The Defenders

She made a face as she covered the mouthpiece and held out the receiver. “It’s the sheriff. They’ve taken my car into town and parked it behind the station. We can pick it up any time.”

“Okay. Tell them I’m going to call Seth Whitfield at the garage and have him check it over first. You shouldn’t drive it until we know it’s safe.” To his surprise, Lindy looked anything but pleased.

She put the phone back to her ear. “Thank you, Sheriff. Mr. Pearson has suggested that I have the car examined by a mechanic but I’ll take your word for it that it’s roadworthy. We’ll be there before three.”

As soon as she’d hung up he questioned her. “What was that?”

“That was me, taking care of myself and making my own decisions,” Lindy said firmly. “I decided to skip the expense of taking the car to a repairman. The sheriff assures me the damage is only cosmetic.”

“Okay. I can see you don’t want car advice.” He swiveled in his chair and gestured toward the computer screen. “However, I think you should look at what I’ve found online.”

“What?”

Thad allowed her to look over his shoulder while he brought up screen after screen. Then, he ended with her official credit rating and heard her gasp.

“I didn’t know they went that low,” she moaned.

“Neither did I until I saw yours. What’s going on? This shows that you maxed out your credit cards and failed to pay the minimum so they were all canceled.”

“No!” It was nearly a shout. “I don’t use any credit cards unless I absolutely have to. What about my debit card? Did you check that?”

“I’ll need your account number and password,” Thad said. He started to get up so she could take his place at the keyboard.

Instead, she merely recited a short sequence of numbers. He typed them in. He could sense Lindy’s closeness behind him and hear her rapid breathing. The woman was clearly agitated. He didn’t blame her.

The checking account balance blinked onto the screen, accompanied by Lindy’s sharp intake of breath. “That’s impossible. I just transferred money into that account from my savings.” She leaned closer. “Can you check that, too?”

“Sure.” He paged down and clicked on the listing.

Lindy’s squeal of astonishment was so loud and unexpected it made him jump. He felt her hand rest on his shoulder only long enough for her to say, “Sorry.”

“I take it you didn’t know you were broke.”

“I’m not.” She left him and slumped into the only other chair in the room after clearing it of bundles of product brochures. “I have money. At least I did. The investment company my husband worked for has been depositing a portion of his unused sick leave in my account every month and there was a life insurance settlement, too. I paid off my mortgage with that so I wouldn’t have a lot of big expenses.”

Thad leaned back and turned his desk chair to face her. “Okay. Suppose I believe you...”

“What do you mean, suppose? It’s the truth.”

“Poor choice of words. Sorry. What I should have said is, given your belief that you had sufficient funds in your accounts and plenty of room to charge more purchases on your credit and debit cards, what do you think happened to all the money?”

“How should I know?”

He watched her get to her feet and begin to pace what little space the office afforded. He had assumed that he could solve her problems with a few swift keystrokes after he located a simple glitch. This was far more complicated than that. If he believed her—and he did—then she had been hacked. Big time.

“Who would want to falsify records and ruin you?” Thad asked.

When Lindy whirled and gawked at him, he was certain he’d asked the right question. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. This is no computer mix-up. It’s deliberate. Somebody wants you broke and they’ve just about succeeded in making that happen. What I need to know is, why? Who’s that mad at you, Lindy?”

“Nobody.” She returned to the chair and perched on its edge, leaning her elbows on her knees and cupping her face in her hands.

“Okay,” he drawled, choosing his words carefully, “then who might still have it in for your late husband?”

Her head snapped up. Her jaw dropped. It took several long seconds for her to regain her composure and in that short space of time, Thad saw myriad conflicting emotions. The final one looked a lot like resignation.

“You don’t have to tell me a thing,” Thad said. “But you should confide in someone, preferably somebody in law enforcement. You do see that, don’t you?”

Standing again, she pulled her jacket tighter, folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Who says I’m afraid?”

“You do. It’s written all over you. And there’s no reason to feel that way when you have an alternative. Talk to the police. Let them help you.”

