Pregnant Protector. Anne Duquette Marie

civilian clothes and no cruiser would make them less of a target. But using any personal car, including her parents’, could make them easier to spot.

      “I don’t need a red bull’s-eye on our backs. We’re getting a rental and I’m not wearing a uniform as long as I’m your bodyguard.”

      In keeping with a low profile, she dressed in jeans, a navy tank top with the yellow words SD Police on the front and back, and a navy windbreaker that would effectively hide both the top and her gun. She attached her badge to her holster, where it wouldn’t be seen. Sadie, as always, had her official collar badge on. Lara could simply discard her windbreaker for an official presence.

      After some breakfast, Lara drove Nick to the rental agency, then they both drove back to the kennels. Lara led the way, Nick right behind. Once home, she parked and waited outside for Nick. His rental was only a few lengths behind. Her mother spotted her from the office and walked over, the old black Lab at her side. The women exchanged good-mornings as Nick approached and parked his car. Lara watched him key in numbers.

      “Rental car, huh?” Sandra observed. “How’s he doing?”

      “Besides being sleep-deprived? And unable to reach his partner’s wife? Not bad—but he’s got to stop and sleep sometime.”

      “Poor guy,” Sandra said. “You two come up with anything?”

      “We’re already targeting three men.” Lara quickly filled her in on what Nick had related about the retiring men and Julio’s missing written testimonial. She concluded, “Ballistics says the military ammunition used on Julio Valdez came from the same weapon used to fire at us.” Lara deliberately avoided the topic of depleted-uranium bullets. Her mother worried too much as it was, and Nick still needed to learn if the three suspects were military veterans.

      “That seems a bit thin for a motive,” Sandra said. “But if you intend to run with it…” She hesitated.

      “What?”

      “Ordinarily I wouldn’t bring up old gossip, but those three men… You and Nick check out Magda Palmer.”

      Lara immediately whipped out her notebook. “Who’s she?”

      “Nick’s aunt. She raised him. He came to California with her when she left Italy. You didn’t know that?”

      “No.”

      “Magda Palmer—used to be Palameri—worked at the police station with Girard, Lansky and Knox.”

      “The three men retiring.”

      “Yes. Knox Sr., Girard and Lansky were all close friends—until Magda came along. The official story was that they wanted Magda for their own private secretary.”

      Lara didn’t like what her mother’s expression was saying. “The unofficial story?”

      “Palmer’s typing skills weren’t what they were fighting over, despite the three men being married. Nick’s aunt was an alleged adulteress, to use the lingo of the times, and had more than one man fighting over her.”

      “Who was the man?”

      “I don’t know.”

      Lara put away her notebook. “No proof, huh?”

      “No, but office affairs are nothing new, and no one ever defended her innocence, either. Back then, even today, she would have been fired. On the other hand, Magda Palmer could have given any glamorous movie star serious competition. She was blond, buxom and brainy.”

      “A buxom adulteress?” Lara smiled. “Really, Mom. You sound like Dad.”

      “You heard me, and that was before implants became commonplace. Most men noticed her body first, her brains second. Magda made men breathless with both—perhaps not the wisest idea in a man’s world a few generations ago. They found her body in the ocean beneath the La Jolla Cliffs.”

      Lara blinked. “No one swims in those waters. You’re suggesting it wasn’t an accident?”

      “It was never proved, but rumors persisted. Let Internal Affairs and Girard investigate Julio’s background. Let Homeland Security handle ballistics and would-be terrorists. But you—you investigate Nick’s family. And Nick himself.”

      “Do you think Nick knows this?”

      Sandra shrugged. “Find out. Girard, Lansky and Knox were good friends with Magda. Use that as your springboard.” Sandra’s blue eyes glittered in the way of an experienced cop. “Complacency kills. Your father’s right. Watch Nick’s back, but watch your own, too.”

      The two women looked up as the dogs started barking as Nick exited the rental car.

      “You be very careful, baby, or I’ll kick your ass.” The blunt warning came with a maternal hug. Sandra kissed her daughter’s hair, then headed back into her office as Nick closed the car door. Lara took in a deep breath. She hurried over to the nondescript sedan, Sadie at her side. They’d chosen a four-door with latches Sadie could open.

      “Do you want to take that rubber ring out of your squad car now?” Nick asked without preamble.

      “No.” Lara studied the U-shaped inner latch and removed her jean belt. “This’ll work.” She threaded it through the latch and rebuckled the leather, then tucked the metal end close to the latch, leaving the leather free for Sadie, the metal safely away from teeth. “Don’t suppose they provided us any bulletproof rental glass.”

      “Afraid not. But we purchased the extra insurance.”

      “Then I guess we’re all set,” Lara said lightly. “You drive.”

      Nick climbed back into the driver’s side, leaving her to “ride shotgun,” the Old West term for the armed protector.

      “And try to stay away from any rifles with 25 mm bullets,” she added.

      “No kidding,” Nick replied. “You may as well know I called Internal Affairs on the way back and named three senior officers as murder suspects.”

      “With no evidence?”

      “And I told IA, I intend to interview them, as well. That’s our plan for the next couple of days, if that’s all right.”

      “It’s more than all right.”

      “Why?”

      Lara took in a deep breath. “According to my mother and some old gossip, these three men have more in common than retiring. They were all involved with your aunt. I doubt it means anything, but—”

      “Define ‘involved.’”

      “That’s for us to find out. You didn’t know about this?”

      “Hell, no.”

      “Get in, Sadie.” The dog lifted the outside latch, bounded into the back seat and easily closed the door using Lara’s leather belt. “Good girl.”

      “That was English,” Nick said.

      “Sure. Police dogs can tell from body language what’s expected of them and whatever language the handler wants to teach them. Sadie was raised at our kennels, remember? I only use German for certain work-related tasks. So…who’s first on the list?” Lara asked Nick as they started off.

      “Captain Girard. He’s working swing shift today. He’s still at home.”

      “You know the way?”

      “I have directions. He’s expecting us.”

      “THIS IS IT,” Nick announced a half hour later. He parked at the curb in the hilly residential area of Clairemont.

      They both unfastened their seat belts and climbed out of the car to look around. “What a great view,” Lara sighed. The upper-middle-class community was sprawled across the hills overlooking Mission Bay, San Diego’s huge recreational inlet.