Unintended Witness

by D. L. Wood

  “You believe him?” he asked.

  “Yes. He has no reason to push anymore. At this point, it’s up to law enforcement to do the digging. And we both know they won’t find any connections. The best they will do is find out the same information Adams found out, which leads to nothing. Nothing provable anyway.”

  “I’m still concerned about Bellamy.”

  “Bellamy hasn’t worked for you in years. They asked you their questions last week and you satisfied them. They’ve dropped it. He’s been working down here in his own agency for some time now, and Vettner-Drake has paid him off the books. In cash. There is no trail to find. They won’t connect him to you even if they look. All they’ll find is the evidence we’ve planted in his office suggesting that he was enforcing collection on some huge gambling debts Donner had racked up. I’m telling you—it’s fine,” she insisted.

  “Donner was an idiot to take him out. He had to know we would eventually come after him—if his wife hadn’t gotten to him first.”

  “I suspect he panicked, with that last real estate repurchase payment being so overdue. He knew the rules—either you repay in cash, or you pay the price another way. My guess is that when Drake had Bellamy go meet Donner to collect, they got into it. Either Donner couldn’t or wouldn’t pay. Bellamy probably tried to offer a bit of physical incentive, and somehow Donner got the better of him. Pretty smart, actually, sending Bellamy’s cell phone on a trip to Florida like he did. Probably stuck it on a semi and let it go. Gave some credence to his story that he paid Bellamy our money and that Bellamy must have taken off with the cash if he didn’t deliver it to us. It bought Donner a little bit of time, anyway.”

  “Update me on Claire Donner,” he said.

  “My people tell me that from what we can find, it looks like she didn’t have a clue that Donner had been creatively financing his project with you or that there was anybody out there that would be looking for the cash. The accountant did, obviously, but he apparently never shared that information with her. It took us longer than I would’ve liked to uncover what she and the accountant were doing, but, once we did, he had already taken off. We confronted her, led her to believe Donner’s debts were gambling debts, and gave her one day to pay us back with what they had taken. Instead, she bought an airline ticket.

  “So,” she continued, “that forced our hand. We made good on our threats and turned the video over to Adams. The accountant did make it to Jacksonville before we caught up to him. He had what we believe was most, if not all, of the money—three million in an offshore account. We had him make an electronic transfer before we, well…handled him.”

  “Yeah. I saw the numbers. It’s not everything Donner owed.”

  “Well, you’re not going to get it all back. It was a bad investment,” she told him candidly.

  “And you’re sure Claire Donner won’t talk?”

  “We got a message to her right before they picked her up that she better keep her mouth shut if she didn’t want something worse than prison to happen.”

  “And they can’t trace the video back to us?”

  “No. It was sheer luck that we got it at all. We were only following Donner because at the time we had started to wonder if he was conspiring with Bellamy.”

  He sniffed loudly. “My son thinks you’ve left us exposed by getting her arrested instead of permanently eliminating the threat. Plus, she made a conscious decision to ignore the debt and keep the money for herself. We don’t normally tolerate that. I’m not sure I like the precedent it sets for our other clients.”

  “First, as I explained to your son, she isn’t a threat. Like I said, she doesn’t know anything that would point the authorities to us. And, think about how would it have looked if she and the accountant had both disappeared? Without her around to take the blame for shooting Donner and provide an explanation as to why, the police would have had two unexplained murders and two unexplained disappearances on their hands. The intensity of their investigation would have skyrocketed exponentially. I would not want you to have to weather that kind of scrutiny. I have a lot of faith in our precautions, but nothing is one hundred percent secure. Better not to test it.”

  Banyon continued, hardly taking a breath. “Right now, the chance of them connecting Bellamy to you on this is slim to none. With the gambling angle, they won’t have a reason to think the story goes beyond that. But, if we had imposed a more severe sanction for her choice to run off with your money, that would have increased your risk of exposure to unacceptable levels in my opinion. Hence the DVD. It keeps you out of the line of fire, yet still sends a clear message to your clients that you do not tolerate failures to repay. The people that do business with you will know what happened. They won’t be able to prove anything, but they will know. Your reputation for strict enforcement of your clients’ obligations will remain intact.”

