Pregnant Protector. Anne Duquette Marie

line, hoping he’d have better luck than earlier.

      “Who did you want to call? Your partner’s wife?”

      “I haven’t been able to reach Lilia,” he admitted. “And I want to check in with headquarters, too.”

      “Ah. Use your cell,” she repeated.

      “Got it.” If he didn’t connect on the first call, he knew he’d have no trouble with the second. That call would be to Internal Affairs.

      LARA LET NICK UNPACK and settle in as she placed the fresh sheets on the bed. When she finished, she took a chair in the room and absently scratched the ears of the dachshund she now held in her lap. Sadie wandered in, followed by her dam, Shady Lady—aptly named, as she was mostly black as opposed to Sadie’s dominant tan. Nick hung his suit bag in the closet. He was finished, as well.

      “You hungry? We missed lunch, thanks to our shooter.”

      “I don’t want to put your parents out.”

      Lara grinned. “You won’t. I make a mean sandwich.” She set the dachshund back on the floor. “Kitchen’s this way.”

      In the kitchen she seated Nick at the small wooden table and opened the bread box. “You want rye or white br—”

      Nick’s cell rang.

      “I don’t know who that is, but don’t tell anyone where we are,” Lara warned. “It’s an easy guess, but there’s no need to confirm.”

      Nick’s sideways glance showed he didn’t need the warning. “Rye.” The phone call took him completely by surprise, and Lara intently listened to the one-sided conversation.

      “Well?” she asked when he clicked off his cell.

      “That was Homeland Security.”

      “And?”

      “It’s confirmed. The bullets used against your car were 25 mm. They would have penetrated an ordinary car.”

      “But we know my car isn’t ordinary. You want sliced ham or roast…what?”

      “Homeland Security says the bullets that hit Julio came from the same gun, but they weren’t light rounds.”

      “We knew that, too. Ham or roast beef?” she repeated.

      “Julio’s slug was made with DU.”

      Lara’s lips actually parted in shock. “Not…depleted uranium?”

      Depleted uranium was a by-product of leftover natural uranium after U-235 was extracted to fuel nuclear weapons and power plants. Common in the United States, the leftover uranium was weakly radioactive, but still had its uses. It remained a deadly tank-piercing heavy metal that made guns loaded with lead bullets look like popguns. Any “heavy” ammunition or artillery was strictly regulated and controlled by the Federal government. “Light” ammunition, such as that used by police or civilians, remained under local control.

      “Why didn’t Girard tell us before?” Lara demanded.

      “Because everyone at the station assumed the extensive damage to the car body resulted from the crash and the rocky bottom. Hell, I’ve never seen a DU bullet hole in person. Homeland Security has, and they checked for radioactivity.”

      “My God! That stuff’s military only. Hasn’t the United Nations classified it as a Weapon of Mass Destruction?” Lara asked, horrified. “The radioactivity and heavy-metal toxicity threatens the environment!”

      “True, but a single DU bullet could take out a whole armored personnel carrier filled with enemy troops. That’s why we still use them.”

      “No wonder I…” No wonder she nearly lost her breakfast after viewing the skimpy remains of Julio Valdez. “Nothing. Go on.”

      “So does Great Britain,” Nick said. “Homeland Security said our military prefers 25, 105, and 120 mm rounds.”

      “And now someone’s shooting them here in San Diego?”

      “So they say. Homeland Security also said they’ll be handling further ballistics investigation and other aspects, as well.”

      Lara rubbed her forehead “But…I’m confused. I thought another law-enforcement member targeted Julio. He went to buy groceries, you said. Is our shooter a cop or terrorist? We weren’t shot at with DU. Julio was.”

      “Homeland Security will handle it. They’re better equipped. Even if they weren’t, I’m not leaning toward the terrorist angle,” Nick said. “Internal Affairs finished checking out Julio’s computer.”

      “Internal Affairs?”

      “Yes, I just talked to them. I know Julio was writing a speech for the next department retirement dinner. IA said there was no file on the hard drive. I doubt a terrorist would delete a retirement speech, DU ammo or not.”

      “A speech?” Lara echoed. “Why your partner?”

      Nick’s lips thinned into a hard line. “English or Spanish, Julio wrote the best damn reports in the department. He was always writing something for the bosses.”

      “If he had to write a testimonial, he would have had to research the subjects. If he did—he might have found something he shouldn’t. Who’s retiring?”

      Nick frowned. “Girard, Lansky and Knox. All from Homicide.”

      “Girard and Lansky I know. Who’s Knox?”

      “Sergeant Richard Knox. His son, T.J., works in Homicide, too. But the sergeant isn’t the one I want to talk to right now.” Nick pulled out his cell phone. The dachshund and Sadie watched from their spots on the cool tile as Nick dialed Girard’s direct number.

      “Girard here.”

      “Hey, Captain. It’s Cantello.”

      “What’s up, Nick?”

      “Thought I’d check in with you. Any news?”

      “Nothing yet at this end, though I did get a call from Homeland Security ballistics.”

      “Same here.” A beat, then Nick asked in a bland voice, “Did Julio finish his retirement speech?”

      Silence. “If he did, he didn’t keep it on the computer.”

      “I know for a fact he did. Someone wiped it.”

      “I’ll tell Internal Affairs.”

      “I already did.”

      “How’s your new bodyguard doing?” Girard asked.

      Nick couldn’t help but notice the abrupt change of subject. “She’s kept me alive so far. Do me a favor, Captain. Have ballistics call me when they’re done picking apart Nelson’s Mercedes.”

      “Planned on it. So, you think she’s gonna be any help in solving this murder?”

      A chill streaked down Nick’s spine. It was his warning system, and had saved his life more than once. “She’s a good worker,” he said in a deliberately casual voice. “But she’s not a detective.”

      Girard sounded reassured. “Where are you staying?”

      “Wherever Ms. Nelson stashes me. After this morning, she and I will be keeping a close eye on each other.” Nick smiled, but it wasn’t from pleasure. “Pass the word around, would you?”

      “Of course. Keep in touch.”

      “Of course,” he echoed. Nick set down the cell.

      “What are you smiling about?” Lara asked.

      “Looks like we may have a starting point, after all. Three retiring men. First thing in the morning, we’ll see if any of them served in the military.” Nick pushed aside his cell