by Kathy Ivan
Brody picked up his bottle and began picking at the label, before taking another drink. “So, you said they’ve already assigned you a case. Anything you can talk about?”
“Generalities only. Can’t give you any details. A woman testified in a case and went into witness protection. Something happened to spook her, and she’s disappeared. No one can find her.”
Brody’s gaze met his. “Not necessarily a bad thing. Witness protection means she had to be protected by being given a new identity and a new place to live. Maybe whatever scared her caused her to do the same thing, only on her own, without telling the government why she was running.”
“But it also means nobody is there to protect her if the bad guys come after her. She doesn’t have anybody to turn to for help.”
Brody placed his beer back on the table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. “If she ran, she’s probably scared of something—or somebody—coming after her. Could whoever she testified against have found her, despite witness protection? Nothing against the feds doing their jobs, but sometimes no matter how hard you work, somebody’s always smarter, faster, or more determined to get the job done.”
Antonio sighed. “That’s what I’m thinking. I don’t have all the details yet, but from what I’ve read in the file, and what the SAC relayed, somebody tried to take her out. Neighbor was killed and she basically ghosted. When she resurfaced, she was in a different city, different state, and contacted WITSEC. She was given another new identity, new job, new city.”
Brody grimaced. “Lemme guess, somehow they found her again.” Antonio nodded, and Brody continued. “Sounds like there’s a leak in your witness protection program.”
“There was. I’ve been told the leak has been effectively plugged.”
“But not quick enough to save your girl, right?”
“She’s alive, though she was hurt. At least, we think she’s still alive.”
Brody picked up his bottle and toasted, “Good for her. I bet she didn’t contact the feds again, and struck out on her own, right?”
“Pretty much. Now I have to find her.”
Brody studied him. “Why? Seems like the witness protection folks failed her not once, but twice. I figure it’s pretty smart for her not to trust anybody else with her safety at this point. It’s what I’d do, if I was in her shoes.”
Antonio scrubbed his hand along his jaw. “If only it were that simple. Unfortunately, the guy she testified against is getting a new trial. Without her testimony, chances are good he’ll walk. Trust me, bro, you do not want this guy walking the streets a free man. Look up the word evil in the dictionary and his picture would be there.”
“You think she knows? About the appeal?”
Antonio shook his head, studying his brother’s face. “I doubt it, not unless she’s got a connection within the feds. It hasn’t been released to the news outlets, but he’s getting a new trial. It’s being kept quiet for obvious reasons. It would be a social media circus. I’ve got my work cut out for me piecing together whatever clues I’ve got to try and find this woman.”
“Good luck. I sincerely mean it, although I gotta say, I sympathize with this anonymous chick. She does the right thing, helps put away a seriously bad dude from what you’re telling me, and she’s done nothing but pay the price since. If I was her, I’d dig the deepest hole I could, and not climb out again. Or better yet, I’d leave the country. Doubt you’d find me then.”
“Brody, don’t even think it. If she’s left the country, I’ll never get her to come back to testify.”
“Like I said, good luck.” Brody stood and picked up the empty food baskets and the two bottles and handed them back to the girl at the food truck. Another thing he liked about Austin, they were big on recycling. He smiled as she put the bottles into a large can marked Glass/Recycle.
He stood when Brody walked back up to the table.
“Ready to hit the town, bro?”
As much as he wanted to head back to the hotel and dig into the files on Big Jim Berkley and his niece, he knew his brother needed this—needed him. To let loose and leave his personal demons behind for a few hours. He’d be there to watch his back—always. It might also give him some insight into what had turned his fun-loving, straight arrow brother into a haunted, closed down stranger since the last time he’d seen him.
“Let’s party.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sun had played peek-a-boo behind the clouds most of the day, and the temperature had dropped several degrees by the time Serena pulled into her parking space. Those same clouds steadily got darker and darker, and with a twinge of a headache beginning behind her eyes, she felt pretty confident it would rain before nightfall.
Staring through the windshield, she studied her home. She loved her townhouse with its two-story charm. In a fortunate turn of events, she’d been able to snag an end unit, when the couple buying it decided to cancel the contract, and she’d snatched it up at a good price. Her fake identification had held up under scrutiny, and the sale had sailed through without a hitch. Though she did wonder if she was making a huge mistake, because chances were good she’d end up on the run again, and leave it all behind. Still, she adored her little corner of Shiloh Springs, carving out a nest where she felt safe laying her head at night.
A combination of wood and brick, it had a modern yet homey appearance which attracted her from the moment she’d seen it. The only drawback, as far as she was concerned at moments like this, was its lack of a garage. Hopefully she’d get everything inside before it started raining, because she was like a cat, and hated to get wet. More than once when she’d been running, hiding from her family and from the feds, she’d spent nights huddled under overhangs with the rain pouring down, cold, soggy and alone. A feeling she hoped she’d never deal with again. She felt strangely simpatico with stray animals, because she’d lived enough on the streets to be miserable, and she’d never forgotten the feeling.
