Cold Target Part 6

"I don't think so."

Sarah raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Mother never talked about her," Meredith said defensively.

"Did you two ever talk about anything?"

"No, I guess we didn't. Not really. She was always busy. And even when she was home, she wasn't. Not really. Not in spirit." Pain and anger filled her again. Why had her mother waited until now to confide in her? How could her mother care so much about the child she'd given up and care so little about the one she'd kept? She swallowed past the lump in her throat. It was too late. Everything was too late. Too late to realize her mother 'had' loved, that she had suffered. Too late to discover that her mother 'did' feel emotion and maybe felt some for the daughter she 'had' raised.

Or had the lack of emotion been because she'd lost the daughter by a man she loved and was burdened with the one by the man she hated? That thought was excruciating.

She was numb. She realized she had been numb ever since her mother had revealed her secret. The numbness had cloaked an anger so deep she could barely contain it. She looked at her hands and saw that they shook.

She willed them to still.

Sarah looked away.

Meredith changed the subject. It was still too raw. "You've heard nothing from Nan?"

"Nope. I think no news is good news."

Meredith agreed. The longer the time pa.s.sed after a court order without contact, the better. Then she recalled the odd encounter in the courtroom. "Do you remember Gage Gaynor? He was a witness in a cop murder case I helped try."

"He's hard to forget. Big. Brooding. Honest, I think."

Meredith hadn't quite made up her mind about that yet. There had been rumors. Perhaps because he'd testified against a fellow cop. Or perhaps it was because of his cool green eyes that had been so difficult to read or the odd warm feelings he'd aroused in her. She hadn't trusted them.

"He was at the hearing."

Sarah looked surprised. "Did he say why?"

"Just that it was official business. He got in a dig about L.L. and Tommy's case."

"They were just kids."

"According to him, they were lowlifes unfit for a second chance."

"They were carrying drugs for a pittance. I think they learned their lesson." Despite having worked for the DA, Sarah was the original bleeding heart. It was at her behest that Meredith had taken the case. She'd been moving more and more toward family law and farther away from criminal practice.

The phone rang, but it stopped suddenly, and she knew Becky must have come into the office.

Meredith went to the door and looked out. Becky gave her a short wave and silently mouthed to her, "Are you here?"

"Who is it?" she mouthed back.

"A Detective Gaynor."

"Speak of the devil," Sarah muttered.

For a moment, Meredith thought she must have conjured him. It was an unwelcome thought. But she nodded and went into her office. She picked up her phone. "Detective?"

"I wondered whether Mrs. Fuller has had any more problems."

"No. Why?"

"He had a warning. If he goes near her, let me know."

"Thank you. I'll pa.s.s that on to Nan." She paused. "Will there be departmental charges?"

"No."

"May I ask why?"

"If he were fired, who would he blame?"

She was silent for a moment. He was right. A man with nothing to lose could be very dangerous. "And if he attacks someone else?"

"As far as we know, he hasn't. No complaints. He has a good record."

"Except for beating his wife."

"Look, Ms. Rawson, I don't like it any more than you do, but he'll be watched carefully now. One wrong step and he's out. He knows that. But I think he would be far more dangerous to your client if he lost his job. He wouldn't be able to find another in law enforcement. He would go after her for ruining his life."

"You sound as if you know that firsthand," she said.

"I do. A lady I liked a lot was killed that way."

She heard, or thought she heard, emotion in his voice. "Is that why you were in the courtroom?"

"I was the one who recommended that he not contest the charges, or the divorce. I told him I'd better not be wrong in not pressing for departmental action. If he so much as calls Nan, let me know."

"Thank you," she said. "You could have told me that then."

"Yep," he said cheerfully.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you were glaring at me."

She probably had been. She had been so sure he was there to support Fuller.

"Just thought you should know." He hung up.

She stared thoughtfully at the phone in her hand. One question answered.

She didn't think she would be as lucky on the others.

Why in the h.e.l.l had he done that?

Gage seldom explained himself, especially to an attorney.

But he had seen the suspicion in her face and for some reason he wanted to explain. He had no idea why he mentioned April, the wife of his first partner.

