Gabriel (Guardian Defenders Book 1)

by Kris Michaels

“You're working this late? I'm sure I can talk to your boss so you can come down to the station, and then I'll give you a ride home? Surely he'll understand?”

  “I live in Colorado. I'm here working for Deacon Long, and I live in that building, at least temporarily.”

  Delacroix glanced from Anna to the man from Guardian that had been left to babysit her. “Let me get him transported. I'll pop over before I go down and process him.”

  Chapter 22

  Anna glanced down at the paper on her small table. “I think that’s all.”

  Detective Delacroix sat across from her, sipping a cup of the coffee she’d brewed after cleaning up her scrapes and bruises and taking a couple of pain relievers. She was going to be sore in the morning. Hell, she was sore now. She was angry now, her delicious smelling dinner and the little relaxation she’d achieved at the bar was wasted. Thank you, Gary. How in the heck did the man–

  “You don’t know his last name?”

  Anna blinked at him. What? She replayed the conversation they'd been having before she'd veered off on her mental jaunt. Last Name. Right, Gary, the accountant. CPA. Jerk.

  “Ms. Harriger?”

  “Wait, I have his card. Just a minute.” She hurried to her purse and dug to the bottom, searching for the slip of paper. Frustrated, she upended her bag and scrambled to catch the contents as they rolled toward the edge of the counter. She winced, and reminded herself her arm wasn't happy. In fact, it was downright cranky.

  “So, you stay here and do what, exactly, for Mr. Long?”

  Anna blinked up from her herding of pens, coins, and ChapSticks. Delacroix’s concentration was on the paper. He had a pen in his hand and his notebook open. When she didn’t answer, he looked up.

  Anna's mind shuttered, remembering Gabriel's reprimand. She shrugged and casually spoke, “I’m a nurse. I take care of Mr. Long's family.” That wasn't too much of a lie, and it didn't expose Jackie.

  “Ah, you mean Miss Brenner. That makes sense.” Delacroix jotted something down in his notebook.

  Anna shoved through the old receipts, crumpled airline boarding pass and luggage claim tickets looking for the card Gary had given her. She sent a quick glance his way. “You know Jackie?”

  “Not really, no. I was the initial officer assigned her case here in New Orleans. That’s how I met Gabriel. We’ve been working together to try to get the man who attacked her. Are you with her all the time?”

  “No. Just during the day when Mr. Long is working.

  Anna pulled the card out from her purse-pile on the counter and extended the little slip of paper to the detective. “Henderson, his name is Gary Henderson.”

  Delacroix took the paper and frowned at it. “Peculiar.”

  “What?” Anna slowly lowered into her chair. Her shoulder was complaining more than she cared to let on. It wasn't broken. She had complete mobility, but Gary had stretched her shoulder and the muscles in her chest. Working tomorrow was definitely going to be an exercise in discomfort.

  “I’ve never heard of this firm. The address… I’m not sure, but I think that’s near the Superdome, not far from here. May I use your phone?” He nodded to the phone on the wall in the kitchen.

  “Sure, help yourself.”

  “Good. While I make this call you reread that statement again and see if there is anything you need to change.”

  Anna nodded and pulled the paper toward her. She heard Delacroix pushing buttons on the phone as she reread her short statement about the events that occurred tonight.

  “Yeah, this is Delacroix. I just had a guy brought in by a patrol. He should be in booking now. Name is Gary Henderson. I want him taken to interrogation and put on ice until I get there. Yeah. Pull anything and everything you can on the guy. I want to know where he got his first ticket. Yeah. Nope, push everything else to the back burner. I'm holding a trump card tonight, Sarge. The mayor, the FBI and some guy who does magic from Guardian all want this information ASAP. What's that? Yeah, that's me, a suck-up. Thanks, Sarge. I'll bring coffee on my way in. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

  Delacroix hung up the phone and made his way back to the table. “Just out of curiosity, you haven't noticed anyone following you when you are out and about?”

  The odd question sent a shiver up her spine and gooseflesh across her arms. “No.” Anna stopped. Oh no. “That's not right. Gary seemed to show up every time I went out alone.” She shivered and pulled her sore arm into her just a little tighter.

