OMalley.

The Guardian.

Dee Henderson.

Prologue.

Can I take Mom the flowers?"

They were not allowed inside the ICU, but the nurse who had come out to the waiting room nodded anyway. Janelle knew what the boy did not, and it made her want to cw. His mother was dying. Let him take the flowers.

Marcus was such a polite young man, patiently sitting alone in the ICU waiting room for the brief visits allowed each hour. He had been coming for the last nine days. A neighbor who worked at the hospital brought him in each morning, and each evening took him home.

He had brought roses with him today, three of them, carefully wrapped with a damp paper towel around the stems, foil around that. There were grass stains on the knees of his jeans. He had told her yesterday that he was tending the rose bushes during his mom's absence.

"Can I get you something to eaO A grilled cheese sandwich maybe?" "No, thank you."

She was positive the boy was hungW, but there had been a tirade the one and only time his father had come to the hospital and found him sharing a sandwich with an orderly. Marcus had politely refused the offers of food ever since.

"The chaplain is with her now," Janelle told him, and the boy's relief was visible.

"He prays good."

"You pray wonderfully too." She had seen him with his mother's Bible, struggling to sound out the words as he read.

"I try."

He pushed off the molded plastic chair, not tall enough for his feet to reach the floor when he was sitting down. "Thanks for coming to get me." "You're welcome, Marcus."

She watched him walk to the glass door of the ICU, use all of his weight to pull it open.

He hadn't asked her if his mom was getting better. It was the first time he had not asked.

It was hard to breathe; her lungs kept filling up with fluid. She had rallied today, and it was with a sense of urgency she knew she had to see her son. Renee heard Marcus before she saw him and wiped away any sign of the strain, smiling toward the door. He came in escorted by the supervising nurse, carrying flowers.

Her heart tugged at the sight of him, wearing his favorite baseball shirt, washed but wrinkled, and blue jeans that would need a stain remover. He had asked her yesterday how to do the laundry right.

She hugged him, ignoring the IVs, marshaling her strength to make her grip firm. Her smile came from her heart. "You brought me flowers." "I picked your roses. Was that okay?"

"Very okay, They're beautiful." She laid them on the blanket at her chest so she could enjoy them.

The chair scraped against the tile floor as Marcus pulled it to the edge of her bed.

He eagerly told her about the kittens at the neighbors and the way the black one with one white paw liked chasing a feather duster. She let him talk, smiling at the right places, watching him, holding his hand. Her son. The joy of her life. The doctor had told him laughter was good medicine, and he had latched on to that and taken it seriously, coming with a story each day to make her laugh.

She would ask about his morning, but in the last couple days he had started to avoid answering that question. It wasn't going well at home, and he wanted to be her guardian and not tell her. She brushed her fingers through his hair; it would need to be cut soon. She hoped he didn't end up having to do it himself. His father would not think of it.

"mom?"

8.

She had drifted on him; the story was over. She smiled an apology.

Tm laughing inside, honey." 'It wasn't very funny." That drew a chuckle.

Her strength was fading and she could hear the wheeze returning.

Marcus's hand in hers squeezed tight. 'Shall I get the nurse?" he asked, his voice calm but his eyes were anxious.

Two minutes with him. It wasn't enough. But the reality could not be denied. 'Yes." He moved to slip his hand from hers, and instead she tightened her hold. 'Before...you do. I want my kiss."

He grinned. He was a boy again instead of the solemn young man. He leaned across the railing to rub his nose against hers, then kissed both cheeks European style. 'Love you, mom."

'I love you too." She held him tight. 'And Jesus loves you."

'I know."

He went to get the nurse.

The simple faith of a child. She was grateful. He had found something strong enough to get him through what was coming.

She panted for breath. They would clear her lungs again, and soon would have no choice but to put her on to the respirator. She feared she would never come off it. The doctor's reassuring words could not change what she knew in her spirit was coming. She gripped the roses and a thorn pierced her finger. Despite the fever she was shivering again.

She would be leaving Marcus with only his father. It was a heavy burden to place on an eight-year-old's faith. A single tear escaped to slide down her cheek. She had already cried for her husband and her son, for everything lost that could have been. Tears now would literally choke her. Jesus, be my son's guardian. He needs You.

Renee closed her eyes and focused on living one more day.

Marcus scuffed his tennis shoe against the tile floor and stared out the waiting room window, wiping furiously at the tears. He had to stop crying; they would see and they wouldn't let him visit anymore. The thought was a panic rising in his chest. He gulped back a sob and worked hisjaw. She wasn't getting better. He had to pray harder.

U.S. Marshal Marcus O'Malley tucked the cellular phone tighter against his shoulder as he studied the latest photographs sent by the North Washington district office. Eighteen faxes. The picture quality grainy at best; the information about each individual sketchy. Each had made threats against judges attending this July conference at the Chicago Jefferson Renaissance Hotel. The pages crinkled as only cheap fax paper could as he thumbed through them, memorizing each one.

