Trapped (Private Justice Book #2): A Novel Read online

  An image of Laura appeared in his mind. Now there was a good woman. Interesting too. There couldn’t be many saber-wielding librarians around. And he wasn’t getting any younger, as the numbers on his cake reminded him.

  “So are you going to blow the candles out or stand around until they melt?”

  At Nikki’s prompt, he made the wish in his heart. A wish for a future no longer tainted by the past. A future that held joy, not regret. A future that offered love instead of loneliness.

  Leaning down, he blew out the candles.

  “Finally.” Nikki held up the cake knife. “You want to cut?”

  “No. Have at it.”

  She strolled over to the cake. “So what was your wish?”

  He managed to tame the annoying blush that had once been the bane of his existence. “If I tell, it won’t come true.”

  “I bet it has something to do with a certain librarian.” She smirked at him and leaned forward to cut the cake.

  Cal choked on his coffee. “Librarian?” He hacked a couple more times. “What did I miss while I was in Hawaii?”

  “Nothing.” Dev shot Nikki a dark look.

  She ignored him. “His new client is a hot librarian. Right, Connor?”

  “I’ll have to abstain, since I haven’t met the lady in question.”

  “Chicken.” Nikki shoved a plate of cake at him.

  “Prudent.” Connor took the generous slice, grabbed his coffee mug from the counter, and made a fast exit.

  “If you ask me—” The kitchen extension from Nikki’s desk began to ring, cutting her off, and she huffed out a sigh. “Talk about rotten timing.” She snatched up her own cake and dashed down the hall.

  “I guess we’re on our own here.” Cal cut himself a piece of cake.

  “I’m going to eat my breakfast first.”

  “You’re looking at mine.” Cal grabbed a fork and used the edge to break off a large bite. “Moira and I had to choose between bed or breakfast. Guess which won?” He smiled and speared the bite of cake. “So what’s with the librarian? And is she really hot?”

  Dev snagged his mug from the hook on the wall, keeping his back to his partner. “She’s a client. It’s a business relationship. But yes, she’s nice looking.” He filled his mug to the brim and turned to face Cal.

  His partner was still grinning.

  “What?”

  “Moira was a client too.”

  “That’s different. I met Laura four days ago. You worked on Moira’s case for weeks.”

  “But I knew she was special from the get-go—as you reminded me ad nauseum at the time.” He licked the icing off his fork, and Dev didn’t like the sudden gleam in his eyes. “You know, this could be a lot of fun.”

  “Don’t even go there.” His warning came out as a growl.

  “What? Are you going to fire me?”

  “Very funny.”

  Cal chuckled. “On a more serious note, you want to tell me about the case? Connor just gave me the highlights on the phone.”

  “Yeah. Your office or mine?”

  “Yours. My desk is piled high with two weeks’ worth of stuff.” He started toward the door but turned back halfway there. “On second thought—when’s the last time Nikki filed in your office?”

  “A week ago.”

  “A whole week? We’ll use my office.” Cal hung a left at the door.

  Dev stuck his head out and called after him. “I’ll be with you in a minute. I want to cut a piece of cake for myself and stash it for later.”

  Cal continued to chow down on his own cake and waved an acknowledgment.

  After helping himself to a sizeable chunk of the cake and stowing it, plus the remaining cake, in the refrigerator, Dev grabbed the mug and white bag he’d deposited on the table and followed his partner.

  He’d fill Cal in on the case . . . but he intended to leave the personal stuff out.

  Faith stopped outside the closed door of Mark’s office and bit her lip as she gazed down at the small gift bag in her hands. Was she overstepping? Being too pushy? Maybe. But how else was she going to get him to notice her? She needed to show him how thoughtful and caring she was. If today’s gesture went over okay, she’d follow up with part two of her plan tomorrow.

  Taking a deep breath, she knocked.

  “Come in.”

