“Do you see yourself as resilient and flexible?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never pictured myself exactly that way but I guess the description fits.”
“Good.”
Grace was concentrating so hard on Dylan as they approached the ambulance, she almost failed to notice that her companion and the other marshal both circled behind her as if making themselves into human shields.
Her eyes narrowed. She stared at her almost-ex-husband, willing him deliver an honest answer when she demanded, “What in the world have you gotten us into?”
Although Dylan looked pale, he managed a contrite smile. Now that the medics had removed his glasses she could see the weariness in his eyes, not to mention the odd way they glistened. “I had to do it,” he said with evident remorse.
“To deserve all those big bonuses. I know. You told me about it often enough.”
Dylan was shaking his head. “No, honey. I don’t mean before. I mean now. I can’t walk away from this. I have to work with the police to try to stop the kidnappings.”
“Of course you do.”
His gaze left her and settled on the marshals. “You haven’t told her what’s up, have you?”
“Not yet. Nothing will be settled until we get a look at the files you just gave us.”
Grace clenched her fists and almost stomped a foot. “Will somebody please explain before I go ballistic?”
“It looks like I’ll be going into witness protection,” Dylan said. “I’m sorry. They say it can’t be helped.”
“But, if they have your files, why do they need you?”
“Because I can swear to their authenticity, among other things,” he said. “Hopefully, I won’t be gone too long.”
“What about the kids? Kyle is already beside himself over the divorce. If you drop totally out of his life, I don’t know how he’ll handle it.”
“I’ll try to call him often.”
Marshal Summers spoke up, shaking her head. “No, you won’t. There will be no outside contact. None. That’s how the program works.”
Frustrated, Grace threw up her hands and made a throaty, angry sound. “Well, at least you won’t be able to harass me anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” Dylan looked so puzzled it gave her pause.
“The daily phone calls. I know it was you. It had to be.”
“Well, it wasn’t.” He looked to McCall. “Did you have our phones tapped? If so, you can vouch for me.”
“Sorry. Those odd, incoming calls were from a burner phone, the kind you can buy almost anywhere, use once, then throw away.”
“But there were multiple calls? Grace isn’t exaggerating?”
“These past few days there were,” the marshal said. “The caller didn’t speak until this morning when your son answered.”
Dylan frowned at Grace. “What happened?”
“Kyle was embarrassed to repeat what he heard,” she said. “The guy apparently cursed. A lot.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it to me?”
“Why should I? I thought it was either you or a friend of yours, trying to unnerve me.”
Sighing, he slowly shook his head, then bowed it. “How did we get to this point, Gracie? What did I do to give you such a low opinion of me?”
“Try consorting with criminals, for starters,” she snapped back. “I don’t know you at all anymore. Maybe I never did. For the kids’ sake I’m sorry that you have to disappear, but I can’t say I’m going to miss finding out more about your misguided career choices.”
A light touch on her arm from Marshal Summers diverted her attention. “Mrs. McIntyre—Grace. I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
“Of course it is. The divorce will be final soon and the kids will get over missing their daddy eventually. If I had any doubts that I was doing the right thing, they vanished when I found out what Dylan has been involved in.”
“I’m not talking about your divorce. I was referring to the need for you and the children to enter witness protection, too.”
“Us? Why? I didn’t even suspect any of this until the police interviewed me a week ago. I told them then that I wasn’t involved. I’ve had nothing to do with Dylan for months. And before that he kept his business practices to himself. Now, I know why.”
“Nevertheless, you met with him today and were present when he was shot. Whoever is responsible for this attack has no way of knowing you aren’t culpable, too. If you’re not worried about your own safety, think of your children.”
Shock was too mild a word to describe Grace’s feelings at that moment. This whole scenario was the stuff of nightmares. She knew what the other woman was saying, yet her mind refused to accept it. There was no way she was going to leave everything behind and just up and vanish. What about her friends? Her mother and ailing father? Her church family? The kids were relatively happy and doing well in school. Kyle played soccer after school Thursdays and Beth was just getting interested in team sports.
Squaring her shoulders, Grace faced the marshals and said, “No. I’m sorry. We won’t go.”
McCall spoke aside into a radio.
Several uniformed police joined them.
Grace’s arm was grabbed and cold metal encircled her wrist with a click. She stared in disbelief. They were arresting her!
* * *
“There is one other way we can handle this,” Marshal Summers said, looking pointedly at Grace after the entire group was settled inside the van. “Participation in WitSec is voluntary for adults.”
Dylan knew where this conversation was going and waited for the explosion of his wife’s temper. There would surely be one. When their children were involved, Grace was as protective as a mother tiger. He saw her brows arch, felt so much tension emanating from her it was almost palpable.
Her eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, you can refuse to be relocated. However...”
“Why am I getting the feeling you’re about to add something I’m not going to like?” Grace asked.
