops. Tessa could still hear the booming voices and feel the energy of the teen boys who had tormented her as older sister. Now those pesky boys were solid citizens. Todd, a computer whiz and Kyle, the security analyst. The ache of missing them rose sudden and strong. When had they all gotten so far apart that closing the gap seemed almost impossible?

  Her parents' room was pure agony. Their scents mingled near the big four-poster where the fresh bedding had been stripped down and the mattress left askew. Near the walk-in closets, her father's suits had been yanked from their orderly row and his shirts torn from their tissued packaging. Her mother's designer dresses were scattered on the floor like exotic birds shot from the sky, and her jewelry glittered on the dresser top like the shards of Tiffany glass upon Tessa's apartment floor. No pretending this was a robbery. Her father's adoration added up to a fortune in those sparkly baubles.

  In the bathroom, Barbara's row of specially mixed cosmetics were broken and spilled into the sink until it resembled an artist's pallet. Tessa picked up one of the few undamaged bottles of perfume. On her skin, the delicate floral tones woke to life, surrounding her with a field of hyacinths in spring. She glanced up at Jack's reflection in the mirror. His expression was carefully impassive.

  "My father had this fragrance made especially for my mother at Bourbon French Parfums in New Orleans when they went there for their twenty-fifth anniversary. They have the formula on file. Forever Mine. He had it made up for her every year after that and sent to her with a bouquet of spring flowers. I thought it was so romantic."

  Her hand began to shake. Gently, Jack took the fragile bottle from her and replaced it on the littered basin.

  "Oh, God, Jack. If they'd gotten inside, they could have killed her. They could have…"

  "They didn't, Tess."

  His arms went easily around her, locking her tight to his chest where tremors ravaged her from head to toe. But she didn't cry. He pressed his mouth to her temple and told her with his own practical version of comforting, "It didn't happen, Tessa. She's safe. Don't dwell on the what-ifs. They'll tear you apart and spit you out."

  "Like they did Stan? Jack, what are we going to do? You know the police won't do anything. They'll say it was a robbery, an unfortunate coincidence. They won't find anything that will lead to those men Martinez hired. Or to Martinez. There's got to be a way to get to her."

  Because her tone had gone from fractured to furious, Jack squeezed her closer. "Then we'll find that way."

  She nodded against the supple grain of his black leather jacket. How easy it would be to linger in his embrace, soaking up his strength and confidence. She sighed, breathing in the rich smell of leather and the swirl of fragrances they'd poured down the drain. Her mind began to click like a computer program processing new data.

  Looking for what?

  What could be hidden in a cosmetic jar?

  "Let's finish up, Jack. There's got to be something here. Something they missed that we're not seeing. My father must have left a clue for us to find."

  When she leaned back, in charge of her emotions once more, Jack scrambled them with a slow, plundering kiss. She remained, eyes closed, for a long moment, reveling in the taste of him on her lips, in the sturdy heat from the hands framing her uplifted face. When she looked up, it was into the dark promise of his gaze.

  She'd been crazy to doubt this man's sincerity, his commitment to his word if not her cause.

  He would keep her safe. He would stay with her to the finish. And then they could explore this crazy attraction between them. Once she'd put the past to rest.

  "Only one more room to go," she stated with no trace of the clenching turmoil within her.

  Her room.

  Nothing had been changed. She hadn't lived here for almost ten years but, just like her brothers' rooms, time hadn't progressed from the last time she'd made her bed. The walls hosted several art prints, now hanging crooked on their hooks. Her closet held one bag of sentimental garments ranging from christening gown to prom dress and the various graduation robes. No knickknacks cluttered her desk or dresser. Viewing it from an adult standpoint—from what might have been Jack's viewpoint—her room reflected her personality. All business, no pleasure. Was she really that dull?

