Witness Protection

by Morgan, Paris

  Witness Protection

  Secrets and Lies Book 1

  Paris Morgan

  Copyright © [2021] by [Paris Morgan]

  Originally published under the title DIng! Dong! Is She Dead? By Alathia Paris Morgan First Edition Copyright 2015

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  9. Chapter 9

  10. Chapter 10

  11. Chapter 11

  12. Chapter 12

  13. Chapter 13

  14. Chapter 14

  15. Chapter 15

  16. Chapter 16

  17. Chapter 17

  18. Chapter 18

  19. Chapter 19

  20. Chapter 20

  21. Chapter 21

  22. Chapter 22

  23. Chapter 23

  24. Chapter 24

  25. Chapter 25

  26. Chapter 26

  27. Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  28. Resources for Domestic Violence help

  29. Silenced

  Also By

  Also By

  About Author

  Prologue

  Trash in both hands, I stepped out the back door into the alley behind the bar where I worked. With a swing and toss the bag landed on the top of the other trash in the dumpster causing some of the bottles to break.

  “What was that?” A rough voice from further up the alley called in a yell whisper.

  “I don’t know Freddie. Why don’t you go find out if you’re so worried about it?” He growled back.

  I froze on the spot before moving back behind the large dumpster hoping that he wouldn’t come looking for me.

  A flashlight shined over the wall, barely missing me hiding in terror with a hand over my mouth so that I didn’t make any extra noise.

  “Satisfied?”

  “All right Joe, if you’d lift your end higher then I wouldn’t have to worry about someone seeing us,” Freddie grunted as he moved something.

  I peered around the back of the dumpster and gaped as they shoved the last of a large carpet into the trunk. A foot was dangling out of the back of the roll. With a few more grunts as they tried pushing and shoving the body because I was certain that was what was in the carpet, into the trunk.

  Holding back laughter as their attempts continued to be almost slapstick as they finally closed the trunk. Freddie gave the alley a last look before he got into the driver’s seat.

  When he’d moved to get in, I had stuck my head out to see if I could read the license plate. FT6 was all that I could make out, other than the fact that it was a New York plate.

  Waiting just a few more seconds for them to turn the corner, I stood and threw the last bag into the dumpster.

  My hands shook as I managed to lock the door and then triple-checked it to make sure it was closed. It wasn’t like they couldn’t get in if they wanted to, but at least I’d done what I could to keep them away for now.

  Grabbing my jacket and purse from my locker, I headed back to the front where Ted was almost done stacking the chairs.

  “When you’re ready, I’m good to go.” I cocked a hip against the bar.

  “Sure, let me grab the lights.” He moved toward the breaker on the back wall.

  Pitch blackness filled the room as I waited for my eyes to find the poorly lit exit sign over the door.

  Ted’s keys jingled as he approached and I had to remind myself to keep calm.

  “Don’t sneak up on a girl like that,” I teased playfully hitting his arm.

  A grunt from Ted was all the response I got from him. He wasn’t the talkative type.

  He glanced up and down the street making sure we didn’t have any admiring stalkers hanging around before stepping out. He locked the door after us and pulled down the metal gate.

  “Bye, Ted. See you tomorrow night.” I pasted on a smile as he went in the opposite direction.

  The wave of his hand was at least a response.

  Shrugging it off, I walked the ten blocks to where the local precinct station was located.

  Being a Thursday night, it wasn’t completely crowded, but the noise level was still deafening.

  “Sir, I need to report a crime.” I gripped my bag in one hand as I stepped up to the counter.

  He glanced up long enough to take in my outfit, which was perfect for tending the bar, and went back to his newspaper.

  A little annoyed, I wrapped my knuckles on the counter. “Hello? I’m pretty sure some has been murdered.”

  “Sure, lady. Have a seat,” He pointed to a bench filled with a few of the non-violent arrested drunks waiting to be processed, “someone will be with you in a little while.”

  Sensing that they might be a little busy, I crossed the room and stood several feet downwind of the drunks. Maybe the desk guy was just the gatekeeper.

  Twenty minutes later, I was pissed off. I understood needing to do have priorities, but how often did they get a murder reported?

  I marched back over to the desk and cleared my throat before asking again in a much louder voice.

  “Is there someone who would be able to take my statement about a murder that was committed?”

  “’Just wait over there by the wall and we’ll get to you when we can.” He waved away my concern as he lifted the phone to stop the ringing noise adding to the sense of chaos.

  “Excuse me!” I yelled loudly attracting more attention than I’d really wanted. “Doesn’t anyone care that a murder has been committed? Is solving crimes too much to ask?”

  A detective was walking by and hurried past the desk toward me. “Miss, why don’t you come over here to my desk and explain what happened?” He glared at the desk sergeant as he hurried over to stop me. “I’ve got this.”

  Controlling the urge to stick out my tongue at him, I followed the detective through a maze of desks.

