Reluctant Witness (4 page)

“But...can’t you just stick me with
Philomena?”

“No, I can’t,” Inspector Vidal replied.
“She’s a great detective, but protection isn’t her specialty. Jack
will be your security officer. He’s Phil’s husband.”

“Oh.” I looked up at her, surprised. Somehow,
I hadn’t thought she was the marrying kind.

“Think you’re surprised now, wait till you
meet him,” she smiled.

Twenty minutes later, I found out what she
meant. I was still sitting in the same chair, going over details
with Philomena. Vidal was in a meeting with his boss. There was a
quick tap on the door and a moment later, it was swept open with a
powerful burst of energy. In walked a muscular man and an equally
muscular German shepherd.

“Did someone say party?” Dark brown hair
tinged with gray, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, and a crooked
smile that was hard to resist, I made note of all the details as
the trooper extended his hand to me. “Jackson Cornwall. Call me
Jack. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” I nodded, feeling the brute strength of
his fingers on mine. That was one of the firmest handshakes I ever
experienced. It told me this man was more than capable of handling
trouble.

“And how is the love of my life?” Jack
grabbed his wife, dipped her backwards and planted a big kiss on
her lips before returning her to the upright position. “You’ve
still got it, baby.”

“See what I mean?” Philomena turned to me and
rolled her eyes. “We’ve been married for fourteen years now. Every
day is an adventure.”

“Marigold, meet Brutus,” the K-9 handler
introduced his dog. “When he’s got his harness on, he’s all
business. When that comes off, he’s like any other canine -- he
likes to play.”

The big dog sat on his haunches beside his
boss, watching me with an alert gaze. I wondered if I should be
concerned about making the wrong move. Would the dog attack me?

Chapter Four

Jack seemed to sense my concern.

“Not to worry. He works on command, Marigold.
Brutus doesn’t get to do his own thing. He’s a working dog and he’s
got a job to do.”

“Great to know.” I wasn’t totally convinced.
Those dark brown eyes never stopped watching me.

“Not a dog person?” Jack inquired.

“It’s not that. I...I haven’t had one since I
was a kid, and then it was a beagle. Brutus is a lot bigger.”

“Big, small; it’s the same kind of animal.
You just have to get to know the dog’s personality, quirks, and
even fears.”

“Oh,” I nodded, still not really sure I
understood. Brutus seemed to be following the conversation.

There was another knock on the door. A young
woman stuck her head into the room.

“You’re all set. Everything’s in the ladies
room,” she announced.

“Great,” Philomena told her. “Come on,
Marigold. We have to get you ready for your road trip.”

“Oh?”

She led me down the hall, through a swinging
door, and into a small vestibule of the ladies room. A pile of
clothes sat waiting on the sink vanity.

“Anyone asks, you’re an academy recruit on a
training mission. You can change in the stall. Hand me your old
clothes when you’re done.”

I changed into the
long-sleeved tee shirt, sweatshirt, and sweatpants she handed me,
shedding my battered silk blouse and skirt. There was one word
emblazoned on the front of both the cotton shirt and
sweatshirt.
Police.

I decided I certainly wouldn’t turn any heads
in this outfit, but in a way, it was a relief to get rid of
tattered stockings and heels in favor of the black rubber-soled
shoes and black socks. I’d be able to run in these if there was an
emergency. The nylon jacket had the same word written on it, front
and back. I was officially impersonating a cop.

“Here’s an elastic band,” she told me. “Pull
your hair back and tuck it under the cap. We need folks to believe
you’re just a police recruit learning the ropes with your
mentor.”

I did as she asked, plunking the hat on my
head as the final touch. It carried the New York State Police logo
on the front.

“That hat will give you cover, Marigold. The
minute folks see a cop in uniform, they see the uniform, not the
person wearing it. You’ll blend right in.”

“Sure I will, except for the bandage on my
ear.”

“True, but you look fine from a distance.
Let’s hope folks don’t get curious and want to take a closer
peek.

“No gun?” I wondered. She threw her head back
and laughed. It seemed to take five years off her appearance.