Serena Summers gave a slight shrug. “We do have some room to maneuver when it comes to juveniles. A judge can rule that said juveniles be made wards of the court for their own good and be forced into witness protection.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re threatening to take my children away from me?”
“Not exactly. You’re welcome to stay with them wherever they go. But rest assured, Mrs. McIntyre, they are going.”
Observing Grace’s face, Dylan saw myriad fleeting expressions come and go, ending with resolve. She raised her chin and stared at the marshals. “Then so am I.”
“I’m glad you’ve decided to see things our way, ma’am,” Marshal McCall said, sounding relieved. “It will make our task much easier.”
“I’m not doing this for anybody but my children,” Grace insisted. She glared over at Dylan. “Naturally, we won’t be housed together, particularly once the final divorce decree comes through. And the quality of the schools will have to be at least as high as the one Kyle and Beth attend here.”
“Of course.”
It occurred to Dylan to wonder how many witnesses tried to dictate terms to the U.S. marshals in charge of their relocation. His guess would be very few. Nor did he think it likely that the authorities would comply with Grace’s demands, particularly since she was simply collateral damage rather than an actual eyewitness to the crimes against children that they’d uncovered.
He wisely kept his opinions to himself. The time would come when Grace would have to take whatever accommodations were offered and be thankful, no matter what. It didn’t take much imagination to figure that her ire would then be directed toward him.
Dylan didn’t care. All he could hope for at this point was that his loved ones would remain unharm
ed. Enough innocent victims had already suffered for his mistakes.
He had no secret death wish, yet he’d made a solemn decision when he’d realized he’d been shot. If he had to pay with his life for his sins, then so be it. Anything, as long as his family was safe.
“I’ll need to pack, of course,” Grace said, organizing her thoughts and making mental lists of all the things she’d have to do before she’d be ready to leave St. Louis. “I suppose we can have the kids’ school transcripts forwarded later.”
Marshal McCall cleared his throat. “I’m afraid you can’t go home again, Mrs. McIntyre.”
“What? But I have to. There are a hundred things I need to see to—canceling the newspaper delivery, stopping the mail, calling my friends to say goodbye. Everybody at church will want to pray for us, and I’ll need to touch base with my mother, too.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her jaw dropped. She looked into each of their faces, finally settling on Dylan’s. “You knew all this, didn’t you? That’s why you came to see us. You wanted to fix it so we’d have to run off with you.”
It made no difference that her husband was shaking his head. She didn’t believe him.
“Well, it’s not going to work,” Grace declared. “I don’t care how much trouble you’re in or how many government agencies interfere in my life, I am never going to change my mind about you or about the divorce. It’s too late for us, Dylan. Way, way too late.”
Added to that declaration was her intense disappointment in his character. While they’d been married, she had mistakenly put her trust in him. Had accepted his excuses and explanations without question, over and over again, until she’d become numb to his lies.
Well, that kind of naïveté was in the past. She was wise to Dylan’s tricks. He was never going to be able to fool her again.
Leaving her friends and former life was going to be hard, yes, but not nearly as difficult as it had been to accept the truth about the husband she had once idolized, then take the necessary steps to sever their relationship.
It had nearly killed her spirit when she’d finally given up and filed for divorce. Now, in spite of the ongoing heartache, she was glad she had done so. The more distance she could put between Dylan and their children, the less his warped sense of right and wrong would exert a negative influence upon them.
The kids had to come first. As their only respectable, upstanding parent, she owed it to them—no matter how great her personal sacrifice.
One fleeting glance at Dylan told her it was going to be huge.
FOUR
By the time the paramedics had finished bandaging Dylan and had given him an injection of antibiotics, his arm was truly throbbing. It had occurred to him to wonder why it hadn’t hurt when he’d first felt the bullet’s impact. The ambulance attendants had explained that the initial shock had temporarily deadened the area.
They fashioned a sling, passed a prescription to one of the marshals and had him sign a release before they packed up and left.
Inside the black van, plans were in the making. He sat back and listened as best he could while battling the distraction posed by his pulsing arm. He’d put on a brave front for his wife and children but was rapidly approaching the moment when he was either going to have to take a pill or lie down. Or both.
He shifted his position, hoping to find relief. Instead, a stab of intense pain made him wince. And, of all people, Grace noticed.
She stared and scowled. “I thought that was just a flesh wound.”
“Still hurts,” Dylan admitted. “I’m okay.”
“That’s not how it looks to me,” Grace said, transferring her attention to Marshal Serena Summers. “Can’t you give him something for it?”
“We will. As soon as he’s been properly debriefed,” Summers said. “We’re taking you to a safe house until we can process your paperwork and arrange for permanent transfer. Do you have any friends or family in Texas?”
Grace shook her head. So did Dylan.
“In that case, we’ll proceed as planned.”
