Safe in the Lawman's Arms

by Patricia Johns

  “Hey,” he said quietly.

  Malory looked up at him.

  “I know it wasn’t really the plan today, but thanks for letting me see your baby. He’s a great-looking kid.”

  “He is, isn’t he?”

  Tears glistened in her eyes, and she didn’t even know why. She silently cursed the hormones and picked up her pace to open the front door—and to dry her eyes before he noticed. The door wasn’t locked—a surprise, since she remembered locking it herself the last time she came out with clean clothes for Katy that morning.

  When the door swung in, her stomach dropped. The house was in shambles. Furniture was tipped over, cushions had been slashed and drawers had been emptied. The large TV had a spiderweb of cracks circling out from a center of impact. She stood there, stunned, as she took in the damage.

  Who would do this? Her mind spun. They weren’t safe, were they? Something much bigger was at play here, and she was officially caught in the middle. She looked back toward Mike as he joined her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, but instead of any show of surprise, he put an iron grip on her arm and pulled her easily back out of the house.

  “Take Katy to the truck,” he ordered, bending over to slide the sleeping girl into her arms. “And lock the doors.”

  Pulling a gun from a holster up the back of his shirt, he went into the house.

  * * *

  THE HOUSE WAS empty but in tatters, and ten minutes later, Mike hopped up into the truck next to Malory and put the vehicle into gear. There wasn’t much else to do at the house, and he had way more resources at his disposal at the sheriff’s department.

  The station was abuzz as Mike strode inside, Malory and Katy in tow. One side of the room was occupied by desks, several of which were manned by officers hunched over paperwork or on the phone. Mike’s desk was in the far corner, opposite to the deputy chief’s office, and he’d gotten territorial over his little corner over the years. It was a great spot—far enough from the door that he could get some work done, and far enough from the DC’s office to avoid being put onto every little project that came along. His corner was nicely out of the line of sight—just the way he liked it. That was the way he liked his life, too, and the fact that he’d just had his home ransacked ticked him off on a pretty deep level.

  Later on, he’d take his frustration out on a punching bag. For now he had a more immediate target in mind.

  The station hummed with the cacophony of voices mingled with the rattle of an air-conditioning vent. The smell of slightly burnt coffee came from the kitchen—truth be told, that was about as good as the coffee got here.

  “So they hit your place in earnest this time, did they?” Tuck asked, falling into step beside him.

  “Sure did.”

  “You think your old man is involved?”

  Mike didn’t answer, and he knew that Tuck didn’t need him to. Everything started when his father arrived back in town, and a place the size of Hope, Montana, didn’t attract that much attention. The coincidence was a little too big to be ignored.

  “How bad is it?” Tuck asked.

  “It’s completely torn apart.”

  “We’ll help you get it back together,” Tuck said. “You’re not going to get chased out of your home.”

  “Thanks.” Mike glanced back at Malory. Her expression was grim, and her complexion had turned paler as the morning wore on.

  “She’s hungry,” Mike said and changed course for the kitchen. “She needs to eat something.”

  Pushing the kitchen door open, Mike nodded, directing her inside. “There are donuts, bagels, some cream cheese in the fridge. There should be some apples in there, too. And some truly terrible coffee. Help yourself, okay, Mal?”

  She cast him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I’m getting pretty hungry.”

  “I thought so.”

  Malory and Katy went into the kitchen, and Mike headed off in the direction of the lockup. It was better that the girls not see this part anyway.

  “Not going to ask for permission to question him?” Tuck asked.

  “Nope.” Mike shot his partner a bleak look. “You don’t need to be here for this, if you don’t want to be.”

  Tuck didn’t answer but didn’t peel off, either, and Mike felt a grateful swell for his reliable partner. It didn’t matter what came his way, he knew he could count on Tuck.