“No gun. You’re doing what we call a
‘ride-along’. That’s all you have to say if anyone starts the
conversation.” Still chuckling, she handed me a bag. “Your
prescriptions and toiletries are in there, along with a few other
items we thought you might need. Don’t forget to take your pills.
And check your ear at least once a day, to make sure it’s not
infected.”

“Yes, Mom,” I answered, giving her a
mischievous grin.

“I need your phone. We don’t want anyone to
use it to locate you while we’re trying to hide you,” she
explained, softening her delivery as she saw my reaction.

“I don’t have it.”

“But you called to report the accident,” she
reminded me.

“I did,” I admitted sheepishly. I handed the
hit woman’s iPhone, the one I took from the plastic holder attached
to the dashboard of the Corolla, to Philomena. “I used her
phone.”

“Wow. This will come in very handy,” said the
New York state trooper, her eyes alert and interested as she began
to scroll through the icons. “It’s not every day we get our hands
on a contract killer’s phone. But what happened to yours? Did you
have one?”

“Mine is in the bushes, back at the Gilded
Nest. That horrible woman forced me to surrender it.” All my
business clients, suppliers, vendors, and caterers were listed in
my contacts. I had spent months building up my party planning
company; the minute I became a target for professional killers,
that all became a chapter in a past life.

“That’s too bad. Maybe we can send someone
there to retrieve it. I probably won’t see you again, so let me say
goodbye. I don’t know what you’ve been through, Marigold, but my
sense is you’re a good woman who got caught up in something bad.
You take care of yourself.”

“You, too,” I told her, extending my hand for
a farewell shake.

Jack and Brutus were outside the ladies’ room
door, waiting for us. “Okay, I think we’re ready to hit the road,
Phil. I’ll log on at eight for an update. Let me know if Mrs.
Twarkins should return her library book on time.”

“I will. I want you three to be careful. Come
home in one piece,” she instructed her husband. I looked away as
Philomena leaned in for a kiss. She had one final order when she
came up for air. “Don’t take chances.”

“Meaning?” Jack didn’t let go of his
wife.

“This case is already shaping up to be a
doozy. There are multiple shootings, lover, and they look like
professional hits.”

“Can’t be,” he replied, letting go of his
wife’s hands as we started the journey down the hall. “If they were
professional, Marigold would be dead.”

“That’s just it, Jack. They all seem to want
her alive and they’re willing to do whatever they have to do to get
her.”

“Boy, you must have some valuable
information,” said the K-9 cop as we hit the stairwell for the
flight down on foot. Brutus was a very nimble dog.

“If I do, I don’t remember it,” I
shrugged.

“Or don’t want to,” he suggested. “Maybe
whatever got you into the program in the first place was just too
horrible to remember.”

Was he right? Something in that thought
struck a nerve. Maybe it wasn’t just that Tovar was shot at the
Gilded Nest. As terrifying as that was, it seemed to bring back
something even more frightening. I suddenly shivered, jogged by a
faint memory.

“Did I get you all jittery, Marigold?”

“I was all jittery to begin with, trust
me.”

“I imagine living as a protected witness is
stressful.”

“It is,” I admitted, shrugging. “I just wish
I knew why people are after me.”

“Let’s get you someplace safe and then maybe
you’ll relax enough to figure it out.” Jack held up a hand and
peered out of the small window in the exterior door. Slowly opening
it, he scanned the horizon for signs of trouble, and then directed
me to wait with the dog. “I’ll go grab the car. Brutus, it’s
Scheherazade time, buddy. If anything happens, that’s the command
to protect. He’ll help you.”

“Okay,” I turned towards him, nodding.

“Just remember that word, Marigold.” Jack
kept his gaze fastened on me. “Imprint it on your brain.”

“I will,” I promised earnestly.

The large German shepherd sat at my side
while I watched the state trooper cross the parking lot and climb
into an marked K-9 sedan. A moment later, Jack pulled a u-turn and
pulled the vehicle along side the building. He bounced out of the
front seat and came to the door of the state police barracks.

“Hop in. You get to ride upfront, just like a
real cop,” he told me, as he directed Brutus into the back
seat.

Ten minutes later, we were on the highway,
cruising at the speed limit as cars blasted past us. We amused
ourselves by watching the tail lights come on as drivers caught
themselves passing the state police patrol car. Jack chuckled when
one driver braked so hard on the highway in his effort to convince
the New York state trooper he was a careful driver, he dropped
below fifty miles an hour.