  While Jack went through the clothing that had been pulled out of the cleaner's bag and strewn across the floor of the closet, Tessa went to regard the one item on her dresser. It lay facedown, glass broken. Her diploma from the University of Detroit School of Law. Her Juris Doctor. For that one moment, when she'd rejoined her family in cap and gown, she'd basked in the glow of her father's respect. He'd read the parchment she'd slaved for then straightened the tassel dangling from her mortarboard. He'd smiled and told her, "Education is the key, Tessa. It will unlock the law so justice can be served."

  She brushed the fragmented glass out of the frame and set the document upright once more. Fingering the silky strands of the tassel that hung from the corner of the frame, she allowed the feel of accomplishment to warm her. Then she froze.

  Education is the key, Tessa. It will unlock the law so justice can be served.

  "Jack."

  Alerted by her quiet voice, he was instantly at her side. "What is it?"

  "The key to justice."

  There, attached to the top of the tassel, dangling like the charm she'd once thought it was and hidden by the crest for her school and year of graduation, was a small key.

  The clue her father had left for her to find.

  * * *

  Stan was in recovery by the time they returned to the hospital. The long surgery had gone well but the prognosis was still guarded.

  "I'll stay awhile," Michael Chaney offered. "He didn't leave me when I needed him, so it's right that I be here when he wakes up." He tipped his head toward Barbara. She sat in one of the unyielding chairs, crumpled physically and emotionally by the evening's events and the knowledge that her home had been invaded. "Take her home with you, son. I'm sure they didn't leave anything at her place that she'll want to see. An officer already took her statement so there's no reason for her to hang around."

  "I'll hang around if I like, Michael Chaney," came Barbara's surprisingly strong argument. "I have as much right to be here as you do."

  "Sure you do, Barb, but don't you think when he sees your face it ought to be with you looking your best and not as though you'd just spent the night in an alley somewhere?"

  "You are such a flatterer," she muttered, reaching down to pick up her purse. "Just a few hours' sleep and a shower and I'll be back. I'll have to stop by the house and pick up a change of clothes."

  "You can borrow something of mine, Mom."

  Barbara regarded her daughter's unexpected charity with damp-eyed gratitude. "That's very nice of you to offer."

  "It's just a sweater and a pair of pants, not a trip with a personal shopper through Nordstrom's."

  Barbara shrugged off Tessa's judgmental comment with a resigned sigh. "It'll be fine, Tess."

  Tessa stopped the apology that sprang to her lips, surprised that she'd felt the need to speak it. Why had she always made her mother the villain, the
unprotesting target of her disdain? And why hadn't Barbara told her to stop acting like such a spoiled little snot years ago, instead enduring her meanness as if she deserved it?

  And an hour later, wrapped in Tessa's robe, curled up in front of the living room fireplace watching the logs glow with white-hot ash, Barbara did look fine. With her hair scooped back and her face free of makeup, she, in fact, looked younger, more vulnerable. She smiled wearily at her daughter as Tessa dropped into one of the suede-covered chairs.

  "This is some house."

  "Yes, it is. Mom, you should be in bed."

  "I'm not quite tired enough to close my eyes yet." Tessa knew exactly what she meant. So she thought to distract them both. "Mom, do you know of any place Dad might have kept a locker? We found a key but there are no markings on it."

  "The club, maybe. He kept a change of clothes there in case he had time to sneak in a last-minute golf scramble."

  That sounded too obvious. "Anyplace else? Someplace he might not have been to for a while. Someplace you might have forgotten about. Think, Mom."

  Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, her brow furrowing with concentration. "I don't know of anyplace else. The office, the court, the club and home. That was pretty much it."

  "That's okay, Mom. We'll try the club."

  "What are you looking for?"

  "Whatever they're looking for. Something Dad had to either convict … or blackmail Martinez and/or Chet Allen."

  Barbara regarded her with a quiet intensity. "You think that's where the money came from?"

  "I don't know," she admitted with a sad truthfulness.

  "Tess, your father was not a criminal. He loved the law. Don't believe those things they said about him. That wasn't the kind of man he was."

  "I don't know what kind of man he was, Mom. He never let me get close enough to find out."

  Barbara was silent for a long moment, then she said with heavy regret, "I'm so sorry, Tess."