Pregnant Protector

“You should have told me they’d recovered the body. And that the autopsy had been performed. I had every right to know. Every right to see Julio’s body.”

Lara faced his accusation head-on. “If I were you, I’d be furious.”

“I’m way past furious. It was my call, my partner.”

“Not today, Detective.” She closed her eyes, then opened them. “For God’s sake, don’t let his wife and kids see what I saw.” Her voice was calm, but it took her two tries to get the key into the ignition. Nick didn’t miss it.

“You okay?” he asked, his anger gone.

She actually smiled. “I should be asking you that.”

“Want me to drive?”

“Nope. I’m fine.” Lara took a breath and turned the key. “Besides, I’ve taken the bodyguard-driving course. I can drive like a Hollywood stunt driver. Sadie might get bored with you at the wheel.” She attempted a lighter mood that failed, but impressed him just the same. “Which reminds me, I arranged to have Julio’s motorcycle temporarily stored in Impound. As your bodyguard, I don’t want you exposed. I could have told you that earlier, too.”

“Oh, the bike. I need to take care of it. I have a storage unit near Julio’s place. I was always there…” His voice trailed off.

“Later. For now, let’s head for your apartment so you can pick up your things.” They fastened their seat belts and Lara automatically locked all the doors. “Hope you’re not a fresh-air fiend like Sadie,” she said, turning the air-conditioning on high. “She likes to hang out the window. It’s bad for eyes and ears.”

“No problem,” he said, appreciating the comfort of the leather seats.

Lara pulled through the parking lot and to the stop-light-regulated exit onto the main drag. She stopped at the red light. “What’s the quickest way to your place?”

“I’d take—”

He never finished his sentence. Gunfire slammed into the driver’s-side door of the Mercedes. The door collapsed, glass cracked, then a second and third shot hit the back of the car as Lara cut the steering wheel hard and jammed the car into reverse, gunning it backward and away from the source of gunfire. Nick drew his gun and frantically searched for the shooter, but could see nothing through the mottled glass of his section of the car.

In seconds the attack was over. Police officials ran to the Mercedes, Sadie barking furiously at them. As Lara brought the car to a complete stop, Nick slowly reholstered his gun to stare at the windows—cracked but still in one piece. His gaze met Lara’s.

“Whoever this rock star is…I have got to start buying his albums.”

CHAPTER THREE

“I’LL HAVE TO REPLACE two windows. And the armored body. My insurance better cover this,” Lara stated as the Mercedes was towed to the police impound yard to join Julio’s motorcycle. Sadie sat behind them in Lara’s squad car, which a fellow officer had retrieved for her, her nose pointed toward Lara, ears perked and alert for any command. A crowd of police officers, including Captain Girard, buzzed about.

“Insurance?” Nick said. “Someone fired three shots at us, no suspect is found and all you worry about is insurance?”

“Do you know how much bulletproof glass costs?”

“Done venting?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Lara sighed. “I don’t care about the car, anyway. I’m just upset. We were shot at with rounds that would stop a dinosaur!”

Captain Girard interjected. “Lara, calm down. We’ll get him.”

“Him? Her? We didn’t see a thing!”

Nick laid a casual hand on her shoulder as Girard spoke, his voice confident. “I’m going with a man. Statistically, most women kill in self-defense on domestic turf. Men are much more liable to kill in public, and this—” he gestured toward the expansive downtown police parking lot “—is about as public as it gets.”

Lara nodded.

“Cantello,” Girard ordered, “you and Nelson get out of here—and out of your houses. Nelson, call for a safe house. It’s moving day for both of you. We’ll touch base later.”

“I’ve sent a squad car ahead with a couple of my buddies,” Nick said to Lara.

“When did you do that?”

“A few minutes ago. We’ll meet them at my place first, then yours.”

“I’m in charge of your safety. You shouldn’t be giving the orders,” Lara immediately said.

“You shouldn’t be in morgues or doing detective work,” Girard insisted. “You’re as white as a ghost.”

Lara didn’t like the tone of the older man’s voice. “Hey, I’ve been shot at. I’m entitled to a little adrenaline. And I’ve got questions! Are we dealing with Julio’s murderer or something totally different? My window took the shots, not yours. What if we have a serial cop killer on our hands?”

“Don’t get hysterical, Officer.”

