The Baby's Defender

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  The clatter of kitchen activity and the soft hiss and enticing odor of cooking bacon spread a relaxing, homey atmosphere around the room. Maybe they could enjoy a simple breakfast in peace before continuing to address the threat that loomed over this household.

  The sudden clang of the doorbell shot a chill through the atmosphere. Everyone froze in place. Firming his jaw, West rose and handed Livvy to her mother.

  “Brennan, stay here on guard duty. Darius, you come with me. Let’s see who is at the front door so early in the morning.”

  West’s gaze locked with Cady’s. Her amber eyes were wide, and her throat visibly contracted as all three Triple Threat agents pulled handguns from the holsters at their sides. Heat ripped through West’s gut. No one should have to live in terror in their own house. They needed to get to the bottom of what was going on—and fast!

  FIVE

  Cady held her breath as West and Darius glided from the kitchen on stealthy feet. Seconds later, the latch clicked, followed by West’s voice in soft tones, and then an unknown male’s in equally benign timbre. Not a threat then. Cady allowed herself to take a breath and return to her cooking.

  Shortly, West and Darius reentered the kitchen. West held a brown manila envelope in the hand where his gun had been a couple of minutes ago. The firearms were out of sight again.

  West waved the envelope at her. “This came by courier from your estate lawyer. Apparently, he has suddenly become extremely accommodating after yesterday’s brouhaha. It’s copies of whatever house plans he had in his files.”

  Cady let out a small laugh. “Probably feels bad about what happened on our way to his office.”

  West snorted. “Or he doesn’t want us bringing any more trouble near his doorstep.”

  She shrugged. “Either way. Our outing has been canceled.”

  “One of them,” West said. “You and I need to go see the neighborhood watch block captain and find out who packaged your welcome gift.”

  Cady winced. “That could be a touchy question. It might seem like we’re accusing someone.”

  “It has to be asked. Number one, I would hope the block captain is just as interested as anyone else about getting to the bottom of who might have planted poison in one of their gift baskets. Number two, if the police haven’t already asked about it, they’ll be asking soon, so the captain better get used to giving an answer. Where are the other items that came in the basket?”

  “I’ll assemble everything as soon as we’ve had our breakfast,” she said, thrusting a stack of plates in his direction.

  “Give me the house plans,” Brennan said, taking the envelope from West. “I’ll comb through them with a magnifying glass, if necessary. My dad and brothers and I built a house together from the basement to the attic, so I’ll know what I’m looking at.”

  “Breakfast first,” Cady said firmly. “I don’t know about you guys, but my stomach is in serious doubt about whether I remember how to use a fork.”

  Everyone laughed and Cady’s spirits lifted. At last, with the plans in hand, they seemed to have some hope of progress, and West had laid out a sound game plan for pursuing an investigation. With the Triple Threat team on duty, maybe the worst was behind them. Determined to enjoy her breakfast with a contented Olivia, who sat in her baby seat and batted at the mobile hanging above her, she ignored the tiny pessimistic voice in the back of her mind that wanted to insinuate maybe it wasn’t.

  Once they had eaten, Darius volunteered to load the dishwasher and Brennan retired to the study to go over the house plans. At Cady’s insistence, West enjoyed another cup of coffee while she rounded up the items that the watch committee had delivered when she moved in. The coffee, she assured him, had been purchased by her at the local grocery store and was not among those items. By the time she returned to the kitchen, Darius had headed out on his assignment, so West remained her only audience.

  “Here we go,” she said as she laid out the array of items. “One copy of a recent issue of Philadelphia Magazine. One partially used tube of scented skin lotion, apparently poison-free since I’ve noticed no bad effects, only softer elbows and heels. An unopened package of slipper socks, which, for all I know, are lubricated to ensure I fall down the stairs.” West cocked a brow at her dark humor. She snickered and went on. “A cell phone holder with an advertisement for an auto repair shop etched on it. A brochure for a home security system sold by a local business, along with a pen from said business. Better check the pen out for a bomb.” Another snicker escaped her lips.

  What was the matter with her? She sounded half hysterical. Backing away from the table, she hugged herself. West rose and laid his strong hands on her shoulders. The compassion in his gaze undid her. She leaned into him and buried her face in the soft T-shirt over his solid chest. His masculine, woodsy odor filled her nostrils. All of those sensations combined to strip away her defenses and make a mockery of her talk about independence. She was so pitifully dependent. She’d depended first on parents who betrayed her trust at every turn. Then she’d depended on Griffon, until he was suddenly ripped from her life, calling into question the trust in God she’d begun to develop under her husband’s urging and example. Now, she was allowing herself to lean on another man, and it felt too right to be right.

  She moaned and pulled away from West, who dropped his arms and turned quickly away from her toward the items on the table.

  Cady’s heart gave a little jump against her ribs. What had she glimpsed on her friend’s face? Disappointment? Hurt? Those emotions couldn’t possibly have anything to do with her, could they? Of course not. She was being silly. West was grieving his buddy as badly as she was grieving her husband. No wonder they shared a special bond. That was all there was to it.

