Police Protector

“Then you don’t have a permit to carry concealed in Maryland.”

Irritation flashed in those bright blue eyes. “I’m an officer of the court, detective. I assure you all my paperwork is in order.”

“Uh-huh. Well as an officer of the court, you should know the state of Maryland doesn’t recognize the right to carry concealed weapons for anyone outside of law enforcement.”

If looks could burn, he’d be sizzling. It was her turn to grit perfectly even white teeth.

“It was an oversight. When I left work I forgot the gun was in there or I would have taken it out.”

He pulled out the pepper spray. “Boston must be rougher than I thought. Am I going to find a switchblade next?”

“No!”

“Good.” Lucan dug until he found the paperwork. A passport was there as well. That started a whole new set of alarm bells clanging.

“Planning a trip out of the country?”

“Yes. If you must know, my sister and I are taking her children on vacation this weekend. We’re flying to Bermuda.”

“Uh-huh. In December. Right before Christmas.”

“Can you think of a better time?”

Lucan eyed her. “Does your sister have a husband?” Her gaze flickered. He pressed home his point. “Does he know about your vacation plans?”

Her gaze dropped for an instant before challenging him once more. “That’s none of your business.”

“It is if he has custody and no knowledge of your plans.”

There was relief in her posture. “He doesn’t have custody. Milt’s her second husband. The children are all hers.”

Bingo. This was a family dispute of some sort. Reason enough for the kid to run off. If it wasn’t for all the money the boy was flashing around, Lucan might be tempted to dismiss the situation. As it was, however…“Are your plane tickets in here as well?”

“No. We haven’t booked our flight yet.” She flushed. “Okay, I know this sounds odd.”

He kept his expression neutral. Suddenly the fight seemed to go out of her.

“Look, something is wrong at my sister’s place. She was supposed to call me on Sunday to firm up our plans. She never called.”

Concern clouded her features. Lucan tried to determine if it was real. He had the impression of genuine emotion, but how could he tell?

“I haven’t been able to reach Casey all week. I wanted to come sooner but I had to finish a case before I could leave. You have my gun permits.”

“Permits, plural?”

“Yes.”

From inside her purse he pulled out an envelope he’d shifted while looking for her wallet. Kyra Wolfstead was licensed to carry a concealed weapon in the state of Massachusetts and two neighboring states.

He opened her bulging leather wallet and studied her driver’s license. The names matched. Her photo was crisp and clear. Lucan had a feeling cameras of any sort liked Kyra Wolfstead. He could understand their approval. If they’d met under different circumstances, he might approve as well.

“I have business cards in there too,” she added.

And a thick wad of cash that brought his head up sharply.

“I didn’t want to waste time going to an ATM after I got here,” she explained before he could ask.

Her tone was calm and brisk, but annoyance flashed once more. “We’re wasting time, Off—Detective. Casey has an ex-husband with a court injunction against him.”

Which could easily be checked out and just might explain the arsenal and the passport. Lucan lifted one of the business cards and scowled. “This says you’re an insurance investigator.”

She sighed. “I work for Dowlings Limited, as you can see. They are similar to Lloyds of London.”

“I’ve heard of Dowlings. So are you an investigator or a lawyer?”

“I’m both. I worked in international law for a time, which comes in handy with my current job. Many of our clients have places outside of the United States. Art objects and jewelry are often fenced in other countries. I know the laws and restrictions in many of those jurisdictions. Look, could we have this discussion later? I have an unusual job and it’s nice that you’re interested, but I’d like to go to my sister’s place and make sure Casey is okay. I’m deeply concerned.”

Headlights speared them as an approaching car slowed. In the time they’d been talking, dusk had settled over the neighborhood. The driver of the oncoming car swung into the opposite lane on the narrow street to pass Kyra’s car, which was still sitting there with its engine running. A woman and two children stared curiously at them as they drove by. Lucan’s car was parked half a block away, and he’d left his radio inside.

“Have a seat on the lawn under that tree.” He indicated an old elm with a wave of his hand. Kyra Wolfstead glared daggers. He raised a hand to forestall her next protest. “I need to move your car out of the middle of the street.”

“For pity’s sake. The ground is freezing.”

“I’ll hurry.”

“You’d better.” She strode to the tree without waiting for assistance and folded gracefully onto the yellowed grass. Lucan thought she might be trembling the slightest bit, but he read that as anger rather than fear.

Unloading her gun, he tucked the weapon in the back of his waistband, pocketing the shells. He removed the pepper spray and put that in his pocket as well. Then he drove her car to the side of the road.

In the back seat was a rich-looking, long leather coat that would no doubt match the boots and gloves. There was also an overnight-sized suitcase, a brown soft leather briefcase, what appeared to be a computer bag and two plastic sacks of brightly wrapped packages. An expensive GPS system sat on the dashboard displaying the car’s location. A set of printed directions from the Internet lay on the passenger’s seat beside a thermos.

Lucan opened the thermos and sniffed the contents. Some sort of spiced tea if he wasn’t mistaken, still warm. A sealed plastic drinking bottle was half full of what appeared to be water. This was a woman who obviously liked backup plans.

He checked the destination on the GPS device against the printed directions. They matched. The address was one block over. In the glove compartment, her registration was in order. The address matched the one on her driver’s license and the gun permits.

It appeared she was telling the truth. Still, that wad of cash and the weapon were a cause for concern. While this might be nothing more than a domestic dispute, there was a little boy running around with his own wad of cash.

Locking the car, Lucan went to where she sat and reached down to help her to her feet. She stiffened at his touch, but flowed up easily despite the skirt and heels.

“My car’s down the street,” he told her.

“Are you going to undo the cuffs?”

“No.”

“You’re really going to arrest me?” Despite her high-heeled boots, she kept pace with him easily. She had an athlete’s body. Lean and trim. He wondered if she was a runner.

“That remains to be seen,” he answered frankly.