The Defender's Duty

Handsome?

Compelling?

She was a lot more shaken than she’d thought if she was using those words to describe one of her clients.

“You’ve been on the road a long time. Where were you coming from?”

“Chicago.”

“You were working there?”

“Yes. I had an elderly client who suffered from dementia. I’ve been living with her for the past eight months.”

“And you left her to take the job my brother offered?”

“I never leave clients until they don’t need me any more.”

“People don’t recover from dementia.” Jude pressed for more information. Lacey didn’t mind giving it. Part of building a good working relationship required sharing a few tidbits of personal information. It had taken a few years for Lacey to realize how important that was, but once she had, she’d been able to pick and choose the information she’d shared, offering just enough to make her clients feel comfortable without giving too much of herself away.

“Mrs. Simpson passed away four days ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am, too, but she lived her life well until the end. And now I’m here for you.”

“Actually, you’re here for my family. Like I said before, I don’t need a home-care aide.”

“Are you trying to fire me?”

“I’m just stating a fact. I don’t need help. You’re here because it makes my brother feel like he’s in control of things.”

“Your brother is concerned about you.”

“My brother is a typical oldest child. He thinks the world is his to command. I’ve spent most of my life trying to prove him wrong.”

Surprised, she laughed, her tension easing. This she could handle. A client talking about his life? Piece of cake. “I take it you haven’t succeeded yet.”

“Not quite, but I’m still working on it.”

“Good luck with that.” She stifled a yawn. Despite too much coffee, exhaustion stole her energy and made her want nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a week.

“Looks like that drive really wore you out.” Jude studied her face as if she were a mystery he had to solve. The thought made her uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be studied, and she certainly didn’t want to be solved.

“It did. I think I’ll go next door and get settled in. I really am sorry for waking you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.” He stood, walking to the front door with her, his slightly hitched stride speaking of the injuries he’d suffered.

“Can I get anything for you before I go next door? Something to eat? Medicine?”

“Lacey, I’m a grown man. If I need any of those things, I’ll get them myself.”

“Not while I’m around. Your brother hired me—”

“To be a home-care aide. Yeah. I get that.” He ran a hand down his jaw and shook his head. “But you need to get that I don’t need you here. Go next door. We’ll talk more about why you’re not staying after we both get some sleep.”

“Just so you know.” Lacey stepped outside, shivering in the cold winter air. “I’m planning to stay.”

“Just so you know, I’m the one who will be making that decision.” Jude scowled, his eyes flashing with irritation.

“We’ll see.” She offered her best smile, pulled her suitcase inside the other half of the duplex and closed the door, blocking her view of Jude and his deep-gray eyes.

Her heart beat a little too fast and a little too hard, but at least her legs weren’t shaking anymore. Dealing with difficult clients was something she did well, but Jude wasn’t like any client she’d ever worked with before. He was younger. Better-looking.

Lacey frowned.

A client was a client. Jude was no different from any other man she’d worked with over the past few years.

She ran her hand along the foyer wall, flicking on the light as she had in Jude’s house. She half expected to see a man standing in the living room pointing a gun in her direction. There wasn’t one. Just a sofa and a chair, both in decent shape. A coffee table and an end table. A fireplace.

It was a cozy room and perfect for Lacey. She hummed as she walked down a short hallway and into a roomy kitchen, filling the silence and distracting herself from the fear that hadn’t quite let her go. It was a remnant of a past she preferred to forget. After all, what was in the past couldn’t hurt her anymore. All it could do was teach her how to live her life today.

The kitchen appliances were dated but serviceable, the floor faded linoleum. A sliding glass door led out into the backyard. Lacey opened it, stepping outside and shivering in the cold. A full moon peeked over the treetops, casting green light onto the overgrown backyard. Aside from the wind, nothing moved. The silent stillness seemed heavy and oppressive. Unnatural.

