Paula Graves: Operation Nanny

But as she parked in the small gravel lot behind the employment agency, some of the alley’s charm faded, for she found herself hemmed in between two large garages on either side and also behind her, where garages for the buildings on the next street closed the alley in like a narrow gorge.

Sunlight struggled to penetrate the steel-gray winter sky overhead, reminding Lacey that snow was expected later in the week. She hoped the interview with the prospective nanny would go quickly and well. The sooner she could get a nanny hired and settled into the old farmhouse, the better.

“Firsty?” Katie ventured from the backseat as Lacey turned off the car.

“Just a second, baby.” She reached across the seat for the diaper bag, praying she’d remembered to pack the apple juice. And extra diapers.

With relief, she found the cup of apple juice and snapped off the drinking-spout cover. “Here, sweetie.”

Katie grabbed the cup and upended it, drinking with greedy sucking sounds. Lacey took advantage of her niece’s preoccupation to gather up the bag and her purse. She checked twice to make sure she had the car keys before she got out and walked around to the trunk to retrieve Katie’s stroller.

The crunch of gravel was the only warning she got. It was just enough for her to reach into the trunk before a pair of arms wrapped around her and started dragging her away from the car.

She fought to stay with the car, wrapping her fingers around the first thing they found—the cold metallic bite of a tire iron. As the arms around her tightened like a vise, she twisted to one side and swung the tire iron downward. It wasn’t a solid hit, but the iron connected with her captor’s leg, and she heard a loud bark of pain and a stream of profanities in her ear.

The arms around her loosened, just a bit, but it was enough for her to jerk out of his grasp. Her first instinct was to run as far and as fast as she could, but the sound of Katie’s cries, muffled by the car windows, stopped her cold.

She swung around to face her captor, wielding the tire iron in front of her like a club. But whatever small bravado she could muster faltered as she saw the barrel of a large black pistol aimed straight for her heart. All of the earlier ambient noises of the day—the rustle of wind in the winter-bare trees, the hum of nearby traffic—were swallowed by the thunderous throb of her pulse in her ears. Her entire focus centered on the dark, black hole of the pistol’s barrel and the masked man who wielded it.

“Hey!” A man’s voice broke through the swoosh of blood in her ears, and the pistol barrel swung quickly away from her, aimed at the newcomer.

Jerking out of her frozen trance, she swung at the man as hard as she could, hitting his shoulder and sending him stumbling toward the alley. The pistol went flying under a nearby car as the man caught himself against its trunk. He pushed upright again, staring at Lacey for a moment, then at something down the alley.

“Stop!” The voice that had broken through her paralysis belonged to a tall, broad-shouldered man in a neat charcoal suit who was running toward the man in the mask. He was still several yards away but gaining ground.

The masked man bolted down the alley, moving fast for someone his size. The man in the suit tried to pick up speed, but his dress shoes slipped and slid across the slick surface of the alley, and the man who’d pulled the gun on Lacey outdistanced him easily. There was a green van waiting halfway down the alley. The man in the mask jumped into the passenger seat and the car sped down the alley, took a turn and drove quickly out of sight.

Lacey opened the back door of her car and unbuckled her sobbing niece from the car seat, pulling her close and murmuring soft words of comfort to her as the man in the suit returned to where she stood, giving her a look of apology.

“Are you okay?” he asked, stopping short as she backpedaled away from him. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

She tucked Katie closer, keeping a wary eye on the newcomer. Just because he’d tried to come to her rescue didn’t mean he was anyone she could trust. Especially not now.

“I’m fine.”

He reached into his pocket slowly and withdrew a cell phone. He waggled it toward her as if to reassure her that it wasn’t any sort of weapon. “I’ll call the police.”

She looked behind her, where the back door of the building posed an almost irresistible temptation. She didn’t want to deal with the cops. She’d had her fill of the police in the past few weeks since her sister’s death. She knew they were just doing their job. Intrusive questions and suspicious minds came with the territory. Her own line of work shared some of those pitfalls; the people she interviewed were often emotionally distraught or shattered by the events they’d witnessed.

But knowing those facts didn’t make it easy to be on the other side of the interrogation. Especially when what was left of your sister and brother-in-law had just been zipped into body bags and carted off to the morgue.

“I don’t remember anything about him,” she murmured, feeling sick. Katie sniffled against her shoulder, but at least her wails had subsided.

“Not much to remember,” her rescuer said gently. “Did you see where his weapon went?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Under that car.” She nodded toward the late-model Buick parked next to hers. “But don’t try to retrieve it. He might have left trace evidence.”

“I know.” He punched numbers into the phone as he crouched beside the Buick and looked under the chassis. “A woman was just accosted by an armed man in the alley behind Elite Employment Agency on Sixth. No, nobody’s injured. The man lost possession of his weapon. I’m looking at it right now.”

Lacey’s knees began to shake, and she had to lean against the side of her car. Katie began to feel like deadweight in her arms, and, to her horror, she felt herself losing her grip on the little girl.

“Whoa, now.” The man rose quickly to his feet and caught Katie as she started to slide out of Lacey’s arms. “I’ve got her.”

Lacey waited for Katie’s wails to start, but to her surprise, the little girl just stared up with bright, curious eyes at the man in the suit. Bracing herself against the side of the car, Lacey held out her arms. “I’m all right. I can take her back now.”

He ignored her outstretched arms and opened the passenger door of her car. Nodding toward the seat, he said, “Why don’t you sit down right there, and then I’ll give this cutie back to you.”

It was a good idea, so she sat sideways, her feet still on the pavement. The man handed Katie back to her, and the little girl wriggled around until she was facing the stranger.

Katie was smitten, Lacey realized with some surprise, glancing up at the man, who was still making funny faces at Katie. Now that she wasn’t drowning in adrenaline, Lacey could see why. Their rescuer was a good-looking man, with a mobile face that seemed made for smiling. His exertions had mussed his short, sandy-brown hair, revealing a tendency to curl.

His gaze shifted away from Katie and settled on Lacey, warmth shining in his hazel-green eyes. Sympathy tinged his voice when he spoke. “Feeling a little less shaky?”

“Yes, thanks.” The moan of sirens in the distance seeped through the sound of traffic noise. “That must be the cops.”

“Must be.” The man smiled faintly. “I’m Jim Mercer.”

“I’m Lacey Miles.”

His smile spread. “I know. I’ve seen you on TV.”

“Oh.” She still felt strange when people recognized her, even though she had just finished her third year on air with the news network. “I haven’t thanked you. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t shown up and chased that creep away.”