“I have nothing to say to them. I’ll phone the bank in Atlanta and the other credit card companies, explain the problem, and everything will be fine. You said so yourself.”

“That was before I saw the records.” Thad stood but didn’t try to approach her. He could tell how close she was to the breaking point and didn’t want to do anything that might push her too far. Nevertheless, he felt obliged to try to convince her to be sensible.

He found an empty place for his hip on the edge of the desk and struck a nonchalant pose by perching there. “Look, lady, you’re in big trouble. Somebody has hacked into your accounts and left you destitute. Unless you’re carrying a wad of cash in your purse, you can’t even buy yourself a hamburger right now. Understand?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“The way I see it, you have two choices. You can either report the theft and let the proper authorities step in or you can give up and let the bad guys walk off with your money—not to mention whatever they might also try to charge against your credit in the future.”

He could tell by the way her eyes misted that he had her full attention so he plunged ahead. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the cops for you.”

Lindy’s mouth opened. No words came. Thad didn’t need to hear any. The unbridled fear emanating from her reached him all the way across the office and raised the hair on the nape of his neck.

“They threatened you,” he said flatly. “I should have known. What did they say?”

Lindy pressed her lips tightly together, shook her head and averted her gaze.

Thad decided to take the chance of approaching, of gently grasping her shoulders so she’d have no choice but to look at him. When she didn’t jump at his touch or try to slap his face the way he was afraid she might, he took it as a positive sign.

“Look, if you keep their threats to yourself, they win,” Thad said. “Think about it. The only control they have over you is by intimidation. I know you’re a strong woman. You’d have to be to have weathered the trials I’ve heard about.” He paused, intending to censor his next statement, then let it continue unedited. “I’m going to help you whether you like it or not. I feel as if we were meant to meet so I could. Does that make sense?”

“No.” Lindy’s tone was weak, her voice tremulous.

Releasing her and distancing himself, Thad smiled. “It doesn’t to me, either, but that’s how I feel.”

“You don’t want to get mixed up in my troubles.”

“It’s already too late. I promised God a long time ago that if He’d let me live, I’d do all I could to help the helpless for the rest of my life.”

He immediately raised his hands, palms out, as if surrendering. “Don’t get mad. I’m not calling you helpless. I’m just telling you the story the way it happened. My unit was pinned down by sniper fire and I’d taken a bullet in the shoulder. I figure, since I’m standing here having this conversation with you, I need to remember that promise. That’s all.”

“A bullet in the shoulder?” Lindy sighed deeply and released the breath with a visible shudder. “We’ve got more in common than I thought.”

Thad didn’t realize what she’d meant until she took off her jacket, pushed up the softer sleeve of the sweater beneath and revealed a scar that cut a shallow groove across her upper arm.

Thad had seen lots of worse injuries, yet his gut knotted. Someone had hurt this sweet, innocent woman in the past and those same people might now be planning to do her further harm. He was going to see that they—or anyone else—didn’t get away with it.

“What happened?” His voice was gentle even though his fists were clenched.

“The shot that passed through my husband grazed my arm. We were both protecting Danny. Ben died trying to keep us safe.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t know the whole story. They’re happy to blame Ben for everything and say he deserved whatever he got. It’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“The men who killed your husband—are they still after you?”

Lindy slowly shook her head. “They can’t be. Two died in the same gunfight and a third was arrested later. The problem is, I didn’t know for sure whether or not there were others who might have it in for us—until last night.”

“Are you positive the men who messed with your credit are from the same gang?”

“No. But I can’t afford to take the chance that they were lying when they threatened me. They mentioned Ben. That was enough.”

“And I suppose they also told you to avoid the police?”

“Yes. They said they’d be back and hurt Danny and me if I reported the break-in. What could I do? I have no way to fight them. I don’t even know who they are.”

Deep in thought, Thad scowled. “Why pick on you? And why now, after so much time has passed? What could they want? Was there a lot of cash in your accounts?”

