The Pediatrician's Personal Protector Read online

Reilly looked at Christy and gave her a rueful shrug.

  She sniffed. “Why do you think I left Louisiana?” she said archly.

  “It’s not the place,” he said. “It’s the people. There are good people and bad people everywhere.”

  When she winced, he realized that his words had hit too close to home.

  IT WAS AFTER ONE O’CLOCK before Deputy Watts was done with questioning Christy and forcing her to read her transcribed statements. She’d slowly and meticulously made changes to the transcription using her left hand.

  To his credit, the deputy had ordered in po’ boy sandwiches and iced tea for lunch. To his discredit, the po’ boys weren’t seafood. They were piled high with ham and cheese and mustard—loads of mustard. Christy had picked at hers, tearing off bits of the delicious French bread and washing it down with sweet tea.

  Reilly stayed with her the whole time. She didn’t want him to know how much that meant to her. She didn’t want anyone to know that. It bothered her that in two days Reilly Delancey had become the one constant in her suddenly out-of-control life.

  She’d heard of the Delanceys. Everyone who’d grown up in Louisiana had. Because of their infamous grandfather, they were all stinking rich. Didn’t have to work a day if they didn’t want to. So why had Reilly and his brother become cops? She assessed Reilly. He looked sincere and genuinely delighted with his sandwich. But she didn’t know him. She couldn’t take the risk of depending on him.

  She’d never allowed herself to depend on anyone—never looked to a man for validation—except her father. She wasn’t happy that Reilly Delancey had appointed himself her protector. Even if she had no idea how she’d have gotten through last night and this morning without him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something else to eat?” he asked for the third time as he drove her to the hospital to see her father.

  “I’m positive,” she responded shortly. Her stomach was growling, but she was about to see her father for the first time since he’d been admitted to the cardiac care unit. Even if she could have eaten, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have been able to hold it down.

  Reilly placed his hand at the small of her back as they walked through the halls to the doors of the CCU.

  “Thanks for bringing me here,” she said dismissively. “What time will you pick me up?”

  Reilly looked at his watch, then at a sign beside the door. It listed visiting hours as twenty minutes every hour between 7:00 a.m. and 7:00 p.m.

  “I’ve got a few things to do. What if I pick you up at four-thirty? Then you can have three visits with him.”

  She nodded. “That’ll be good. The nurse told me yesterday that if it wasn’t too busy this afternoon, I could stay a little longer.” She took a shaky breath and sighed.

  “Christy? You’re sure you’re okay? I can get back here earlier if you need me to.”

  She shook her head. “No. I need to be with my dad as much as I can, before—”

  Reilly gave her a searching look before nodding. “I’ll see you at four-thirty then.” He turned and headed back toward the front of the building.

  She knew what Reilly was thinking, as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud. How could she sit there at her father’s bedside, knowing he’d killed four young women? How could she still view him as her dad, as the man who’d reared her and taught her the values she now embraced?

  “I don’t know,” she whispered as she pressed the automatic door opener and showed the nurse her visitor’s badge. She braced herself for the woman’s reaction when she said, “I’m here to see Albert Moser. I’m his daughter.”

  Chapter Four

  While Christy visited with her father, Reilly searched out Ryker in his office.

  “Hey, old man,” he greeted his older-by-seven-minutes brother. “How’s Nicole?”

  His brother’s normally solemn face lit up at the mention of his fiancée. “She’s fine. The burns on her hands are almost healed.”

  “Thank God they were only first-degree.”

  “Thank God I got there before Moser shot her,” Ryker said hoarsely.

  Reilly had never seen him so passionate about anything or anyone. Things had always come easy for his brother. Ryker had excelled at everything. And beaten Reilly. In high school, Ryker was quarterback, leaving Reilly to settle for wide receiver. Ryker had graduated top of his class. Reilly was second.

  Both had joined the St. Tammany Parish Sheriff’s Department, but Ryker had gotten the coveted detective position. Reilly, who was the better shot, had been chosen for SWAT.

  And now, Ryker was getting married and once again Reilly was one step behind. One step, hell—he corrected himself. He wasn’t even dating anyone.