  “What do you think about that stuff from the basket?” she asked.

  West looked over his shoulder at her, his expression neutral. “These things look pretty benign, but let’s take the pen apart, just to be thorough.”

  A lopsided smile quirked his lips, and the last vestige of awkwardness fled the room. Cady smiled back at him as he twisted the pen and ejected the contents onto the tabletop.

  “Nope, just regular pen guts. Is this everything?”

  “Wait! I just remembered there was this small but lovely figurine of a Victorian couple. It was cheap, hollow glass, but so cute, and it suited my decor, so I put it on the mantelpiece in the living room.”

  “Show me,” West said.

  She led him to the fireplace. “Aren’t they charming? They’re dancing together.”

  Wearing a frown, West brushed past her and picked up the item.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he ran his fingers over every dimple of the figurine.

  Suddenly, he let out a grunt. “There’s something not right here. This thing’s been cracked open and almost seamlessly glued back together.”

  He knocked the statuette against the stone of the hearth, and Cady cried out as glass broke. She started to kneel in front of the wreckage, but West grabbed her arm and pulled her upright.

  “Still think it’s charming?” he rumbled like a growling bear and pointed toward a strange object lying amongst the shards of painted glass.

  His tone sent a shiver through her. Her gaze riveted on a black object about as big around as a dime but as thick as one of her pancakes.

  Her insides turned to ice. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “Someone’s been listening to everything going on in this house.” An oily sensation slithered through her insides.

  “Whoever set up the attack on you yesterday didn’t need to tail us from this house to the lawyer’s office. They knew where we were going.”

  Cady’s heart jumped in her chest. She gazed up at West. “When is this all going to stop? Who could possibly be so desperate to hurt me?”

 
; * * *

  “Bren!” West bellowed.

  Cady backed away from him. He was scaring her. Frankly, he was scaring himself at the depth of his ferocity.

  Eyes wide, his buddy trotted into the room. “What’s up, Sarge?”

  “Did you acquire that gear we discussed for our business? And I’m not your sergeant any longer.”

  Brennan offered a slight smile. “You’ll always be Sarge to me, Sarge. And, yes, the gear is at our still-waiting-to-be-set-up office.”

  “Would you go get the bug-sweeping equipment? Hostile ears have been monitoring this place for weeks.” He pointed toward the little black bug on the hearth, resisting the urge to lift his foot and squash it. Doing that he might destroy a fingerprint or some other clue.

  Brennan let out a low whistle.

  “I’ll call the cops,” West said. “They’ll need to process this thing.”

  “Won’t they have bug-sweeping equipment?” Cady asked.

  “Immaterial,” West said. “We’ll do our own sweep throughout the house and your vehicle, as well. Every day until this situation is resolved. This little critter may not be the only one of its kind around here, since, evidently, someone is accessing the house from an unidentified quadrant.”

  “I’ll go grab the gear,” Brennan said, “but I’ll have to take a taxi. Darius has the company pickup truck.”

  “Take my Blazer.” Cady darted into the kitchen and returned with her keys and Olivia, who had begun to fuss in her baby seat. “Guess who’s hungry and needs a diaper change.”

  West nodded toward Cady “You take care of Baby-bug. I’m going to prowl around a bit while we wait for Bren to return and the cops to show up.”

  With a long, somber look in his direction, Cady headed toward the stairs to go to her daughter’s room. West watched her leave until she was out of sight and then walked Brennan toward the door.

  “Did you see anything useful in the house plans?” he asked softly enough that he doubted the exposed-but-still-active bug could pick up his words.

  “Not yet. They’re frustratingly incomplete,” Brennan answered in equally hushed tones. “More like sketches, really, than full plans, but I’m not done studying them. If there is a clue to be found, I promise I’ll find it.”

  “I trust you,” he told his friend and business partner.

  “I know. I won’t let you down.”

  “Good man.” West nodded, beyond thankful for guys he could count on.

  As soon as Brennan closed the door after himself, West locked up and called the cops. The next half hour crept past as West crept around in similar silence, checking doors and windows that had been examined multiple times and rapping his knuckles against paneling or drywall in various rooms. But banging his head against said walls would have been as productive as this random search. Just as he returned to the living room, the doorbell rang. Must be the police, since Bren would have simply used the house key on Cady’s key chain and let himself in.

  West peered through the door’s peephole and discovered the top of a bald head ringed with a fringe of salt-and-pepper hair. Who in the world? West pulled the door open but left the chain on. A ferret-faced man wearing a stern expression and standing, shoulders square, to every inch of his no-more-than-five-foot-eight-inch height.

  “Hello,” the man said in a surprisingly deep voice. “I’m Donald Milcombe, the neighborhood watch captain. I understand there was a break-in at this residence yesterday. It’s a part of my duties to keep myself apprised of such occurrences in our neighborhood. Do you mind if I come in and ask a few questions?”

  A chuckle slipped between West’s lips. How was that for irony? The very man they wanted to interview wanted to interview them.

