The Baby Wore a Badge Read online

  “No,” Jake finally snapped into the phone. “I came here because my family’s here. I thought being around family would be good for my daughter.”

  “What would be good for our granddaughter,” Maggie’s father retorted with authority, deliberately eliminating the baby’s connection to the man he was talking to and emphasizing the baby’s connection to him, “is to be with people who know what they’re doing. That means not being around a group of fumbling, barely post-adolescence people who haven’t a clue about what it actually takes to raise a child.”

  Jake didn’t bother with denials, with retorting that he had experienced help, very experienced help, in Calista, who also happened to be the mayor’s cousin. Saying so would only be wasting his breath because Maggie’s father wasn’t the type of man to listen to anything but the sound of his own voice.

  But Jake wanted the man to know that he didn’t appreciate being spied on. How else could O’Shea have found out where he and Marlie were unless the man had hired a professional snoop to spy on him and his family and friends?

  Just thinking about it made Jake angry.

  “How much are you paying that private investigator of yours to spy on us?” he asked contemptuously.

  “Doesn’t matter,” O’Shea dismissed. “It’s all worth it now that he’s located you.” And then he laughed to himself, obviously pleased that he had rattled his granddaughter’s father. “What’s the point of having money if you can’t use it to help you?” he asked flippantly. “If you’re as smart as Maggie claimed you were, you’ll give up now. I’ve got a lot more money than you do and it’s for damn sure we’re going to get better legal representation than you can afford.

  “Besides,” O’Shea continued, giving Jake a summation of what lay ahead if he did choose to fight for custody of the little girl, “Gloria and I have the established lifestyle as well as the friends and the connections. Face it, we’ve got you beat, boy. Who do you think the judge is going to go with? Well-off, stable grandparents or a father who doesn’t even have his own place?”

  Jake struggled not to let his temper explode. “I’m staying with my sister and her husband.”

  “Exactly. No place of your own. You sublet your apartment. The lease will be up on that soon. That leave of absence you’re on will dry up and you’ll just be another statistic. You want that kind of life for Marlie?”

  Calista caught him by the wrist, trying to get his attention. She’d pieced things together from his side of the conversation and the few loud words she’d overheard coming from Harry O’Shea.

  “What?” Jake demanded sharply, frustrated.

  “Ask to meet with them one-on-one, without lawyers,” she told him.

  He didn’t see what good that would do. From everything Maggie had ever told him, O’Shea wasn’t a man who could be reasoned with, but he did as she asked. “Can we just get together and see if we can resolve this?”

  “It would already be resolved if you’d just admit that we can give Marlie a lot more than you can.” There was a pause for a moment, and then O’Shea said, “Okay, we’re willing to see you. Maybe we can come to some kind of an arrangement without having to squander any more money on outside parties.” His inference was clear. O’Shea meant that he was going to have to be the one who ultimately came around.

  Suggesting the time and place, both of which were grudgingly acceptable to the older man, Jake hung up. He felt drained as well as cornered. Looking at Calista, he shook his head.

  “I should just use the time to grab Marlie and make a run for it. Really disappear this time.” Because up until now, that really hadn’t been his intention. But the threat he’d heard in O’Shea’s voice was real. The man intended to separate him from his daughter. Permanently. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

  Calista shook her head. Going into hiding with his daughter wasn’t a good idea and Jake knew it, she thought. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. What kind of a life would that be for him, not to mention for Marlie?

  “Your late partner’s parents will only track you down,” she pointed out.

  He didn’t know about that. “Maybe not. There’re still places in this country where a man could just disappear.”

  He would know about that better than she would, Calista conceded. But that still didn’t change the bottom line: that taking up that kind of life was really no life at all.

  “Is that the kind of life you want for Marlie?” she asked him point-blank.

  “If it meant that I could keep her in my life, then yes.”

  “You don’t have to resort to such drastic measures to keep her,” she reminded him quietly. They’d already discussed this. Had he forgotten? “You said that the key to keeping Marlie is to demonstrate to the presiding judge that you can provide a stable, loving home life for your daughter.”

  Restless, worried, Jake began to pace around the bedroom. “I know what I said, but O’Shea practically told me he’s going to use his money to show that he and his wife are the ones who can offer Marlie a far more stable life than I can.” There was anger in his eyes as he spoke. He felt as if the deck was stacked against him. “They’re settled, I’m not.”

  “You’re not an unfit parent,” she pointed out with feeling. “The courts are always more inclined to leave a child with her biological parent as long as there’s no indication of child abuse, neglect or endangerment. And there isn’t. You’ve got a good reputation and look, you’ve even taken a leave of absence just to devote yourself to learning the ropes on how to be a good parent. You can get character witnesses by the droves to line up and testify on your behalf.”

  Calista could see that he really wanted to believe what she was saying, wanted to think it was all going to turn out all right, but a deep, underlying fear was holding him back.

  She had one more card to play. “And if all else fails, we still have that ace up our sleeve.”

  He looked at her sharply. Had he missed something? “Which is?”

  How could he have forgotten? she wondered. “You can produce a wife to show the court just how serious you are about providing a stable, wholesome atmosphere for your daughter.”