  “I still think she got off easy.”

  “You know,” Banyon started ominously, “people die every day in prison. It is an unfortunate reality in our penal system. And so often it is impossible to determine who was the culprit or why they acted. It just…happens. It’s rarely ever traced back to anyone, or any reason, outside those walls. At least that’s been my experience.”

  “So,” he said, clearly mulling over the import of her comment, “it’s possible that Mrs. Donner might end up paying the standard price for her theft from us after all.”

  “Yes,” she answered menacingly. “I would say that outcome is a distinct possibility.”

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  The chilled air rippled Chloe’s hair as she stood in Reese’s front yard, Emma hugging her neck. A cold snap had passed through overnight, signaling the season’s further dip into late autumn. Chloe had failed to slip a jacket on before walking out of the house, and now a shiver ran down her spine as she pulled away from the teen.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go,” Emma bemoaned. “I liked not being outnumbered. And now who am I going to talk to?”

  “You can call me anytime. I mean it,” Chloe added, squeezing Emma’s shoulder. “Or try your dad, even. You might be surprised.”

  “We’ll see,” Emma hedged. But Chloe had spotted her allowing Reese to hug her over pancakes at breakfast this morning and thought the girl’s frostiness towards her dad might finally be melting. It was a good sign.

  “Aww, don’t leave,” Tyler whined, grabbing Jack around the waist. “Dad’s broken and now nobody’s gonna throw the ball with me.”

  “I am not broken!” Reese declared scathingly. “I can still handle you,” he said, playfully pulling Tyler off Jack and tickling him as Tyler squirmed away.

  “How about,” Jack said, reaching for Tyler and pulling him back, “you take it easy with your dad for just a little bit longer. He’s not broken, but he’s not one hundred percent yet.”

  Reese nodded in grateful agreement behind Tyler’s back.

  “And I’ll still take you on, Tyler,” Holt chimed in, as he leaned casually against the hood of Chloe’s car, his suit pressed and wingtips shined. The sharp morning sun glinted off his Rolex as he ran a hand through his perfect, slicked back hair. Other than the dark bruises beginning to yellow around his eye and cheekbone, all evidence of the harried Holt of the last few days was gone.

  “Yeah!” Tyler shouted as he darted past Holt, who high-fived him as he continued on around the car, jumping into the driver’s seat and pretending to steer.

  “So we’ll see you at Thanksgiving, right?” Reese asked, stepping up to Chloe.

  “Thanksgiving,” Chloe said, hugging him. “I’ll bring the sweet potato pie.”

  “Just bring you.” Reese locked eyes with Chloe, a faint wetness shimmering in the corners of his.

  Moved by his genuine affection, she smiled and squeezed his arm before moving towards the car.

  “Time to go buddy,” Jack told Tyler, who was still inside the car pressing buttons.

  As Jack scooted Tyler out of the car, Holt pushed off the hood, com
ing around to the passenger side as Chloe reached the door. When she opened it, he grabbed the door at its top, pulling it the rest of the way and holding it for her. “So…it’s been a pretty wild ride,” he said.

  Chloe chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, you could say that. Not what I was expecting out of this little family reunion.”

  “You made a difference here, you know,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze flashing to Reese and the kids. “They’re different because you came.”

  “Me too,” she replied, smiling. Leaning in, she hugged him with one arm. “We’ll see you at Thanksgiving?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” he answered as she ducked inside. He shut the door after her, then leaned down, extending his hand through the window to Jack, who shook it.

  “Thanks for everything you did, looking out for her,” Jack said.

  Holt tipped his head. “Thanks for not punching me in the throat.”

  Jack laughed amicably, nodding his head as he slowly backed down the drive and into the road. Tyler jogged to keep up, stopping at the street but continuing to wave as the car rolled to the stop sign, paused, then turned, heading for Atlanta as Holt and Chloe’s family disappeared from view.