Lacey cocked her head, listening. Waiting. When she’d been a kid, she’d learned how to do both. Then it had been a matter of survival. Now it was simply a matter of curiosity. Something unsettling was in the air. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she couldn’t ignore it. She glanced around the dark yard. It was small and hid nothing from view.

A few straggly plants butted up against a tall fence. A white bench stood close to the house and two gates offered entrances and exits to the yard, one at the back of the property, the other on the side of the fence that separated Lacey’s yard from Jude’s. There was nothing else. She stepped back and closed the door, locking it and pulling the bolt. Whatever she’d felt, it was outside, not in the cozy house she was going to be living in for the next month.

Her own place.

It had been a long time since she’d had that. There’d been a few times over the past ten years when she’d rented an apartment, but most of her assignments came with free board. That usually meant living in the spare room in a crowded apartment or cluttered house. Having a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath duplex to herself was sheer luxury. Lacey planned to enjoy it.

The thought made her smile, but it didn’t chase away her unease. Maybe the long ride and lack of sleep had gotten to her. Or maybe seeing Jude glaring at her over the barrel of his gun had knocked her off balance. Either way, Lacey was sure she’d feel better after a few hours’ sleep. First, though, she needed to eat.

She searched through her suitcase, sure that she had a few packages of crackers there. When she didn’t find them, she went to the front door, hesitating for a moment before she opened it. Outside, the heaviness of the air had lifted and the silence seemed more natural. Still, she wasn’t sure she wanted to step across the threshold and walk outside.

Then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the next few hours hungry.

Her Mustang was parked a few feet from the porch and it would only take seconds to grab the duffel bag she’d left in the passenger’s seat. She knew she had pretzels and a Coke in there. Her stomach rumbled, cementing her decision.

She hurried down the porch stairs and opened the car door, grabbing the duffel and locking the car again. “We wouldn’t want someone to steal you, Bess. Another hundred thousand miles and you’ll officially be a relic. Don’t worry, I won’t get rid of you. I’ll just get you a nip and a tuck and a brand-new engine.”

“Do you always talk to your car?” The voice was as deep and rich as dark chocolate, and Lacey recognized it immediately.

She pivoted, searching the shadows until she caught sight of Jude’s tall, rangy form near the corner of the house. His shoulder was pressed against the siding as if he needed the support to stay on his feet.

That concerned Lacey, and she walked to his side, studying his face in the moon’s reflected light. “Bess isn’t a car. She’s a personality.”

“She looks it. How long have you had her?”

“I bought her when I was a senior in high school.”

“So, that was what? Five years ago?”

“I’m flattered, but high school was a few more years ago than that.”

“Seven, then. Or eight.”

“Try eleven.”

“That makes you, what? Twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight. Soon to be twenty-nine. Not that I’m counting or anything.” She smiled, wishing she could see his face more clearly.

Why was he outside leaning against the house instead of inside sleeping?

If she’d known him better, she would have asked. Lots of her clients suffered from insomnia. Some because of pain. Others because they knew the end was near and didn’t want to miss a minute of time. She had a feeling something else had Jude up wandering around outside in the wee hours of the morning.

“Why wouldn’t you want to count? You’re still a babe in the woods.”

“Not even close.” She unzipped the duffel and pulled out the bag of pretzels, opening it quickly and eating one. What she really wanted was chocolate. Lots of it. Based on what she’d seen so far, working for Jude was going to be a three-chocolate-bar-a-day job. She should have grabbed her emergency supply from the glove compartment, but there was no way she was going to do it now. Not while Jude was watching with dark, curious eyes.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Let me guess. You didn’t want to waste money stopping to eat on your way here.”

“Something like that.” And she hadn’t wanted to stop until she’d reached the assignment. She liked being busy. Downtime wasn’t something she handled well. Fortunately, Helping Hands had plenty of business, and Lacey never had more than a day or two when she wasn’t working.

“Then I wouldn’t want to keep you from your early-morning snack. Enjoy it.” He straightened and limped toward the back of the house, dismissing Lacey with an abruptness that other people might have found rude.

