Safe in the Lawman's Arms

by Patricia Johns

  Watching her mother struggle with her own self-worth, looking for her answers in a relationship, Malory had learned her most important lesson between the lines: if she was to be the mother she needed to be, she needed to be her own answer.

  Malory finished the sandwich and smiled at Mike. “Thank you,” she said. “This was delicious.”

  “Anytime.”

  She brought the plate to the sink and looked up at her boss. “Mike, I think we might count as friends at this point.”

  “I think we might.” He tilted his head. “Are you okay with that?”

  “Definitely.” She stifled a yawn. “But I’m really tired and I’m fading fast.”

  “You should get some rest,” he said. “I’ll clean up down here.”

  “Thanks.” She felt another surge of that longing, but she cleared her throat and dropped her gaze. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Nanny Mal.”

  She made her way up to her bedroom. Fairy tales had princesses and knights, castles and true love. Real life had jobs, insurance, surprise babies and some hard-won wisdom in the mix. While she sometimes wished for a castle to protect her and a knight to defend her, real life didn’t rely on potions and fairy godmothers. Real life was about the simple things—hard work, dependability and putting one foot in front of the other.

  If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was put one foot in front of the other.

  Chapter Eight

  A few days later, Malory sat in her bedroom, bathed in the soft glow of her bedside lamp. It had been a busy day with Katy. They’d done some shopping for new clothes and bought a little pink comb that Katy had chosen herself. No more brushes for her. They’d stopped by the park to play and then come home to make supper and have a bath. Malory had shown Katy how to comb her own hair, and before she knew it, the day was gone, and Malory sat alone upstairs, listening to the wind whispering through the leaves of the trees. She lay propped up on her bed, pillows behind her.

  Mike was working a night shift again, and while she was partly relieved not to be left alone with the handsome cop, the house did feel cavernous without him.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Mom,” she said into her cell phone. “He’s a good boss, but I certainly don’t want to complicate things.”

  “What’s life without a little complication?” her mother replied with a laugh. “I always dated.”

  “I know.” Malory attempted to keep her tone neutral. “Regardless, it’s a good thing that he’s gone tonight. The other night was just a little bit too tempting.”

  “And how is the baby?” her mother asked, a smile in her voice.

  “She’s kicking right now.” Malory put her hand on her expanding waistline. It seemed almost unreal most days, and when she looked at herself in the mirror, she stared at her new shape, mesmerized.

  “Oh...I remember that feeling. Remember it, Mal. You’ll think back on all of this for years.”

  Malory rubbed her belly. “I have an ultrasound booked to find out the gender this week. I’m so nervous about it. I don’t even know why. I’m lucky I got an appointment so quickly—they had a cancellation and managed to squeeze me in.”

  “Oh, don’t be nervous. It’ll be exciting to find out if this is a boy or a girl,” her mother said. “You have to tell me right away so I know what color of sleepers to start buying.” There was a pause. “Can I convince you to come home a little early?”

  “I’ve promised Mike that I’ll stay here as long as he needs me,” she replied. “But when this job is done, I’ll be on the next plane.”

  “Do you have any idea when that will be?”

  Malory sighed. “He’s looking for a new family for her. It might be a few weeks. I might be a few months. Maybe more.”

  “I hope it isn’t selfish, but I’m crossing my fingers for sooner.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, Mom.”

  “Actually, it won’t just be you and me... I have some news.”

  “Oh? What’s going on?”

  “Ted asked me to marry him.”

  “What?” Malory clamped a hand over her mouth and lowered her voice. “Are you serious? When did this happen?”

  “Last night.” Her mother let out a happy sigh. “He took me out to our favorite restaurant—you know the fish place, right?”

  “Yes, of course. How did he ask?” Outside, something thumped, and Malory stood up, shading her eyes and peering down into the backyard. Everything seemed silent and still.

