Private Bodyguard

Do the right thing this time.

“Hold on,” Darling said after another knock sounded. She hoped Oliver didn’t catch the waver in her voice. She put the pictures, including the clipping, back into the folder and tucked it under her arm to unlock the door.

“You okay?” Oliver asked immediately. Perhaps her poker face wasn’t at its best today. He wore a zip-up black jacket over a black shirt that looked good contrasting with his lighter hair. Staying away from the all-black bodyguard stereotype, he’d donned beige cargo pants with more pockets than she cared to count. She didn’t recognize the brand of tennis shoes, but she bet that he could run fast in them if needed.

“Yeah, just tired,” she lied, leading him into the lobby. “Let me just freshen up and I’ll be ready to go.” She stuffed the folder into her purse and excused herself to the bathroom. There she turned on the faucet and took a deep breath.

What had briefly felt like a gift that could close her case against Nigel now felt tainted and wrong. As far as she knew, no one in Mulligan was aware of her parents’ past, especially the quiet part she had played in the background.

Do the right thing.

She didn’t need to wonder what that meant.

Whoever had sent her the folder wanted her to turn it in to the cops. But why not just do it themselves? If the red-haired woman was the same one who had been left in the tub, that meant the pictures definitely linked the two before the hotel room. Why would they give them to her?

Darling ran her hands under the cold water but didn’t splash her face. For the first time in a long while, she had taken pains to look nice. She wore a pale pink blouse that dipped down into a V—not enough to be seductive, just feminine—a pair of comfortably tight light blue jeans and dark brown boots that folded down at the ankle. Her hair was twisted up into a purposefully messy bun so the yellow daisy earrings she loved so much could be seen with ease. A subtle coral tinted her plump yet small lips. They were downturned at the moment.

She’d convinced herself that Oliver’s presence in Mulligan was a good thing. What Oliver had done in the past had broken a big part of who she was, but she liked to think she had come out stronger because of it. As soon as she had turned eighteen, she had left California, her family and all of those bad memories behind. There was no reason to dredge them up now. If she could keep her head up while Oliver was in town, then she could get through anything.

That thought alone pushed a wave of new purpose through her bones until it made her stand taller. Putting away the man behind the murder of the woman in the tub was more important than her failed love life. Nigel Marks’s mistress deserved better.

Darling eyed her purse before nodding to herself in the mirror.

She did need to do the right thing.

“You ready for some breakfast?” Oliver asked when she emerged. He was talking to her but looking around the office’s lobby. Pride swelled in her chest.

Acuity Investigations was housed in an old strip mall that predated half of the other businesses in Mulligan. Acuity was at the tail end of the shops, next to a narrow road that deposited drivers back on Main Street. The reason Jeff Berns, Darling’s former boss, had rented the particular space was its proximity to traffic yet its backdoor access so clients could be as discreet as they wanted.

Darling remembered the first time she had walked into Acuity. The cream-colored walls, leather and oak furniture, pictures of boats nestled in calm water and slightly musty smell had been a sharp contrast to what she referred to as her former life. Instead of turning her nose up at Jeff and his place of employment like her parents would have, Darling had embraced it with vigor.

Acuity wasn’t fancy or elegant, but it was important to her. As Oliver’s eyes traveled along the hardwood floors to the heavy oak door that led to her office, in the back of her mind she hoped he felt that truth ring through his bones as she did.

“Actually, would you mind if we swung by the police station really quickly?” Darling asked when his eyes finally moved back to hers. “I need to give something to Deputy Derrick.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she tacked on, “If you don’t have enough time, we could reschedule.”

“No, it’s fine,” he answered. “Just as long as we actually eat afterward.”

Darling slipped into her black faux-leather jacket and smiled inwardly at its comfort before ushering Oliver out and locking the door behind her. They walked in silence up to his SUV. She was oddly saddened when he didn’t open the door for her. The Oliver from younger years had not only opened the car doors for her but also occasionally put on her seat belt, laughing and mock-admonishing her about the importance of car safety.