  He stopped at one and hurried to move a stack of files from the chair before walking around to the other side.

  “I’m Detective Banner.” He offered his hand to me, “What can I do for you, Ms…?”

  “Oh, sorry.” I blushed slightly as I took his hand before sitting in the now empty seat. “I’m Jennifer Smith. It’s a little crazy around here.”

  “You were saying you have a crime to report? Something about a murder?” He looked at me intently, probably trying to determine if I was just another crazy person or if I had really seen something.

  “I’m sure you probably hear all sorts of stories, especially this late at night,” I apologized, “but I was taking the trash out after the bar closed when I heard hushed angry voices.”

  “Which bar would that be?” He searched the desk for a blank piece of paper and a pen.

  “Tiger’s Bar, over on Suffolk Street, between East Houston and Stanton. This happened in the alley behind the bar.”

  He nodded writing down the directions.

  “There was a noise and I ducked behind the dumpster only to see two men walk with a body rolled up in a carpet to the trunk of the car.” I expected him to say something, but when the pause stretched into silence, I peered at him.

  “Yes, a body. You’re sure that’s what you saw? It couldn’t have been two men just moving furniture late at night so they didn’t get a fine for parking in the alley?”

  “Well,
sir. It certainly looked like a body. There was a thud when it hit the inside of the trunk. They tried to close the trunk, but a shoe with what appeared to be attached to a foot was sticking out and it popped back open.” I stifled the giggle that was threatening to come out as the detective pinned me with a glare.

  “I know it’s kind of hard to believe, but I thought it was funny at the time. I mean it had to be real because there weren’t any cameras or a film crew around the alley.”

  “Did you happen to see anything else while you were hiding behind the dumpster?” He tapped the pen on the single sheet of paper. “Height? Age?”

  I didn’t really see much. The Freddie guy was carrying the feet, he was taller than Joe, who had the heavy end. I think Freddie was white, with dark hair. His accent seemed like it was Italian or maybe Russian, but it was clipped like a New Yorker. Joe stayed in the shadows and I didn’t have anything to compare him to before they drove off.”

  Detective Banner let out a frustrated sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

  “I did get a portion of the license plate number if that will help.” I pulled a notepad that was sticking out from a pile of folders and wrote it down for him.

  “That all?” He questioned taking it from my hand with great eagerness.

  “I believe so. I was hiding and trying to peek out from behind the dumpster when they weren’t looking. I didn’t want them to see me and stuff me in the trunk along with the dead person.” I explained half-joking.

  “All right, miss. If you’ll write your name and information here at the bottom of this statement, then you can go.” He pulled out a clean form and handed it to me with an outdated phone book to write on.

  “What happens now?” I questioned as I wrote what I’d told him as neatly as I could on the form.

  “We’ll run the plates and check out the shops next to your bar. With the names you mentioned and the partial plate, we might get lucky and find out who they were.” He stood up as if dismissing me, “Go home and get some sleep. We’ll take care of it from here. Thank you for coming in and telling us about this.”

  He walked back to the front desk, “If we have any questions, we’ll call you.”

  The door opened, and I hurried through but glanced over my shoulder. The desk guy was shaking his head and they were both laughing.

  Fleeing toward my train station, I couldn’t help doubting what I’d seen.

  Maybe I had just imagined that there was a body in the trunk. Was it a body? It could have been a mannequin. Right? Then again how many people would go to all the trouble to wrap up a fake person and put them on a carpet? Hopefully, I’d done the right thing, but if the picture of them laughing was anything to go by, then I was just going to be the fun story of the night watch.

  Exhausted and knowing I’d done everything I could, I sighed in relief when the train arrived to take me home.

  I just needed to have a good night’s sleep and forget all about this.

  A loud pounding sounded only hours after I’d closed my eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” I yelled as I slipped a pair of pants on and headed toward the door.

  I peered through the peephole, but couldn’t see. I’d just begun to rub my eyes when the pounding resumed.

  “Just a second,” I tried to focus through still bleary eyes to see two people standing in the hallway, holding badges.

  “What can I do for you?” I called through the door. I’d heard horror stories about people pretending to be cops to gain access into homes.

  “We’re looking for Jennifer Smith?” The guy in the suit answered, “We need to talk to her.”

  Swiping a tired hand over my face, I padded over to the counter where I’d put the card from the Detective the night before. I hurried to my room and grabbed my phone, dialing as I went back to the door.

  “Yes, can I speak with Detective Banner, please?” I spoke loudly enough that they could hear me through the door.

  “He suggested that you call him if you were worried about it.” The woman replied, her expression revealing nothing.

  “Ms. Smith?” The detective’s voice brought me back to the phone.

  “Yes, sir. I have two people outside my door. They said you’ve sent them over to talk to me.”

  “They are with the FBI. It’s perfectly safe to let them in and speak to you.” He reassured me.

  “What the hell is going on?” I slid the locks open and cracked the door.

