She found Amanda’s hand and enfolded it in hers, whether for her little girl’s reassurance or her own, she didn’t know.
Finally the trooper emerged from his car. His boots crunched on the gravel, announcing him long before he arrived at her window. He bent at the waist, peering inside. “Mrs. Schettler?”
Her heart lurched at the sound of her name. She looked up into his face, the glistening fear in her eyes reflected in his sunglasses. She forced her voice to function. “Yes?”
“I’m going to have to ask you to come with me. The D.A. is looking for you.”
Jacqueline closed her eyes, the horror of his words rushing through her veins and paralyzing her heart. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. All she could do was clutch Amanda’s warm little hand.
Swain had given her one chance to get out of state. One chance. And now that chance was gone.
DILLON’S OFFICE WAS far smaller than Jacqueline remembered. Stacks of paper covered every available surface. Its bland, government-beige walls seemed to close in with every breath she took. Focusing on the battered desk, she cuddled Amanda on her lap and willed away the unbearable dizziness that had intensified during the ride in the state trooper’s car.
The door swung wide and Dillon himself walked into the office, his long-legged, rolling stride like that of a sheriff busting into the local saloon. The small office grew even smaller, the stuffy air stuffier. This whole building wasn’t big enough to house a man like Dillon Reese, let alone this cramped little office. He belonged in worn blue jeans on the open range, not here in a glorified cubicle dressed in suit and tie.
He studied her for a moment through squinted black eyes before he nodded. “Jacqueline.”
She shifted on the crackling vinyl upholstery of her chair and hugged Amanda close, taking some comfort from the soft warmth of her daughter’s little body and the scent of no-tears shampoo. “Why did you drag us down here? What do you want now?”
“I have good news.” His deep, smoky voice filled every nook of the room. He sauntered over to his desk, snakeskin boots thudding on the low carpet. Leaning a hip on the worn desktop, he watched her, his lips stretching into a grin. A devastatingly handsome grin.
Something inside her squirmed. She couldn’t let herself trust that smile. He had manipulated her before by flashing his white teeth. He’d promised her good news before when he couldn’t deliver. She had no reason to believe anything was different now. “We don’t have the same definition of good, Dillon.”
His smile seemed to widen, and she could swear a twinkle materialized in his black eyes. “We found another witness. An adult. We can make our case without Amanda.”
She let his words seep into her like raindrops after a long drought, not sure how she should respond. Suspicion tugged at the corners of her mind. “So why did you haul us down here?”
“I want to talk to you about setting up some counseling sessions to help Amanda deal with what she saw. That’s all. Her role in this case is finished.” He slid a thigh onto the desk and watched for Jacqueline’s response as if he’d just given her a precious and unexpected gift.
He probably believed he had. If he had said those same words this morning, she might have believed it, too.
But Swain’s voice on the telephone had changed all that. Echoes of his guttural growl had shaken what hope she had left loose from its moorings. He’d given her one chance to keep Amanda safe, and that chance was gone. It was too late for Dillon’s promises. Much too late. All the promises in the world couldn’t help her daughter now. Her only chance was to make a dash for the Illinois border. Even now she might be able to make it before Swain caught up with her. It was a long shot, but it was the only shot she had.
She took a deep breath of stuffy air and willed herself to remain calm. “I’m not interested.”
Staring at her as if she’d spoken another language, he raked a big hand through the waves of his black hair. “I don’t think you understand me.”
“I understand you perfectly.” She slid Amanda off her lap, stood up and held her daughter’s hand. “I’ll deal with the problem on my own. There are plenty of qualified child psychologists out there. I don’t need you to set up anything.”
He frowned and paused as if struggling to come to terms with her rejection. “All right. Whatever you want. But I’m going to arrange for an officer to be posted outside your door until Swain is brought in. Just to be safe.”
Raising her chin, she met his black eyes and didn’t flinch. “You go right ahead and do that. Goodbye, Dillon.”
A forceful knock on the door nearly startled her off her feet.