  “Produce a wife,” Jake repeated, then laughed shortly. “Right. Just as soon as I marry one.”

  Did that mean he remembered their conversation, or was he just making a general wisecrack? Her eyes met his, but she was unable to determine the answer.

  “Exactly.”

  Several weeks had gone by since she’d made that initial offer. At the time, he’d thought she’d said it just to make him feel better. And even if she half meant it when she’d offered, he’d assumed they’d gone passed that.

  The parameters of their relationship had certainly changed. They’d become closer and more intimate. Holding her to an offer of a marriage of convenience, for lack of a better term, just wasn’t something he felt that, in good conscience, he could do. Especially not when he was convinced that she’d only been joking or flippant when she’d made him the offer. That kind of thing—a marriage of convenience—just wasn’t done these days.

  But one look at Calista’s face told him that she wasn’t kidding. Dumbfounded, he stared at her. “You’re actually serious.”

  Why on earth would he think she’d be kidding about something that had such consequences for him? Something that could ultimately involve the fate of his daughter? “Yes, of course I am.”

  For one moment, Jake was sorely tempted. Marrying Calista would help solve his immediate problem and who knew? The play-acting involved could eventually lead to other things….

  But then he shook his head. This wasn’t right. “I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

  “You’re not,” she insisted. “I’m offering. As a last resort, if you will, and nothing in your present life will have to change,” she promised. “You can still go on with your life the way it was or whatever way you’d like it to be,” she amended because she hadn’t seen him with anyone else.<
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  Privately she knew it would be hard turning a blind eye to her “husband” seeing other women, but she wasn’t about to start weaving fairy tales for herself. She was doing a pragmatic thing to save his child. She had no right to expect him to remain faithful to her if all they were doing was getting married in name only.

  For now, Jake shut his mouth. He’d come to learn that arguing with Calista was like trying to mine gold standing in quicksand. It couldn’t be done. So for the time being, he surrendered, agreeing that if all else failed, he would take out a license, seek out a justice of the peace and the two of them would get married.

  In the meantime, he began to make plans as to what he was going to say once he came face-to-face with Marlie’s grandparents.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Initially, Maggie’s parents had requested that Jake meet with them in their hotel room, but that, he felt, gave the older couple a home-court advantage. He suggested something more neutral where neither of them had an advantage over the other.

  His years on the New Orleans police force had taught him to consider all contingencies and made him exceedingly suspicious. When Calista made the suggestion that they get together in a public park, where the open space would prevent him from being caught off guard by any additional parties who might be waiting—or hiding—out of sight, he immediately agreed.

  When he smiled his approval and said, “I’ve got you thinking like a cop now,” just before he called the O’Sheas back, she knew he meant it as high praise. A warm feeling spread all through her as she listened to him make the final arrangements on the phone.

  They both had a penchant for being early. Arriving at the park for what Jake considered the most important meeting of his life was no different. He, Calista and the baby were there a good twenty minutes ahead of the agreed-upon time. And ten minutes ahead of Harry O’Shea and his wife, Gloria.

  When the latter couple arrived, O’Shea immediately scowled when he saw Calista sitting on the bench beside Jake.

  “You said no lawyers,” he accused Jake, his florid face pulled into a deep scowl even as it turned red.

  Jake rose to his feet pugnaciously. “And I didn’t bring one,” he bit off, struggling to be civil.

  “Oh no? Then who’s she?” O’Shea contemptuously jerked a thumb at Calista.

  “She’s my—”

  Whether Jake was about to say “backup” or “friend,” Calista didn’t know, but her gut instincts told her that whatever term he was going to apply to her wasn’t going to get the proper reaction needed in this situation. So she beat him to the punch and interjected, “Fiancée,” before Jake could answer.

  “Fiancée?” Mrs. O’Shea repeated, clearly surprised. She exchanged looks with her husband; hers was flustered and distressed. They both knew what producing a fiancée before the presiding judge would mean. A shift of weight to Jake’s case.

  “What are you trying to pull?” O’Shea demanded hotly, still on his feet.

  “Please, sit,” Calista urged the older couple. “We’re not trying to pull anything,” she assured them, her tone low, soothing, as if she were trying to lull a cranky, crying child to stop fussing. “Actually, this all came about a few weeks ago, when Jake came home with his daughter. Our families both have their roots here. We’ve known each other for most of our lives.”

  It was a lie and she was surprised at just how smoothly, how easily it seemed to come to her tongue. She and Jake had never interacted directly, had never taken note of one another before, but their families did live here. And if she was embellishing on the rest to help Jake keep his little girl, she felt she could be forgiven.

  After a beat, first Mrs. O’Shea, and then, reluctantly, her husband, sat down on the bench opposite them.

  Relieved, Calista smiled to herself as she continued with her narrative for O’Shea’s benefit.

  “When Jake came home with Marlie, the timing just seemed right somehow.” She focused her efforts on Mrs. O’Shea who she sensed was the more approachable of the two. “I’m from a large family and I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t pitching in to help raise my younger siblings.” She cut a few corners in her narrative, saying, “Jake asked for my help and I was happy to lend him a hand. I’d done a lot of growing up since I saw him last and Jake had mellowed out a bit.” She looked down pointedly at Marlie. The little girl, strapped into her carryall, was on the bench between her and Jake. “Due, in no small part, to becoming the father of a newborn.”