Lara’s mouth opened, but before she could honestly protest, someone called out Girard’s name and he turned away. Nick gently pushed her toward her squad car.

“Drop it, Nelson. And get in.” He jerked a thumb at the passenger side. “This time, I’m driving.”

LARA SHIFTED in her seat during the drive, her nerves still raw—and aware that both her dog and the man driving had picked up on it. Nick kept flicking her quick glances, while Sadie, in back, kept her long nose near Lara’s neck, past the open grill that, when locked, separated a prisoner from the officers in front. The remote control could pop open the back door, as well, when a quick exit was needed.

“Are we almost there?” she asked.

The corners of Nick’s lips twitched. “You sound like Julio’s kids. Next you’ll be wanting ice cream.”

“Ha, ha,” she replied, feeling more of her courage flow back into her spine. “Still, it’s better than being accused of being hysterical. Talk about old school.” Girard’s comment still stung.

“Girard is old school.” Nick glanced at her. “You ever been shot at before?”

“Never.”

“First time for me, too. Guess we’re not virgins anymore.”

Lara deliberately made her voice light. “Another milestone in a cop’s life.”

“Well, you handled yourself well. Drove us out of the line of fire. Plus that fishtail spin so the shooter had a smaller area of car to hit. Excellent work, lady.”

“You, too, Detective,” Lara admitted. “I saw you draw your weapon and check for our shooter. All out of the corner of my hysterical little right eye.”

“I’ll take your hysterical over others’ calm any day.” Nick flicked on his signal light. “We’re here,” he announced, then gestured at the other squad car waiting for them. “And there’re my guys.” Nick pulled up into an oil-stained driveway in front of a faded apartment complex. It was definitely older, but maintained well.

“You live here?” Lara asked, surprised. She took in the old trees, their roots making cracks in the sidewalk. They were just a part of the many concrete areas, including the driveways and carports, where children played in lieu of yards or parks. Water in San Diego was expensive, as was irrigation. Grass refused to grow on just air and sunlight. Landlords knew that—and children tore it up, anyway. Better to mount swing sets in cement and let the parents deal with skinned knees.

“Not La Jolla, but it’s home,” Nick said casually.

“I’m no snob. I meant that this place looks more like it’s for families. Pets, kids, picnic tables. Swing sets and slides.”

“Julio and his wife used to live here until they found a bigger place. I moved in. My last place was bulldozed for condos and the management company takes good care of this place.” He shrugged, then reached for the mike as the car’s radio crackled with confirmation from the other two officers that they’d searched his apartment, courtesy of the landlord’s key, and the premises were secure.

“Would you mind leaving Sadie in the car?” Nick asked.

“Actually, I would. Sadie’s like my badge and gun—they rarely leave my side.”

“I wouldn’t ask, but I’ve got a cat, and he’s not too good with dogs,” Nick said.

“Oh. Well, since we already have men here.”

In German, Lara ordered Sadie to stay in and guard the car, which was parked in the shade with open windows. Nick and Lara went through the open courtyard filled with dead leaves, gum wrappers, bikes, toys and the accompanying children. Some shouted out his name and waved. He smiled, caught and returned a tossed football.

Lara actually jumped as an aged cat emerged from behind the potted cactus near his door. As it hissed and arched its gray back, Nick met her gaze.

“Calm down, Nelson. It’s only my cat.”

“I’m calm, and is that what this is?”

“Yep.” To her surprise, Nick bent over and scooped the wild-looking thing up into one hand, while with the other reached for his mailbox on the stucco outer wall. “I don’t have the wife or kids yet, but I do have the pet. Someday…”

Lara blinked, thinking of Jim and the family they’d planned. Only, she’d wanted a family dog for the children, not a scarred feline with defiantly unsheathed claws. The animal had obviously been through some rough times, had probably tangled with San Diego’s coyotes, which shared the heavy areas of population due to habitat destruction; their only source of water was automatic city sprinklers. Adult coyotes learned the hours they went on and off, females taught their pups. Generations of coyotes who’d lost their fear of man trekked through the streets like so many stray dogs. Trouble was, these animals lived off fruit from the local citrus trees and mammals, including small domestic pets. Even fenced yards weren’t protection.

“You picked out this cat?” she asked.

“He picked out me…used to live next door. The last tenants left him behind. The new ones couldn’t take him in. Their youngest is allergic.”