Hitting the trunk key on her fob, she quickly unloaded all the grocery bags, along with her garment bag from the dry cleaners, and headed toward the front door. An eerie feeling permeated the air, and Serena froze, furtively looking around, scanning right and left before shaking her head.
You’ve got to stop this. Nobody knows where you are. You’re safe for now.
Unlocking the door, she flicked on the light in the entryway and headed toward the kitchen. Placing the grocery bags on the island, she tossed her purse and keys there too, and she took a steadying breath. Ever since the stupid photo showed up in the magazine, she’d found herself constantly looking over her shoulder, flinching at the slightest sound. As hard as she tried to remind herself she was safe, some sixth sense insisted her uncle would find her. Thinking about having to flee again, leave behind everything and everyone in Shiloh Springs, made her breath catch in her chest.
Digging through the grocery sacks, she put away the perishables, especially the pint of chocolate raspberry chip ice cream she intended to savor after dinner. It had been a rough few days and she deserved to reward herself with her favorite treat. She made quick work of putting away the rest of her food, and headed for the living room. Kicking off her heels, she smiled at the coolness of the wooden floor beneath her toes. Was there a better feeling in the world than coming home and kicking off your shoes at the end of the day?
Plopping down on the sofa, she lifted her feet to place them on the coffee table and froze for several excruciatingly long seconds, before lowering them slowly back to the floor. Something wasn’t right. The small tray she left on the coffee table to hold the remotes wasn’t where she left it. Before it was in the center of the table, yet now it was off to the left by several inches. She replayed in her mind when she’d left her place earlier. Had she somehow moved it, or maybe hit the table in passing? The small potted African violet wasn’t in its usual place, either.
Rising from the sofa, she moved around the living room, studying every angle, every item. The
differences were subtle, but they were there. Little things out of place. She’d be the first to admit she was a tad OCD about where things belonged. Things needed to be symmetric, and everything had its proper place, and now they weren’t where she’d left them. Nothing big or obvious, but definitely not how she’d left her place earlier, she was positive.
Taking tentative steps down the hall, she glanced into the guest room. Yep, it was the same in there. Though the room was sparsely decorated, because she rarely used it, little things were off-kilter or out of place from where they belonged. Her hands felt clammy, and she wiped them along her slacks before clenching them into fists. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach grew, and she fought the bile rising in the back of her throat.
Finally, she made her way to her bedroom and swung open the door. At first glance, everything looked exactly like she’d left it earlier. The bed was made with its dark turquoise bedspread. Accent pillows of turquoise and burnt orange and white decorated the top, precisely the way she’d placed them. The nightstands on either side of the bed held silver-based lamps with white shades, each centered in place. Nothing out of place there, either.
Finally, her gaze landed on the dresser, and she swallowed back her scream. The top drawer on the right wasn’t closed all the way, and the strap from one of her bras was caught on the edge. She definitely hadn’t left it like that when she’d gotten dressed. Reaching for it, she stopped herself from touching it at the last second. There might be fingerprints left behind by whoever had been here. Deep in her gut, she knew what this meant.
Someone had been in her home. Searched her place. Touched her things. She wrapped her arms around her middle, and fell to her knees at the thought, because it could only mean one thing.
They’d found her.
Antonio pulled up in front of the sheriff’s station and killed the engine. He’d spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon going over the files SAC Williamson gave him. After spending most of the night with Brody until the wee hours, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what ate at his brother, though he wasn’t about to give up. As long as he stayed in Shiloh Springs, he planned on doing a little digging into Brody’s problem, because he couldn’t stand to see his brother hurting. Whatever it took, he’d find a way to make things better. Because that’s what family did.
He still had a hard time wrapping his head around what he’d discovered in the Berkley files. Big Jim’s case was pretty straightforward. He was a thug and a terrorist with delusions of grandeur. The world was lucky he’d been caught and thrown behind bars before somebody was seriously hurt or killed. He’d been escalating his attacks, and it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. The only surprise was the feds hadn’t caught the bully sooner. But it was the other file, the one on Sharon Berkley, throwing him for a loop.
The second he’d opened the file and looked at the picture of Sharon Berkley, the bottom dropped out of his world. Recognition flared instantly. She’d changed her hair color. Changed the style. Even the color of her eyes was different, easy enough nowadays with colored contact lenses. But there was no disguising that face. The face he saw every night when he closed his eyes.
His Serena.
The woman who’d moved to Shiloh Springs. Made herself part of the community. Part of his family. There was no disputing the facts—Serena Snowden was Sharon Berkley, the woman being hunted by WITSEC, the FBI, and countless others. If he was to hazard a guess, Big Jim Berkley probably had a passel of hired goons searching for her too. She was the key who could bring Big Jim’s kingdom tumbling down around him once and for all.
A rap on his window broke him from his thoughts, and he stared at the man standing outside his door. His brother, Rafe, leaned downward, with a smile on his face. He motioned for his brother to get in the car. Once seated, Rafe swiveled to face his brother.
“What’s up?”
Antonio drew in a deep breath before answering. “We need to talk.”
“Okay. Business or family?”