"Kate, what are you not telling me?" He was trying to have a telephone conversation with his sister while he worked and it was.., interesting. He would have said aggravating, but he loved Kate too much to get annoyed with her easily.

His sister Kate O'Malley could be clear or ambiguous at will. As a hostage negotiator she knew how to choose her words, and she was being deliberately obtuse at the moment. It was 7:05 P.M. Friday night; Supreme Court Justice Philip Roosevelt would give the keynote speech at 8:00 P.M. before an audience of over twelve hundred, and Marcus did not have time to read between the lines.

Kate was trying to tell him something without breaking a confidence; that told him it was family related. And it was important enough she was willing to go to the edge of that confidence to let him know about it; that told him it was serious.

"She was supposed to tell you last night..."

Marcus flipped back to the ninth fax and frowned. Something about the picture was triggering a glimmer of a memo Tom Libour: Caucasian, early forties, clean shaven. It was an old memory and he could feel it flitting just beyond his recall. He didn't forget cases he had worked. Maybe something his partner had worked? He scrawled a note beside the photo, requesting the incident report be pulled. He passed the stack of faxes back to his deputy "Who?" Jennifer, Lisa, or lachel? In a family of seven, Kate had just cut the list in half.

The seven of them were related, but not by blood-by choice. At the orphanage-Trevor House-the decision to become their own family had made a lot of sense; two decades later it still did. As the oldest, thirty-eight, he accepted the guardianship of the group; as the next in line Kate protected it, kept her finger on the family pulse. He didn't mind the responsibility but it often arrived at inconvenient times. What was going on? "I've said too much already; forget I called." "Kate-"

"Marcus." Her own frustration came back at him with the bite in her voice. "[ didn't ask to be the one she chose to tell. I'm stuck. I'll push her do"

to tell you; it's the best [ can .

The family was close, but Kate-she was the one he talked with in the middle of the night; they had shared the dark days. They were the oldest, the closest, and there was no one he trusted more than her. "How serious is it?"

He retrieved his black tuxedo jacket from the back of a folding chair. He would be standing behind the Supreme Court justice during the speech doing his best to look interested while he did his real job-decide who in the crowd might want to shoot the old man.

"I'm pacing the floors at night."

Marcus, reaching to straighten the lapel of his jacket, stopped. Kate had the nerve to walk into situations where a guy held a bomb; the last thing she did was overreact. Something that had her that worried-his eyes narrowed. "Who, Kate?" He couldn't take the weight off her shoulders if he didn't know. If Kate had given her word, she would never say but he couldn't just leave it. He needed to know.

"Can you get free later tonight?"

Time was tight. This was the biggest judicial conference of the year, but he wasn't about to say no. Quinn would do him a favor .... "The banquet and its aftermath should be wrapped up by ten-thirty I can meet you after that."

"We'll join you even if I have to drag her there," Kate replied grimly. "Deal. And even if it's just you, come over."

"I'll be there. Besides, it's probably the only way I'll get to see Dave."

Marcus spotted PBI Special Agent Dave Richman on the other side of the room, deep in a discussion with the hotel security chief.

This conference had attracted explosive media attention. The Supreme Court was about to go conservative. With the announcement by the president of a nominee to replace retiring Justice Luke Blackwood, the landscape of the law across the nation would forever change. Most of the judges on the president's short list were in attendance. Dave had drawn the unenviable job of trying to figure out how to control and manage the media access.

"He'S here. Do you want to talk to him?" Dave and Kate were dating. Dave having even gone so far as to formally ask all the guys in the family for permission. It was serious on her side too-Kate didn't let just anybody outside of the family get close to her heart.

"No, I know you're swamped. I just miss him."

She was in love. Everyone in the family knew that. Her face brightened when she saw Dave, and that impassive control she kept around her emotions, so necessary for her job, disappeared. Even her Southern accent intensified. Marcus kidded her about being love struck and she teased him back about hovering. That was okayl she needed a big brother watching out for her. "Then you definitely need to come over tonight. I'll tell Dave to expect you."

"Let me surprise him. Besides, knowing my job, I'll probably get yanked by a page on my way over there."

She sounded irked, and he enjoyed that. "Love can be so rough." "Just wait; your turn is coming."

Ie wasn't seeing anyone now, and short of someone colliding with him, at the moment he didn't have time to notice anyone. Iis hands were full with his job and the O'Malley clan. But knowing Kate, she would probably try to set him up the first chance she got. She loved to meddle in his life, just like he did in hers.

And he knew if she did he'd have to grouse about it just for the principle of it, but he wouldn't really mind. There was never going to be time to date in his schedule; it would simply have to be found. "Goodbye, Kate. I'll see you later."

He closed the cellular phone and his amusement faded. What was wrong? Jennifer O'Malley had just gotten engaged; he didn't think it was her. That left Lisa or lachel. Lisa was always getting into trouble with that curiosity of hers, but if he had to place a bet he would guess it was lachel. She had been unusually quiet during the Fourth of July family gathering only days before.