“A couple thousand, and maybe another four if you add up all the unused credit I thought I had on the cards. It still isn’t much, even with what they managed to steal in cash advances.”

“Right. It doesn’t make sense to go to that trouble.”

Lindy huffed. “Well, at least we agree on something.”

“I have an idea.”

“If it has anything to do with calling the police, forget it.”

“Actually, no,” Thad said. “I still maintain that you’re making a big mistake but I think I see a way for you to get by while we figure this out.”

“We, Kemosabe?”

He was glad to see her starting to smile. His own grin spread as the plan came together in his mind. “See, that’s your problem. You’re going about this like a lone ranger when you need friends. How would you like a job?”

“You can’t afford me.”

“I can’t guarantee long-term employment, but as you can see, I have a desperate need for someone who can organize this office.” His arm passed over the clutter she had barely had time to touch, let alone sort properly. “First, we’ll set up a new bank account for you and tell whoever has been sending monthly checks to deposit them locally instead of in Atlanta.”

Hope shone in her eyes and her smile broadened.

“It’s not the perfect solution but it will allow you to live fairly normally until something else happens.”

The grin waned. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to have any more trouble but if they do try anything else, we’ll be waiting. Sign up for online banking and I can imbed an automatic notification trigger in your new accounts so we’ll know the second someone else tries to access them. Maybe that way they’ll tip us off.”

“Okay, then what?”

He was going to say that then they could contact the police but kept that to himself. One day at a time, Thad thought. One day, one problem, one solution at a time. Arranged properly, those sensible steps could lead to the answers Lindy needed.

And if they didn’t? If they didn’t, he’d simply keep her employed and figure out a way to pay her, even if her wages had to come out of his own pocket.

That notion made him smile. Since his new executive assistant was about to start handling the company books, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He was positive she’d pitch a royal fit if she learned she was being subsidized.

Sobering, Thad admitted to himself that wages were the least of his worries. Unless he could figure out how to guard Lindy and her son when they were at home, no amount of money was going to be enough to keep her from further harm.

The way he saw it, the first thing he had to do was convince her to let him guard them.

He chuckled softly. It would probably be easier to hire a backhoe to dig a moat around her house and fill it with hungry alligators than it would be to talk her into letting anybody look after her the way he wanted to.

FOUR

Lindy picked up her car, parted from Thad and drove directly to the school where she waited on the sidewalk outside Danny’s classroom. The bell rang and a hoard of laughing, chattering children dashed past. The moment her son spotted her, he grinned from ear to ear.

“Hi. Guess what? I got an A on my spelling test!”

“That’s wonderful, honey.” She relieved him of his heavy backpack and escorted him toward the parking lot. Her aim was to keep him safe without scaring him. Too bad she had no idea how to accomplish that goal.

“Whoa!” Danny skidded to a stop and pointed. “What happened to the car, Mom?”

“I had a little fender bender.”

“Looks like a fender smasher.”

Lindy ruffled his reddish hair and grinned. “It’s not as bad as it looks. And I have some good news. I found a job.”

The child’s eyes widened and he stared up at her. “Will I have to ride the school bus?”

“No. Nothing will change for you. My boss says I can leave work to pick you up just like I did today. As a matter of fact, I’m going to take you back to the office with me so you can meet him.”

Danny stood very still and stared at the toes of his sneakers as if they were suddenly the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “I don’t wanna.”

“Well, you have to. You’ll be staying with me every afternoon and there’s no way you can avoid meeting Mr. Pearson. Besides, he’s a nice man. You’ll like him.”

“Uh-uh.”

Rather than continue to argue, Lindy shepherded her son the rest of the way to the car, made sure he was belted in safely and got behind the wheel. There were times when she saw the boy as an adult in a child’s body and other times, like now, when he looked and acted even younger than his seven-plus years. She supposed that was to be expected. Eldest and single children tended to be ultra-responsible while kids who had been traumatized sometimes regressed. With her son, elements of both influences seesawed back and forth. Right now, he was behaving like a toddler.