  “Speaking of Moser,” he responded. “I’ve got a few questions about his daughter’s case.”

  Ryker sent him an arch look. “Moser’s daughter that was murdered? That’s an NOPD case. It was shelved as a mugging five years ago.”

  Reilly sat down in the chair across from Ryker’s desk. “Albert Moser’s older daughter sought me out at the courthouse yesterday. Thought I was you. She gave me an earful before I could get a word in to tell her she had the wrong twin.”

  “Oh, yeah, Doctor Moser. The Ice Queen.”

  Reilly smiled and shook his head. “Ice Queen? Yeah, not so much. She was attacked last night at her cottage at the Oak Grove Inn.”

  Ryker sat and pushed folders out of his way. He leaned back. “I heard about the attack. I’ve just started looking into Autumn’s case again to get a better read on Christy’s situation. She okay?”

  “Broken wrist and contusions.”

  “How’re you involved? Other than your obvious preference for tall gorgeous brunettes. Tell me she doesn’t have green eyes.”

  Reilly pointedly ignored him. “Yesterday, I told her I’d have you get in touch with her, and I gave her my cell number.”

  “Your cell number. Why didn’t you give her mine?” Ryker’s blue eyes sparked with mischief.

  Reilly didn’t bother to answer. “When she was attacked, she managed to grab her phone and quick-dial my number.”

  “So you were first on scene?”

  “Yeah. I called for backup, but by the time I got there the guy was gone.” Reilly took a breath. “You won’t believe what he said to her.”

  Ryker waited.

  “He told her, ‘Get out of town or you’re as dead as your sister.’”

  “He said that?”

  Reilly nodded. “So what did you find out about the case? Is NOPD going to look at it again?”

  “Doubt it. I called Dixon Lloyd at the Eighth, down on Royal Street in the Quarter, and got the name of the detective who caught Autumn Moser’s case. His name was—” Ryker grabbed a small notepad that lay on the corner of his desk and paged through it for a few seconds. “Fred Samhurst.”

  Reilly grabbed a piece of paper from Ryker’s trash can and made a note. “Samhurst. What’d he have to say?”

  “Where are you going with this, kid?”

  “Christy could have been killed last night. Her life was threatened. And if the man who attacked her didn’t kill her sister, he knows who did.”

  “Well, Moser never gave up the notion that his daughter was killed by someone she knew. He thought it was a married man. He said his daughter told him the man was obsessive about keeping the affair quiet. Said his reputation and his career would be in jeopardy. Who’s handling Christy’s case?”

  “Wait a minute,” Reilly said. “Go back to the married man. His reputation and career would be in jeopardy?”

  Ryker shrugged. “That’s what he told me. I thought maybe it was someone Moser knew, and that’s why she wouldn’t tell him. But Moser insisted he didn’t know anybody who would be fired if he was caught having an affair.”

  “But she thought Moser would recognize him?”

  “I thought about that. Maybe he wouldn’t have known the man. Not personally. Maybe the guy was a celebrity or a politician. So
meone in the public eye.” Ryker leaned back in his chair. “Moser nixed the celebrity idea. Said if the man were rich, Autumn would have made him buy her stuff. He was right about that. There was no sign in her belongings that someone was spending money on her.”

  “So maybe what he bought her was drugs,” Reilly said.

  Ryker’s brows drew down into a frown. “Why all the questions? What are you up to, kid?”

  “I want to help Christy. I want to find the bastard who attacked her and see what he knows. What I don’t understand is why no one listened to her father. Why wasn’t Autumn Moser’s case reopened a long time ago?”

  “I can’t answer that. I can tell you that the detective who caught the case probably missed something.”

  Reilly laughed without humor. “Yeah? You think so?”

  “Do you want to hear what I know? I’ve got plenty to do. I could just let you dig it up yourself.”

  “Don’t go all big-brother master detective on me, Ryker.” Reilly hated it when Ryker took that supercilious attitude.