  The lockup was cut off from the rest of the station, separated by a metal door. Inside were three cells, two of which were empty. In the far cell, Nate hunkered on the edge of his bunk. He looked up as Mike came in, hope flickering in those small dark eyes.

  “Hey, you came to see me,” Nate said, rising to his feet. “I knew you’d come.”

  “Yeah?” Mike wasn’t feeling like having a warm father-son moment. “I’ll bet. So tell me what you know.”

  “I did.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Mike replied, opening the cell door.

  “You letting me out?” Nate asked cautiously.

  “Nope.” Mike leaned against the bar and eyed his father, watching for signs of nerves. “Just here to see what you didn’t tell me.”

  “I told you everything, son,” his father said earnestly. “Everything.”

  “Don’t pull the whole ‘son’ card on me,” Mike replied tersely. “Why did my house get ransacked this morning?”

  Genuine surprise registered on Nate’s haggard face, then fear. “What are you talking about?”

  “I came back to my house this morning to find it torn apart. Very efficiently done.”

  Nate didn’t answer, and Mike let the silence stretch. The older man looked down, to the side where Tuck stood, anywhere but at Mike.

  “Look...” Nate said slowly. “It isn’t me, okay?”

  “Obviously. You’re in lockup. So who?”

  “I might have mentioned that I thought I could get the money from my son’s place.”

  “And who did you mention this to?” Mike asked, his tone low and angry.

  “The guy I owe.”

  “Not specific enough.”

  “If I tell you, and you let me out of here, he’ll kill me.” Nate’s fervent gaze moved anxiously over Mike’s face. “Do you get that? Kill me.”

  Mike sighed. He might not like his father very much, but he did care about him. “So I’ll keep it unofficial for now.”

  “Not good enough,” Nate replied. “I’d need protection.”

  “That’s FBI jurisdiction.” Mike sighed. “Look, Dad, I’m not going to let you get killed, okay? But I need to figure out what’s going on. It’s not just me anymore. I have other people to take care of, too.”

  “Katherine.” Nate’s tone changed, and Mike eyed him suspiciously.

  “Yes, Katherine.”

  Nate sighed. “Just keep me behind bars for a while, son. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Mike paused. There were other people who might get hurt by Nate talking, too, and he hated this part of the job—the responsibility for the outcome of whatever happened here. “What about your girlfriend? Is she in danger?”

  “Gina’s far away from all this. I thought I could turn it around, you know, after I got some money to impress her. She was going to be a whole new start for me.” Nate shook his head. “Whatever. Look, I’ll tell you who it is, but my life is in your hands now.”

  “Okay.” Mike nodded.

  “It’s Sinclair Moody.”

  Mike paused, letting the information settle into his mind. “The thug Crystal was working for?”

  “Yeah.”

  His cousin had been arrested on a whole cocktail of charges, from drug selling to prostitution. Sinclair Moody was the piece of work who’d strong-armed her into it, but no one could prove it. He was too slick, and he knew how to set up a fall guy.

  “You were dumb enough to work with that piece of garbage?” Mike demanded. “What were you thinking?”

  “Didn’t know it was him. It was just a friendly poker game that turned ugly. Turned out
that he was the one who kept giving me more credit. And then I lost it all and I owed more than I could pay back.”

  “And he offered you a deal you couldn’t refuse?”

  “He said I could work for him.”

  “And he’s the one you sent after me?” Mike and Tuck exchanged a look.

  “No! I swear!” Nate sighed. “I wouldn’t do that. When I figured out who he was, I knew he’d do the same thing to me that he did to Crystal. I don’t want jail time. Not again. So I said I’d pay him back, and he wanted to know how. I said I’d get it from you, that you had some family heirlooms that were worth a fortune.”

  “So Sinclair Moody thinks I have something worthwhile, does he?” Mike shook his head. “He’s pretty gutsy to rob law enforcement.”

  “He’s a bad guy, son,” Nate said, his voice hopeless. “He’s dangerous. An animal.”