  “Very touching,” O’Shea commented sarcastically, clearly not moved. “But you forgot to bring along some guys to play the violin while you told your story.”

  “Harry,” his wife cried, embarrassed. O’Shea only waved her into silence.

  “Can’t you see they’re playing you, Gloria?” he demanded in disgust. “I wasn’t born yesterday or the day before,” he informed the younger couple angrily. “You’re just marrying her because you think the judge will let you keep Marlie if you can show her how ‘stable’ you are because you’re ‘married,’” O’Shea concluded in a mocking, singsong voice.

  Calista exchanged looks with Jake. Had he caught that? Or had she misheard that slip in the older man’s rant?

  She hadn’t misheard. Jake had picked up on it, too. The next moment she heard Jake suspiciously asking O’Shea, “How do you know the judge is a her?”

  Caught, O’Shea attempted to bluster his way out of the blunder. He shrugged dismissively. “Or him. Gotta be one or the other, right?”

  “Right,” Calista agreed. “But most people assume the judge is a male.” Especially if they come across as opinionated chauvinists, like you.

  “But you didn’t. You wouldn’t be trying to tamper with the judicial process, now would you, Mr. O’Shea?” Jake asked him. The supposedly innocent question was mingled with just enough sarcasm to let the older couple know that that was exactly what he thought they were doing. “Because if that’s true, you’re going to wind up losing all rights to Marlie, including visitation. The courts frown on jury tampering. Think how much more displeased they’ll be over your trying to bribe a judge,” he suggested.

  “Harry didn’t bribe a judge,” his wife cried. Then, feeling slightly uncertain, she slanted a quick look at her husband. “You didn’t, did you, Harry?”

  “Of course not!” the man blustered.

  Jake recalled that Maggie had once told him her father believed that the best defense was a strong offense and that was exactly what was going on here, he thought. O’Shea, a stocky bull of a man who’d once been an amateur boxer in his early twenties, drew himself up to his full formidable size.

  Glaring at Jake, he demanded, “Are you threatening me, boy?”

  “No one’s threatening anybody,” Calista interjected in her calm, sensible voice. “All we’re doing here is just reviewing the facts.”

  She was hoping to defuse the situation before it became too heated. She glanced toward O’Shea’s wife, hoping to arouse a reluctant ally. After all, if her husband did something that would get him barred from seeing his grandchild, she would find herself included in that ruling.

  After a beat, the woman placed a restraining, imploring hand on her husband’s arm. “Harry, maybe we should hear them out. After all, he was Margaret’s partner.”

  “Some partner,” the man spat with disdain. He glared at the man who wanted to take his granddaughter away. “Where were you the day my daughter was shot by that slimy scumbag lowlife, huh?” he demanded, shouting now. “Where were you?”

  Didn’t they know? Or had they just forgotten? “Maggie asked to switch partners,” Calista informed the late officer’s parents.

  Jake seemed not to hear her. Instead, he answered the underlying question within O’Shea’s angry demand. “Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what happened to Maggie. That I don’t wish it had been me instead of her.”

  O’Shea glared at him. Calista saw tears shining in the man’s eyes. “That makes two of us,” O’Shea bit of
f angrily.

  “Sir, your daughter requested and got a new partner when she went back to active duty,” Calista pointed out again when it became obvious to her that her initial words hadn’t registered with O’Shea. She knew that because he felt riddled with guilt about Maggie’s death, Jake wasn’t about to defend himself. It was up to her to make the O’Sheas understand, she thought. “There was no way Jake could have been there to protect your daughter without breaking protocol.”

  O’Shea scowled as he took in the information. She’d been right, Calista thought, he hadn’t heard her and no one had told him about Maggie switching partners. “Why did she ask for another partner?” O’Shea asked suspiciously, then instantly supplied his own partial explanation. “What did you do to her?”

  Calista looked at Jake, her expression telling him that if he didn’t say something, she would. Resigned, Jake told them what Maggie obviously hadn’t. “I asked her to marry me.”

  “You—you what?” Mrs. O’Shea asked, dumbfounded. She looked both surprised and disappointed.

  He was a private person by nature and as such, didn’t like sharing bits of himself like this, especially not on demand to explain himself to a man who was obviously an emotional bully. But he sensed that Calista knew what she was doing when she spilled these particular beans. She was trying to prevent this from having to go to court, from having Marlie become a human rope in what threatened to be an emotional tug-of-war.

  “I asked her to marry me,” he finally repeated, his voice low, emotionless even as the memory generated a tidal wave of feelings within him. “I told her that Marlie deserved two parents and that I wanted to be able to take care of both of them. Maggie said that wasn’t the deal we’d made and that if I couldn’t honor it, if I was going to go back on my word, I left her no choice but to request a new partner.”

  He drew in a long, shaky, angry breath, trying to center himself.

  Under control, he concluded, “That’s why I wasn’t there the day she was shot.”