  “Fine. Dixon didn’t want to rag on a fellow detective, but he did tell me that a couple of years ago Samhurst had a mild heart attack. Said he lost a lot of weight—maybe thirty pounds or so—which left him about forty pounds overweight.”

  “Are you kidding me? He was that overweight and out of shape? No telling what he missed. How in hell is he still on active duty?”

  Ryker shrugged. “Everybody’s shorthanded.”

  “What else did Dixon tell you?”

  “Nothing. I talked to Samhurst, but he didn’t have much to say. He got real defensive and claimed he didn’t remember much. I asked him why three point-blank shots to the chest didn’t throw up a red flag, but he didn’t have an answer.”

  “Three shots to the chest? That’s how she died? Holy—” Reilly felt a sick weight in his chest. “No wonder Christy wants someone to reopen the case. Did you know she was on the phone with her sister when she was shot?”

  “Yep. She gave me the gist of the conversation, and I got copies of her sister’s case file from NOPD.”

  “Yeah? What about the sister’s phone? Christy said it turned up missing.”

  “That’s right. It was never recovered. Frankly, I think Samhurst blew it, big time. He never should have written it up as a mugging.”

  “That does seem outrageous. A mugger unloading point-blank into a young girl when any night of the week the Quarter is crawling with drunk guys with full wallets. And what would a mugger want with a phone that could be traced to him?”

  Ryker nodded in agreement. “What I don’t get, is if the doctor’s so all-fired intent on catching her sister’s killer now, where was she back then?”

  “In Boston, doing her residency or something.”

  Ryker shook his head. “Think about it. If she’d come home and stirred all this up with NOPD, maybe somebody would have looked at Samhurst’s conclusions more closely. It could have saved four young women’s lives.”

  That sick weight in Reilly’s chest got a lot heavier. “Yeah. I have a feeling Christy hasn’t missed that point.”

  Ryker nodded grimly. “Okay. I can give you a copy of my files and report. But, kid, I don’t know what you think you’re going to do—”

  Reilly stood. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to find out what happened to Autumn Moser.”

  Ryker stared up at him. “How exactly? Are you going to go barging into the Eighth Precinct of the NOPD and demand justice?”

  “You just get me your reports. And everything you’ve got on the sister’s case.”

  “Reilly—”

  “I may not be a detective, but I’m a law-enforcement officer. And if I can’t do anything through official channels, I’ll do it unofficially.”

  Ryker stood too. “This isn’t like you, kid. Tell me you’re not trying to get into Christy Moser’s—”

  “Hey!” Reilly snapped. “Of course not. Come on, Ryker. You saw her. She looks tough as nails on the outside, but she’s about to fall apart.”

  “Well, I definitely saw the tough-as-nails part. And, by the way, the gorgeous part. But falling apart? Nah, she seemed perfectly together to me.”

  “Well, she’s not. Think about it. She’s lost her mother and her sister and may lose her father, and now her life is being threatened. She needs someone on her side.”

  “Okay, Christy Moser’s life sucks right now. Why are you getting involved? If she needs protecting, give her the number of Dawson’s security agency. She can pay for a bodyguard.” Reilly glared at his brother, but before he could open his mouth, Ryker blew out a breath between his teeth. “Don’t tell me you’ve appointed yourself her knight in shining armor?”

  Reilly didn’t like Ryker’s sarcastic tone. “Well,” he drawled, “it’s not like I’ll be the first Delancey twin to do that.”

  Ryker’s lips thinned. “Be careful, Reilly. Don’t lose your job over this woman.”

  “Trust me, old man. If it comes down to my job or her life, it will be an easy choice. I don’t intend to let Christy Moser out of my sight until I’m sure she’s no longer in danger.”

  REILLY LEFT RYKER’S office with the Autumn Moser file and headed over to the office of the SWAT commander. He needed to let him know what he was going to be doing, and he didn’t want to try to explain over the phone.

  Errol “Ace” Acer had been on the St. Tammany Parish SWAT team since its inception in 1980. He’d been SWAT commander for three years. Reilly was one of fourteen officers who, in essence, had two bosses. Mike Davis, the chief deputy of the Chef Voleur office of the St. Tammany Parish Sheriff’s Office, and SWAT commander, Acer.