Marcus had no choice but to set aside the problem for the moment. He joined his partner Quinn. "Are we ready?"

"I think so." Quinn looked like he hadn't slept in the last couple days, but then he normally looked that way so it was hard to tell. Quinn had general hotel security: 37 floors, 1,012 rooms, and 50 meeting rooms to cover-it was like trying to plug a leaking dam with cotton balls. Unlike a federal court building where they could screen who entered or left the building, what they carried, this hotel was wide open to the public.

"I got the hotel to agree to close delivery access to the kitchens for the eveningl it freed up another three men for ballroom security," Quinn noted. "And I moved Deputy Ellis to Judge Blake. Ellis has covered the Fourth Circuit in the past, maybe he'll be able to talk the judge into following basic security guidelines."

"Thanks. Nelson was showing the strain."

"I can't blame him. Blake is by far the most difficult of the judges on the president's short list." Quinn closed the folder of assignments and tossed it on the cluttered desk. Neatness had disappeared under the churn of numerous problems. "Do you think any of them have a chance of get ring the nomination?"

To the U.S. Marshals, who knew the judicial personnel across the country better than the president who appointed them and the congress who confirmed them, a Supreme Court nomination was a race they handicapped with the skill of veteran court watchers.

Marcus considered the names for a moment, then shook his head. "No." The names on the list so far were good judges, but not the great ones. They were the political appeasement candidates, on the list until the scrutiny of the press gave the president something he could use as cover for not nominating them. The real candidates would be in the next set of names that surfaced.

Marcus adjusted his jacket around the shoulder holster, checked the microphone at his cuff, then did a communication check on the security net. He tried to get himself mentally prepared for the long coming evening covering the justice. "I swear Deputy Nicholas Drake ate bad sushi for lunch on purpose. Tell me again how I got elected for this honor rather than you?" he asked while he scanned the room, reviewing where they were at with a check of the status boards. As usual, they were having a conversation but their attention was on anything but each other.

"You're better looking."

Marcus grunted. "Sure. That's why I get asked for your phone number." His partner Quinn Diamond attracted attention without trying. The man looked like he had just stepped off his Montana ranch. There was something untamed about him and women seemed to know it. His face was weathered by the sun and wind, he could see to the horizon, and his gaze made suspects fidget. He called women ma'am and wore cowboy boots whenever he could get away with it. Marcus enjoyed having him as a partner; life was never dull. They had tracked fugitives together, protected witnesses, and kept each other alive. Quinn didn't flinch when the pressure hit.

"Actually, Marcus-I'm afraid I kind of blew it the other night," Quinn admitted.

Surprised at the sheepish tone of voice, Marcus glanced over at him. "How?"

"Lisa." Quinn reached into his jacket pocket and took out a folded cloth. He flipped back the folded velvet to show a sealed petri dish. "She sent me a petrified squid."

It was so like his sister Lisa, Marcus had to laugh. "Sounds like a no to me," he remarked dryly, Was this what Kate had stumbled into? A tiff between Quinn and Lisa? It didn't fit Kate's reaction, but it was certainly an interesting development.

"Where did she get this thing?"

"A forensic pathologist-I imagine that was one of the more tame replies she considered sending you."

"All I did was ask her out."

"Quinn, it is painfully obvious you did not have sisters." Marcus took a moment to explain reality, "Two years ago you asked out Jennifer-she's now engaged. Last year you asked out Kate-she's now serious with an FBI agent. This year you asked out Lisa. You just told her she's your third choice, lachel might forgive you; Lisa will never let you forget it."

"Can I help it if you've got an interesting family?"

Even a friend like Quinn wasn't going to be allowed to hurt his sister.

"Flowers will not dol you'd better get creative with the apology."

"I'm still going to get her to say yes."

"l wish you luckl you're going to need it." Quinn would be good for Lisa. He was one of the few men Marcus thought would understand her and the trouble she got into because of her curiosity. Marcus was beginning to feel a bit like a matchmaker having just subtly pushed Kate and Dave together less than a month ago. "Tell you what. I need to free some time late tonight to meet with Kate. Swap the time with me and I'll talk to Lisa for you."

"And tell her what?" "Only your good points." "Why don't I believe you?"

Marcus grinned. "I've already told her the bad." The security net gave the five-minute warning to the start of the evening program. Judge Carl Whitmore would speak first, and then it would be his Honor Justice Roosevelt. Marcus would be glad when the evening was over. "Come on, Quinn, we need to talk to Dave about press access to Justice Roosevelt after the keynote speech."

"Please-give me crowd controll anything but his Honor. I love the man, but he likes nothing better than to rile the media for the fun of it." "He's appointed for lifel his life is boring without controversy."

"You mean he too old to care if someone decides they want to kill him." "Exactly."