  “Down on one knee!” her mother gushed. “He had one of his friends come and play a violin for us—not very well, since the guy is just starting lessons. I think it was ‘Three Blind Mice.’ But it was still really sweet, and then he got down on his knee—which was no easy feat with his bad leg—and he said, ‘Shelly,’ he said, ‘you know what I’m asking. So what do you say?’”

  Malory laughed and shook her head. “Straight to the point.”

  “Isn’t he always? So I said yes,” her mother went on. “And I think I cried a bit. My mascara was a mess when I got home. He hasn’t gotten me a ring yet. It was either get a diamond now and put off the wedding or get married right away. So we’re getting married just as soon as you’re back.”

  “Mom, that’s amazing news.” Malory couldn’t help the smile on her face. “You deserve this.”

  “Thanks, sweetie. Ted really is worth the wait. He’s one of the good ones.”

  “And he’s moving in now?” she asked.

  “Of course! But he’s perfectly thrilled that you’re coming back, too. He says he always wanted kids, so a grandbaby will just warm him right through.”

  Misgivings welled up inside her. The thought of raising this baby with her mother at her side was a relief—but with Ted, too? Somehow, the homey feel was evaporating in her imagination, replaced with irritation and foreboding. Another thump and a scrape drew her attention out the window once more, and she squinted, looking for the source of the noise.

  “But, Mom, do you think this is going to work? I mean, babies cry. A lot. And your place is small.”

  “What would you suggest?” her mother asked.

  “That I get a different place on my own. I’ll have to eventually, and I’ll only have the six weeks off before I go back to work—”

  “You couldn’t afford anything decent, and I won’t have you in some dive somewhere. Think about the baby.”

  “I suppose there is time to talk about it, and don’t let me ruin the moment. Look, Mom, I’m really happy for you.”

  A smash and the tinkle of broken glass froze Malory’s blood. She held her breath, listening. The back door opened, and footfalls tapped against the tiled floor.

  “Mom,” she whispered hoarsely. “I think someone’s breaking in!”

  “What?” her mother shrieked. “Call the police! What are you waiting for?”

  Malory hung up the call and crept out of the bedroom and into the shadowy hallway. Downstairs, boots crunched over glass shards, but no lights went on. Everything was inky darkness. She tiptoed to Katy’s door and eased it open with a creak. She winced, listened. Silence now, except for the hammering of her heart. Someone was definitely inside the house, and she was willing to bet that the intruder was listening just as carefully as she was.

  She could feel tears of fear welling up. But she didn’t dare let them fall. Malory sneaked into Katy’s bedroom, her breath coming in shaky gasps. Katy slept on peacefully, and Malory dialed her cell phone with a trembling hand.

  “911. What is the nature of your emergency?”

  “I’m at 2032 Boundary Road,” she whispered into the phone. “There is an intruder in the house.”

  “Are you alone, miss?”

  “Yes, me and a little girl.” She put a hand on Katy, who squirmed, blinking her eyes open tiredly. “Someone broke a window, and now they’re inside—”

  “Stay quiet and calm. Are you somewhere safe?”

  “I’m in the upstairs bedroom,” she hissed. �
��I’m Mike Cruise’s nanny. He’s a sheriff here in Hope.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ve already signaled the police and they’re already on their way. Are you with the child now?”

  “Yes, we’re together.”

  “Then stay on the line. Help is on the way.”

  Stay on the line. A phone somehow didn’t feel very protective right now.

  “Nanny Mal?” Katy asked, her voice quavering.

  Malory suppressed the urge to cover Katy’s mouth. It would only make the child panic. Instead, she whispered,

  “Shh... Let’s play a game. We’re going to be very, very quiet, okay?”

  Katy stared at Malory, eyes wide with fear. She wasn’t fooled. She looked as if she was about to cry. Malory pulled the girl onto her lap and smoothed her hair down.

  “It’s okay. I’m here with you,” she whispered. “You don’t need to worry. And there is a lady on the phone who is getting the police...”

