Pregnant Protector

Nick’s grandparents and parents still lived in Italy, along with his three older siblings. His mother, Mara, had been ill after Nick was born and had asked her younger sister to care for Nick. Magda had never married. Although he and Magda had kept in touch with their Italian relatives, Nick had never been close to any of them.

Even as a boy, there was an emotional gulf and a stretch of ocean between them and him. Obviously the Nelson children didn’t have that problem with their elders. The many photos on the wall showed the daughters’ respect for family and pride in their work. They also showed a great deal of courage. The older couple had dedicated their lives to the public. Now the three daughters were doing likewise.

His thoughts were interrupted by the women’s reentrance with drinks—coffee and soda—trailed by the family pack and Sadie. Dogs and people found places in the living room, and Lara and Nick in turn related the events of Julio’s case, ending with the attack on the Mercedes. The expressions on the faces of Lara’s parents were solemn when Lara said, “We need a safe base of operations. Can we stay here?”

Sandra flicked her husband a quick look and received an affirming nod. “We’ll do all we can to help,” she said. “You’ll need your sleep. Gotta keep those reflexes sharp.”

“And you’ll have separate rooms,” Ed added, his gaze on Nick. “Even the Secret Service doesn’t sleep in the president’s bed.”

Lara flushed pink. “Dad!”

Sandra rose to her feet. “Ed, why don’t you go back to the office while I get some sheets for the guest room?” she suggested with a hard stare at her husband. Various dogs followed the couple either to the back door leading outside or down the hall to the linen closet.

Lara didn’t say anything until they were out of ear-shot. “Forgive my father. He’s a very traditional man.”

“It’s his house, and I wasn’t offended.”

Lara excused her father’s behavior, anyway. “Dad was shocked when I moved in with my boyfriend—we didn’t get engaged until later. I don’t casually hop into bed with anyone, and certainly not under my father’s roof,” she said with a frankness Nick appreciated.

His gaze swung again to the photos on the walls. “Perhaps he’d have accepted sons in high-risk jobs more easily than daughters.”

Lara ran her hand through her short blond curls. “I doubt it. Dad always wanted his children, no matter the sex, to have safe jobs. He keeps reminding me how lucky he and Mom were to make it to retirement unscathed. He didn’t scare any of us off, though. In fact, just the opposite. That’s why Jim—my fiancé—and I didn’t wait. No long courtship, no waiting until after the marriage to move in together.”

Nick tactfully said nothing.

“Anyway, don’t worry about my father. He knows I’m here to protect you. That’s enough.” She rose, followed by Sadie and the dachshund. “Come on, I’ll show you the guest room. You can freshen up. Take your time.”

“I will,” Nick replied. “I need to make a few calls.”

“Don’t plan on using the house line,” Lara said immediately.

“But—”

“They’re much easier to trace than cell phones.”

“Right.” Nick shook himself mentally, embarrassed. He’d planned on trying Mexico again from a conventional line, hoping he’d have better luck than earlier.

“Who did you want to call? Your partner’s wife?”

“I haven’t been able to reach Lilia,” he admitted. “And I want to check in with headquarters, too.”

“Ah. Use your cell,” she repeated.

“Got it.” If he didn’t connect on the first call, he knew he’d have no trouble with the second. That call would be to Internal Affairs.

LARA LET NICK UNPACK and settle in as she placed the fresh sheets on the bed. When she finished, she took a chair in the room and absently scratched the ears of the dachshund she now held in her lap. Sadie wandered in, followed by her dam, Shady Lady—aptly named, as she was mostly black as opposed to Sadie’s dominant tan. Nick hung his suit bag in the closet. He was finished, as well.

“You hungry? We missed lunch, thanks to our shooter.”

“I don’t want to put your parents out.”

Lara grinned. “You won’t. I make a mean sandwich.” She set the dachshund back on the floor. “Kitchen’s this way.”

In the kitchen she seated Nick at the small wooden table and opened the bread box. “You want rye or white br—”

Nick’s cell rang.

“I don’t know who that is, but don’t tell anyone where we are,” Lara warned. “It’s an easy guess, but there’s no need to confirm.”

