Reluctant Witness (10 page)

“
Think about it, Marigold,”
he shot back, his gaze fierce. “Two professional killers went after
you and missed. That’s what doesn’t make any sense. The dead woman
in the car at the pond...Kelly Wainright, alias Cassandra Klee,
alias Lorissa Kraupt...why didn’t she kill you when she had the
chance? Why did she shove you in the trunk of that Corolla? And who
was the guy who insisted he was trying to help you and then shot at
the cops? How did he miss?”

“
But he hit me in the ear!”
I responded, tugging on my bandage. “Remember?”

“
It’s possible he wasn’t
aiming at you.”

I scrambled back to that
memory, to the instant when I felt that bullet strike my ear back
in Windham. What had I been doing at that moment in time?
Falling.
I was stumbling
down the hill, towards the cop who was rushing forward to save me.
Three shots had been fired, but only one had found a victim -- me.
“The guy shoved me at the cop. Just before he pulled out his gun
and shot me, I lost my footing and went crashing down the
hill.”

“
Leaving you to conclude
what?”

“
He was aiming
low!”

“
Exactly,” Lincoln nodded.
“And if you hadn’t fallen, you probably wouldn’t have been shot.
Think about it, Marigold. Not only didn’t he hit any of the cops
when he fired his weapon, he got clean away.”

“
Are you saying you think
that wasn’t a fluke?”

“
The guy who tried to grab
you has some special skills; either that or he has an accomplice.
The question is why did he want you to get caught in
Windham?”

“
You think this is part of
some conspiracy?” That sounded too convolved to make much rational
sense. Was Lincoln off his rocker?

“
No, not the way you think.
Who responded to the shooting at the Gilded Nest that left the
marshal seriously injured? The local cops did. That resulted in
unwanted publicity for the Marshals Service, drawing attention to
the party you organized and to you. Any legitimate investigation
would look at what the marshal was doing at the Gilded Nest just
before he was shot. See? Someone wants you out in the
open.”

“
Me? Why?”

“
It can’t be a coincidence
that Eve had that terrible fall and Shaun was beaten to a bloody
pulp. Folks must want the members of your WitSec team replaced. And
when you were kidnapped, you were brought to Windham. Why? What was
that professional killer doing with you in her car trunk? She died,
but you survived, and when you did, you did what any good citizen
would do. You called the local cops for help. Maybe that was the
weakness in the plan.”

“
What do you mean the
weakness, Lincoln?”

“
Windham’s police force is
so small that they have to use the state police as backup. Phil and
Vidal knew right away something wasn’t right about your case, so
they brought Jack in on it. That’s why he called me and asked me to
check with the FBI, using back channels. And when the FBI found
out, the assistant director instructed me to turn my open cases
over to the rest of my team and informed me to report directly to
her, but she didn’t fully brief me on your real status. That means
the FBI knows this is really important and it’s not willing to take
any chances. You’re a high priority case, Marigold.”

“
Is that a good thing or a
bad thing?” I wondered, still trying to absorb the
implications.

“
Let’s make it a good
thing,” he replied, giving me a smile meant to reassure me.
“Consider this to be progress. We’re making head way. We know more
now than we did a half an hour ago, and that’s going to help me to
help you.”

“
I hope so.”

We spent the afternoon watching old reruns
of classic shows and relaxing in the room. Lincoln disappeared into
the bathroom every time his cell phone rang. Just before six, he
sat up on his bed.

“
Are you hungry? I know I
am. Let’s go grab some grub. Don’t forget your pills.”

We headed out for dinner at one of the
hotel’s restaurants, waiting in line to get into the “all you can
eat feast” and helped ourselves to the dishes spread on the buffet
table. By eight o’clock, we were satiated, sitting at our table and
enjoying tiramisu and coffee.

“
This is almost like a
vacation for me,” Lincoln told me, leaning back in his
chair.

“
Really? How so?” I gave
him a slight smile, thinking he must surely be
exaggerating.