  People wondered why Mike didn’t trust easily, and this was the reason right here. His own father would send a seasoned criminal after him, chasing a phantom fortune—all in a split-second decision to save his own hide. The fortune didn’t exist, but Sinclair Moody wouldn’t be easily convinced of that.

  “So you sent him in my direction. Nice.”

  Nate shook his head. “I was needing a drink so bad. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t mean to.”

  That was something Mike could believe. When his father needed a drink, he turned into a bit of an animal.

  “So if you were making up the whole thing, why on earth did you rob me?”

  “I needed something—anything! You know what he’ll do to me if I don’t pay up.”

  “Yeah.” Mike was absolutely clear on that little detail. Sinclair Moody had a reputation. “So how does Crystal fit into this?”

  “Coincidence?” Nate shrugged.

  Mike didn’t believe in that much coincidence, and he had a sinking suspicion that Crystal hadn’t given up Katy quite as willingly as everyone thought. He could legally have her adopted by a nice, safe family somewhere, but he’d never feel quite right about it if he didn’t find the answers that made sense of this whole mess.

  “All right,” Mike said. “That’s all for now. If you think of anything else that you failed to mention, tell one of the officers to give me a call.”

  “Where are you going?” Nate asked nervously.

  “Don’t worry,” Mike said, softening his tone. “I’ll make sure you stay safely locked up for the next little while.”

  Nate nodded. “Hey, do you think I could call Gina? I mean, she’ll miss me, and—” He cleared his throat. “She’s all I can think of right now.”

  Mike eyed his father curiously. If he wasn’t mistaken, his father was in love. The idea surprised him enough to leave him skeptical. He’d never really thought of his father as capable of anything but selfish drive. If he’d loved his son at all, he’d managed to hide it pretty successfully.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Tuck locked the cell door, and they headed out. He had to wonder if his father was telling the truth about Gina, or if she was just his way to get information out of the station. Either way, it would be recorded and they might learn something if Nate got sloppy.

  “What’s your plan?” Tuck asked when the door swung shut behind them.

  “I’m heading out to Montana Women’s Prison to have a chat with my cousin,” he replied. “But I need you to stick really close to Malory and Katy.”

  “You bet.” Tuck nodded. “Tell you what. Me and a couple of other officers will get your place cleaned up. I’m sure DC will authorize some round-the-clock patrols for your place, and I’ll stay with them myself until you get back.”

  They’d be safe with Tuck—Mike knew that for certain. The sooner he got this cleared up, the sooner Katy and Malory would be safe permanently. That was top priority.

  Chapter Twelve

  Montana Women’s Prison was located in Billings, the largest city Montana could offer up. The drive out was a long one, and no amount of radio chatter or country music seemed to be enough to clear Mike’s thoughts as the minutes crawled by. His mind was spinning, and try as he might, he couldn’t pull his thoughts away from Malory and Katy.

  The miles clicked past on his odometer, the fields of young wheat melding into pasture, black-and-white cows dotting the rolling hills. A summer storm crept slowly in his direction from the west, a smudge of gray clouds that brushed the land with rain, growing ever bigger and closer.

  Getting attached to Malory and Katy was downright stupid, but that didn’t seem to be stopping him right now. This entire situation was complicated and messy, leaving him feeling empty, an ache inside his chest. And he couldn’t really explain why. True, his house was now full of laughter and life—something he’d never experienced before in his lifetime. As a boy, he’d lived with an alcoholic father, and the experience had left him with dark, angry memories. He’d spent many an evening watching late-night TV while his father slept off his latest drinking binge on the kitchen floor. Once he lived on his own, he’d been cautious, protecting his privacy and order—neither of which he’d had as a kid—like a miser.