“Poor thing.”

“The cat or the child?”

“Both.” Lara couldn’t imagine a life without animals, but she didn’t venture closer to pet the feline. Smelling of dog, she wasn’t about to socialize with this set of claws.

“The child is happy, and this cat is old and doesn’t like kids, anyway. He’s been fixed, I get him his shots, and he’s content to hang here.”

“That’s good. I doubt the shelter would consider a war-torn veteran like him adoptable,” Lara observed.

He stroked the gray head once, then set the cat down and opened his door.

“What’s his name?”

“The old tenants just called him ‘the cat.’” Nick unlocked the door. “It’s all he’ll answer to. Come on in.”

The gray tiger streaked by her as she stepped inside. It immediately made its way to the kitchen at the other end of the living room. After a quick shuffle, Nick tossed his mail on the coffee table.

“They’ve already searched the place, so make yourself at home. I’ll grab my things,” Nick said.

Lara felt tempted by the comfortable, padded recliner. Murder, the morgue and a bullet-riddled Mercedes had made for a rough day, she thought, as she studied the room. The inside of Nick’s place was a pleasant contrast to the shabbier courtyard outside. She took in the neat surroundings, freshly painted walls, clean carpet and the dust-free furniture. As she waited, she realized the room held few touches of its owner. There were no magazines or newspapers carelessly scattered, no photographs on the wall, no personal mementos anywhere.

If it weren’t for a single boating magazine and mail on the coffee table, she could have been in a nice hotel and never known the difference. Lara’s gaze wandered about, her eyes troubled. There had to be something that spoke of the man who lived there. She saw nothing except a cat without a name.

“Everything meet with your approval?” Nick asked suddenly.

Lara turned to see him watching her, a nylon gym bag and plastic suit carrier slung over his arm.

“I was trying to learn more about you,” she admitted.

“Any success?”

“Nope. You don’t even have a television. A room like this—” she gestured with one hand, and met his gaze “—seems so sterile.”

“My cleaning lady lives in the complex. She’s a neat freak—even for her profession. I lent my TV to the tenant across the complex. He’s home alone on worker’s comp with a broken leg.” Nick looked around his place with new eyes. “Besides, I’m not here much. Julio’s wife keeps a spare room for me at her place and gave me a key. Most of my personal stuff’s there.”

She nodded.

“I’ve got to feed the cat.”

He set his two bags by the door and walked to the kitchen visible from the living area. The feline immediately jumped off the counter to rub against his legs, purring all the while. Lara watched from the living room.

Quietly she asked, “Tell me about your partner.”

Nick opened a cabinet and removed a can of tuna. He opened the can, then set it on the floor. It wasn’t until he threw away the lid and leaned against the counter that he replied, “What’s to say?” Nick’s expression was as sterile as the home he lived in. “We were close. Now he’s dead. I haven’t talked to the family yet. His wife may or may not kick me out of their home. I don’t know.”

“I meant professionally—regarding this case,” Lara explained. “Like enemies, money problems… I’m sorry, I should have specified.”

“It’s been a wild morning,” he said, his law-enforcement manner back to normal.

Lara did the same. Obviously Nick wasn’t the one incapacitated by emotions now. He’d assumed control, as she had earlier in the day. It was time for her to get her own emotions back in control. But if she hadn’t owned an armored Mercedes…

“Hell, yes. I wish we could find a motive for two attacks. Any ideas?” she asked in a brisk voice, moving to stand at the breakfast bar separating the rooms.

“No. Julio and I worked the day shift. Our last case involved some small-time drug hustlers—no major players—until one of them shot another over money.”

“Seems pretty cut and dried. Was it?”

“Yes. Julio and I had enemies, but there are only two or three I’d consider dangerous, and at present they’re behind bars. Julio was a good cop, a faithful husband and a great father. He didn’t touch dirty money, nor did I. I was positive either he or I was the target until you were shot at. Now I don’t know what to think.”

They were both silent. Nick waited a few more minutes until the cat had finished eating, then rinsed out the can—San Diego was home to ants, as well as coyotes and sunshine—and tossed the empty tin in the recycle bin. He retrieved the suit carrier and bag, then let Lara and the cat out of the apartment.

“What will happen to the cat when you’re away?”

“The bathroom window’s open for him and I took out the screen,” he said, gesturing toward the high, hinged pane of glass. “He can come and go as he pleases. The cleaning lady feeds him if I’m not home. She has a key.”