  * * * * *

  “How you doin’ over there?”

  Jack reached over to squeeze Chloe’s hand as they cruised along I-24 at seventy miles an hour, about two hours still to go before they reached Atlanta. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

  “I guess I’m a little lost in my thoughts,” she replied as she stared out her window. In the distance, crisp blue skies with puffy clouds hovered over the hills surrounding Chattanooga. “I didn’t even know those people two weeks ago. And now,” she sighed, “I’m really gonna miss them. I forgot what it’s like…having a family.”

  “Well, you’ve got forever to get used to it again,” he said, patting her leg.

  “Yeah,” she agreed warmly, taking the last swig of coffee from the travel mug Reese had lent her. “Uh-oh, I’m out,” she announced, shaking it tellingly. “Hey, I think a sign back there said there’s a Starbucks at the next exit. Could we make a quick stop and grab another? Last night’s pizza and zombie-shooting fest with the kids is really kicking my butt.”

  Jack laughed. “Told you you should have gone to bed.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Jack always knows best.”

  “Just so long as you’ve figured that out.”

  She flicked him on the shoulder as he took the off-ramp. The Starbucks was about a hundred yards down on the right.

  “Popular place,” he noted as he pulled into the drive-thru lane, the last of a dozen waiting cars.

  “I’ll just run inside instead,” she said, hopping out. “Park over there,” she said tilting her head toward several open spots, “and I’ll be right back.”

  As she walked into the building, Jack navigated into one of the spots and parked. Looking in the rearview mirror, he could see her through the glass, patiently waiting behind another customer for her turn at the register.

  He reached into his pocket and extracted a small blue velvet box. His nerves rattled just holding it, and he took a deep breath to calm his restless stomach. “Point a gun at me and I’m all ice and steel,” he muttered to himself, “but ask a girl to marry me…”

  He opened the lid to reveal a startlingly brilliant white solitaire in an antique platinum setting. Scrolls of the precious metal surrounded the stone like ivy on a trellis. The clerk in the antique jewelry shop on Main Street where he had bought it yesterday said it was from the 1930s. A perfect ring for someone like Chloe, who relished eclectic, vintage pieces.

  He had been looking for something like it for months. And then, yesterday, there it was. He went to the shop on a whim, just in case, thinking how special it would be to her if the ring came from that place, where so many wrong things were finally righted. He had taken finding the ring as a sign. He had been waiting for the right moment for so long it seemed. Much too long.

  “Just hold on till tomorrow night,” he told himself, thinking of the grand plan he had concocted and already set in motion. He grinned at the thought of her reaction, the joy on her face, jumping into his arms—

  Bam, bam, bam!

  Shock coursed through him as he jerked up to see Chloe standing behind the car, banging on the trunk, laughing. In one smooth motion he snapped the box shut and slid it back into his pocket as she came around.

  “You jumped, like, ten feet,” she said, grinning as she slid in and latched her seatbelt.

  “Yeah, you’re hilarious,” he said, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He took another deep breath. “Keep laughing, kiddo. Payback’s coming.”

  “Not a chance,” she said, leaning over to kiss him. “I know all your moves.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, grinning as he threw the car in reverse. “We’ll see.”

  FRANKLIN, TENNESSEE

  As you could probably tell from the book, I LOVE this place. I grew up in this town before it was hip; before it was a “must-see” destination. In my day it was a little Civil War town on the outskirts of Nashville, and we had to drive about twenty-five minutes just to get to a working theater. It was a great place for a childhood, and though I ended up settling elsewhere, my heart still belongs to Franklin. So what better place to set my second novel than this charming little piece of Americana?

  Many of the places and businesses in the book are figments of my imagination. Among other things, some of the courts, judges, attorneys, studios, Harrison County, the trailer park, and the Tri-County officials and departments are completely made up and not based on anyone or anything that actually exists. I have also taken liberties with some of the geography, historical sites, distances, directions and hours (docket times and operating hours, etc.).

  However, some of the named establishments in the book are very real and you should definitely take a trip to Franklin and visit them when you do. Support them. Shop local. I promise the town is even lovelier than described.