He hadn't been able to save her, but perhaps he could save Nan Fuller. Perhaps his call would give Nan a little rea.s.surance, and Gage intended to keep an eye on her soon-to-be ex-husband, even though it was no longer officially his job. He certainly hoped he had made a believer out of Rick Fuller.

He had another reason as well. He had not been able to resist picking up the phone this morning. She had stayed in his thoughts last night. Meredith Rawson had the cool demeanor of a society belle, but the sparks in her blue eyes were those of a true crusader. He had never cared for either. Yet the combination appealed to him. As did the wide mouth and firm chin. They kept her from being a traditional beauty but gave her an intriguing quality that lingered in his mind.

He replaced the phone in its cradle. Gorgeous eyes or not, she was not for him.

So why had he bothered?

He told himself he did it because of the Prescott case. She would have been around fifteen when the man died, and Prescott was a friend and acquaintance of her father. She might know something, even if she didn't realize it.

A leap in logic.

An excuse.

'Dammit.'

He didn't need the kind of grief he was tempting by even thinking of the woman in any way but a professional one.

He picked up the phone again and called Dom Cross. Cross was one of the few people he trusted, perhaps because he was a maverick like himself. Cross ran a shelter for runaway and troubled boys in New Orleans. He was an ex-convict and made no secret of it. His background was one reason he'd been so successful with his young charges. He related to troubled kids far better than any establishment type could.

Dom had tried to help Gage's brother years ago but it had been too late. Clint had been too deeply involved in a gang to extricate himself. Because he'd had a cop as a brother, Clint had been given several pa.s.ses by police who had found minute amounts of drugs on him. But then there was one time too many.

Gage wished Clint had never received a pa.s.s on the first offense. Perhaps that lesson would have stopped the progression of drugs and gangs earlier. It was one reason he said what he had to Meredith Rawson about the release of L.L.

"Gage!" Dom's hearty voice boomed through the receiver. "Haven't seen you for an age."

"Three weeks," Gage corrected.

"That's an age."

Gage ignored Dom's somewhat cavalier sense of time. "What about a pickup game this afternoon?"

"I think I can round up a few of the usual suspects."

"Good. I'll be there at six."

"Loser buys the drinks."

"A little confident, are you?"

"I know which kids to pick."

"So do I."

"I have a surprise on my side. Some new kids. Pretty d.a.m.n good. It's what you get for finking out on me."

Gage chuckled. Dom had conned him into the pickup games two years ago. The kids needed a righteous cop as a good role model, he kept saying. Problem was Gage had doubts about his own righteousness.

But he'd owed Dom for what he had tried to do for Clint. And d.a.m.n if he didn't just like the man. He was the most persuasive charmer Gage had ever met. And Dom genuinely cared about boys who had no one else who cared. And he made other people care.

Gage also enjoyed athletics, particularly basketball. In high school, he'd played both basketball and football, then football in college until an injury had ended his pro hopes. And his scholarship.

Those pickup games at the shelter were the only compet.i.tion he had these days.

"I'll be there," he said with some relish. He always enjoyed tramping Dom.

*Chapter Five*

'NEW ORLEANS'.

Meredith stayed at the women's shelter longer than she intended. She devoted at least one afternoon a week there to counsel the women on their legal options. Some, like Nan, she represented pro bono.

The questions were always the same. Custody. Protective orders. The return of personal property. Marital and child support. The husband almost always had been the dominant member of the family and had controlled all finances and purchases. The wife rarely had any resources of her own.

Today the list of questions was particularly long, and she hadn't left until nearly eight.

She headed for the hospital again.

Her mother was the same. The private duty nurse was the same one who had been there the night before.

At Meredith's unspoken question, she shook her head. "No change, Ms. Rawson."

"She hasn't been conscious at all?"

"No."

"Is there any way we can wake her? Any stimulus?"

Her expression gave Meredith the answer. Her oral answer, though, was more cautious. "You might discuss it with her doctor."

"Does she know I'm here?"

"I don't know," the nurse said honestly. "There's a theory that comatose patients feel the presence of loved ones, but no one really blows."

The answer didn't comfort, or absolve, Meredith. Everyone should have someone with them. Someone they loved. Someone who loved them.

Now it was only her.

"Why don't you go out to supper?" she asked the nurse. "I'll stay with her until you get back."