‘They cut him.’ Maynard uttered the words in a choked whisper. ‘They cut his head off. Oh my God. Fucking hell.’ He lurched to his feet and stumbled backward, his expression a mixture of shock, nausea, and pain.
Joseph turned him so that he no longer stared at his dead friend. ‘Who is he?’
‘Isaac Zacharias. Sergeant, DCPD. Oh God. What am I gonna tell Phyllis?’
‘What was he doing for you?’ Joseph shook his shoulder. ‘Clay. What was Zacharias doing for you that got him killed?’
Maynard drew a breath and pulled himself together. ‘Bodyguard duty.’
Bodyguard duty. The sick feeling in Joseph’s gut spiked. That Daphne would trust Maynard to protect her son made sense.
New horror mixed with the grief on Maynard’s face. ‘Oh God. Ford. Daphne’s son.’
‘Zacharias was protecting Ford?’
‘Ford is the employee, isn’t he? Your father’s employee.’ It was calmly stated, but the vein in Maynard’s neck visibly throbbed. ‘Where is he?’
‘He appears to be missing,’ Joseph said grimly.
‘Does Daphne know?’
‘Not yet. We’ve tried to contact her. She hasn’t answered her phone this morning.’
‘She’s in court. Jury verdict today on the Millhouse case.’
‘How did you know to come here?’
‘Tracker on Tuzak’s car. All my people carry one, just in case they need backup. His relief called to say he hadn’t phoned in Ford’s location. I called Phyllis to see if he’d come home from his night shift. He hadn’t, so I tracked him here.’
‘Tuzak is Zacharias?’
‘Isaac Zacharias. Two Zacs. We called him Tuzak at the Academy. It stuck.’
‘You were in DCPD together?’
‘Yeah. I left, he stayed. He was a good cop. Smart. He never would have let some punk get the drop on him. How the hell did this happen?’ He turned to Joseph, his eyes suddenly suspicious. ‘And how did you know to come here?’
‘Ford didn’t show up for work this morning. Dad asked me to check it out. I found Ford’s SUV on the street at the other end of the alley. It’s probably been there all night.’
The suspicion faded from Maynard’s eyes, replaced with a weary dread. ‘This is going to kill her,’ he murmured. ‘She was terrified something like this would happen.’ He turned, his gaze returning to his slain friend. ‘How do I tell her? She’s pregnant.’
Joseph’s teeth clacked together, hard. ‘Daphne’s pregnant?’
Maynard shook his head. ‘No. Phyllis Zacharias. The baby’s due in a few weeks. Tuzak was just looking to make a little extra . . . for expenses.’
Joseph pointed his flashlight to the AFID tags, noticing there were even more a few feet away. Zacharias’s killer had fired multiple cartridges. ‘Taser.’
‘Sonofabitch,’ Maynard swore viciously, then swallowed hard. ‘Sonofabitch,’ he repeated, this time in a whisper. ‘Phyllis can’t see him this way. She can’t.’
‘We won’t ask her to do the ID,’ Joseph murmured. ‘But we have two missing persons and I’m going to have to ask questions.’
‘Then ask me,’ Clay said harshly. ‘Phyllis only knew that he was working for me.’
‘Okay, we’ll start with you. Did Zacharias see anything weird? Anyone suspicious?’
‘No. He said it was a cream puff job, following around a squeaky-clean kid who didn’t even know he was there.’
‘Ford didn’t know he had a bodyguard?’
‘No. Daphne tried to get him to agree to have one, but the kid is stubborn. She started getting threats and—’
‘What kind of threats?’ Joseph demanded. ‘From whom?’
‘Violent threats. You-have-to-sleep-sometime threats. Isn’t-that-son-of-yours-a-handsome-young-man threats. I’m certain they came from the family of the murderer she’s prosecuting. Millhouse. I have to tell her.’
‘No, you don’t. Let us handle this.’
Maynard glared. ‘This is my business, Carter. My employee. My friend. My goddamn responsibility.’
‘I know,’ Joseph said quietly, knowing he was dealing with a man on the edge of control. I’d react the same way. And he had. ‘And you have my word that I’ll respect that. But this is my case and you’re going to have to trust me. I know my job.’