He knew exactly what his brother meant. If it was business, Rafe would do what he could within the limits of the law to help. Being in law enforcement himself, Antonio understood and appreciated his brother’s stance. If the problem was family, there were no boundaries to what Rafe would do. All the Boudreau brothers had an ingrained sense of right and wrong, taught from the moment they stepped through the doors at the Big House, the Boudreau family homestead. Loyalty, honesty, integrity—traits lovingly taught by Douglas and Ms. Patti. These things became embedded into the lives of each Boudreau. Wasn’t to say a few of the boys who passed through their home didn’t make it. Sometimes the foster system failed, no matter how hard those working to give a helping hand tried. Circumstances couldn’t always be overcome, and sometimes, no matter how hard everyone worked, people had free will and made wrong choices. Then it was up to them to pay the consequences of the choices made.
The one thing they’d been taught, from the moment they walked through the doorway until they left, was family came first. No matter what, family always helped family. In times of need, family stepped up, no questions asked, and did whatever it took to help out a brother in need.
He pondered his answer for a long moment. “Business. Family. I don’t know—both maybe?”
“Wanna go inside and talk?”
Antonio shook his head. The more he thought about it, he realized he didn’t want an official investigation on the part of Shiloh Springs Sheriff’s Department. The FBI was already going to have problems with him handling this case, probably be screaming bloody murder about conflict of interest, since he knew Serena—Sharon—personally. He’d come to get his brother’s opinion, off the record, because he honestly wasn’t sure what to do. As an FBI agent, he knew his job. Knew he should head straight for Serena’s place, and take her into custody for her own protection. As a man, he wanted to do the same, protect her and keep her safe from everybody, which included Big Jim and the government. He knew he didn’t have his head on straight, and needed a second unbiased opinion. An added bonus, he knew Rafe could keep his mouth shut.
“Can you take a break? I’ve got a case I’d like to get your opinion on, but it’s a bit…sensitive.”
Rafe eyeballed him, and Antonio met his gaze straight on. Finally, Rafe nodded his head and opened the car door.
“Give me a second to let Sally Anne know where I’ll be. Be right back.”
A couple minutes later, Rafe slid onto the passenger seat again. “Unless there’s an emergency, I’m yours for the rest of the afternoon. Now do you want to tell me what’s got you wrapped up so tight you’re about to bust?”
Reaching beside his seat, Antonio pulled out the file on Big Jim Berkley, and tossed it to Rafe. When his brother simply held the file and quirked a brow, Antonio laughed. His brother understood him so well.
“Caught a case out of the Austin office. You know I’m helping cover down there for a few weeks, while they’re short-staffed, right?” At Rafe’s nod, he started the engine and pulled onto the street. “The SAC hit me with this yesterday. You might remember the case. Big Jim Berkley?”
“Yeah, I remember it. Guy liked to bomb places like synagogues and mosques, right? Didn’t they arrest him? I thought he went away for life plus something like three hundred years.”
“Well, bro, off the record, it looks like his attorneys got him a new trial.”
Rafe let loose a string of curses. “He’s as dirty as they come. I remember following a good chunk of the trial, but kinda lost track after he was convicted. How could they possibly justify giving him another trial?”
“He’s either got a very good lawyer or somebody’s on the take. Maybe both. It’s not common knowledge yet. The feds are keeping mum, because there’s a catch.”
Rafe looked up from the pages he’d started flipping through. “There’s always a catch, isn’t there?”
“Remember the niece? The one who testified against him and a bunch of her
family members during the trial? She’s the one who turned them in in the first place.”
“I remember her.” Rafe tapped the folder against his knee, staring out the windshield. “Didn’t she go into witness protection afterward? Big Jim made some not-so-veiled threats in open court about how she’d pay for her treachery and betraying the family.”
“Uh-huh. There’s the rub. Sharon Berkley is in the wind.”
“Can’t be good for the feds’ case. I seem to remember she was pretty much the lynchpin holding their case together. Can’t they use her previous testimony against him?”
“Not as long as she’s still alive, they can’t. What is it they always say, the accused has the right to face his accuser? If she’s not there to testify, the government’s case is pretty much circumstantial evidence, and from what I’ve been told, shaky at best. Without Sharon Berkley’s testimony, chances are good he’ll walk.”
“How do you play into all of this?”
“The case I’ve been handed is to find Sharon Berkley.”
Rafe barked a laugh. “Kind of a tall order for one man, isn’t it? I’d think on a case this big, they’d have scores of agents looking for her.”
“They do, spread out all over the country. I happened to luck into the local case because the agent they’d assigned had appendicitis and had to be rushed to surgery.”
“Tough luck.”
They drove for a few minutes in silence, and Antonio pulled over and parked in the parking lot of the elementary school, and watched his brother’s eye scan the building. He knew exactly where Rafe’s mind had gone, straight to his fiancée, Tessa. He hadn’t been thinking about that when he’d pulled in here, he’d simply wanted to stop for a few minutes to hash out the case with Rafe, because he was about to drop the big bombshell.