  “Yeah, that hunch I had is looking more like a golden goose,” Delacroix mumbled the words so low she wasn't sure they were meant for her.

  “Hunch?” Anna’s head had started to ache even after taking something for the discomfort of her strained arm. She rolled her eyes at herself. No, the headache happened because of the discomfort, you dweeb.

  Delacroix glanced at her, and his eyebrows pulled together for a moment. He shrugged and smiled, but it didn’t seem to make it all the way to his eyes. “The guy that is after Miss Brenner? Law enforcement has a general description of him. Your man Gary, his look is in that ballpark. It might be a series of coincidences, but in my line of work…”

  Anna blinked across the table at him. “You think Gary is the one who tried to kill Jackie?”

  “I'm not going to discount anything at this point.” He tapped the statement she'd abandoned. “That is why this is so important. I'm going to take this, but do me a favor. Sleep on it tonight. I know you’ve probably running on adrenaline and you're crashing right now. I need you to be clear-minded. How about I swing by tomorrow morning or early afternoon and we go over this one more time? I can hold Henderson for twenty-four hours without charging him, so you think about every interaction with the guy. The time of day, his clothes, exactly what he said, his attitude when he said it. Write it all down, but wait until the morning. You need to rest.”

  Anna shook her head slowly. “He didn’t seem like that bad of a guy. Until tonight.”

  Delacroix strolled toward her door. “I'm not saying he is a bad guy, ma’am. Remember, he’s innocent until proven guilty. Well, he's innocent of the crimes against Miss Brenner. The assault I witnessed tonight? The man is guilty, and we’ll charge him for that. I’m crossing my Ts and dotting my Is. But for now, I'm off to interview Henderson. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Anna stood up carefully, mindful of the all-over body ache she had going on. “If you call first, I’ll tell security you’re coming. Otherwise, you won’t be able to get up here.”

  “That will work, or I can meet you in the lobby. Whatever is easiest for you.”

  He grabbed the door handle and pulled the front door of her apartment open. Mr. Wall stepped to the side. “Ready, detective?”

  “Yeah, but dude, you do realize I can find my own way out.” Delacroix snickered at the man.

  Anna made her way across the small front room as they spoke in her doorway.

  “I do, sir. I also enjoy my paycheck and would like to continue to receive it. No one, except those specifically cleared to be on this floor, are allowed access without an armed escort.

  “But he’s a police detective and working with Gabriel.” Anna leaned against the door, suddenly exhausted.

  “Regardless, ma’am. Protocol and we’re being recorded so …” Wall nodded to the small boxes mounted at the end of the long hallway. Funny that she hadn't noticed them before.

  Delacroix shook his head and smiled. “Yep, all the best toys.”

  “Yes, sir.” The man motioned toward the elevator, and Delacroix chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets, along with her statement.

  “Until tomorrow, Ms. Harriger.” He spun on his heel and lifted his eyebrows, with a wicked smile spreading across his face. “What else y'all got? Lasers? Automatic locks? Bulletproof glass? Oh man! Do you have one of them new flippy phones? Have you seen the one Gabriel has?” Delacroix laughed as Mr. Wall pointed down the hall. They fell into step as they walked away from her door.

 
; “Goodnight, detective,” Anna called out. Delacroix laughed again and lifted his hand, still barraging Wall with a thousand questions. She shut the door and sighed as she leaned her forehead against the door. Gathering strength, she peeled herself off the cool wood and headed into the kitchen. She emptied the coffee pot and cleaned it, readying it for the morning. She glanced up at the clock and frowned. How in the hell could her life be turned upside down in a matter of a few short hours?

  Her hand trailed against the closed adjoining door to Gabriel’s apartment. Her head hurt too much to think about it anymore tonight. The events of the night and her run-ins with Gary still spun on repeat. Sleep wouldn’t happen tonight. McNair was probably throwing stones at her glass house when he said Gabriel was out on a date, but the insinuation hurt. One more bruise on an already battered body.