Dillon turned his frustrated frown on the door. “Come in.”
Detective Mylinski burst into the room, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. He looked exactly the same as he had when she’d seen him last, as if his balding head hadn’t lost even one hair, his paunchy belly hadn’t gained even one pound. But she’d never seen the detective upset before. His pudgy face was flushed, his eyes more bugged out than usual. Opening his mouth to speak, he froze when he spotted Jacqueline. “Can I talk to you, Dillon?”
Dillon’s black gaze flicked to Jacqueline, then back to the detective. “Can it wait a minute, Al?”
The detective shook his head. “I think you’ll want to hear this now.”
A prick of dread propelled Jacqueline’s pulse into overdrive. Fear rose in her chest. Something had happened, something he didn’t want her to hear. “What is it? What happened?”
Stone-faced, the detective stared pointedly at Dillon. “In private.”
“Will she find out sooner or later?” Dillon asked.
Detective Mylinski nodded reluctantly.
“Then out with it.”
Mylinski folded his arms over his belly. He looked down at Amanda.
Catching his reluctance to speak in front of her daughter, Jacqueline followed his gaze. Amanda’s blue eyes reflected the fear that coiled around Jacqueline’s heart.
Dillon crossed the room in three strides and threw open the door. He leaned out into the hallway. “Britt? Would you mind keeping an eye on a little girl for a minute?”
A blond woman entered the doorway. “No problem. She can come over to my office.” She gestured to an even smaller room directly across the hall.
Amanda clutched Jacqueline’s hand as if she’d never let go. Jacqueline didn’t want to let her little girl out of her grasp either, even for a second. But she had to know what had happened. From Mylinski’s demeanor, she’d bet a lot of money it was something horrible. And it had something to do with Amanda. She knelt beside her daughter. “Go ahead, punkin. We’ll leave the doors open so you can see me the whole time.”
“That’s a great idea,” the blonde said cheerily, holding out her hand to Amanda.
Slowly Amanda let go of Jacqueline’s hand and clutched Dorsey the Horsey with both arms. Ignoring the woman’s outstretched hand, she dragged her feet across the hall to the other room, never taking her gaze from Jacqueline for more than two steps.
Once her daughter was safely sequestered in the other office, Jacqueline focused on Mylinski. She pressed her arms against her sides to keep her hands from shaking. “What happened?”
Dillon nodded to the detective.
“It’s about our other witness. The bartender, Val Wallace.”
Val? Jacqueline knew Val. The voluptuous blonde had tended bar at the pub for at least five years, an almost unprecedented length of time in an industry that saw staggering employee turnover. On the outside, Val was as hardened as a streetwalker. But on the inside, she could be sweeter than Mary Poppins, especially where Amanda was concerned. Jacqueline had always liked Val.
Dillon stepped away from the door, his boot heels striking the floor with a sharp thud. Black eyes narrowing on the detective, he moved behind his desk. “What about Val? Is she going back on her story?”
Detective Mylinski slowly shook his balding head. “She’s dead.”
Chapter Four
Dillon slammed his fist on the paper-strewn surface of his desk. The sting of the blow shot up his arm. He’d promised Val protection. And now, like Mark, she was dead.
He could sense Jacqueline Schettler beside him. She didn’t move a muscle. She scarcely seemed to breathe.
He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to see the bone-deep fear and grief he knew would be wrenching her beautiful face. He didn’t want to see the blame chilling her blue eyes. He couldn’t face those things now. Not yet. Not until he had some answers. Not until he knew what he was going to do next.
He focused instead on Mylinski. His friend returned his scrutiny, mirroring the anger and guilt Dillon knew haunted his own eyes. “How the hell did this happen, Al? She was in protective custody, for God’s sake. Where was her protection?”
Mylinski held up his hands in a calming motion. Red faced and sweating, he looked as if he was ripe for a heart attack. “There was nothing Dale Kearney could do.”