Lacey found it telling.

Pain often made people want to hide away from the world. According to his client file, Jude had been living with intense pain for two months. Who knew what was on his mind or in his heart because of it?

She fell into step beside him.

“Pretzel?” She held out the bag, but Jude ignored it.

“Go inside, Lacey. I didn’t need you an hour ago, and I don’t need you now.”

“Who said anything about need? You’re awake. I’m awake. Why not spend some time getting to know each other?”

“I’m not in the mood for company.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need some.”

“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that much.” He smiled, the grim turn of his lips doing nothing to ease the harsh lines and angles of his face.

“That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

“I’m sure that’s what the other four aides my brother hired thought. They lasted a total of two and a half weeks.”

“You sound proud of that.”

“Do I?” He turned and headed back to the house, the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore not nearly enough protection against the cold. At least he’d put on shoes when he’d come outside this time.

“I’ve worked with a lot tougher clients than you, Jude.”

“You sound proud of that.”

Lacey laughed, surprised that the grim-faced man beside her had any humor in him at all. “We’re all good at something. I’m good at dealing with people like you.”

“Like me?”

“Difficult people. People no one else wants to work with.”

“I think I’m insulted.”

“Why? You created your reputation.”

“True, but I didn’t expect you to tell me what it was to my face.”

“Just because I look like a pushover doesn’t mean I am one. As a matter of fact—”

“Shh.” He put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.

“What—”

“I hear a car.”

“There are lots of them around.”

“Not on this road.” He pulled her to a shadowy corner outside the house. “Don’t move. Okay?”

She nodded, fear pulsing sharply in her chest.

Who did Jude think was coming?

The car rolled into view, turning onto the long driveway that led to the house and stopped. Dark and sleek. Newer. If there was a license plate, Lacey couldn’t see it. She leaned forward, craning her neck to get a better look, but Jude tugged her back, pressing her against the house with his body. Moving into her space. Stealing her breath as he whispered in her ear. “I said don’t move.”

Lacey wanted to slip away, peer around the side of the house and figure out exactly what was going on, but Jude’s chest pressed against her back, his breath tickling her ear, and she knew if she moved he’d only press closer. She didn’t like people in her space. Especially if those people were men.

“I can’t see a license plate. Stay here. I’m going to see if I can get a look at the driver.” Jude eased away, and Lacey breathed a sigh of relief, turning to face him.

“You can’t—” The words lodged in her throat as she caught sight of Jude’s gun.

“Sure I can. Stay here, Lacey. I don’t want to shoot the wrong person.”

“Jude!”

But he’d already moved away, was slipping through the darkness, part of the shadows and barely visible.

Leaving her standing in the darkness. Alone. Praying that whoever was in that car had a good reason for idling at the top of the driveway and that Jude wouldn’t end up killing someone. Or being killed.

Having her client murdered while she watched was not how Lacey intended to spend her first night in Lynchburg. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, frowning when she realized the battery had died.

Stupid, Lacey.

Don’t you ever think?

The words were from the past, and she pushed them aside. She couldn’t use her cell phone, but she could keep her new client from getting himself killed.

She hoped.

“A plan would be nice right about now, Lord.” She whispered the prayer as she crept toward the front of the house. Her door was unlocked and open. All she had to do was get inside and call the police.

Piece of cake.

Sure it was.

The car rolled closer to the house. Jude inched closer to the car. And Lacey tiptoed toward the front door. All of them pawns in a macabre chess game.

It was a shame Lacey had never been very good at chess.

She kept moving anyway, danger breathing down her neck, reminding her of other nights, other dark, shadowy places. Terror. Anger. The overwhelming need to survive.

Memories better left in the darkest recesses of her mind.

Gravel crunched. Jude whispered something into the night. And Lacey was pulled firmly back into the present and the menace that seemed to fill the air and deepen the darkness, stealing the light and threatening to steal everything Lacey had worked so hard for.

