Reclaim My Life (39 page)

“If even your department isn’t secure, what’s the point? I should be looking over my shoulder, regardless.”

“My point is that, despite our breach, you kept yourself safe by doing everything possible to throw off suspicion as to your true identity. If you hadn’t been a model witness, you wouldn’t be here today.”

“But Cathleen and Kris would be.” A sob lodged in her throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she swallowed. “If Sullivan knew where I was, why did it take Sunny a year?”

“With the computer forensics, we’ve determined that you were one of many contracts she handled from Drake Springs. She’d been told about Ian Davis’s job at the college. Inexperienced and vulnerable, he was an easy target for her. She seduced and married him, giving her an in with the college and the community. Then it was business as usual while she bided her time trying to locate Sofia Desalvo. Unfortunately, all we can prove right now is kidnapping, and you’re our witness for that charge.”

“What about vehicular hit and run? Wils—” She swallowed. “Sheriff Drake said Ralph Sapp identified Sunny as the woman who ran him down.”

He frowned. “I don’t know about that case. The kidnapping alone should keep her behind bars a long time.”

“Maybe she’d be willing to cut a deal.”

“The FBI has a separate investigation going on her. I doubt they’ll be offering deals.”

She sighed. “It was just an idea. Maybe she’d turn on Sullivan and expose the murder-for-hire. Wouldn’t that add a nail in his coffin?”

“I can always run it by them, but don’t expect miracles.”

Elizabeth Stevens might not expect miracles, but Sofia Desalvo wouldn’t give up. She sighed, resigned to wait for the moment. “All right. What’s my new name, and where will I work?”

“Brenda Martin. You’ll be teaching at a riding academy in Texas.”

“Horses?” At his nod, she smiled. “Cory, I know you’ve gone the extra mile for me. I appreciate it.”

He gave a short nod. “You may be there a while, though.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever I have to do to stay safe.” Beginning with friendships. She couldn’t afford to trust anyone. Not with her track record. “Might as well get used to my new name, too.”

“All right,
Brenda
. When we get to Pensacola, we’ll stop at a mall and get you a few clothes.”

“I’ve decided to stop with the pigging out. Maybe I’ll drop a few pounds. What do you think about red hair? If I’m reinventing myself, why not go bold and sassy?”

Cory shrugged. “Sure. Just as long as you stick to the rules, you should be safe.”

The rules meaning break all connections to her former life. “Sofia rides horses.”

“True, but that’s what’s great about this little town. Everybody rides horses, so you’ll fit in. I thought it might make this relocation less objectionable. Just don’t do anything else Sofia Desalvo would do.”

“Since I entered this program, I’ve done little that Sofia would do, including now. Running away is so not my style.”

Cory nodded, but she knew he didn’t understand. He would think she meant running away from danger. But she was running from happiness, from a future with Wilson Drake. Her heart told her he was the one. Her instincts had failed her with a couple of people—bad people—but what about all the times she’d trusted folks and been right?

The real Sofia wouldn’t lie down and admit defeat. She would grab life by the horns and live it to the fullest, enjoying every moment she could with her loved ones: Mom, Grandma, Nina and Terry, their daughter Sam, Joey and Sally. And especially Wilson. But first she had to figure out a way to reclaim her life without bringing danger to their doors.

Thanksgiving Day turned out to be a pleasant family gathering, though not the one Wil had envisioned. Without Elizabeth—which was no longer her name, but he still called her that in his mind—his days were long and his nights longer. He’d heard nothing more from Special Agent Cory, which he took as a good sign. Cory would contact him only with bad news. But the woman Wil loved couldn’t be with him at Thanksgiving. Or anytime.

He and Sam had dusted off the dining room furniture in the main house, hauled out the china, and asked their sister to come home for the holiday weekend. Wil cooked the turkey the night before, then sliced it Thanksgiving morning. Taylor helped cook, but Sam offered to do cleanup only. Dad seemed pleased by their efforts.

At dinner, Taylor held up a water goblet for a toast. “To the first Thanksgiving we’ve spent as a family in … too long a time.”