Nick’s sideways glance showed he didn’t need the warning. “Rye.” The phone call took him completely by surprise, and Lara intently listened to the one-sided conversation.

“Well?” she asked when he clicked off his cell.

“That was Homeland Security.”

“And?”

“It’s confirmed. The bullets used against your car were 25 mm. They would have penetrated an ordinary car.”

“But we know my car isn’t ordinary. You want sliced ham or roast…what?”

“Homeland Security says the bullets that hit Julio came from the same gun, but they weren’t light rounds.”

“We knew that, too. Ham or roast beef?” she repeated.

“Julio’s slug was made with DU.”

Lara’s lips actually parted in shock. “Not…depleted uranium?”

Depleted uranium was a by-product of leftover natural uranium after U-235 was extracted to fuel nuclear weapons and power plants. Common in the United States, the leftover uranium was weakly radioactive, but still had its uses. It remained a deadly tank-piercing heavy metal that made guns loaded with lead bullets look like popguns. Any “heavy” ammunition or artillery was strictly regulated and controlled by the Federal government. “Light” ammunition, such as that used by police or civilians, remained under local control.

“Why didn’t Girard tell us before?” Lara demanded.

“Because everyone at the station assumed the extensive damage to the car body resulted from the crash and the rocky bottom. Hell, I’ve never seen a DU bullet hole in person. Homeland Security has, and they checked for radioactivity.”

“My God! That stuff’s military only. Hasn’t the United Nations classified it as a Weapon of Mass Destruction?” Lara asked, horrified. “The radioactivity and heavy-metal toxicity threatens the environment!”

“True, but a single DU bullet could take out a whole armored personnel carrier filled with enemy troops. That’s why we still use them.”

“No wonder I…” No wonder she nearly lost her breakfast after viewing the skimpy remains of Julio Valdez. “Nothing. Go on.”

“So does Great Britain,” Nick said. “Homeland Security said our military prefers 25, 105, and 120 mm rounds.”

“And now someone’s shooting them here in San Diego?”

“So they say. Homeland Security also said they’ll be handling further ballistics investigation and other aspects, as well.”

Lara rubbed her forehead “But…I’m confused. I thought another law-enforcement member targeted Julio. He went to buy groceries, you said. Is our shooter a cop or terrorist? We weren’t shot at with DU. Julio was.”

“Homeland Security will handle it. They’re better equipped. Even if they weren’t, I’m not leaning toward the terrorist angle,” Nick said. “Internal Affairs finished checking out Julio’s computer.”

“Internal Affairs?”

“Yes, I just talked to them. I know Julio was writing a speech for the next department retirement dinner. IA said there was no file on the hard drive. I doubt a terrorist would delete a retirement speech, DU ammo or not.”

“A speech?” Lara echoed. “Why your partner?”

Nick’s lips thinned into a hard line. “English or Spanish, Julio wrote the best damn reports in the department. He was always writing something for the bosses.”

“If he had to write a testimonial, he would have had to research the subjects. If he did—he might have found something he shouldn’t. Who’s retiring?”

Nick frowned. “Girard, Lansky and Knox. All from Homicide.”

“Girard and Lansky I know. Who’s Knox?”

“Sergeant Richard Knox. His son, T.J., works in Homicide, too. But the sergeant isn’t the one I want to talk to right now.” Nick pulled out his cell phone. The dachshund and Sadie watched from their spots on the cool tile as Nick dialed Girard’s direct number.

“Girard here.”

“Hey, Captain. It’s Cantello.”

“What’s up, Nick?”

“Thought I’d check in with you. Any news?”

“Nothing yet at this end, though I did get a call from Homeland Security ballistics.”

“Same here.” A beat, then Nick asked in a bland voice, “Did Julio finish his retirement speech?”

Silence. “If he did, he didn’t keep it on the computer.”

“I know for a fact he did. Someone wiped it.”

“I’ll tell Internal Affairs.”

“I already did.”

“How’s your new bodyguard doing?” Girard asked.

Nick couldn’t help but notice the abrupt change of subject. “She’s kept me alive so far. Do me a favor, Captain. Have ballistics call me when they’re done picking apart Nelson’s Mercedes.”

“Planned on it. So, you think she’s gonna be any help in solving this murder?”

