Her Baby's Protector: Saved by the Lawman / Saved by the SEAL

“How long has she worked for you?”

“Since Jamie was born fifteen months ago. She came highly recommended, with a great résumé. If you’re thinking she had anything to do with what happened at the reserve, you can stop. She didn’t.” Rachel was more like a little sister than an employee. Kate headed for the door into the utility room.

“Do you have a dog?”

When she entered the home, her big white cat was waiting for her. “No. I only have Boss.”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure I want to know why you call your cat Boss.”

“Because he thinks he runs my house. It’s easier letting him think that than fighting with him all the time.” He was ten years old and a present from her husband.

“So you don’t have a watchdog?”

“No, but I have a state-of-the-art alarm system.”

“A guard dog is one of the best protections.”

“Do you have one?” Kate lifted Jamie out of the stroller.

“Yes. But no place is one hundred percent safe.”

“That’s not very comforting.”

“I say that to stress the importance of vigilance.”

Could she have avoided the confrontation at the reserve if she had been more in tune with her surroundings? The jogger had nearly been at the downed tree before she’d heard and acknowledged his presence in her mind.

Rachel entered the kitchen, took a look at Kate and asked, “What’s wrong?” then fixed her gaze on Chase Walker.

“Detective Walker stopped a man from attacking me.”

Rachel moved across the room. “Are you and Jamie okay?” She peeked at the child, his head lying against Kate’s shoulder.

“Yes. He wore himself out. Please put him to bed while I talk with the detective.”

Rachel took Jamie from her. Her son’s eyes fluttered open but then closed again when he saw his nanny.

While Rachel left the kitchen, Kate walked to the cabinet. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Iced tea?”

“Actually, water sounds great after jogging.”

“I agree.”

Kate fixed two glasses, handed him one and then made her way into the hallway. “Let’s talk in the den.”

She lived in this room filled with photos, books and comfortable furniture. In the corner was Jamie’s toy box, which he usually made a beeline for every time he came into the den. Kate settled onto the overstuffed maroon-and-navy couch while the police detective took the chair across from her, giving her a good view of him, all six feet. His short black hair, damp with sweat, lay at odd angles. But what drew her was his silver-gray gaze, alert, intense.

Earlier she’d noticed he was favoring his left leg. “Did you hurt yourself running after the attacker?”

He kneaded his thigh. “Not really. I was injured three years ago, and occasionally it’ll flare up when I push myself.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that for me. No doubt you were off duty.”

“A police officer is never totally off duty. There’s something in our makeup. We can’t ignore a person in trouble.”

“And for that, I’m grateful.” She reclined back and relaxed for the first time since the attack. There was something about Chase Walker’s presence that was reassuring. She looked into his eyes and felt safe. “What do you need to know?”

He fished out his phone again, setting it to record. “Tell me what happened.”

Kate relived the incident, replaying it in her mind as she went through what she remembered, parts of the attack already foggy. Her heartbeat sped as words tumbled from her.

“What do you think he was after?”

“I don’t know. Other than my wedding ring, I wasn’t wearing or carrying anything of value.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“No. He cursed when I kicked him. I wasn’t going down without a fight.”

“Do you think it was a kidnapping attempt?”

She wanted to say no but couldn’t. “Possibly. Or he was coming after me, but I was holding Jamie. Maybe he wanted to get Jamie out of the way? It is hard to say.”

“Any gut feelings?”

“Do you believe in those?” The intensity pouring off of him further soothed her fear. At this moment no one would hurt her or Jamie.

“Yes. A couple have saved my life in the past. We take in nonverbal cues, sometimes not even realizing it, and process what they mean. That’s where a gut feeling comes from. At least that’s what I think. So any hunches?”

She closed her eyes and reviewed again what she remembered in her mind. “Yes. I think this was personal. Why was the tree down over the path I usually use when I come to the reserve?”

“So a planned attack. Okay. Do you follow the same schedule every day?”

“Am I predictable?” She drew in a deep breath and thought about her routine. Usually, she got up every morning, spent some time with Jamie before she headed for the courthouse. She often had lunch in her office while she worked so she could spend more time with her son later. She frequently left for the day by four unless a court session ran longer. “Yes, especially during the weekdays. When I come home, I either jog for half an hour or longer, depending on how Jamie is. He likes to run with me. If the weather is bad, then I stay home and put music on and dance. My son loves to do that, too.”

“But if the weather permits, you run outside during the work week?”

“Yes. I’m indoors all day at the courthouse. My cases can get intense. Exercising helps relieve my stress.”

“That’s why I run, too.”

Her deceased husband would only swim, sometimes even in cool weather. He’d been talking about enclosing the pool in the backyard right before his death. Her world had ended that day, too. Her son had saved her from the abyss of sorrow she’d wallowed in right after James had died.

“So Rachel is your live-in nanny.”

It wasn’t a question, but she said, “Yes. I was going to stay home longer than six months after my son was born, but the person who was filling in while I was on maternity leave quit suddenly. Rachel was already working for me part-time, freeing me up for a few hours every day to run errands and get things done. When I needed her to switch to full-time, she was available to step right in, allowing me to get back to work. In the long run that had been a good decision.”

“Is there anyone who might have a grudge against you?” His gray eyes, the color of a thunderstorm brewing, locked with hers. “Who do you think would do this?”