THREE

Jude knew he’d told Lacey to stay put. Twice. Yet there she was, creeping toward her front door, just begging to be shot by whoever was driving the black Honda sedan. “Get down.”

He whispered the command for the second time, but she kept on going. He had no choice but to change his course and follow. He’d spent enough years working as a beat cop in New York City to sense danger. Right now it was nipping at his heels just as it had been in the weeks preceding the accident that had almost taken his life.

Accident.

That’s what his supervisor insisted it was. That’s what the police report indicated. It’s not what Jude believed. Someone had tried to kill him two months ago, accelerating toward him as he helped a stranded motorist. There wasn’t a doubt in Jude’s mind that the act had been deliberate. Nor did he doubt that the person would try again.

But next time, Jude would be ready.

The car inched forward, moving as quietly as a car could. Nearly coasting. Lights off. License plate concealed. And instead of moving toward it, Jude was heading up the porch stairs, his need to keep Lacey safe outweighing his need to confront the driver of the car.

It was the same need to protect that had nearly gotten him killed. He’d been on vacation, heading out to a cabin in upstate New York when he’d spotted a woman and two kids standing on the side of the road, steam rising from the hood of their minivan.

He could have passed them like everyone else had, but denying someone help wasn’t something Jude had ever been able to do. He’d pulled up behind the car, gotten out of his vehicle and been run down by a black sedan.

One that looked a lot like the one idling at the end of his driveway.

“Get away from the door. You’re lit up like a Christmas tree.” He hissed the warning as he tugged her out of the light from the door and into the shadowy corner of the porch.

“What’s going on, Jude? Who’s in the car?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. Stay here.”

“But—”

“We’ll talk after I deal with my visitor.”

He limped down the porch steps and jogged toward the car, his gun in hand, knowing he and Lacey had already been seen. Maybe, if he were lucky, he’d get a glimpse of the driver anyway. And maybe he wouldn’t get a bullet through the heart while he did it.

The car U-turned, kicking up gravel as it sped away.

Gone.

A missed opportunity.

And Jude knew exactly who to blame.

He gritted his teeth and made his way back up the stairs, slamming his fist on Lacey’s door as he moved into the foyer.

“There’s no need to slam things around.” Lacey stepped inside and closed the door, her shoulders stiff. Jude wasn’t sure if she was scared or angry, and he wasn’t sure he cared.

“Sure there is. I’ve been waiting months to confront the person in that car. Thanks to you, it didn’t happen.”

“Thanks to me? I was trying to save your sorry hide.”

“I didn’t need saving. I needed to get a good look at the car’s driver.” He stalked away before he could say anything worse. Lacey didn’t know what was going on, and she couldn’t be blamed for not understanding.

“I’m sorry, Jude. I just wanted to help.” She touched his arm, her fingers warm through his shirt, searing his skin and cooling his temper.

“There are things going on that you don’t understand, Lacey. For now on, when I tell you to do something, do it.”

He limped back outside, his legs protesting every step, and watched as the retreating car braked at the top of the road. Two months ago, Jude would have sprinted around the side of the house, hopped into his car and sped after the retreating vehicle. Unfortunately, his sprinting days were over.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to find the car and its driver.

“I’m going for a drive. You go back in the house, eat your pretzels and then try to get some sleep,” he called over his shoulder as he started down the porch steps.

“There you go again. Trying to order me around.” Lacey shut the front door and hurried after him.

“I’m not trying. I’m doing it.”

“And wasting time while you’re at it. I don’t know who you think is in that car, but if you’re planning to catch up to him, the sooner we follow, the better.”

“We’re not following. I am.”

“My car is right in front of the house, and I’ve got the key.”

She didn’t add that it would make more sense to take her car since it was obviously closer than his. Probably because she knew she didn’t have to. Jude hadn’t made the grade as a homicide detective because he was ruled by his emotions. He’d made it because he was logical and meticulous.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll take your car.”

“I knew you’d be reasonable.”

“I knew you’d be annoying.”