Dillon forced himself to think calmly. He knew Dale Kearney. He’d worked with the red-haired detective many times over the years. A former military officer, Kearney was a good cop. A thorough cop. Not given to making stupid mistakes. But the need for an explanation, the need to fix blame, the need to end the killing hacked at his nerves like a dull hatchet. “How was she killed? Who knew where she was? I want answers, damn it.”
“She was walking from Kearney’s car to the apartment we arranged for her to stay in. The killer had a high-powered rifle. Two shots to the head.”
Dillon had done countless hours of research in preparation for Swain’s trial. He knew Buck Swain inside and out. Certainly well enough to know the snake was as comfortable with a high-powered rifle in his hands as a cowhand was with a branding iron. “Swain was a member of special forces in the army. A sniper in the Green Berets. Where was he when he took the shots?”
“There’s a patch of woods next to the apartment complex. We’re sweeping the area now. So far we haven’t found any witnesses or evid—”
A slight sound, like the gentle whisper of wind, cut through Mylinski’s explanation. Almost against his will, Dillon turned to look at Jacqueline.
She stared straight ahead, her gaze riveted on her little girl in the office across the hall. She uttered the sound again. “I can’t lose her. Please, let us go.”
“I won’t let anything happen to her. She’ll be safe, I give you my word.” The moment the words left his lips, he recognized how lame his promise sounded. As Jacqueline had pointed out to him before, he hadn’t been able to protect Mark.
And now Val.
Jacqueline looked up at him. Desperation shone from her eyes. “Please.”
“Swain knew where to find Mark. He knew where to find Val. He’ll find you, too.”
“If I can get Amanda across state lines, he’ll leave us alone.”
“And what in God’s name makes you think that?”
“He said he would.”
Her declaration hit Dillon in the gut like an iron fist. Swain had contacted her. The events of the past few hours shifted into place in his mind. “You weren’t running from me this afternoon. You were running from Swain.”
She nodded weakly.
He fought to keep himself from pounding the desktop until his fist was bloody. “And he gave you instructions not to contact me or the police, didn’t he?”
She nodded again. “He said he’d kill—” She pressed her fingers over her mouth as if the words were too horrible to say aloud. Her eyes filled with moisture. “Please let us go.”
“Even if you believed him at first, what makes you think he’ll give you the chance to get across the border now that you’ve been sitting in my office for the last thirty minutes? What makes you think he’ll stop at the border?”
She met his eyes, hers desperate, almost hopeless. From her look he could tell she’d asked herself this question countless times since the state trooper had escorted her here. And she’d come up with the same answer he had. “I have to believe something. It’s the only chance we have.”
How could he argue with her? He’d love to be able to tell her that the system wouldn’t let her down. Not as it had let Mark down. Not as it had let Val down. But it would be a waste of breath. She would never believe him. Even he didn’t believe it anymore.
Buck Swain had been ahead of the system at every turn. He’d known every move Dillon made before he made it. As soon as Dillon had identified Valerie Wallace as a witness, Swain had silenced her. After Dillon had left the Schettler house, Swain had threatened Jacqueline. “Your phone number—it’s unlisted. Who have you given the number to?”
Jacqueline thought for a moment. “Amanda’s school, my work, your office of course, Mark, my mother in Germany…. I left my number with a couple of lawyers’ offices this morning. That’s about it, I guess. No one else knows it.”
“Except Buck Swain.”
She shivered slightly. Taking a deep breath, she raised her chin and seemed to will the fear from her eyes. “He’s watching us.”
“What else did he say?”
“He knew Amanda was at the pub last night. He knew about your visit this morning.”
A picture took shape in Dillon’s mind. A damn ugly picture. A picture that tightened his throat and drew his hands into fists. His gut roiled with futility, betrayal, nail-spitting anger. “Someone is feeding him the information.”
Mylinski’s eyes honed to points. “What are you thinking, Dillon?” He leaned toward Dillon and Jacqueline, his voice low as a whisper.