Lara exhaled a slow sigh at the sight of the old, battered animal. For a moment—just a moment—she felt like hell over the unfairness of the cat’s life—of a cop’s life. Then she shook it off. The cat was a survivor. She’d do better to use her energies for those who weren’t, like Julio Valdez.

She followed Nick to the squad car. The backup officers took off first, to check out her home premises, leaving the two of them to follow.

“Keys, please. This is my squad car,” she reminded him.

“True. But where do we go now?”

“My place. I need to get some clothes, too.”

“I won’t stay at any safe house out of the area,” Nick warned. “I want to stay local. And you should think of yourself. You’re a target as long as you’re with me.”

“We’re not going to a safe house.”

“But Girard said—”

“Girard said I was in charge of your safety. We’re going to my parents’ home—Nelson Kennels. It’s in a good neighborhood, the food’s free and the beds are clean. We have to sleep sometime. And it’s pretty damn safe.”

“You sure?” Nick asked.

Lara grinned with satisfaction at the security measures and the many trained dogs on the compound. “Oh, yeah. I don’t even need to ask.”

“I do,” Nick insisted. “Better sound out your parents. I don’t want to drag them into this.”

“I know what they’ll say. Now give me the keys to my unit. I’m driving.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Monday evening, east of Escondido

“WE TAKE A RIGHT at the stop sign, then we’re just five minutes from Nelson Kennels,” Lara said to Nick. Then, “Sadie, calm down!” Sadie was standing in back, ears perked and tail thumping against the window. “Yes, we’re going to my parents’.”

Sadie’s tail thumped even harder and she whined with excitement.

“She’s certainly excited,” Nick said, flicking the dog a glance as Lara concentrated again on her driving. The city of Escondido wasn’t beach, but rather a transition area of inland valleys and foothills. Next came the mountains and after that, the desert, but even these foot hills were full of hairpin curves and sharp inclines.

“She knows the way. Hard to mistake this route, even for a dog.”

He nodded. The rugged driving took them around another sharp turn on the narrow two-way road. Pin oaks hung determinedly onto the sides of rocky inclines, while olive trees flourished in the heat and sandy soil. “Nice country, though.”

“It is beautiful, isn’t it? Great place to raise kids and dogs. Too bad it’s getting so settled,” Lara said.

“The casinos?” Nick guessed. Ever since the Native American gaming laws had passed, they’d been popping up all over California. San Diego County was no exception, with a dozen operating and even more planned.

“Yeah. Harrah’s, Valley View, Pala—you name ’em. They’re smack dab in the middle of what used to be livestock dairy and poultry country. All this land is a seller’s market.” Lara sighed. Always an animal fan, she hated that the thousands of Jersey cows from her youth were gone. Others, like fruit farmers, horse ranchers and vineyard owners, couldn’t resist swapping hard labor for the money they’d get for the land, which developers would turn into spas and golf courses.

“Your parents aren’t selling?”

“No way. It’s home. Besides, where would they go? There’s no beachfront property left—and even if there was, it’s wall-to-wall people and not zoned for animals. The mountains are too far away from where we do business, and as for the deserts—” Lara shrugged “—too hot for working dogs.”

“There’s plenty of open space left, especially the citrus groves,” Nick observed. They’d finished climbing and were now descending into a valley area. “Looks like some people have kept their land.”

“True. The tourmaline mine’s remained. And the chicken, llama and horse ranches are still operating—the thoroughbred ranches, especially. But so many of the flower growers have moved on—especially with the drought.”

“Progress is a mixed blessing.”

“Tell me about it. Still, if it wasn’t for the booming population, trained security dogs wouldn’t be needed, and my parents wouldn’t be in business. Okay, there’s our sign. We follow this road to the end and we’re there in ten minutes.”

As soon as Lara flicked on her blinker and turned, Sadie, already excited, went into overdrive, squeaking, whining, then full-fledged barking.

“Sorry about that,” Lara sang out. “In case you haven’t guessed, Sadie was born here. Just roll down your window for the noise. That’s what I do.”

Nick rolled down his window, his ears ringing. “Don’t you have a command for quiet?”

“Sure, but let her bark. It’s good for the lungs, and she’ll calm down when we get there.”