‘Wait. You’re Homeland. You’re out of your jurisdiction. Why is this your case?’
Joseph wasn’t surprised Maynard had known he’d been Homeland Security. He did have to admit to being a bit surprised – and impressed – with his brother’s fiancée’s discretion. Paige hadn’t mentioned his transfer to her own partner. Good to know.
‘I’m VCET now. FBI/local task force.’
‘I know what VCET is,’ Maynard said, jaw clenched. ‘And for the record, I trust Feds about as much as I trust most cops. Which is about nil.’
‘Look, you’re standing here talking to me and not cuffed because my brother trusts you. And because he does, I’ll explain how this is. Before Homeland, this is what I did – finding missing people and killers. If you don’t trust me, you’ll have to trust Grayson.’
Maynard said nothing, so Joseph tried a different tack. ‘Clay, Isaac was your friend. You’re not objective. You know it’s true.’
‘And you’d step aside if you were me?’
No. If somebody killed someone I cared about, I’d find the sonofabitch and kill him with my bare hands. And he had. And he wasn’t sorry. It was remembering . . . no, savoring the sound of the neck he’d snapped all those years ago that got him through the nightmares, then and now. And the loneliness. Then and now.
A flutter at the corner of his eye caught Joseph’s attention and he barely stifled his groan. A man stood in the alley entry, his snow-white hair and goatee sharply contrasting with his bronzed face. His black leather trenchcoat whipped in the wind and wraparound sunglasses covered his eyes. His hand rested on his holstered gun as he assessed the situation, looking like a freaky cross between a sun-bleached Blade and Wyatt Earp.
Maynard followed his gaze, stiffening. ‘What the hell is that?’
A pain in my ass. ‘Special Agent Deacon Novak.’ Joseph looked back at Maynard. ‘Are you going to let me handle this? Ford’s life could depend on it.’
‘For now,’ Maynard said evenly.
‘Fair enough.’ Maynard’s concession would do. For now. ‘Let’s get to work.’
Chapter Two
Tuesday, December 3, 10.18 A.M.
Frozen, Daphne watched Cindy Millhouse clear the bar like it was a track-and-field hurdle. Then her reflexes kicked in and Daphne was on her feet, her left arm swinging up, deflecting Cindy’s fingers. Not the hair. You’re not touching my hair.
She grabbed Cindy’s wrist, struggling to keep the woman’s sharp fingernails away from her face. From the direction of the defense table came a loud crash and Cindy’s eyes flickered with satisfaction, her nails inching closer.
Then Cindy was yanked away and forced to the floor. Grayson glanced up, his face hard with fury. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked as he restrained Cindy – an effort even for him, a guy who could bench press a small truck. Reggie’s mother was in wildcat mode.
Daphne nodded unsteadily. The defense’s table had been overturned – the crash she’d heard. Edward Ellis, Reggie’s attorney, lay on the floor, his foot pinned by the table. Stunned, Ellis stared up at his client who grappled with the courtroom deputy. Reggie’s arm was locked around Deputy Welch’s throat as he grabbed for Welch’s gun. For a horrified moment Daphne thought Reggie might succeed in getting it, but Welch threw his head back, cracking his skull into Reggie’s face. The deputy broke free as five more uniforms charged through the gate. Four ran to subdue Reggie while the fifth veered off to assist Grayson.
Daphne had started to back away when she saw Deputy Welch crawling back toward the overturned defense table where Reggie continued to wrestle with the four new deputies. Welch was leaving a trail of bloody handprints behind h
im.
Dropping to her knees, she crawled over to him. ‘What are you doing? Get back.’
Welch’s arm was bleeding profusely, dripping on the floor. ‘Shiv,’ he said, pointing.
Daphne could see it lying against the leg of the overturned table, hidden from the deputies’ view. It didn’t shine, wasn’t metal. It looked like plastic. It looked harmless. But it couldn’t be, because every time Reggie lunged, that was what he reached for.
‘Get back. I’ll get it.’ Going flat on her stomach, she reached and closed her fingertips over the strange-looking knife, then crawled backward, away from the fray. She held the knife over her head. ‘He had a knife,’ she yelled, then placed it on the floor, far away from the action.