  Chapter 23

  Gabriel waited for the door to the holding facility to be opened. An obnoxious, buzzing noise preceded a loud click. He pushed the door open and stepped into a cornucopia of gray. Gray cinder-blocks, gray chairs, gray tables, gray paint, gray floor tiles, and gray uniforms. A mountain of a man pushed away from the counter where he'd been leaning.

  “You Gabriel?”

  “I am. His name is McNair.”

  The man narrowed his eyes when they raked over Craig. He didn't proffer his hand, neither did Craig. The officer looked seriously put out to be waiting for them. Not that he'd blame the guy. It was two in the morning and just like that cop, there were places he'd rather be. Like in bed with Anna.

  The man cocked his head, indicating he should follow him, spun on his heel, and walked down a long hall. Holding cells on either side gave him a view of tonight's criminals. Most were sleeping. One man was crying quietly as they passed. He kept his eyes forward. He had one goal, and that was finding out what information the detective had gotten out of the man that had attacked Anna.

  He still stewed in his anger about that cluster fuck. He'd torn McNair a new asshole when he found out she'd been attacked, and he wasn't notified.

  “Why the fuck didn't you tell me?”

  McNair's head snapped back. “Why the fuck would I tell you? She's not Guardian. She's not hurt, and Delacroix took care of everything.”

  “But you knew Delacroix suspected this guy could be more than just a random asshole.”

  “Seriously? Half the damn city could be a suspect based on the description we have. Delacroix said he'd call if it turned out to be something. He called. I'm here. You know everything.”

  “Except whether or not she's okay.”

  “She's fucking fine. You're acting like she's something special.”

  “Maybe she is.”

  “Hell, man, stop a minute and think about that. You work twenty-four hours a day. Your fucking dreams for this business and the other shit you deal with aren't conducive to a relationship. What in the hell are you going to do about her when you go overseas for months at a time or stay at the office for two weeks straight? And don't say that doesn't happen, I've seen the closet in your bathroom. You practically live in that damn office. You'd be setting her up for loneliness. Nothing more.”

  “Let me worry about that,” he’d snapped back. Unfortunately, the truth of his friend's words was woven through his sharp retort and fuck him if he didn't see it.

  He shot a glance at McNair. The only reason Craig was walking beside him now was a conference call with principals in Asia Gabriel had scheduled. The call couldn't be put off, so Craig drove them downtown as he worked.

  The cop stopped and unlocked another door using a set of keys on a retractable key chain, anchored to his belt. There was steel wire running through the glass panel in the top half of the door. He imagined it'd been broken a time or two. The guard motioned down the hall. “Observation is the first door on the right. Delacroix will be right back. He's making a call.”

  McNair's head snapped toward the guard. “At two fucking o'clock in the morning? Who the fuck is he calling?” The sarcasm dripped from the words.

  “Yeah, think about it, asshole. The FBI works our hours, too.” The cop made a disgusted noise and spun on his heel, going out the same way they'd been shown in.

  “I think I could like that guy,” McNair smirked as he watched the man stride down the corridor.

  “I don't doubt that.” Gabriel pulled open the door to the observation room. He waited until Craig shut the door before he moved to the one-way glass. The man sitting at the table looked exhausted. He was cuffed to the gray table. There were bags under his eyes and a scrape along his cheek that was swollen.

  The urge to walk into that interview room and tear the fucker apart swelled in his gut. “What is his name?” He didn't take his eyes off the guy.

  “I don't know. Like I said. Wall saw the scuffle going on across the street, and we headed out. Delacroix had the guy face down when we showed up.”

  “Where was Anna?” he murmured.

  Craig shrugged. “She was sitting on the sidewalk.”

  “Why?” He turned and stared at Craig, waiting for an explanation.

  “From what Wall told me after he escorted Delacroix from the building, this guy threw her to the ground before Delacroix tackled his ass.”

  Gabriel's vision narrowed, and he felt a muscle tick at the corner of his eye. He spun slowly, his fists clenched. He stepped toward the door.

  Craig darted in front of him. “Whoa, hold on, cowboy. You can't go in there.”