  He liked to keep his life orderly, but Katy’s arrival had sent that order for a spin. From messy meals to laughter and play, she filled her waking hours with noise and personality. Even her tantrums didn’t bother him as much as he’d thought they would. She was three—these things happened, right? He was growing attached, looking forward to seeing her bright smile and checking on her at night before he went to bed. He couldn’t seem to sleep unless he’d stopped at her door and looked at her. The one night he tried to skip it, he’d lain awake until he got up again, wrapped his robe around him and peered in at her sleeping form.

  Safe. He had to know that she was safe.

  These feelings that spun around inside him could be pushed down only so far, and the minute he stopped that downward pressure, they inched back up again. He’d never been a guy who talked about his feelings too easily, much to the complaints of past girlfriends. But he did have feelings. He just didn’t like opening the lid on that mess. Some things were best kept covered.

  The storm finally reached the road, huge raindrops pelting his windshield. The wipers whipped back and forth, and all he could see around him was the gray of cloud and the green of grass, flattened by pounding rain. He pulled out and passed a slower vehicle, then eased back into the lane. A semi truck lumbered by in the opposite direction, splashing his truck with muddy water.

  The storm wouldn’t last long. Summer storms were transitory affairs that engulfed a man completely in driving rain and cracking lightning, then passed on without a backward glance. Everything would be sun and sparkling water droplets in a matter of minutes. That was something you could count on in Montana.

  By the time he arrived at the prison and parked, he hadn’t sorted out any of his feelings, but he had managed to shove them all back down in order to clear his head. If nothing else, he could figure out what was going on with Sinclair Moody, and that would have to do. At least a mystery could be solved.

  The visiting room was a dismal cinder-block area with a table in the center topped by a plastic tablecloth in an attempt to make it more friendly. Being a police officer, he was able to talk to his cousin without a piece of glass between them, and he found himself nervous as he waited for her to be brought in. He hadn’t seen her in years, and this sort of introduction after that length of time wasn’t exactly easy for either of them.

  When Crystal arrived wearing an orange jumpsuit, her hair pulled back into a scraggly ponytail, she stopped at the door uncertainly. She was thin—too thin—and there were rings under her eyes. She watched him, waiting.

  “Hi,” Mike said. “It’s been a while.”

  Did she even know who he was? He wouldn’t have recognized her without some prodding, either.

  “That you, Mike?” she asked incredulously. “I haven’t seen you since Grandma’s house.”

  “It’s been a few years,” he admitted. “H
ow are you doing?”

  She spread her arms and laughed. She’d lost a few teeth, and her skin was pockmarked from addiction. “How do I look?”

  Mike didn’t know how to answer that. Instead, he gestured to the table. “We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s have a seat.”

  “What do you want?” she asked cautiously as she sat in the plastic chair. She fiddled with her thumbnail, refusing to make eye contact.

  “Did you know that Katy is with me right now?” he asked.

  “It’s Katherine.”

  “Sorry. I know. We shortened it and she seems to like it.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. How is she?”

  “She’s doing great.” He cleared his throat. “You signed all the papers to give away all legal rights.”

  “Yeah.” She turned her attention to a different nail, scratching at a break.

  “Why?”

  “Why?” She laughed bitterly. “Do you see where I am? What can I do for her in here? What did I do for her out there, for that matter?”

  “Were you pressured in any way?” Mike asked.

  “Like by Social Services?” she asked.

  “No, like by Sinclair Moody.”

  Her eyes widened at the name, then narrowed. “Why do you mention him?”

  “You were working for him when you were arrested, right?”

  “No one could prove that.”

  “Yeah, I know that no one could prove it,” he retorted. “They tried. They always try. This isn’t an entirely official visit. I just want to hear it from you.”

  “They never believed me.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m family. I will.” The words sounded hollow on his tongue. Since when did Cruises trust each other? If anyone should know better, it would be a Cruise.

  “Okay, well, I was working for him. He told us to rob that store, and I ended up killing that security guard. I didn’t mean to. It just sort of happened and I found out later he had a family and all that—” She heaved a sigh. “And I went down for it. End of story.”