The deputies holding Reggie stared, eyes flaring wide. Two of the deputies drew their weapons, one aiming at Reggie’s chest, the other at his head. A third smacked Reggie in the back of the head with his club, stunning him long enough to cuff one wrist.
Daphne turned back to Welch, who was lying in the shadow of the judge’s bench. His arm still bled, but wasn’t gushing, so that was good. She was more worried about the blood pooling at his hip. ‘He got you twice,’ she said.
‘No shit.’ Welch tried for a smile but grimaced instead. ‘Hurts like a bitch.’
‘I guess so.’ The court reporter had left her sweater on the back of her chair when she’d fled the courtroom and Daphne grabbed it, pressing it to Welch’s hip, surveying the courtroom as she applied pressure.
By the prosecution table, Cindy screamed and kicked even as she was being cuffed. On the other side of the aisle the deputies finally cuffed Reggie’s other wrist, having had to use a stun gun first. They shackled his ankles with plastic restraints and Cindy abruptly ceased her thrashing, breathing hard. Her shoulders sagged as she stared at her son, her face grim with impotent rage.
Realization dawned. That conniving bitch. She attacked me to create a diversion so that Reggie could escape.
Cindy glared at Daphne, venom in her eyes. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ she spat as the deputy jerked her to her feet. ‘You took our son from us. I swear to the living God, you will know how this feels.’
Daphne’s composure remained intact as Cindy was removed from the courtroom, even though her heart hammered like a wild thing. She maintained her outward calm only because she knew that Ford was protected. A well-trained bodyguard had her son’s back, whether he’d wanted one or not.
Plus, she’d learned the hard way that losing it at times like this didn’t help anything. Welch still needed her to keep pressure on his wound. As long as she had a task to focus on, she’d be able to keep herself together. After that, she’d find a private place to fall apart.
The four deputies who’d subdued Reggie dragged him back to the holding cell while the second wave of uniforms finished clearing the gallery and moved the table off Reggie’s defense attorney.
When the courtroom was finally emptied, a team of EMTs rushed in and Daphne stepped back to give them room to work. She didn’t realize how rigidly she held herself until Grayson gently took her hands, making her flinch violently.
‘I’m sorry,’ Grayson murmured. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. Your hands are covered with Welch’s blood.’ He began to clean her hands with disinfectant wipes.
‘He’s going to be okay, right?’ she asked, more for reassurance than anything else.
‘Looks like it. When you’re less tense, I’m going to yell like hell at you for grabbing that knife. You could have been killed.’ He released her hands, clean now.
‘You would have done the same thing,’ she said shakily.
Grayson shrugged. ‘I’m still going to yell like hell at you. Once I’m able to breathe again, that is.’
‘Join the club.’ Daphne fought the trembles she felt coming on. She cautiously ran a hand over her hair and exhaled, relieved. Her smooth twist was still in place. Good thing Cindy didn’t get her claws in my hair. That would have been embarrassing as hell.
One of the EMTs came over to them. ‘Either of you need medical attention?’
‘No,’ they answered together.
‘Is Deputy Welch going to be okay?’ she added.
‘He should be fine. We’ve got a rig waiting outside for him. Mr Defense over there will need to wait for the next, but it’s not far behind.’
Grayson crouched beside Reggie’s attorney. ‘How badly are you hurt?’
‘Arm’s busted,’ Ellis muttered, gritting his teeth. ‘Bastard snapped it. Ankle’s probably busted too.’
Daphne could feel no sympathy for Edward Ellis. He’d had no legitimate defense, so he’d smeared the victims’ good names ruthlessly. Because she couldn’t think of a single nice thing to say at the moment, she kept her mouth shut.
Grayson must have found himself in the same position, because he fell silent, too.
Ellis shot them both a hostile look. ‘You think I deserved this.’
‘No,’ she denied quickly. ‘You didn’t deserve to be hurt, but I guess I don’t think you deserve to be terribly shocked. You’re not a public defender. You chose to represent this killer.’
Ellis’s eyes narrowed. ‘I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth and I wasn’t lucky enough to grab one out of the mouth of a rich judge in a divorce settlement. You can afford to take the high road. I have to pay the rent, so I take the cases that come and I don’t apologize.’