She laughed, the sound ringing through the night, nudging at Jude’s soul, telling him he needed to lighten up a little, stop taking things so seriously.

Unfortunately, that was hard to do with a killer stalking him.

He walked to Lacey’s car, his limping stride only adding to his frustration. Since the accident, his body no longer felt like his own. His legs were foreign and difficult to move. His back was stiff. Every day was filled with challenges, but what bugged Jude the most was that he couldn’t take off after the bad guys, chase the villains, bring them in and see justice served.

“You’re awfully quiet. You’re not feeling sorry for yourself, are you?” Lacey opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, clearly not caring that Jude was seething with frustration.

“Isn’t that your job?” He shut her door and got in the passenger’s seat.

“To feel sorry for you? Why would I? You’ve got a nice home, a family that loves you. What’s there to be sorry about?”

“Two bum legs and a lost career.” He muttered the response, but knew she was right. He had plenty to be thankful for and not much to be sorry about. Even less once he figured out who was trying to kill him.

“I’ve met a lot of people who thrived with more hardship than that.” She put on her seat belt, adjusted the mirrors, glanced over her shoulder and fiddled with the dashboard buttons until Jude grabbed the key from her hand and shoved it into the ignition. “There. We’re ready.”

“Right.” She gripped the wheel with both hands and drove backward down the driveway and onto the road. The speedometer crept from five to fifteen miles an hour and hovered there until Jude wanted to wrench the steering wheel out from under Lacey’s hands and stomp down hard on the gas pedal.

“I suppose there’s a reason why you’re driving so slow?”

“Slow? The speed limit is posted. Fifteen miles an hour.”

“Fifteen miles an hour if you’re not trying to catch a potential murderer.” Although at this point, it was unlikely they’d come within twenty miles of the guy who’d been behind the wheel of the car they were trying to follow.

“Murderer? You actually think the guy was here to…” Apparently she couldn’t get the words out, but Jude had no problem with them.

“Kill me.”

“What?” She braked hard, pulled to the side of the road and turned to face Jude. “Grayson said you were troubled, but he didn’t say you were paranoid.”

“I’m not.” He knew that wouldn’t be enough information to get Lacey driving again, but wasting time chit-chatting wasn’t high on his list of things to do when a criminal was escaping.

“You know you can’t tell me someone is trying to kill you and expect me to act as though this is just an ordinary early-morning outing, right?”

“You knew it wasn’t an ordinary outing when you offered to drive, and what I expect you to do is drive.”

To Jude’s surprise, she accelerated, pulling onto the road and heading in the direction the sedan had gone. The street was dark, the houses that lined it silent and sleeping. There were plenty of cars parked in driveways and on the side of the road, and Jude scanned each as Lacey drove past. He didn’t expect to find his quarry, but he hoped. That would have to be enough for now.

“If we see the car, we’re going to call the police, right? Let them deal with it.” Lacey’s question filled the silence, reminding Jude that he wasn’t alone in his quest. There was someone else to think about; someone who could easily be hurt.

“If we see the car, you’ll call the police and wait in here until they arrive.” No way would Jude allow Lacey anywhere near the vehicle.

“What about you?”

“I’ll do what I have to do to make sure the person doesn’t drive away before the police arrive.” He scanned the street as he spoke, his hope of finding the car dying a little more with each passing minute. He wanted to find it, prayed he’d find it, but he doubted either would do any good. After all, he’d wanted to walk out of the hospital on two strong, pain-free legs. Instead, he’d been rolled out in a wheelchair. As for praying, Jude had walked too far away from his faith to expect God to answer.

It had only been recently that he’d realized how true that was. Being forced to slow down had given him time to take a long, hard look at his life. He wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. He’d spent eleven years working hard, playing hard, pursuing his passions with the same single-minded zeal with which he’d pursued criminals.

He wanted to believe there was nothing wrong with that, but a quiet voice in his soul kept whispering that he’d taken the wrong path. That his need for independence had cost him the things he’d valued most—faith and family.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it.