“Hear, hear.” Wil raised his goblet.

They clinked glasses. Then Sam held up his glass a second time. “To Wil, for bringing us together and making it happen.”

What?
The unexpected gesture rendered Wil speechless.

“Yes, thank you, Wil. You do the Drakes proud.” This from Taylor.

“Yes, son.” His dad’s shaky hand added his glass to Sam’s toast.

“Well, say something, Wil.” Taylor nudged him with her elbow.

“Thank you.” He clinked their water goblets, then hid his self-consciousness behind a drink from his glass.

They ate without conversation for several minutes. Sophie curled up at Dad’s feet beneath the dining table, waiting for a sneaked morsel or two. Wil’s turkey turned out juicy and tasty, thanks to the careful instructions he’d gotten from Lorraine and Boyd. His family complimented his cooking, adding to the strangeness of the day’s gathering. Growing up, he had never been the family’s object of praise and compliments. Or even approval. His mind grappled with the pleasant experience.

It was the sort of thing he would’ve loved discussing with Elizabeth. Had his own lack of confidence fed his family’s earlier attitudes?
Just remember: we teach people how to treat us
. She’d been right, of course. And she’d done more to boost his self-esteem than any other person ever had. No wonder he loved her.

“So tell me about this big murder case you cracked,” Taylor said.

“Technically, I have two unsolved homicides. We know the identity of the killer but haven’t evidence to charge her. Two cold cases are hardly worth bragging about.”

Sam picked up the bowl of fluffy mashed potatoes Taylor had whipped. “The real mystery is what became of my English professor and drama director.”

Wil glared at his brother. “Sam.”

Sam plowed on, oblivious to Wil’s discomfort. “I thought she and our brother had something going on, Taylor. They’d grown quite inseparable. Suddenly, she disappears and Amy and Ben are living in her house until theirs can be repaired.”

Since the night Adam borrowed Wil’s john boat to rescue Amy and her kids, and then the later generosity of Elizabeth giving them a place to stay, tensions between the Gillespie and Drake families had eased. Phyllis even ran an objective account of the homicide investigations in the
Drake Springs Democrat
.

“Let me see if I understand all this.” Taylor pointed with her fork. “Wil’s old girlfriend is living in Wil’s new girlfriend’s house, and the new girlfriend has vanished?”

“Amy and Ben insist on paying rent, but Elizabeth charges them only her house payment.” She’d turned over her property to Otis Gibbons, the realtor who handled almost all the rentals in town. Wil took it as a positive sign that she hadn’t listed it for sale.

“They pay utilities, right?” his dad asked.

“Right. But I ran into Ben last Monday, and he says they’ll have their new mobile home by the first of the year. Then I guess they’ll be moving out of the house.”

“Then what? Will Elizabeth be returning?” Taylor asked.

Wil reined in his emotions. He’d not let his own heartache spoil the family holiday dinner. He gave a brief explanation of how Elizabeth had been moved to Drake Springs as a protected witness, leaving out the details of the trial. “She’s been relocated. Her cover was blown here.”

Sam and Taylor stared at him, their faces nearly identical. Except for a few years’ difference in ages, they could’ve passed for twins. Their dad cleared his throat, and all three turned to him. “She saved Sophie’s life.”

Wil explained about the rat poisoning and how Elizabeth had once been a veterinarian. Sam added his two cents about how suited she’d been for the college drama department. Taylor gazed at Wil with sympathetic eyes. “I wish I could’ve known her before she had to leave. Do you think she’ll be safe now that she’s been hidden somewhere else?”

“I hope to God she is.”

Most of the food on his father’s plate lay untouched, but Dad was a slow eater. At least Sam hadn’t grabbed knife and fork and started feeding him. “But, son, when she testifies and the bad guy is in jail, she can come back, right?”

“This isn’t her home, Dad. Her family’s in Kentucky.”

Sam scowled at him. “Wilson, surely you aren’t that obtuse.”