Dillon kept his voice equally low. If this hunch was right, he, too, didn’t want anyone around the office to pick up wisps of their conversation. “I want a list of everyone who knew that Amanda and Val Wallace witnessed Mark’s murder. Everyone.”
“That’s easy. Hardly anyone knew. Just Fitzroy’s task force, Kearney and me.” Mylinski paused for less than a second. “You think someone in the D.A.’s office or the sheriff’s department is leaking information to Swain, don’t you?”
It was exactly what he was thinking, but hearing Mylinski say the words out loud infused him with a fresh surge of rage. “It would explain a lot. I’m not taking any chances.” He glanced from Jacqueline to her daughter and back again. He’d lost two witnesses. He would not lose these two.
As if feeling the direction of his thoughts, Jacqueline looked up into his eyes, chin raised, back straight, tough as rawhide. But there was something vulnerable under the brave surface. Something that had reached into him from the first time he’d met her and had grasped hold of his heart. Something he couldn’t, wouldn’t let down.
Jacqueline and her daughter needed someone to go the extra mile to protect them, and he was the one.
He circled the desk and gently cupped her elbow in the palm of his hand. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, Jacqueline. I’ll find out who is feeding Swain information. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I will protect you and Amanda. I won’t rely on the D.A.’s office or the police. I’ll do it myself this time. I’m the only one who will know where you are. Nothing is going to happen to your little girl. Swain will have to kill me first.”
Panic rose in Jacqueline’s throat. More death. More promises. She had to get Amanda out of here. Away from the district attorney’s offices. Away from Swain’s informant. Away from the danger.
But how?
If Dillon was right and Swain had eyes and ears in the district attorney’s offices, he’d already know she was here. And he’d be waiting for her to leave. Waiting to kill Amanda.
She met Dillon’s black eyes. He’d promised he would protect Amanda personally. He’d sworn he would shield her with his life.
Could he keep his promise this time? Would it be enough?
She could only hope and pray. Because as much as she hated to admit it, the man she’d sworn she’d never trust again appeared to be her best bet. Her only bet. “Please. Get us out of here.”
&nb
sp; Dillon gave her a curt nod and turned to Detective Mylinski. “We need a decoy, Al.”
The detective screwed up his shiny forehead in thought. “I’ll call downstairs and get a female officer up here to stand in for Jacqueline.”
“No good. It would involve too many people. The fewer who know about this, the better.” Dillon spun toward the door. His gaze latched on to the blond woman hovering over Amanda. “Britt? Would you come in here, please? And bring Amanda.”
Amanda shot from her chair as if spring-loaded, scampered across the hallway and leapt into Jacqueline’s arms.
Jacqueline enfolded her and hugged her close. She leaned her cheek against her daughter’s silken head and breathed in her scent. Her little girl. Her baby. A shiver slithered over her skin as if a dozen covert eyes were watching them. She held her daughter tighter. She had to get Amanda somewhere she would be safe. They had to get out of the district attorney’s office.
Britt followed Amanda, Mylinski swinging the door shut behind her. “Dillon?”
“We need you to go with Al. To pose as Jacqueline. We need you to be a decoy.”
Britt’s ice-blue gaze flitted over Jacqueline and Amanda. “How dangerous is this going to be?”
“Dangerous. I can’t lie to you. But we’ll take precautions. And I doubt we’ll fool our man for long. I just need you to distract him long enough to allow me to get Jacqueline and Amanda out of here. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”
Britt raised her chin and nodded to Dillon. “Do you want me to switch clothing?”
“No. Just cover your hair. We want him to think you’re Jacqueline for only a few minutes. I don’t want him taking shots at you.”
“That wouldn’t be my preference, either.” She gave Jacqueline and Amanda a little smile. “You’re in good hands with Dillon, you know. He’ll take care of everything.”
Jacqueline nodded in response. God, she hoped the willowy blonde was right. Because he was her only chance. Amanda’s only chance.
His Witness, Her Child Page 4