  He wanted to get Ace’s approval before going through the chief deputy for his request for leave. He drove over to the SWAT leader’s office.

  “Ace, got a minute?”

  Acer looked up, his rugged, lined face grave. When he saw Reilly, a corner of his somber mouth turned up. “Sure, Delancey. Sit.”

  “Thanks.” Reilly didn’t want to spend a lot of time chewing the fat with the veteran SWAT officer, although he usually enjoyed it. He needed to get the okay from him and put in his request to Mike Davis before he had to get back to pick up Christy.

  Ace stacked the papers he’d been perusing and set them aside with a sigh.

  “Problem?”

  Ace shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing new. The parents of that kid that shot his buddy over at Ramey Middle School are suing the department.”

  “Damn,” Reilly commiserated. “That was as clean a talk-down as we’ve ever done.”

  Ace nodded. “Right. You did a terrific job.”

  Reilly shook his head. “Everybody did. We were lucky that time.”

  “Damn straight.”

  The bottom line of any SWAT team conversation after an incident, whether it was a talk-down or a takedown, was always the same.

  We were lucky that time.

  Damn straight.

  Reilly had never been in a situation that had turned out “unlucky,” which meant that a police officer had been killed. There had only been one incident like that—eleven years ago. One was enough.

  “But you’re not here to keep me company. What’s up?” Ace leaned back in his chair and intertwined his fingers behind his head.

  “I want to take leave, and I wanted to ask you first.”

  “Leave?” Ace’s white eyebrows shot up. “Since when? And why are you asking me? Administratively, you’re under Mike.”

  Reilly had never taken any time off, not in the entire four years he’d been on the force. “It’s kind of a personal issue,” he said. “You’re familiar with the October Killer case?” Ace nodded.

  “Moser’s daughter is here for the arraignment, and she was attacked last night.”

  The SWAT commander didn’t comment, nor did his expression change. He just waited.

  “The attacker told her if she didn’t get out of town, she’d be ‘as dead as her sister.’” Reil
ly sat forward. “I want to see if I can help her get her sister’s case reopened.”

  Ace closed his eyes for a moment. “You know that’s going to be touchy, since your brother’s the primary on her father’s case.” Typically, he didn’t waste words or time. He got straight to the point.

  “Yes, sir. Actually, I’m not asking to be excused from SWAT duty. I’ll still be on call 24/7. I just wanted to let you know and see if you approved of me taking time from regular duties before I put in my request to Deputy Chief Davis.”

  Ace sat up. “Sounds good to me. Go for it.”

  Reilly stood, a little surprised. He’d half expected Ace to react the same way his brother had. But if Ace thought Reilly was being foolish to run off chasing an ice-cold case, he kept his opinion to himself. “Thank you, sir. I’ll make sure that Dispatch knows I’m still on call.”

  Reilly drove back to Chef Voleur and caught Deputy Chief Mike Davis just as he was leaving his office.

  “Chief, have you got a minute?”

  “On my way to see the sheriff. What is it?”

  “I want to take some leave. About a week. Maybe two.”

  “Leave? Before Christmas?” Mike blinked. “Can Ace spare you from the SWAT team?”

  “I talked to him earlier. If you approve, I’ll take time from my regular duties but I’ll still be available for SWAT duty.”

  Mike stopped at the door to the parking lot. “What’s this about, Reilly?”

  Reilly took a deep breath. “Well, sir, I was the first one on the scene at the Oak Grove Inn last night, where a woman was attacked by an unknown assailant.”

  Mike’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah?”

  “The woman who was attacked is Albert Moser’s daughter. Her attacker told her to get out of town or she’d end up as dead as her sister.”

  “Moser? The October Killer? Delancey, what the hell are you up to?”

  “Sir, she appealed to me to help her find her sister’s killer. I want to do that.”

  “That’s an NOPD Detective Division issue, since the girl was killed down in the French Quarter.” Mike pushed open the glass door. “Besides, it’s a cold case.”

  “I’m not asking you to approve what I want to do. I’m just asking for time off.”