“
I just finished an
assignment over in the Middle East last month, tracking terrorists.
Before that, I worked on the Boston bombing
investigation.”

“
Wow.” I shook my head. “I
guess it must be a relief to get an ordinary case for a
change.”

“
Oh, your case is anything
but ordinary, Marigold, far from it. We know something big is
involved, but we just haven’t figured it out yet.”

“
I couldn’t help but
overhear that guy, Ron, when he was talking to your brother. He
mentioned another murder and said I might be some kind of help on
the case. What was that all about?”

“
That was all smoke and
mirrors, Marigold. Ron isn’t exactly what he seems. We checked with
the Providence Police. He’s not one of theirs. He’s not with the
state police or any other law enforcement agency, as best as we can
tell.”

“
You think he’s another hit
man or something?” I sat up, leaning across the table. “Should I be
worried?”

“
It’s hard to say at this
point.” Lincoln took another sip of coffee. “Maybe someone’s paying
him to track you. Either that or he’s somehow involved in the
original crime. He did say he worked for Jared Spears. Did you know
him?”

“
I didn’t recognize his
voice. But he said the same thing that the guy at the pond said,
just before he started shooting.”

“
What’s that?”

“
He used the phrase,
‘professional courtesy’.”

“
That’s cop talk,” my
dinner companion told me. “It’s usually reserved for those
occasions when you can’t get help for a case you’re working when
you’re out of your jurisdiction. Any chance he’s the same guy at
the pond?”

“
I don’t know. I didn’t get
a good look at the man’s face. It was too dark.” Thinking back, I
tried to retrieve the details of that unpleasant confrontation.
“The man was about a foot taller than me, and I’m five-foot three.
He wore wire rim glasses. If I had to guess his age, he was in his
forties.”

“
That description doesn’t
sound like Ron. Maybe he does have an accomplice. What set off
alarm bells for you?”

“
He insisted he was trying
to help me when he grabbed me, but I didn’t believe
him.”

“
Why didn’t you?” the
federal investigator wanted to know

“
Well, for one thing, the
guy tried to drag me away, right in front of the cops.”

“
Bold move,” Lincoln
decided. “He probably assumed he was working with country
bumpkins.”

“
That might explain it,” I
grinned. “It all fell apart when the trooper asked to see his
badge, but he didn’t have one.”

We returned to our room, planning to hit the
road just after seven the following morning. Lincoln had something
planned, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was.

“
It’s better that you don’t
know what the plan is, Marigold, just in case.”

“
Just in case what?” I
inquired. He just looked at me with those brown eyes, without
saying anything. “Oh.”

Just before we turned in for the night, he
was kind enough to check my ear, examining it under the fluorescent
light in the bathroom before he replaced the gauze pad. By now, I
had been on the pills long enough that they were beginning to work
their magic. My only real problem was that the stitches were making
my skin itch.

Lincoln flopped onto his bed, the TV remote
in his hand. “So? What are we watching tonight, Marigold?”

Much to my delight, Lincoln
shared my love of classic films. We watched
Double Indemnity
, with Barbara
Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray, sprawled out on our beds. We were both
wearing sweats; I was back in my police-issued set, Lincoln in a
pair of gray ones. Warm and toasty, I dozed off just after
midnight.

The sound of sleet against the window woke
me up just before six. I lay there, watching it pelt the glass for
another few minutes before I rose. Once up, I padded quietly around
the room, trying not to disturb the sleeping FBI agent. As quietly
as I could, I filled the coffee pot, turned it on, and set up the
insulated hot cups in their holders. When the trickle of freshly
brewed coffee began to drip into the empty glass container, I
headed into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash up. By the time
I came out, Lincoln was awake, lying on the top of his bed and
catching up on the news.

“
Would you like some
coffee?” I asked.

“
I sure would. Cream, one
sugar.”