“Oh, yeah. That really fools me, buddy!” he
hollered after him. “Give the guy five minutes, he’ll be back to
doing eighty. I hope these people appreciate the fact that it’s
their lucky day. I’m not pulling anyone over for a ticket. I can’t.
My assignment is to protect you.”

“Normally, you would pull them over?” I
asked, curious.

“
No, most of the time I just
cruise the highway, Marigold, as a deterrent. The average citizen
doesn’t go around breaking the law. They see me and they
automatically slow down.”

“Ah, I see. If you just keep driving up and
down the interstate, you don’t really have to pull folks over
unless their behavior is blatant?”

“By Jove, you’ve got it!” he laughed.

We spent an hour traveling along the
interstate, the highways, and even some of the country roads,
crisscrossing our routes over and over again, until we finally
stopped for coffee and blueberry muffins a little after three.
Brutus stayed in the car.

“I think we’re okay, Marigold. I haven’t
noticed a tail. Let’s sit back and enjoy the java. We’ll know
better when we’re done with break time.”

I took a seat in the back of the shop, at a
narrow table for two, while Jack went up to the counter and placed
our order. I could smell the aroma of freshly baked muffins and it
aroused my appetite. Carrying coffee cups and small paper sack in
hand, the uniformed trooper made his way over to where I was
sitting and straddled the chair opposite me.

“Have a muffin,” he offered, withdrawing a
wax paper-wrapped, sugar-crusted delight from the bag and placing
it in front of me.

“I don’t normally indulge,” I confided, “but
this looks really good and I am hungry.”

“What do you normally indulge in?”

“Hmm...” It was a good question. I wasn’t
really sure. Why was it so hard to remember?

“Let’s try something else. What do you like
to do for fun, Marigold?”

“I run. I hike. I swim. I dance....”

“Dance? That sounds interesting. What kind of
dance?”

“Um, what kind of dance do I do?” I closed my
eyes for a few seconds, trying to remember. I twirled around in my
mind, spinning and whirling. There were hands on my back as I
dipped.

“Tango...salsa....ballroom.” Suddenly there
was a flash, one that filled my frontal cortex with an image stored
in my memory bank. Jared’s smiling face, with his twinkling brown
eyes. Jared, my beloved Jared. Just as quickly, it was gone, even
as a great sadness came over me. My lungs seemed to fill up with
swallowed tears, the pressure hard against my breastbone. I felt as
if I were drowning in a sea of yesterdays. “But I don’t dance any
more.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Jack asked me, a touch of
concern in his voice. “Did something happen? You broke a leg?”

“I’m not sure.” It was true. My thoughts were
all jumbled; it was hard to keep them all straight. Who was I? If I
was in the Witness Protection Program, what had gotten me there?
And why had someone shot Tovar, the new father who couldn’t wait
for his baby to take her first steps?

“Maybe we should talk about something else,”
he suggested, noting my distress. “Are you a snow bunny?”

“Hardly,” I smiled. “I skate a little, but as
far as skiing goes, I’ll be lucky if I ever get off the bunny
slope.”

We spent the rest of the time chatting about
winter sports in the Catskills. He had grown up on the ice and
snow, as had Philomena, and was passionate about it. During his
off-time, he served on one of the local ski patrols, and he shared
some of the hairy tales of rescuing stranded skiers on Windham
Mountain.

“You name it and we’ve had it -- heart
attacks, broken limbs, collisions with everything from trees to
two-legged and four-legged creatures, including a dog. Don’t get me
started on the novices who take the wrong trails and wind up buried
up to their necks in packed powder because they thought they’d try
the more dangerous trails. Phil says people just don’t have the
good sense to know their own limits. Lord knows she’s right. I’ve
certainly seen my share of idiots on the job.”

“How long have you been a state trooper?”

“Seventeen years. I joined fresh out of
college, and did three years on the highway, cruising with my
trusty radar gun. That ended the day I had to stop a guy doing 120
MPH in a BMW in heavy traffic on a holiday weekend. It was
hellacious. I was sure he was going to cause a fatal traffic
accident with his crazy driving.”