The memory tugged at long-forgotten heartstrings. Now as they settled into their seats, the disconnect between the present and the past stretched between them.

“Is this visit for business or pleasure?” Oliver asked as the SUV pulled out of the parking lot.

She gave him a sideways glance. “Business.”

He nodded to the road. “Does it have to do with Nigel?”

“It does,” she admitted.

“What is it?” he ventured.

“Something very important.”

She didn’t elaborate and he didn’t push.

“I don’t think he did it, Darling,” Oliver said. “I don’t think he killed that woman.”

Darling couldn’t help the reflex to tense up, her body readying automatically for a verbal spar. It was a response she had picked up out of necessity as a young female investigator. She rolled her shoulders back to ease the new tension and answered with a controlled voice.

“Did he admit to being at the hotel last night?” she asked.

She knew Oliver sensed the mood change. He shifted in his seat and lost his smile.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask. As soon as he was released, he locked himself in his study with his lawyer and son. They were still there when I left.”

Darling’s control cracked. “They released him?”

Oliver nodded. “I don’t think there was enough evidence to hold him.”

“But he was there,” Darling exclaimed. “He spent the night with her!”

“Just because he spent the night with her doesn’t mean he killed her, Darling.” Instant anger filled her veins at how he said her name, as if she was some confused child.

“So, what, it’s just a coincidence, then? You can’t comprehend that a man like him, an adulterer, could ever do something like kill his mistress?”

She watched as his jaw hardened. “We don’t know for sure he was having an affair,” he said. “The visit could have been business-related for all we know.”

Darling laughed. “Oh, you’re right. They probably just sat around and talked business all night.”

“It’s possible,” he tried, but Darling wasn’t having it. Defending men like Nigel, bending to their wills, was unforgivable in her book. Heat rose from the pit of her stomach, but it wasn’t embarrassment. It was the force of an old wound breaking open. She yanked the pictures from her purse right as they turned into the station’s parking lot.

“He seems to like to talk to women in secret,” she said, barely able to keep her voice level. Oliver took the pictures from her hand and cycled through them just as she remembered the clipping was on the bottom. Operating on the assumption that Oliver knew he was dealing with an angry Darling, she snatched the pictures back and threw open the door. “I’ll be right back.”

She marched into the weathered, blue-painted building without looking back. Her head was almost spinning with the range of emotions she had experienced in such a short amount of time. It amazed her how Oliver brought out the worst in her, no matter what attitude she wanted to convey. Instead of seeming put together, she had come off as truly childish in the end. Her cheeks heated; this time it was all shame.

The Mulligan Police Department was poorly insulated. Derrick had liked to joke that was one of the reasons the town’s crime rate was so low. No one wanted to spend the night in the cells. She hadn’t even liked spending the morning in one. Darling wondered how Nigel Marks’s act would shake the community’s relative peace and quiet. She made a mental note to grab a newspaper after her breakfast date was finished to see how the media had handled it.

“Hey, Trudy,” Darling greeted the bundled-up secretary. She was the first and only barrier between the front doors and the bullpen.

“Darlin’ Smith, I hope you’re not in trouble again,” she said. Her tone was laced with disapproval. Trudy had more grandchildren than most people had fingers. She was proud of this and often acted as Mulligan’s mother hen, believing she had earned that right even more with every relation that had come from her and her children.

“Not today,” she said with a small smile. “But I do need to see Derrick. Is he in?”

“No, ma’am. He should be in soon, though. Do you want to wait?”

“Um, no, but can I just leave something on his desk?” Darling flashed the woman the folder, though the pictures were in her other hand. Trudy nodded and let Darling around her to the rows of desks. Another cop sat focused on his computer and didn’t seem to notice or care as she went to Derrick’s space in the corner. Glancing at a picture of Derrick’s niece and nephew positioned next to his keyboard, Darling felt as if she was making a good decision by turning the evidence in. Derrick wasn’t her Mr. Right, but he was a good, just man.

However, in true Darling fashion, she quickly snapped pictures of each individual image and their corresponding dates before slipping them into the folder, minus the newspaper clipping. She stuffed that into her back pocket.