  Malory strained to listen. As long as the burglar stayed downstairs until the police arrived, that was all that Malory cared about. She looked around the room. They couldn’t just stay out in the open here, waiting for the intruder to find them.

  “We’re going to the closet, okay? We’re going to hide.”

  Katy clung to her as Malory crept toward the closet. A floorboard creaked and she froze, listening. The footsteps downstairs stopped, then changed directions. Shoes clomped as they hit the stairs.

  “He’s coming upstairs,” Malory gasped into the phone. “He’s coming up!”

  The closet door was already open, and Malory pushed Katy inside first, then slipped into the darkness, tugging the door shut behind her. It wouldn’t close all the way, and Malory pushed farther back into the piles of old clothes, a cardboard box digging into her side. She put one arm around Katy. Pulling the phone back up to her ear, she listened to the soft voice on the other end.

  “The police have arrived. Stay quiet. They’re already on the scene.”

  Malory nearly melted with relief, and warm tears spilled silently down her cheeks. She couldn’t hear the cops—she heard only those ominous footsteps moving down the hallway, doors opening and the footsteps coming ever closer.

  “Nanny Mal...” Katy whimpered, and Malory pulled her face into her side.

  “Shh,” she whispered, Katy’s tears wetting her shirt. She pulled Katy closer, holding her breath as she listened.

  The door to the bedroom opened.

  * * *

  MIKE TOOK A LONG step to the side, avoiding the shards of glass that would give away his presence.

  Unbuckling the safety strap on his gun harness, he slid the Glock 9 millimeter from the holster, the weight of the sidearm familiar in his palm. He knew this gun inside and out, and on the practice range he shot with precision.

  Tuck slipped into the house behind him, and Mike glanced back, gesturing him forward into the living room while Mike slipped into the downstairs hallway. The only damage seemed to be to the door so far, and he couldn’t see signs that the intruder had rifled through his belongings.

  But it wasn’t his belongings he cared about—he was thinking of the girls. The 911 operator had said that a woman and child were on premises, and he was going to get to them before this creep did.

  Moving silently forward, he came to the staircase, and a floorboard creaked under his weight. He halted. Tuck whipped around, pistol pointed at Mike before he heaved a silent sigh and eased his finger off the trigger. Mike took the stairs two at a time, his firearm aimed in front of him, his palm under the butt of the gun as he stole swiftly up the stairs and into the dim hallway.

  The light in Malory’s room was on, and he glanced inside to find it empty. Katy’s room next door stood open, and he stopped at the doorway. The perp was in his sights, but so far, he couldn’t see Malory or Katy.

  The man wore black, a knit cap on his head, a gun hanging in his hand. He stood in the center of the room, slowly turning.

  Looking for them, he realized with a chill in his blood.

  “Good evening,” Mike said, his tone casual and light—a distinct contrast to the gun he had pointed at the perp’s chest.

  The man spun around, and Mike almost laughed when he recognized who it was standing in his house, armed. His father—thin and wiry, face lined with the deep furrows of a hard life.

  “I haven’t taken anything,” his father said. “I’m putting the gun down—”

  “That’s probably wise,” he replied. “Kick it this way.”

  His father bent and put the gun on the floor.

  “Slowly, now,” Mike crooned.

  He kicked it in Mike’s direction, then put his hands on his head. “It’s me, Mikey. It’s Dad.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Mike replied. He pulled out a set of cuffs from his back pocket, strode forward and secured his father before patting him down. He found one more gun and a knife sheathed along his calf. “But you seem to have a lot of weapons for a little family visit, wouldn’t you say?”

  Mike scanned the room, and his gaze stopped at the closet. Were they in there? Were they okay? Malory’s ashen face appeared beside the closet door.

  “Hey.” He heard his tone soften as he grinned at the nanny. “You girls okay?”

  “We’re fine...” But the tears on her face told him otherwise. She was terrified.