  She pushed into the office, closing the door halfway behind her. He was angled away, facing his computer screen, and twin creases were embedded above his nose—the kind that came from worry or stress. The man worked far too hard. She hoped Mr. Davis appreciated Mark’s commitment to his business. “Am I disturbing you? This will only take a minute.”

  He gestured her in. “No. What did you need?”

  “I know you’re busy. I just wanted to give you this.” She crossed to his desk and set the small bag on top.

  He tipped his head, his expression confused. “What is it?”

  “Open it and see.”

  “Is this from you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the occasion?” He swiveled around and rolled his chair closer to his desk.

  “There isn’t one. I just ran across this and thought you might find it useful. It’s no big deal.”

  That was a lie. She’d spent two hours on the net searching for a product like this. And at the price per ounce, it was also a big deal for her budget. But Mark didn’t need to know that.

  He tugged the bag toward him and peeked inside. The grooves on his forehead returned as he pulled out the small bottle of lotion.

  “I’ve watched how conscientious you are with the children, always washing your hands so no germs are passed around. I think that’s really admirable—but in this weather, that can take a toll. I thought this might help your chapped hands a little.” Her words came out in a gush, and she twisted her fingers together in front of her.

  His lips compressed as he stared at the bottle. Was he moved—and trying not to get emotional—or angry that she’d called attention to his red, cracked hands?

  It was impossible to tell.

  But as the seconds ticked by, she had a feeling it might be the latter . . . and that she’d made a huge mistake.

  Now what was she supposed to do?

  And then Mark surprised her. He looked up and smiled. “That was a very considerate thing to do, Faith. You’re an observant woman. This winter has been tough on my hands, especially the past few days. I’m sure this will help a lot.”

  She hadn’t blown it. Thank goodness.

  “I hope so. Well . . .” She backed toward the door, her legs suddenly shaky. “I’ll get back to work now.”

  Once in the hall, she paused and gave her pulse a chance to moderate. That had gone well. Mark seemed to appreciate the gift, and he’d paid her a personal compliment. He thought she was considerate. That was a promising start.

  Saturday morning, she’d implement part two. And before she was through, Mark Hamilton would know how interested she was in him.

  As she walked back toward her room assignment for the day, her spirits took a decided uptick. Maybe her romantic notions about Mark weren’t pie-in-the-sky after all. He’d been receptive a few minutes ago. Perhaps he would be on Saturday too. She had other ideas to get him to notice her as well—and she’d try them all, if necessary.

  After that, the ball would be in his court.

  And if she was lucky, he’d decide to play.

  Dev started to reach for the phone on his desk. Turned back to his computer. Aimed another look at the phone.

  “What’s with you?” Nikki grunted and stood, a large stack of files in her arms. The pile had dwindled while he’d driven down to Soulard to pay a visit to Mark Hamilton’s house, and she was still hard at it. “Do you know how many times you’ve gone through that routine in the past ten minutes?”

  There was nothing wrong with their office manager’s observation skills. She had eyes like an eagle.

  “What’s it to you?”

  She cock
ed her head and ignored his question. “This new indecisive mode is different. Must be related to your librarian.”

  Yeah, she was way too observant.

  “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.” He swung away and focused on his computer screen, hoping she’d let it drop.

  Fat chance.

  “That means I’m right.” She rested a hip on the edge of his desk, apparently in no hurry to leave. “You know, since it’s your birthday, I doubt anyone would give you a lot of trouble for fudging the rules a tad and inviting her out for a drink.”

  “Not on the agenda.”

  “Then have dinner with us. Danny would love it, and I could tolerate your presence for one night.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder. “That’s the most backhanded invitation I’ve ever received.”

  “Take it or leave it.” She stood, shifted the files to her other arm, and cleared her throat. “But seriously, you’d be welcome. We have plenty of food, and birthdays should be celebrated with people who care.”

  He caught the fleeting melancholy that passed over her eyes, reminding him that once upon a time, in the abusive home she’d exchanged for life on the street at fifteen, birthdays had passed unnoticed. And that despite her sassy attitude, she still carried scars from those days. It was a tribute to her perseverance that she’d created a better life not only for herself but for her younger brother.