A chill streaked down Nick’s spine. It was his warning system, and had saved his life more than once. “She’s a good worker,” he said in a deliberately casual voice. “But she’s not a detective.”

Girard sounded reassured. “Where are you staying?”

“Wherever Ms. Nelson stashes me. After this morning, she and I will be keeping a close eye on each other.” Nick smiled, but it wasn’t from pleasure. “Pass the word around, would you?”

“Of course. Keep in touch.”

“Of course,” he echoed. Nick set down the cell.

“What are you smiling about?” Lara asked.

“Looks like we may have a starting point, after all. Three retiring men. First thing in the morning, we’ll see if any of them served in the military.” Nick pushed aside his cell phone. “Make it a ham on rye. Please.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Tuesday morning

AFTER A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP at her parents’ home, Lara met Nick in the kitchen for coffee. There, she’d suggested that civilian clothes and no cruiser would make them less of a target. But using any personal car, including her parents’, could make them easier to spot.

“I don’t need a red bull’s-eye on our backs. We’re getting a rental and I’m not wearing a uniform as long as I’m your bodyguard.”

In keeping with a low profile, she dressed in jeans, a navy tank top with the yellow words SD Police on the front and back, and a navy windbreaker that would effectively hide both the top and her gun. She attached her badge to her holster, where it wouldn’t be seen. Sadie, as always, had her official collar badge on. Lara could simply discard her windbreaker for an official presence.

After some breakfast, Lara drove Nick to the rental agency, then they both drove back to the kennels. Lara led the way, Nick right behind. Once home, she parked and waited outside for Nick. His rental was only a few lengths behind. Her mother spotted her from the office and walked over, the old black Lab at her side. The women exchanged good-mornings as Nick approached and parked his car. Lara watched him key in numbers.

“Rental car, huh?” Sandra observed. “How’s he doing?”

“Besides being sleep-deprived? And unable to reach his partner’s wife? Not bad—but he’s got to stop and sleep sometime.”

“Poor guy,” Sandra said. “You two come up with anything?”

“We’re already targeting three men.” Lara quickly filled her in on what Nick had related about the retiring men and Julio’s missing written testimonial. She concluded, “Ballistics says the military ammunition used on Julio Valdez came from the same weapon used to fire at us.” Lara deliberately avoided the topic of depleted-uranium bullets. Her mother worried too much as it was, and Nick still needed to learn if the three suspects were military veterans.

“That seems a bit thin for a motive,” Sandra said. “But if you intend to run with it…” She hesitated.

“What?”

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t bring up old gossip, but those three men… You and Nick check out Magda Palmer.”

Lara immediately whipped out her notebook. “Who’s she?”

“Nick’s aunt. She raised him. He came to California with her when she left Italy. You didn’t know that?”

“No.”

“Magda Palmer—used to be Palameri—worked at the police station with Girard, Lansky and Knox.”

“The three men retiring.”

“Yes. Knox Sr., Girard and Lansky were all close friends—until Magda came along. The official story was that they wanted Magda for their own private secretary.”

Lara didn’t like what her mother’s expression was saying. “The unofficial story?”

“Palmer’s typing skills weren’t what they were fighting over, despite the three men being married. Nick’s aunt was an alleged adulteress, to use the lingo of the times, and had more than one man fighting over her.”

“Who was the man?”

“I don’t know.”

Lara put away her notebook. “No proof, huh?”

“No, but office affairs are nothing new, and no one ever defended her innocence, either. Back then, even today, she would have been fired. On the other hand, Magda Palmer could have given any glamorous movie star serious competition. She was blond, buxom and brainy.”

“A buxom adulteress?” Lara smiled. “Really, Mom. You sound like Dad.”

“You heard me, and that was before implants became commonplace. Most men noticed her body first, her brains second. Magda made men breathless with both—perhaps not the wisest idea in a man’s world a few generations ago. They found her body in the ocean beneath the La Jolla Cliffs.”

Lara blinked. “No one swims in those waters. You’re suggesting it wasn’t an accident?”

“It was never proved, but rumors persisted. Let Internal Affairs and Girard investigate Julio’s background. Let Homeland Security handle ballistics and would-be terrorists. But you—you investigate Nick’s family. And Nick himself.”