  West unchained the door and Donald stepped inside with a military bearing that would have put some soldiers to shame. The guy clearly took his position very seriously.

  Managing to keep a straight face, West motioned toward the living room. “Come in and have a seat. The owner of the house will be down shortly. She’s looking after her baby.”

  “And you are?” The watch captain lifted sparse brows.

  “West Foster. I and my two colleagues are Mrs. Long’s personal protection detail.”

  “Oh, dear.” The man sank onto the sofa. “Am I to assume then that the break-in was not a robbery, that the intruder was after her?”

  “Assume away.”

  “Ex-boyfriend? Ex-husband? We really don’t welcome these domestic violence situations into our neighborhood.”

  “Now you have assumed too much.” West loomed over the man, and Donald paled as he cranked his neck backward to gaze up at him. “Mrs. Long is a soldier’s widow, and her would-be assailant is an unidentified creep who seems to have access to the house without breaking and entering. Have the police been to see you yet?”

  “Why would they?”

  “Because the tea in the watch committee gift basket contained a deadly poison that Mrs. Long almost drank.” No point in giving this guy information about his own close shave. The police could do that if the man were ever charged with anything.

  The watch captain gasped and folded his hands together. “How awful! Tea, did you say? Our gift baskets don’t contain tea.”

  “Do they contain small Victorian figurines?”

  “Certainly not! We don’t go in for anything so froufrou.”

  “I’d like a list of anything that should have been in the basket, and I need to know who packs these baskets and who has access to them at any time before or during their delivery.”

  “Of course. Of course. This is most unsettling. Most unsettling.”

  If the situation were any less serious, West’s heart would go out to the fellow. He seemed unnerved to the point of wringing his hands and repeating himself. Despite his pseudo-military bearing, West had difficulty imagining anyone less threatening. However, he and his men had plenty of hard experience in learning that appearances could be deceiving. Did this guy have anything to do with the home invasion and the attacks on Cady?

  “I’ll supply that information now,” Milcombe said. “Do you have pen and paper?”

  “No need.” West took out his phone and accessed his notepad app. “Tell me and I’ll type it in.”

  “Wait!” Cady hurried into the room, minus Olivia, who had no doubt succumbed to her morning nap. “I’ll get pen and paper.” Cady nodded significantly toward the bug on the hearth, then locked gazes with West.

  “Smart woman.” He grinned at her.

  A short time later, Milcombe took his leave, still as flustered as ever. No doubt the watch committee would soon be abuzz with shocking information, but at least they had the name of a person to interview—Mitch Landes.

  West closed the door after their guest and turned toward Cady, who hovered nearby in the foyer. Her whole countenance radiated tension. He hated to add to her unease, but answers wouldn’t be found unless more questions were asked and answered.

  “I think it’s time we had that hard talk. We should—” The ringing of the doorbell interrupted him. Had Milcombe thought of something he’d forgotten to share?

  West checked the peephole. It was the police this time—the same two officers who had answered the original early morning callout when Cady was attacked in her room. He let them inside, and he and Cady proceeded to give their statements. The patrol officers assured them that someone would be by later to sweep the house for other clandestine surveillance devices. By the time the uniformed pair took the bug away in an evidence-collection bag, Olivia was waking up from her nap. Cady went upstairs to feed her while West put together some lunch for the adults.

  Brennan returned to the house with the equipment to do their surveillance sweep and joined him and Cady for soup and a sandwich. West made a point of keeping the conversation light as they ate, and Cady shot him several grateful looks
that warmed his heart, but her reprieve would come to an end soon enough. Once Olivia went down for her afternoon nap, there would be no more delay.

  Until then, West busied himself helping Brennan with the sweep, which exposed no other surveillance devices, and the installation of additional security measures such as outdoor motion sensors on the porch and perimeter of the property. However, if they were dealing with someone accessing the home through a secret passage, the sensors might be useless, a chilling thought.

  About mid-afternoon, West left Brennan testing the new installations and went in search of Cady. He found her coming down the steps without Olivia. Her face paled a bit as she spotted him, but she offered him a thin-lipped nod as she led the way up the hall into the kitchen.

  “Livvy is sleeping.” Her words and tone confirmed her understanding that the time had come.

  His phone chose that moment to ring and, frowning, he palmed his cell. “It’s Darius. I’d better answer this.”

  Grim-faced, Cady nodded.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” Darius said. “Check that—you’ll find it all too believable, considering what’s been going on.”

  “Sitrep now,” West clipped out in military terminology demanding a situational report.

  “I found out that Jason Green is a known druggie who will do just about anything for his next fix, but someone bailed him out of jail early this morning. He skedaddled and disappeared, eluding a police tail.”

  “He’s in the wind?”

  “Not anymore.” Darius’s tone went darker than midnight. “He was just found dead behind a hole-in-the-wall bar he used to frequent. Looks like an overdose, but the timing is suspicious. He won’t be telling us or the police anything useful.”

  SIX

  As the color receded from West’s tanned face, the bottom dropped out of Cady’s stomach. More bad news? Had to be. This man never looked taken by surprise.