Wil wasn’t getting into it any further with his family. He suffered enough in private, replaying parts of conversations. Reliving their night of lovemaking. He could never get enough of her. Yet, even if the state of Kentucky executed Frank Sullivan, would she return to him? He couldn’t shake the memory of her behavior after Sunny’s arrest. She seemed to take all the blame for herself. She’d seemed defeated, filled with self-doubt, when she should’ve celebrated her victory over one of the most cunning assassins on the FBI’s most wanted list.

I
have a history of being a poor judge of character
.

I didn’t see it coming… I never see it coming… I’ll never learn
.

Yet he clung to her earlier words …

I
will always love you
.

He knew she meant them. Somehow, she’d be back. She had to. The alternative was too terrible to consider.

“Yo, bro.” Taylor waved her hand in front of his face. “What’s Sam mean about being obtuse?”

Sam answered for him. “Her home is with her husband. And unless I miss my guess, Taylor, that’s going to wind up being our brother.”

If Sam believed it, then Wil wouldn’t lose faith. He and Elizabeth—no,
Fia
—would make a home together. He’d be patient. But he wouldn’t give up. He raised his goblet for another toast. “All right. Here’s to making it happen.”

Shedding her Brenda Martin identity for the trial, Fia once again could be herself. She and Special Agent Cory walked down the steps side by side, avoiding the crush of media in front of the courthouse. The blustery wind did little to dampen her spirits. “The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home,” as Stephen Foster wrote. Naturally, the composer brought to her mind the county in Florida named for him, the song he wrote about the Suwannee River, and the cultural center devoted to his music. Most of all, it reminded her of Foster County’s sheriff.

Fia tugged on the belt of her all-weather coat to tighten it. “Is it really and truly over?”

“Sullivan can appeal the death penalty, but he won’t be able to appeal the trial. Your idea about turning Conger on him turned out to be good strategy.”

“She’d kept records of everything. I have a feeling she either planned it for her own protection or perhaps blackmail.”

“Insurance, most likely. She’s one shrewd, ruthless woman.”

Fia shivered more from the memory of her close call with the contract killer than from the chilly wind. “So I won’t have to testify again?”

“Not against Sullivan.”

She let out a long breath and paused at the bottom of the steps. Sullivan’s attorneys had been granted a change in venue, bringing the trial to Jefferson County, to the same city where most of Fia’s loved ones still lived. Now that the verdict had been announced, her first order of business was to drive out to her mom’s and visit the family. She’d had to disconnect from them for two painfully long years. Next, she’d think about what she’d left behind in Florida … or, rather,
who
she’d left behind.

“Do you think I still need to look over my shoulder?”

“Sullivan’s going to be closely watched from now on, especially after Conger’s testimony. Still, you can always stay in the program, just to be safe.”

“No, thanks.” She’d thought long and hard, weighing all the pros and cons too many hours to hesitate in answering him. “There’re no guarantees in life, Cory. I could be hit by a truck crossing this street. I want to enjoy life to the fullest. If this witness protection business has taught me anything, it’s a deep appreciation for living on my own terms.”

He nodded. “You’re right. Nothing is perfect, and no one is 100 percent safe.”

She turned to face him. “Well, thanks for everything. You gave me the tools to stay hidden. That kept me alive. I won’t forget you.”

“I wish all my witnesses were as conscientious as you. It’d make my job easier.” He stuck out his hand to shake. “Good luck to you, Sofia.”

She ignored the hand and threw her arms around him for a hug. “Sue me for sexual harassment.”

“Take care, lady.” He hugged her in return. Then his gaze drifted over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

She turned and followed his stare. Huddled together at the corner, hunched against the brisk early March wind, stood all the people she loved most. Her grandma’s tight white curls hugged her head despite the breeze, her mom’s tears smeared her mascara in dark rivulets over her cheeks, and Nina in her wheelchair held Samantha’s hand while the youngster bounced with excessive energy. Fia choked on a sob at the sight of her niece, who was so much older than when she’d last hugged her. Joey, the consummate professional dressed in a tailored suit, with his arm around Sally, his pretty brunette wife. And …