She briefly summarized her evening with Serena, ending with the drive-by shooting. “Serena was in the building before the bullets flew, so she’s okay.”
Reynolds grunted. “Good thing.” His desk chair squeaked as he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Now, about this shooting incident. If not for the attempted hit-and-run yesterday, I might be content to chalk it up to random gang activity in a rough neighborhood. But, taking the two incidents together, we may be looking at party or parties going after you personally, Marlowe. Who would want you dead?”
“I have no idea, sir. And you should know there has been a separate incident—a rather grotesque housewarming basket outside my door yesterday morning.” She filled the men in on the contents of the basket and her failed attempts to uncover the culprit among her siblings.
Jax pulled a grimace and shook his head. “Some real practical jokers must be in your family if you thought they did it.”
Daci shot him a sharp look. “You have no idea the pranks younger siblings will pull in an attempt to get a mothering—or, to their way of thinking, smothering—older sibling off their backs. The pranks got to be a habit, but as my brothers and sisters have grown into adulthood, I’ve always felt the love behind them. My sibs trying to pull one off and me catching them at it has become almost like a family tradition. This one felt different—more mean and crude than anything they’d do—but I didn’t know who else to ask.”
DC Reynolds’s stare nailed Daci to her seat. “Then I suggest you begin sifting through your past to find another suspect. We don’t need you distracted from your duties or drawing added danger to the assignment.”
“You mean you don’t want Serena catching a bullet or a bumper meant for me.”
“I mean I want to catch Liggett Naylor, and I don’t want to lose a deputy or a civilian as collateral damage to a murderous unsub unconnected to the case.”
Jax cleared his throat. “There’s another possibility.” All eyes went to him. “Maybe the attempts on Daci’s life are connected to the case. Is it possible Naylor found out she’s a deputy marshal working undercover and wants to get her out from between him and Serena?”
Reynolds pursed his mouth. “Your theory isn’t as bad as I’d like it to be.”
Daci frowned. “I could see the shooting tonight coming from someone who didn’t want me getting too close to Serena, but the basket and the hit-and-run came before I even met her.”
“Before you met her, sure.” Her boss nodded. “But not before the decision was made to give you this assignment. That happened two days ago. Keep your lips glued shut about this, but there must be a leak somewhere in the system in order for Naylor to have engineered his escape from custody in the first place. Could that mole know about Daci as a newb in the service assigned to his ex? As close to the vest as I’ve kept this operation, I doubt it, but I can’t rule out the possibility. However, that theory still doesn’t explain the gift basket. Not Naylor’s MO at all. Too creative, and he never bothers to taunt his victims, just kills them.”
“The basket could be unconnected to the attempts on my life,” Daci said.
Reynolds sighed. “The operative word is could. For now, I’m willing to go with the benefit of the doubt that this may not be a personal vendetta against you. But keep a sharp eye out for yourself, because for whatever reason, someone wants you dead.”
Daci leaned forward, excitement sparking. “If we assume I’m being targeted because Naylor knows I’m a deputy marshal, then he must be planning to contact Serena. That’s a good thing, right?”
Jax let out a deep groan. “No, it’s a bad thing, because the attempts on your life will continue. Are you sure it’s wise to keep her on the assignment, Rey?”
Daci glared at Jax. “If my cover is blown because of a mole, then the mole will also expose anyone else assigned to Serena. The attacks won’t stop—they’ll just have a new target. I find it unacceptable to allow someone else to step in when I’m already in place and gaining her trust.” She turned toward her boss. “Sir, I’m ready to return to duty at the day care in the morning.”
Reynolds looked at his watch. “It’s already morning. You’d better get home and sleep fast. Take an unmarked from the carpool until you get your own wheels back.” He dug in his desk, pulled out a set of keys and tossed them her way.
As she caught the keys, Daci’s insides did cartwheels. Her boss wasn’t going to yank her from the case. Not yet, anyway. She headed for the door before the DC could change his mind. Jax followed on her heels.
She rounded on him in the deserted bull pen. “What’s with urging DC Reynolds to take me off the case?”
His brows jerked together. “I wasn’t urging anything that didn’t need to be considered.”
“Fine.” The word was clipped as she struggled to rein in her temper. “But if we’re going to work together,” she poked his chest with a forefinger, “you can’t start kid-gloving me.”
Jax raised his hands, palms out. “Far be it, but would it offend you if I offered to walk you to your substitute wheels? As you know, my car is in the same ramp.”
Daci’s scowl lost the battle to a reluctant smile. “How about we walk each other? Anyone can use backup in the middle of the night in the heart of the city.”
“Deal.”
Outside, they found the usually busy Main Street almost deserted and as silent as a metro area ever became. The sky was clear and the breeze cool. Daci shivered slightly. Small talk about the Boston Celtics basketball season that had ended a few weeks past and the prospects for the next season occupied their brisk walk to Tower Square. Since basketball was invented in Massachusetts—in Springfield, to be specific—the game was a state obsession. But even as the idle conversation continued, the back of Daci’s mind kept picking at the puzzle of the attempts on her life.
“You’re wrestling with the who and why questions,” Jax said softly into a silence Daci hadn’t realized had fallen.