Danny never said a word during their drive, not even when Lindy pulled into the Pearson Products gravel lot and stopped the car.

“I made sure there was a healthy snack waiting for you inside,” she said as she helped him out and hefted his pack. “I stopped at the market this morning and bought some of your favorites.”

Still, he didn’t answer. Lindy was thankful he at least let her take his hand and lead him into the building without throwing a tantrum. There had been times in the not-too-distant past when he’d balked at merely leaving his bedroom at home, let alone the house. Starting back to school had been a big step. Going to church again would be, too. And if Danny already knew his teacher, that would hopefully be an even easier transition.

Work momentarily ceased as they made their entrance. Lindy merely waved at the women packing merchandise and hurried Danny through the warehouse to the office.

The child had always acted withdrawn around his father but with other people he knew, he had been fairly outgoing. Until the shooting. After that he had seemed unable to relax unless they were totally alone. Maybe, once he got used to keeping her company in the office, he’d be able to loosen up and be more like his old self again.

Thad started to rise when she and Danny entered, then eased back down into his chair when Lindy silently signaled him to keep his distance.

What amazed her the most was how quickly he understood what she wanted. Not only did he tip back the chair, he laced his fingers behind his head and struck a nonchalant pose that would have fooled her if she hadn’t noticed the clear concern in his eyes.

“This is Danny,” Lindy said. “Danny, I want you to meet Mr. Pearson.”

Instead of offering to shake hands with the boy, Thad just smiled. “Hi.”

Although Danny didn’t reply, Lindy did see him dart a glance toward the man. So far, so good. At least he hadn’t broken away and raced out the door.

Gazing around for a place to make Danny comfortable, Lindy belatedly realized there were no empty surfaces on which he could do homework, nor was there a suitable chair for him.

She sighed and addressed her son. “Hmm. I wonder where we should put you?”

“Home,” he said softly.

At that, Thad chuckled and slowly got to his feet. “Tell you what, kid,” he drawled. “How would you like a room all your own, like a fort? I used to build those all the time when I was your age.”

Although the child edged closer to his mother and kept her between himself and the man, he seemed interested.

Thad crossed the small room and began assembling and taping empty cardboard boxes into the square shapes used for shipping. Lindy could tell he was choosing the largest ones and quickly saw that he was making the adult equivalent of children’s building blocks.

When he’d completed about fifteen he motioned to Danny. “Think this is enough? I figured we’d stack them over here, like this.”

The timid boy released his mother’s hand, much to her surprise, and took several steps forward. He pointed.

“Where?” Thad asked. “Here? Maybe over there? I don’t quite understand.”

Danny took three more steps, paused, then pointed again.

“Sorry, kid. Guess I’m dense. Where did you want these?”

“Over there, like this,” Danny replied, making the final journey and grabbing the closest cardboard cube. The box was large but lightweight because it was empty. He swung it into place against the wall, then added another on top of it.

“Oh, I get it,” Thad said, maintaining a serious yet friendly demeanor. “That’s smart. If we stack them in the corner we won’t need as many.”

“Yeah,” Danny replied, loud enough for his mother to hear.

Lindy was flabbergasted. Here was a child who exhibited unnatural fear of strangers, particularly big, strong men, yet he was pitching in to build a cardboard fort with Thad as if they were old friends. Amazing!

While she watched, Lindy saw her son allow Thad closer and closer, and her fondest hope was that this temporary truce would become permanent.

“Not like that,” Danny said. “Put the big ones on the bottom and the little ones on top. See? They won’t fall over if you do that.”

“Gotcha. You’re pretty smart, aren’t you? How old are you? About twelve?”

The boy grinned. “Naw. I’m almost eight. But I’m big for my age.”

“You sure are.” Thad straightened and backed away, hands fisted on his hips. “Think that will do or should we go find more boxes and make higher walls?”