Sadie proved Lara right. As soon as Lara pulled up into the private drive opposite the business parking area and unlocked Sadie’s door, the dog stopped whining. However, she ran straight to the double-gated entrance of the chain-link fence where the four family housedogs ran free in the many-acred landscaped family yard.

“Stay outside the gate,” Lara warned Nick. An older German shepherd bitch, Mrs. Nelson’s current pet and Sadie’s dam, along with three other dogs, rushed barking to the fence. Their aggressiveness abated some at seeing Lara, hearing her voice, smelling her scent. The red dachshund and the shepherd bitch continued to growl suspiciously at Nick through the fence, while the more sociable graying black Lab and young white terrier pranced outside the second, pad-key gate separating Lara and Sadie from them on one side, and Nick on the other.

Lara took off Sadie’s special collar/chest shield with her badge on it and hooked it to her own belt. That meant Sadie was officially off duty. Lara opened the gate. “There you go, girl. Break time!”

Sadie bounded inside to eagerly exchange licks and sniffs with her canine family. The other dogs gathered around the police pair, but Nick saw that Lara didn’t take the time for a long hello or enter the open yard. Much to the pack’s disappointment, she closed the gate to the main yard, locked it, then exited again.

“Let’s find my parents,” she said. “The office is this way.”

They didn’t have to look for long. Before they’d even stepped into the building, a couple came out to greet them. Though he’d never seen Lara’s parents, Nick easily recognized Lara’s mother—she was simply an older, taller version of Lara. Sandra was in her mid-sixties and her facial features were lined, but mother and daughter both wore expressions of alertness and intelligence. Character, even more than similar coloring, marked them as related.

The older man was introduced as Lara’s father, Edward Nelson, “Call me Ed.” He had to be at least a decade older than his wife, Nick estimated, but the handshake Lara’s father gave him showed no hint of weakness. He noted Lara had inherited her father’s more angular, stubborn chin.

“We always know when you’re coming. I could hear Sadie whining a mile away!” Mr. Nelson said, hugging his daughter, then noticed her lack of uniform. “Saw your squad car. On duty?”

“Actually, I’m on special duty.”

“Then what brings you here?” Mrs. Nelson asked. The older couple had begun leading the younger couple to the kennel office.

“Trouble,” Lara said.

“Damn,” Ed said at the same time that Sandra lifted her eyebrows, accompanied by a curious, “Really? Brief me.”

“You’re retired,” Ed warned his wife—to no avail.

“I think I’ll let the staff handle the rest of my day,” Sandra said. “I wouldn’t want to miss a visit with my youngest. Ed, please tell the others,” she ordered with the easy authority of a woman used to command. “We’ll all meet at the house.”

A SHORT WHILE LATER the four sat in the comfortable living room—informal save for the many photographs, awards, ribbons and official commendations on the shelves and fireplace mantel. At Ed’s invitation, Nick studied the photographs while waiting for mother and daughter to emerge from the kitchen.

“You’ve got quite a family here,” Nick said.

“That I do. Here’s my first dog.” Ed pointed.

A much younger Edward Nelson in military uniform stood proudly beside a military bomb-sniffing dog in a jungle setting.

“Vietnam?” Nick guessed.

“Yes. I smuggled my partner back here,” Ed said. “They destroyed canines in the old days, but I had a buddy who owed me. My dog and I came home together. I’ve been working with dogs since.” He gestured to another photo. “Here’s my wife.”

Sandra Nelson’s photo showed her in her younger days, as well, in police uniform with her first K-9 officer, yet another German shepherd.

“And Kate, the eldest.” Ed indicated a photo with a woman in uniform with her explosives canine. Then, “Lindsey, my middle daughter.” Her picture showed her standing in a ranger’s search-and-rescue uniform, her newest shepherd posed beside her new husband and his own dog. “And here’s Lara.”

Lara’s photo also showed her in uniform, with Sadie beside her.

“Impressive,” Nick said. “The world needs more families like this.”

“I understand you come from a law-enforcement family yourself.”

“More administrative, and only my aunt Magda. She worked as a clerk typist back in the days before computers. That was a long time ago.”

Nick felt a sudden surge of loneliness. Julio was gone, his wife and children were in Mexico. The aunt who’d raised Nick—she’d left Italy with Nick for “a better life” in California and even changed her surname Palameri to Palmer once she’d settled—was dead.