She nodded. “If it’s not Naylor, who is coming after me and why?”
“Good questions. We’ve all got a past. What’s in yours?”
They entered the parking garage, and their footsteps sounded hollow in the cavernous area—nearly as hollow as Daci’s heart had suddenly gone. The question had sounded a little too knowing. She had no doubt this man had done extracurricular homework on her. How she hated that so many of the most painful parts of her life had been reduced to tabloid fodder that anyone could access! She’d spent the past fourteen years living under the radar in hopes her inner scars would heal and the world would forget about her and her tragic family.
Daci stopped beside the nondescript car she’d been issued. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” She glared up at him and found no denial on his face. He had looked into her history. “I do have violence in my past. A drug-crazed maniac slaughtered my parents, and seven others, at a wild party. Thankfully, I wasn’t anywhere near that event, and the perp is behind bars. I know. I check often to make sure he’s still locked away.”
She turned and punched the button on the key fob to unlock the vehicle’s door. “Two years later, a carjacker murdered my grandmother, who had been appointed guardian to my siblings and me. That time, I was an eyewitness. The perp got away and has never been seen or heard from again. But that happened years ago. If he was worried about my potential testimony against him, why has he waited until now to come after me?”
“Maybe something changed that suddenly made your silence vital.”
“Come on! The time delay doesn’t make sense. It’s dead-end thinking.” She yanked the car door open.
Jax stepped forward, blocking her access to the driver’s seat. “I’m making it my personal business to ensure the phrase ‘dead end’ doesn’t apply to you. I can’t take another...”
“Another what?”
He stepped back, expression closed and hard. “Look m
e up on the internet. You’ll find out that life and the news media haven’t been kind to either of us.”
He turned and strode away, and Daci’s anger faded. A great weariness slumped her shoulders. She shouldn’t have snapped at Jax like that, but thinking about that terrible carjacking always left her upset. Not only had she lost her beloved Grandma Katie in the attack, but had earned the enmity of her grandmother’s only remaining child.
Uncle Conrad had always resented his sister marrying into an abundance of wealth and social status, completely overlooking the wreck his sister’s life had become or the exploitations and injustices those very things had caused for Daci and her siblings. After his mother died at the hands of a carjacker trying to boost the Lexus she and Daci had driven to the grocery store, Con spewed venom, blaming Daci’s “fancy-schmancy” car for drawing the notice of the thief. She’d marked the extreme reaction down to grief. Her uncle had apologized later for his words, but the accompanying request for money had pretty much voided the apology.
Yes, it was possible Con still hated her, but she couldn’t wrap her head around him attempting to murder her. Long experience had revealed him to be a small and petty man, forever whining about injustices done to him, but not motivated to take action. Even if she took the idea seriously, a problem presented itself. As with the possibility of the carjacker being the one behind the attempted hit-and-run and the drive-by shooting, why wait until now to come after her?
Daci’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. Connecting the attacks against her with something from her past was like trying to bang through a wall with her head. The simplest explanation was Liggett Naylor trying to get her out of the way to clear his path to his ex-girlfriend, but even that theory had holes.
By the time she reached her apartment, Daci’s brain was sputtering on empty. Everything needed to take a back seat to slumber, even satisfying her curiosity about Jax. She bypassed her laptop and headed for her bedroom. Her head hit the pillow, and she was out, but the alarm rang immediately—or so it seemed. She staggered to the shower and got ready for her undercover job.
Less than an hour later, Daci stepped into the central play area at Little Blessings, sucking down the last gulp of the double espresso macchiato she’d picked up at a drive-through, along with a breakfast biscuit. After such meager sleep, the prospect of a day of diapers and spit-up, with a recovering addict in the mix, had required serious fortification. None of the children had arrived yet, but they could be expected to start trickling then flooding in at any moment.
Serena rushed up to her, wringing her hands. “Do you think Chase will be here today? What if he doesn’t remember me? I’ve only been able to see him a few times since he was born. What happened to you?” She gestured toward the bandage on Daci’s biceps, peeping out beneath the sleeve of the day care’s polo shirt.
Daci opened her mouth, then shut it. Which question should she answer first? Might as well start with the last one and get that potential awkwardness cleared up.
“I didn’t quite miss the drive-by shooting outside your apartment last night.”
Serena’s jaw dropped. “Oh, no! I assumed you were gone.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just a nick. Didn’t even have to go to the hospital.”
“I’ll bet it hurts, though.” Serena shuddered visibly. “Are you sure you should be here today? Maybe you have—like—PTSD or something.”
Daci smothered a wry smile. “If I don’t have post-traumatic stress disorder by this point in my life, I’m unlikely to develop it. As for Chase coming to day care today and remembering you, I don’t—”
“The children are starting to arrive!” The cheerful voice of Luvleen Drummond, the lead teacher for the babies, drew their attention toward the front door.
Within five minutes Serena’s questions about Chase were satisfactorily answered. Mother cradled son and cooed at him as she carried him into the infant area. Daci followed with precious little Annie from the day before. She got the little girl happily situated on the floor with a few toys. Time to make Chase’s acquaintance. Her gut clenched. Would she be able to tolerate Serena once she came face-to-face with the consequences the woman’s alcohol consumption had wrought in utero on a developing baby?