  Tuck’s footsteps thundered up the stairs. Then he came into the room behind them. “The house is secure. Everything under control here?”

  “Yeah, get the light.”

  Light flooded the room when Tuck flipped the wall switch, and Mike nudged his father toward Tuck. “Book him, would you?”

  “You bet.” Tuck put a hand under his father’s arm and led him to the door. “You have the right to remain silent. By the way, it’s nice to see you, Nate. You have the right to an attorney...”

  Only when his father was in Tuck’s capable hands did Mike let down his guard and holster his gun.

  “Your father?” Malory gasped, crawling slowly from the closet. Mike bent down and put his hands under her arms, lifting her to her feet. She bent over slightly, her arm protectively over her belly.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Just some cramping.” She grimaced. “The stress, I think.”

  “Here, sit on Katy’s bed.” He helped her over to the bed, then held out his hand for Katy, who crawled out of the closet and immediately attached herself to his leg. They both looked pale and drawn, and anger simmered inside him when he thought of how frightened they must have been.

  “That’s your father?” Malory repeated, and she held out her arms to Katy, who released Mike and clambered up onto her lap.

  “Yeah.” He scanned the room again, his mind on the task at hand. He was looking for clues—some indication of what his father had been after. When his gaze came back around to Malory, she was wiping fresh tears from her cheeks.

  “Sorry.” He sank onto the bed next to her and put an arm around her tense shoulders. “I have no idea what he was doing breaking into my house, but yes, that’s my father. You don’t need to worry, though. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “I thought we’d be killed—” Her voice broke off into a rough sob, and Mike pulled her against his shoulder, her tears leaving a warm wet spot on his uniform.

  “Not on my watch, babe,” he murmured, then stopped when he realized the endearment that had slipped from his lips.

  Malory seemed to put some effort into reining in her tears, and she gave Katy a shaky smile, wiping the child’s hair away from her face. Mike cleared his throat, then stood up, glancing out the window where cops were set up, measuring and taking pictures for the inevitable trial.

  “In fact, I’m going to go interrogate him now. The house is safe.”

  “Yes, of course.” Malory sucked in a ragged breath. “Go do your job.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, looking back at her. He hated to leave them like this, terrified and tear streaked, but
he couldn’t just sit still, either, while there were answers to demand downstairs.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He didn’t entirely believe her, and he was more than aware that all of this had been caused by his own father. The Cruises at their finest.

  A female officer came into the room, and Mike smiled gratefully. “Sheila, good timing. Would you stay with Malory for a bit while I go do a little personal interrogating?”

  “You bet,” Sheila replied, coming into the room and standing with her legs akimbo. Sheila was probably tougher than most guys on the force. In fact, she could outbox Tuck—a little detail Mike never could let Tuck live down.

  “You’re in good hands, Malory,” he said, catching her eye.

  He wished he could stay, but he felt responsible for this. His father was back in town for a reason, and he should have gotten to the bottom of it before...this. It wasn’t right that Malory and Katy should be terrified in his home. They should be safe here, of all places...but wasn’t this what he’d been afraid of all along? Katy wouldn’t be free so long as anyone knew where she was. Right now Mike had one thing on his mind, and he trotted down the stairs to where his father sat, cuffed and sullen, in the middle of the living room floor.

  “Thought you might want to question him before we brought him back to the station,” Tuck said.

  “Thanks.” Mike glanced around at the other officers, and they moved back, giving him some space. He sat on the edge of the couch, facing the older man. “So.”

  “Mike, it isn’t what it looks like,” his father sputtered. “I swear.”

  “Yeah? Well, it looks like you broke into my house and scared Malory and Katy out of their minds. That’s not what happened here?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “I wasn’t going to hurt them.” He shifted his position. Those cuffs were tight—Mike had made sure of that. “I’m in a bit of a situation.”

  “So you didn’t just call to say hi after all,” Mike retorted.