  Mollified, he smiled at her. “I appreciate the thought, but I have to work tonight.”

  For a few seconds she studied him, as if assessing the truth of that statement. Then she shrugged, her usual impertinent demeanor back in place. “Fine.” She moseyed over to the door, where she turned. “But do yourself a favor. Call the lady and end your birthday with a few pleasant moments.”

  As she disappeared down the hall, Dev leaned back in his chair and eyed the phone. Socializing with clients was verboten—but could he bend the rules a touch? After all, hadn’t he been doing that all along, by inviting Laura to go with him to the shelter?

  Maybe.

  And his work plans for tonight did involve a return visit to Mark Hamilton’s, where he hoped to catch the man at home, since no one had answered the door today. He’d handle the questioning alone, but what could it hurt to have Laura ride along? There wasn’t much chance he’d spend more than ten minutes with the man, tops. Then the two of them could stop for coffee, if she was willing. Besides, he owed her an update. Rachel hadn’t heard from Darcy today, nor had the teen shown at the station. He was about to throw in the towel on Greyhound, and she needed to know that too.

  Besides, it was his birthday, as Nikki had pointed out.

  Once more he scooted toward the phone, reached for it—and didn’t pull back.

  Mark opened the back door of his house, stepped inside, and set the locks behind him. After depositing his briefcase on the bare top of the built-in desk, he dropped Faith’s offering beside it.

  His lip curled in disgust as he regarded the smiley-face pattern on the gift bag. He’d begun to suspect she had a crush on him, and this clinched it. The last thing he needed was another female complication in his life. He had his hands full with Darcy—and Darcy was all that mattered.

  On the other hand, he didn’t want to hurt Faith’s feelings. She was an excellent, reliable, flexible worker who was always willing to fill in wherever needed when they were short-staffed—a frequent occurrence. What had happened to people’s work ethic, anyway? These days, they just up and quit with no notice, despite the bad economy. He couldn’t afford to lose an employee as conscientious as Faith.

  But he sure didn’t want her pursuing him, either.

  That, however, was a dilemma for another day. He was home now, and he had an agenda for the evening. All day he’d been trying to think of some way to demonstrate to Darcy that he didn’t mean her any harm. She needed to understand that he had plans for her, that she had happier days to look forward to.

  And he’d come up with an inspired idea as he drove home.

  He stopped at the sink, turned on the faucet, and sudsed his hands. After a thorough rinse, he evaluated them under the light.

  Faith was right. They were a lot worse than usual. That was due in part to the washing he did at work to keep germs at bay, but more because of the washing he’d been doing at home since Darcy had come into his life. The same thing had happened with Angela and Denise too, but their stays had been short. Darcy, however, would be here for the long term if everything went as he hoped—meaning his hands could become an ongoing issue.

  He sudsed up again, casting a glance at the desk. The lotion Faith had given him was high-end stuff. He’d tried plenty of products like that over the years. Once, when he’d gotten a raise, he’d even splurged and bought a bottle of the very product Faith had bought him. But he couldn’t afford it on a regular basis—and neither could she.

  As long as she’d given it to him, though, why not use it? He didn’t want his hands to raise questions, and he’d noticed several of the aides at work today giving them the once-over. This stuff would help minimize the redness and cracking.

  After drying his hands, he crossed to the desk, pulled the lotion from the bag, and removed the cap. He put a dab on each palm and rubbed it in, liking the silky feel. Taking his time, he headed for the stairs to the second level.

  He’d give the lotion a few minutes to soak in.

  And then he’d pay Darcy a visit with his little surprise.

  14

  That’s it, up ahead on the left. The one with the iron fence in front.”

  As Dev pointed out Mark Hamilton’s row house, Laura leaned forward in the front seat of the Explorer. “There are lights on.”

  “A positive sign.” Dev slowed, as if he intended to pull up to the curb, then suddenly picked up speed and passed the house.