“Introduce me to your son,” she said as she walked up to Serena.
Beaming, the younger woman held Chase up for inspection. At first glance, the chubby six-month-old looked normal, but as Daci peered closer, she picked up on outward signs of the ongoing challenges the little guy—and his mother, provided she could hack it—would face.
The wobbly way the child held up his head seemed more in keeping with a three-month-old than a six-month-old. And the flat face, almost nonexistent upper lip, and small eyes with epicanthal folds at the inner corners were all classic physical symptoms. Even though it might make things more difficult for Chase and Serena in some ways, she was glad the physical signs were there—visible and distinctive. They meant that he had been diagnosed at birth, which was truly the best-case scenario for him. Fetal alcohol syndrome did not reverse or improve with time. The earlier the learning disabilities and behavioral issues were anticipated and interventions put into place the better his life might turn out over the long term.
Daci dredged up a smile and tickled the little guy under the rolls of his pudgy chin. In response, a toothless grin slowly formed, and he gurgled and kicked. She lifted her gaze to Serena’s. Behind the young woman’s bright smile, stark terror lurked.
Of what or whom was she afraid? Herself? Did she doubt her ability to lead a sober life or her capacity to cope with her child’s problems? Both or either would be understandable, but Daci had already learned not to leap to logical conclusions where Serena was concerned.
The younger woman leaned close to Daci. “Do you think he’s cute? I think he’s adorable.”
Seriously? The woman was afraid people wouldn’t find Chase attractive? Outward appearance was what concerned her most?
“If anybody disses my boy,” Serena went on fiercely, “because of the way he looks or stuff he does or ’cause he takes a little extra time to figure things out, I will totally wear them out.”
A chuckle worked its way past Daci’s lips. Now, there was the mama bear. She could respect that.
“He absolutely is adorable. Let me hold him.” Daci held out her arms.
Maybe she hadn’t been given the chance to protect Niall, but she had the golden opportunity to defend this little guy and his mama from a vicious predator, and that is just what she was going to do, so help her God!
* * *
The judge’s stare from the bench seared through Jax. Had he messed up his opening argument that badly? The judge tapped the side of his jaw and nodded toward him. Jax’s brows drew together. The judge tapped again. Jax reached up and felt the side of his chin. Warmth bathed his face as he pulled away the tiny square of toilet tissue from the spot he’d cut himself while shaving this morning. He offered the judge a small grin. The man’s eyes twinkled as he looked away to call for opposing counsel’s opening argument.
Jax settled into his chair, thankful this was not a jury trial; otherwise, twelve citizens he’d never met before would be mentally assigning him to the clown department. At least this judge, upon whom rested the fate of his very young client, knew him to be a competent attorney. Usually.
Today, as opposing counsel droned on, Jax’s thoughts went to Daci Marlowe and their conversation of only a few hours past. Who was trying to kill her? Naylor? The prospect made a degree of sense, but, if so, it was the only activity from him since he’d escaped. All of the former crime boss’s known associates had been shaken down hard, but each one adamantly denied seeing or hearing from him. Naylor appeared to have vanished without the proverbial trace.
As troubling as that development was to the US Marshals Service, Jax was infinitely more disturbed by the attacks on Daci.
What if another attempt was made—this time successful? No, he wouldn’t let that happen. Not on his watch!
Jax shook his head. Who was he trying to fool? He hadn’t been able to protect Regan or his unborn child. What made him think he could protect Daci?
An hour later, following satisfactory disposition of his case, he was on his way toward the day care to look in on Chase as a pretext to check on Daci. No one would think it odd that he dropped in to follow up on a baby that had been out ill the day before. Maybe he could grab a chance to talk to Daci privately.
He parked at the curb and went inside, greeting familiar workers as he went. In the infant play area, he found Daci with her hands full, playing with five little ones. Through an observation window into the next room, he spotted two other workers feeding and changing additional babies. The lead teacher was with Serena and Chase at a corner table. Daci was clearly not free to talk, so he joined Serena and Luvleen.
From the activity going on with a small rattle, Jax deduced the middle-aged black woman was teaching the younger woman how to work with her son on developing the motor skills necessary for grasping and holding on to objects. Luvleen’s every movement conveyed calming grace, exactly what these troubled infants required, and an art the jittery Serena must absorb for the sake of her child.
“Hello, Jax.” Serena greeted him coolly, a far cry from the needy enthusiasm of yesterday and probably more in keeping with her true feelings toward him.
“Is Chase doing all right today?”
“He’s here, isn’t he?”
Luvleen sent him an apologetic glance through thick-lensed glasses. “We’re just finishing our session. Do you need a minute to confer with Serena?”
The younger woman’s facial features tensed even as she scooped her son out of the infant seat.
“Not necessary,” Jax answered. “I can see there are good things going on here.”
Serena’s shoulders relaxed visibly. “It’s Chase’s nap time anyway. I’m going to change and feed him, then put him down in his crib.”
Duty to Defend Page 5