  “I sent them to protect you. We’ll be seeing you shortly.” He hung up as I stood there gaping.

  “Agent Tombs and Riley, here miss. May we come inside?” The man tilted his head.

  They appeared to be legit, and I didn’t see any danger lurking out in the hallway.

  “If you’ll wait here, I’ll get dressed.” I peered down the hallway before shutting the door.

  Cold stares met my gaze as I turned to go back to my room.

  “Certainly, ma’am. I’ll just need to make sure that there isn’t anyone else here with us.” Agent Riley followed me into the bedroom. She quickly did a sweep of the closet, bathroom and even checked under the bed. “All clear. Go ahead. Ma’am. I’ll wait for you out there.”

  “Um, okay,” I muttered and shut the door behind her. Unsure of what exactly was going on, I threw on a clean outfit, carrying my shoes out to the couch.

  “Can you tell me what exactly is going?” I glanced at both of them as I laced up my converse sneakers.

  Agent Riley ignored my question and went into the bedroom rattling around in my closet by pulling clothes out onto the bed.

  “What are you doing with my stuff?” I demanded as I hurried in after her.

  “We’ve been told to take you to pack a bag because you’re going to a safe place. They’ve advised us that you might not be returning.” She answered not meeting my eyes.

  “I knew it.” I threw a closed fist into the air to celebrate then realized that it meant someone had been murdered. Feeling extremely sober, I sank to the bed. “So it was a body. Who was it?”

  “I’m afraid that we don’t know any details.” She answered without offering any sympathy.

  My head landed in my hands as I groaned, “This can’t be happening. I mean, I went to work like normal yesterday. Now, I’m leaving my home with two FBI agents to keep me safe.”

  “It doesn’t seem possible,” I muttered as I collected everything that I didn’t think I could live without.

  Hours later, I was being put on a plane to Texas with a new name and credentials to start over again. In such a short time my entire life had changed and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Chapter 1

  Allie

  “I’m so glad I made that decision to go for a more natural color.” I fluffed the blonde, bobbed hair, enjoying the lightness of my new do.

  With another name change for the fifth time in just two years, I was having a hard time remembering who I really was. Jennifer Smith was someone from a lifetime ago.

  As I pulled on my khakis and polo work shirt, I let my hands trace the sides of my body. Gone were the bones sticking out, and in their place were curves. My body had filled out due to eating the Texas fried foods instead of more healthy options. Even though I had what most would consider a sex appeal, there weren’t any guys knocking on my door.

  Not that I didn’t get my share of jerks trying to take advantage, but genuine offers without any strings attached were few and far between. It didn’t help me when that sense of aloneness hit and I wanted to have a moment of self-pity.

  A glance at the clock revealed that I didn’t have that luxury today and I slid on a pair of Addis sneakers that I’d purchased recently at a discount from the Balls for All Seasons Sports store.

  Grabbing my wallet, keys, and phone, I raced out the door taking care to set the alarm behind me.

  Even though I’d lived in some of the worst places over the years, the Witness Protection people had always made sure that I had some sort of se
curity.

  “Why couldn’t they have given me a rich lifestyle when they sent me into the program?” I muttered to myself for the millionth time. At least here in Texas the amount of money I spent on an apartment wouldn’t have covered renting a bed in a shared space in New York. Here, some of the bedrooms were the size of an entire apartment back home.

  I still thought of it as home because I’d spent the first twenty-five years of my life there.

  The heat wave hit as I stepped out of the air-conditioning and into the sun. When someone mentioned being able to boil an egg on the sidewalk, I’d thought they were joking until they got one out and cooked it in front of me.

  The key slid in and unlocked my ten-year-old Toyota which thankfully also came with air-conditioning. Who would have thought it would be necessary for early March?

  I waved to one of the more elderly neighbors who was walking her dog. When I’d first landed in this strange place, I’d been overwhelmed by the friendliness of the people. Everyone waved to strangers even if they’d never meet again.

  With a shake of my head, I pulled out of the parking space hoping that this time, I would be able to make things work. I was in desperate need of making friends and finding a place to settle. Relocation wasn’t something that I’d wish on my worst enemy at this point.

  As the light changed to red, I noticed a trailer full of cows that were doing their business for all the world to see. The horrible smell drifted through the vents and I waved a hand in front of my nose.

  “Ugh! Those things need to take a bath.” My face scrunched up as one of the large things started to aim at my car. “No, don’t pee on my car! Aim in the other direction!” I yelled, but with the windows up, the cows didn’t even glance at my frantic screams.

  The light turned green and I hurried to move around the trailer of horrors.

  “I should be thankful the cows were in a trailer and not running down the street.” I mused to myself as I walked the length of the mall to the store I managed.

  Mall was a generous term for the few stores that were housed inside the one hall shopping center. A few craft boutiques, a music store, one department store, and of course the high fashion store of Bootees Western Wear, which was stocked with boots and hats for every occasion a cowgirl could possibly need.