He took his cup into the bathroom with him;
I carried mine over to one of the club chairs and settled in to
watch the news. When he emerged clean-shaven a half an hour later,
we walked down the hall to the guest lounge for breakfast. By
eight, we had enjoyed eggs, toast, and bacon and were ready to hit
the road.

At Lincoln’s direction, I drove. He informed
me that our destination was Philadelphia. The freezing rain caused
havoc as we got underway. The local roads were icy, so I kept my
speed down. By the time we hit the interstate, the salt trucks had
come through, laying down a layer that eliminated most of the
dangerous black ice, and we began to make better time as the miles
fell away.

“
We’re picking up my dog at
my ex-wife’s house. She’s getting serious with some guy who’s
allergic, so the dog she insisted I couldn’t have when we divorced
is suddenly available to me.”

“
Oh?” I couldn’t help
smiling. “It sounds like there’s a story in there
somewhere.”

“
I’ll save that for when I
know you better,” he replied, giving me a good-humored eye roll.
“But if I could just ask one favor of you, please say nothing about
your reason for being with me. I’d like to see the dragon lady
smolder for a while, thinking that I’ve moved on.”

“
As in I’m the new
girlfriend?” I teased.

“
Hey, it’s not my fault if
she draws the wrong conclusion, is it?” He was clearly enjoying the
idea of pulling one over on the woman who left him.

“
You think you’re the first
guy who’s asked me to help him make an ex-wife jealous? Good
heavens! I’ve got my patter down and I can be quite convincing when
I put some heat into it. Trust me. I know what I’m doing,” I told
him playfully, lowering my voice to almost a whisper and letting my
tongue linger on each word. I licked my lips hungrily, like he was
about to be my next meal, and winked.

“
Huh?” For a moment, a very
long moment, he stared at me, shocked, as if he were seeing me for
the first time, and then the lawman quickly shook his head from
side to side, as if to clear it of whatever fantasy had popped into
it. That’s when I knew caution was in order. Lincoln was one of
those rare men who could be easily taken in by a simple gesture
from the opposite sex. Tears must make him go weak in the knees, I
decided, and a kiss from the wrong lips could prove worrisome. I
tapped the brakes as I turned onto the next street and gave him a
more sisterly smile. “Never fear. By the time I’m done, she’ll be
kicking herself for letting you go.”

“
Just don’t go overboard. I
don’t want to lose the dog,” he informed me, his tone still
cautious. It was time to change the subject.

“
Did you two also have
kids?” I asked, suddenly all too aware his masculinity. I knew we
would continue to share close quarters. Did it make sense to tempt
fate by flirting shamelessly, even now that I knew for sure that he
was single? Real danger lurked in the shadows. What if another hit
man came after me and Lincoln was too distracted to pay attention
to the clues? It could get us both killed. “Is the new beau also
allergic to them?”

“
No kids. Deirdre was too
busy building her career to take time out to procreate. Take the
next exit off the turnpike. I want to make sure we don’t have a
tail.”

I turned on my indicator and eased onto the
Exit 7 B ramp, expecting the road to be slick. I could feel the
steering wheel shimmy as the tires tried to grip the pavement
without much luck.

“
Careful,” he warned me
sternly. “Steer into the skid.”

Chapter Ten

“Right,” I replied, gritting my teeth as we
slid towards the right embankment. Ignoring the steep drop-off that
awaited us, I took my foot off the gas and tried to keep the wheel
steady until I felt the car slow. I was relieved when we got to the
stop sign safely.

“That was close,” I decided. My passenger
agreed.

“You’re a pretty good driver, though,” he
remarked. “You’re calm under fire.”

“Years of crisis management. The party
business is rather stressful, with lots of emotional meltdowns and
blowups. I’m good unless it’s real bullets I’m facing. That’s when
I really lose it.” I turned right when the traffic eased up. Here
on the main road, salt and sand were plentiful, and the driving
seemed easier. I went back to the thread of the conversation. “Is
that what split you two up?”