“That’s good like it is,” Danny said, considering their construction as if he were the architect of a skyscraper. “It needs a door.”

“Hard to do without a frame,” Thad said. “How about we give that some thought while you get used to your new office?”

The child giggled and looked to Lindy. “Okay, Mom?”

“Perfect. Have you thanked Mr. Pearson?”

Thad raised his hands in the air and backed away. “No need for that. We both worked on it. Now, what about furniture? Danny can’t do his homework without a table and chair.”

“Really, I...” Lindy’s objection was cut short by Thad’s warning glance. “Right,” she continued brightly. “How are you two geniuses going to make those?”

She saw her usually reticent son look up to the ex-marine as if he held the answers to all life’s questions.

Thad began to grin. “I have an idea. We’re pretty much out of boxes in here. Follow me.”

He never looked back as he strode past Lindy to the door. It was as if he knew Danny would follow. As if he was willing him to trust. And so he did.

She stood at the office door and watched an amazing transformation occurring. Not only was Danny keeping up with Thad, he had double-timed enough to walk beside him. The sight of her timid son joining such a sizeable man in any endeavor left her speechless.

Maybe this job was more than the answer to her prayers for employment. Maybe it was for Danny’s benefit, as well.

She began to smile in spite of deep concerns over her fragile financial situation. Yes, she was still very worried about the canceled credit cards and her missing money, but there were more important things in life than that. Danny’s recovery and future happiness meant more to her than all the money in the world.

Even if the cause of the cyber attack on her finances was never found, the unexpected side effects of that hacking were something to be celebrated. There she was, in a job she wouldn’t have gotten if she hadn’t been in trouble, watching her son warm up to a man he might never have gotten close to otherwise. How could she complain? This was almost too good to be true.

* * *

Thad hadn’t been sure his ploy would work until he’d seen the sparkle in Danny’s eyes. It was obvious that the boy’s mother loved him dearly but, somewhere along the line she’d lost her sense of playfulness. That was where Thad had the advantage and he intended to make the most of it.

Gathering stacks of slim cartons that were still in bundles from their delivery, he wound a short stack in plastic wrap and handed it to Danny. “Here you go. You carry the desktop and I’ll bring the sides.”

The child was beaming when he returned to where his mother waited. Thad was pretty happy himself, especially considering the beatific smile on Lindy’s face when she gazed at her son.

It must be comforting to please someone that much, he mused, refusing to let himself dwell on that thought. It was his job to help this fractured family and that was exactly what he was going to do. Period. He wasn’t about to picture himself as part of it.

It had taken him months to accept the fact that the military shrinks had been right about his mental state. Because of nightmares and flashbacks caused by the PTSD, he wasn’t the right person to parent his brother’s kids and it wasn’t fair to make them wait for a new home until he was well again—if he ever would be.

But he did have a way with children. He might not be suited for permanent fatherhood, but he could be a true friend, a buddy, on a level that youngsters understood. That was what he was doing when he led the Sunday school class and he was determined that the same would be true of his interaction with Danny Southerland.

Placing two medium-size boxes eighteen inches apart, Thad stood back and let the boy lay the planklike package across them to serve as a tabletop.

“Okay, now we need a chair.”

“I can do that by myself,” Danny insisted.

Watching him choose, Thad started to grin. He figured it was better to let the boy learn by making his own mistakes.

The minute Danny plunked down on the empty cardboard box he had selected as a stool, it collapsed and he fell on his back pockets, giggling.

“I think it might be better to use one with stuff in it,” Thad said, joining in the laughter. “I have just the thing. You don’t mind sitting on colanders, do you?”

Danny sobered. “What’s that?”

“A strainer, like I use when we make spaghetti,” Lindy volunteered. “They’ll be in boxes. You won’t even know.”

Thad’s grin widened when the child looked to him as if waiting for the final decision before saying, “Okay,” and swiveling to concentrate on his mother. “We can make that tonight for supper, huh?”

“If you want,” she said easily.

“And Mr. Pearson can come eat with us.”