Silver spoons, she thought, her temper boiling up. If he only knew. Clamping her mouth shut, she was grateful for the arrival of the second EMT team, who took Ellis away, leaving Daphne and Grayson staring at the doors that closed behind him.
‘If he only knew what I paid for that silver spoon I got in my divorce settlement,’ she muttered, then shrugged uncomfortably.
If it had just been her, she would have walked away from her ex-husband’s millions. But it hadn’t been just her. It had been about Ford, about securing his future. So she’d fought hard and was mostly glad she had. Her divorce settlement had made it possible for her to achieve her own dreams. To get her law degree and to stand for victims like the Turners.
Grayson lifted his brows. ‘From what little I know about your ex, I’d say the silver spoon you got in your divorce settlement was well earned.’
‘Living with Travis Elkhart for twelve years was hard work,’ she agreed, keeping her tone light. ‘Living with his mother was even harder. And speaking of mothers . . .’ Daphne sat on the edge of the prosecutors’ table, ready to change the subject. ‘Cindy Millhouse scares me shitless. “I swear to the living God you will know how this feels,”’ she quoted, then shivered. ‘I guess I’m lucky she didn’t swear to any dead gods.’
‘Cindy smuggled a knife into the courtroom, threatened a state’s attorney, and resisted arrest. I doubt she’ll get bail.’
‘Yeah, but she and Bill have minions. And speaking of Bill, where was he when all hell broke loose? I saw George fighting with a cop and getting cuffed. Where was Bill?’
‘He left the courtroom as soon as the verdict was read, probably to give his version to the press before you could.’
‘So he’s out there somewhere. That makes me nervous.’ But being nervous wouldn’t fix anything and she’d be damned before she’d hide. ‘Do you want to give a statement? The press will be mobbing the courthouse steps.’
‘Do I want to give a statement? Hell no. But we will. Actually, you will. It was your case. Which you hit out of the park, by the way. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘At least I’ll be able to sleep tonight.’
‘I imagine you will at that,’ he said with a small secretive smile.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘There’s a bottle of champagne in our fridge that has your name on it. Paige bought it the day they started jury selection. She’s very proud of you.’
Grayson’s face softened every time he mentioned his fiancée. It made Daphne all warm inside to see how close he and Pa
ige had become.
Nine months ago Paige exploded into their lives, seeking justice for Ramon Muñoz, a man wrongly convicted of a brutal murder. Now she was not only Grayson’s fiancée, but she was also Daphne’s best friend. Together she and Paige had started Women Serving Women – first as a cover for Paige’s investigation to clear Muñoz, but once that job was done, their foundation grew legs. At the moment WSW housed only Paige’s karate school, but the two of them had big plans.
The day Daphne had been assigned to the Millhouse case she’d told Paige she was afraid the case was too big, that she couldn’t handle it. That her friend had bought champagne before the trial had even started . . . Daphne swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘That was so sweet of her.’
‘Although I think she’ll be more proud when I tell her about that fancy blocking. I didn’t realize you’d gotten so good.’
‘She kept drilling me with that one move. “Keep your hands up,”’ Daphne mimicked. ‘“You want to protect that beehive of yours? Then keep your damn hands up”.’
Grayson chuckled. ‘You mean the beehive you used to have. I’m glad she taught you so well, but I have to say that I do not miss the beehive.’
Daphne had retired her trademark hairdo when she’d accepted the promotion into Grayson’s old job as lead prosecutor the spring before. Before, she’d sat second chair, taking notes, preparing briefs. Preparing witnesses to sit on the stand, to address the jury. Now, she addressed the jury, and their focus needed to be on her arguments and not her big hair. ‘I guess Cindy coming at my hair triggered my protective instincts.’
‘Then I’ll never diss your hair again,’ he promised. ‘Ready for the cameras?’
‘Hell no. I am not facing the press looking like I was just in a barroom brawl. Give me a few minutes to put myself back together.’ And to call my son.
Hearing Ford’s voice would dispel some of the fear that churned in her gut. It was time to tell him that he had a bodyguard. It didn’t matter if he didn’t want one, because as long as Cindy and her clan were a threat, he’d have one. It was non-negotiable.