  The festivals I mentioned are real. My favorite is Dickens of a Christmas. It is well worth the effort to go—you have never seen anything like an entire street full of costumed people reenacting the song and dance number from A Christmas Carol while you sip hot cider and snack on roasted chestnuts.

  Eat at Puckett’s, shop at The Factory, take the ghost tour, check out the plethora of antique stores, get coffee at Merridee’s, and browse Landmark Booksellers. Visit Carnton Plantation. Although the nearby Halloween hay bale maze was just wishful hoping on my part, the plantation tours (though I took some liberty with the date and times of the Halloween tours—you’ll need to check beforehand) and stories are genuine, and well worth your time. And definitely, definitely, visit Philanthropy—a real live, beautiful shop on Main Street that supports charitable business endeavors all over the world. While you’re there, pen a prayer onto one of their tags and hang it on the prayer wall. Then take a prayer from the wall, commit yourself to lifting it up, and bless someone else’s life.

  TO THE READERS

  I hope you enjoyed this latest installment in the Unintended Series. If you did, please consider leaving a positive review for UNINTENDED WITNESS on Amazon.com, Goodreads.com, Bookbub.com and the like. Good reviews are essential to getting a book out there and I would be very grateful for yours. If you want to read more CleanCaptivatingFiction™ by D.L. Wood, please take a moment to leave a review. I thank you in advance for taking the time to submit it.

  Please also consider:

  --Visiting my webpage and subscribing to my newsletter at www.dlwoodonline.com. When you subscribe, you’ll receive a FREE download of my award-winning short story, Blood from a Turnip.

  --Liking and sharing my Facebook page at @dlwoodonline.

  --Following my twitter account at @dlwoodonline.

  If you haven’t read the first book in the series, UNINTENDED TARGET, I highly recommend that you go back and read the story that led to UNINTENDED WITNESS. It’s a thrilling tale of suspense as
an unsuspecting Chloe is hunted by a murderous conspiracy after her computer-hacking brother makes her the only link to stolen information the killers are desperate to recover. You’ll also learn why she is so close to Jack, and why that wasn’t always the case…Available now on Amazon.

  COMING SOON FROM D.L. WOOD

  Want to know what the next thrilling release from D.L. Wood will be? Get the announcement when it happens by subscribing to her newsletter at www.dlwoodonline.com. We promise not to spam you or share your information and you can unsubscribe at any time.

  BOOK CLUBS AND EVENTS

  If you are interested in having D.L. Wood at your book club or event, please contact her for scheduling information at dlwood@dlwoodonline.com.

  If you like Christian thrillers, you might also like . . .

  I’d like to recommend another author who writes Christian fiction in the mystery/suspense/thriller genre. Her name is Luana Ehrlich, and she writes the Titus Ray Thriller Series, which features CIA covert operative Titus Ray who is brought to faith in Christ by a group of Iranian Christians after a botched mission in Tehran, Iran.

  Luana is an award-winning author, minister’s wife, and former missionary with a passion for spy thrillers and mystery novels. You can read more about Luana on her website LuanaEhrlich.com.

  You can find Titus Ray Thrillers on Amazon, including One Step Back, the prequel to the series.

  If you enjoy contemporary Christian music…

  The David Freeman that visited Tucker Studios in the book is a talented contemporary Christian music artist and worship leader. You can check out his music on iTunes, Spotify and the like, or davidfreemanworship.com.

  IT'S HARD TO FORGIVE

  In Unintended Witness, Chloe struggles with the issue of forgiveness. It is something we all struggle with from time to time and can be especially hard when we have been terribly hurt by the person at issue. Chloe wrestles with the contrast between God’s instruction to Christians to forgive and the human desire to refuse to do so because it feels wrong to us to “let the other person off the hook.” It is something she is learning how to do as a new Christian, but frankly, it can be difficult no matter how long you have been following Christ. In the end, when we choose to forgive, is it the forgiver that finds peace. As for me, peace is something I crave. Fortunately it is something God promises.