  Laura shot him a surprised look. “What’s wrong?”

  “Maybe nothing. But there’s a woman sitting in a blue Ford Focus across the street who seems to be watching Hamilton’s house.”

  Craning her neck, Laura looked through the back window. Even with the moonlight reflecting off the snow, she had no idea how Dev had spotted a person in a dark car.

  The man was a total pro.

  “Do you think that’s important?”

  “Not likely. She could be looking for an address, or she might have spotted a stray dog and is waiting for the coast to clear before she heads for her own house. On the other hand, I’ve learned never to make assumptions in this business. We’ll give her a few minutes and drive by again.”

  Laura settled back in her seat as he turned at the corner. “What if she’s there when we come back?”

  “We wait her out—unless you need to be somewhere. I don’t want to monopolize your evening.”

  “It’s only six o’clock—and finding Darcy is my top priority. Besides, other than putting in some practice time on my fencing, I have no plans for the night. But I bet you do.” A guy like Dev probably had a black book an inch thick. He might not be over the tragic romance in his past, but she doubted he was averse to female companionship. “These kinds of assignments must play havoc with your social life.”

  “Sometimes. But I didn’t have plans for tonight, either.”

  His prompt reply was good news—for her, anyway.

  He swung around another corner, and she gripped the armrest as they skidded slightly on a slick spot.

  “Steady.” His hand shot out to rest on her knee. “We’re fine.”

  He might be, but she wasn’t. Not with the warmth of his fingers seeping through the denim fabric of her jeans and shooting straight to her heart. Nevertheless, she preferred that to the chill left behind when he retracted his hand.

  Dev circled a few more blocks, then once more turned onto Hamilton’s street, flipping open the storage compartment between their seats. “There’s a notebook and pencil in there. If she’s still parked in front of the house, I’ll read her license as we drive by. Would you jot
it down?”

  “Sure.” She dug around for the pad of paper and the pencil.

  Half a minute later, he recited the letters and numbers as they passed the woman’s car. After pulling into an empty spot by the curb a few cars ahead of her, he flipped off his lights but left the engine running and the heater cranked up.

  “Was she still watching the house?” Laura twisted in her seat, but the shadows of the night continued to hide the woman from her view.

  “Intently.” Dev’s gaze was fixed on his rearview mirror, and he adjusted it from inside for a better view.

  “That’s kind of odd, isn’t it?”

  “Interesting, at least. I’ll check her out later.”

  “You have access to car license data?”

  “Yes.” He remained focused on the rearview mirror. “Licensed PIs can get into REJIS—the Regional Justice Information Service. It’s the same system patrol officers use for traffic stops. We have legal entrée to almost everything law enforcement does, except the FBI’s National Crime Information Center.” He shifted in his seat to alter his line of sight. “She’s leaving.”

  A sudden arc of headlights followed his comment, and a few seconds later the Focus rolled by on the snow-packed road. She caught only a quick glimpse of the driver’s curly black hair and pixie profile before the young woman turned their direction to look back at Hamilton’s house. Laura shrank back in her seat, but Dev touched her arm.

  “Don’t worry. The dark windows make us invisible.”

  “Oh.” She straightened up. “A tool of the trade?”

  “A critical tool.” He did a fast sweep of the deserted street. “I won’t be long. I’d prefer to shut the engine off so we don’t attract attention. Will you get too cold?”

  She held up her gloves, then slipped them on. “Thermal. I’ll be fine.”

  “Lock the doors after I get out. This isn’t the safest neighborhood. If you have any problem at all, don’t hesitate to lay on the horn.”

  “Got it.”

  “Okay. Let’s see what Hamilton has to say.” He exited the vehicle, waiting beside the door until she hit the locks. Once they clicked, he gave her a thumbs-up and walked down the street, turning in at the short iron fence. From her vantage point, she could watch through the side windows as he crossed the front lawn, climbed the three steps to the small stoop, and pressed the bell.