Dylan could tell by the expression on his wife’s face that she was already having second thoughts. When she said, “Hold on a minute,” he figured the marshals were in for a talking-to.
If she had not been cradling Brandon, Dylan knew Grace would have jumped to her feet in confrontation mode. “This safe house. If we go there, where will you put Dylan?”
“In the safe house,” McCall answered.
“Not with us, you won’t.”
Dylan was afraid both marshals were going to laugh, particularly when Grace made a disgusted-looking face at him. If he hadn’t been in so much pain, he would have been ready to join them.
“Mrs. McIntyre,” McCall said calmly, “it’s our job to protect you from criminals. We’re not marriage counselors or psychologists. We will provide accommodations that will keep you and your family safe. I suggest you stop thinking of yourself and start considering your children.”
The look of abject astonishment on Grace’s face was a sight to behold, one Dylan knew he would not soon forget. In the following moments she went from amazement to anger, then to resignation and finally penitent surrender.
Nodding, she said, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I suppose he’ll behave since his arm is hurt.”
The bullet wound was not the only place Dylan was hurting. He cast sad eyes on his wife and slowly shook his head, taking care to move the rest of his body as little as possible. “I have never abused or even threatened you, Grace, and I’m not about to start now, with or without a bullet hole in my arm.”
“I never said you had.”
“You implied it.” He heaved a noisy sigh. “Look. I made some big mistakes and I’m paying for them. I don’t deny that. But what I did, I did for you. For our family.”
“Don’t try to put the blame on me,” she countered. “I never told you to lie or steal or whatever else you did.”
“You were always happy when I brought home those hefty bonus checks.”
“Because I didn’t know what you were doing to deserve them! You...you...”
Marshal McCall stepped between them. “That’s enough. Both of you. You’ll have plenty of time to argue once we settle you in the safe house. Right now, we need to transfer the children and their mother to one of our cars for transport.”
Dylan was about to ask about himself when Grace did it for him.
“He stays with us until we’ve finished asking questions and have turned his computer files over to our techs to make sure they’re what he promised,” McCall answered. “Then, if all goes well, he’ll join you.”
The expression on Grace’s face was cynical when she said, “I can hardly wait.”
In Dylan’s mind the same sentiment lurked. Only in his case, sarcasm was not involved.
* * *
Grace had no idea where a younger marshal was taking them, nor did she ask, although Kyle did pipe up once to object to their not going home. As long as she and her poor, tired babies were safe she didn’t really care. Not tonight, anyway.
Picturing tough, belligerent Kyle as a babe made her smile. He’d been such a sweetie—until his sister had come along and he’d ceased being an only child. Conversely, when Brandon had arrived, Kyle had acted delighted to have a brother on his side against the females of the household.
That ratio was normally two to two since Dylan was so seldom in the picture. His absence was one of the things that saddened her, although, in retrospect, she was glad her estranged mate had not had as much direct influence on their children as she’d had.
If her parents had been able to cope she might have called upon her own father to step in as a surrogate, but he had developed Alzheimer’s and was so far gone he didn’t even recognize his wife and caregiver these days. Male rel
atives on Dylan’s side of the family were nonexistent. His late mother had raised him by herself, meaning there had never been a father figure in his young life.
Perhaps that was the crux of his problem, Grace mused. And, if he’d chosen a role model from work, perhaps someone like his boss, Fred Munders, he’d probably been looking in the wrong place. She wasn’t positive, but since Fred’s wife ran an adoption agency, she wondered if good old Fred might be up to his neck in this mess.
The unmarked, black sedan approached a modest-looking, darkened house on a quiet, suburban street. The driver parked in front of the closed garage door and started to get out.
“So, this is it?” Grace spoke quietly to keep from disturbing her exhausted, dozing children.
“Yes, ma’am. Please stay in the car until I tell you it’s safe to get out.”
“We weren’t followed, were we?”
“Only by an unmarked police car, and he turned off just before we arrived so we wouldn’t draw attention.”
“How long will I have to stay here?”
“Until McCall or Summers tells you to move,” the driver said. “You need to trust them. They’re good at what they do.”
“I certainly hope so. What are my instructions? Do I just go in the house and wait? How will I know what’s going on in the outside world? And what about school for the older kids? Classes were almost over for the summer but I know they’re missing final exams.”
“All of that will be taken care of. Wait here,” the driver told her as he got out of the car.
Grace watched as he raised the overhead door, returned and pulled the car into the garage. He then moved to a side entrance to the house, unlocked the door and, pulling his gun from a shoulder holster beneath his coat, slipped into the silent house.
Grace’s fingers clenched in her lap. If this place was so safe, why did he need to inspect it with a gun in hand? What had Dylan gotten them into? The more she learned, the worse the situation became. Unfortunately, at this point, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it, either.
The agent returned. She thought he was talking to himself until she realized he was taking a hands-free phone call as he opened her door and helped her out.
Family in Hiding Page 4