  “Watch me.” He stepped to the left to move around McNair.

  “No seriously, think about it, Gabriel. If you go in there and rough him up, they could get him off on some bullshit. Let the cop do his job. You know better than this. Due process. Let the system work.”

  His body vibrated with the need to strike out at the man who'd hurt Anna.

  The door opened, and Delacroix stepped in. “Sorry. I was bringing Harvey and Olsen up to speed.”

  Gabriel cocked his head. “What do you have?”

  “Well, circumstantial evidence so far. I was waiting until you got here to interview him, but I've been digging. Have a seat, I'll run it down for you.”

  Gabriel sent a death glare at the man in the interview room. Delacroix sniggered, “Don't worry about him, man. He's not going anywhere, and when I get done laying this out for you, you'll understand why.”

  McNair pulled a chair out and dropped into it. “Come on, Gabriel, he isn't going to hurt anyone in there.”

  Delacroix tipped his head. “What am I missing here? This is about more than Miss Brenner, isn't it?”

  McNair snorted, and Gabriel flashed him a look.

  “The woman, Miss Harriger?” Delacroix looked at him and then at McNair, who rolled his eyes. “Oh...” Delacroix's eyes got big, and he let out a whistle. “Well, it seems our guy is just ticking all the boxes. Sit. Let me show you what I have.”

  He pulled out a gray metal chair and dropped into it.

  “Okay, so I know this was a long shot, but I couldn't overlook the fact that this guy was going after Miss Harriger tonight. His anger was obvious, and she was running away from him. That was the first flag. Then when Hotshot here came over, I took a good look at this guy. Delacroix pulled out the composite sketch that Jackie had helped build years ago. Gabriel shifted his eyes from the composite to the man in the interview room. The shape of the face was the same. The nose was off, but it was possible.

  “I know you didn't call me down on the strength of that.” He pushed the paper back toward Delacroix.

  “Nope. But that coupled with the fact that Mr. Henderson's father was a police detective in Houston before he became a county sheriff in a very rural parish just north of New Orleans started me digging.”

  “Why is that important?” McNair leaned forward and looked at the typed sheet that Delacroix pushed to the middle of the table.

  “We have a theory that our suspect has knowledge of police reporting procedures.” Gabriel waited until McNair was done with the sheet. He picked
it up and reviewed the information.

  “Right. Well, align those two things with the business card this guy handed to Ms. Harriger.”

  He looked at the evidence bag containing a business card. His eyes snapped up. “Wait, this is Gary, the CPA?”

  “How did you know that?” Delacroix looked at him like he had three heads.

  His attention latched onto Craig. “This is the same bastard that hit on Anna the day you wouldn't let her in the building.”

  “Hit on?” Both Delacroix and McNair asked at the same time.

  Gabriel nodded. “He asked her out for coffee. She was considering it. I told her I'd have to do a background check on him.”

  “She didn't go out with him?” Delacroix asked. He pulled out a folded piece of paper.

  Gabriel peered at the flowing script. “What is that?”

  “Her statement. She specifically states she rebuffed several attempts he made to get her to go out.”

  “Several?” Gabriel blinked at that information. She hadn't mentioned Gary had propositioned her again.

  Delacroix nodded. “That's not all. Henderson stated he was a CPA. According to the roster on the building where that firm is located, he isn't an employee for the company. We will call first thing in the morning to validate it.”

  “So, what does that matter?”

  “Just another anomaly that, taken into the whole, makes this guy fishy as hell.”

  “What else do you have?” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Not much. He had a commercial driver's license for about two years.”

  “When was that?”

  Delacroix thumbed through the paperwork. “About six years ago.”

  His eyebrows made a slow climb. That would fit into Harvey and Olsen's theory of the man having a base in New Orleans. “What else?”

  “Not much, but I thought that was enough to call you down to witness the interview and to call Harvey and brief him on my suspicions.” Delacroix nodded his head toward the man in the interview room.

  “Then let's do it.” Gabriel stood and headed back to the one-way glass. “Do it by the numbers, detective. If this is our guy, I don't want him slipping away on a technicality.”