“Do you think Nick knows this?”

Sandra shrugged. “Find out. Girard, Lansky and Knox were good friends with Magda. Use that as your springboard.” Sandra’s blue eyes glittered in the way of an experienced cop. “Complacency kills. Your father’s right. Watch Nick’s back, but watch your own, too.”

The two women looked up as the dogs started barking as Nick exited the rental car.

“You be very careful, baby, or I’ll kick your ass.” The blunt warning came with a maternal hug. Sandra kissed her daughter’s hair, then headed back into her office as Nick closed the car door. Lara took in a deep breath. She hurried over to the nondescript sedan, Sadie at her side. They’d chosen a four-door with latches Sadie could open.

“Do you want to take that rubber ring out of your squad car now?” Nick asked without preamble.

“No.” Lara studied the U-shaped inner latch and removed her jean belt. “This’ll work.” She threaded it through the latch and rebuckled the leather, then tucked the metal end close to the latch, leaving the leather free for Sadie, the metal safely away from teeth. “Don’t suppose they provided us any bulletproof rental glass.”

“Afraid not. But we purchased the extra insurance.”

“Then I guess we’re all set,” Lara said lightly. “You drive.”

Nick climbed back into the driver’s side, leaving her to “ride shotgun,” the Old West term for the armed protector.

“And try to stay away from any rifles with 25 mm bullets,” she added.

“No kidding,” Nick replied. “You may as well know I called Internal Affairs on the way back and named three senior officers as murder suspects.”

“With no evidence?”

“And I told IA, I intend to interview them, as well. That’s our plan for the next couple of days, if that’s all right.”

“It’s more than all right.”

“Why?”

Lara took in a deep breath. “According to my mother and some old gossip, these three men have more in common than retiring. They were all involved with your aunt. I doubt it means anything, but—”

“Define ‘involved.’”

“That’s for us to find out. You didn’t know about this?”

“Hell, no.”

“Get in, Sadie.” The dog lifted the outside latch, bounded into the back seat and easily closed the door using Lara’s leather belt. “Good girl.”

“That was English,” Nick said.

“Sure. Police dogs can tell from body language what’s expected of them and whatever language the handler wants to teach them. Sadie was raised at our kennels, remember? I only use German for certain work-related tasks. So…who’s first on the list?” Lara asked Nick as they started off.

“Captain Girard. He’s working swing shift today. He’s still at home.”

“You know the way?”

“I have directions. He’s expecting us.”

“THIS IS IT,” Nick announced a half hour later. He parked at the curb in the hilly residential area of Clairemont.

They both unfastened their seat belts and climbed out of the car to look around. “What a great view,” Lara sighed. The upper-middle-class community was sprawled across the hills overlooking Mission Bay, San Diego’s huge recreational inlet.

“High praise, lady from La Jolla. Come on.”

Lara called her dog to heel. Sadie bounded through the window. Lara attached the leash, then started up the inclined driveway to Captain Girard’s place.

“Wait,” Nick said.

She paused. “What?”

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to be low-key around Girard.”

Lara used Nick’s expression from earlier. “Define low-key.”

“Play bodyguard, not detective. I don’t want anyone thinking you’re a threat. Threats are targets.”

“Since I’m protecting you, I’m certainly a target,” she agreed. “More importantly I am a threat, Detective. That’s what’s keeping you safe.”

“Listen, Lara—” she noted it was the first time he’d used her first name “—I’ve named three high-ranking officials as murder suspects—with no hard evidence. Working with me isn’t a good way to advance your career.”

“Thanks, but I’ll worry about my own career.”

Lara determinedly rang the doorbell. Captain Girard immediately answered. Lara wondered how long he’d known they’d been there. They were shown in, seated and offered hot or cold drinks after being told Mrs. Girard was out. They exchanged small talk, delaying the official questions as a courtesy.

“Beautiful dog,” Girard said, directing his attention toward Sadie, who had earlier obeyed Lara’s “Down” command. “A female, right? I’m surprised. I thought males were the rule—larger and more aggressive. And the females were saved for search-and-rescue or contraband work.”

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