It wasn’t as isolated as Tara had thought it would be. It was located at the edge of the village about three blocks from the general store—the area’s main supplier of groceries, pharmacy items, clothing, camping equipment and it also housed the post office.
Brad put the car in the garage so it couldn’t be seen from the road. He grabbed his duffel bag from the trunk, having clipped his holster back on his belt as soon as they cleared U.S. Customs in Port Angeles. Tara took her suitcase. They entered from the garage into the kitchen.
Tara looked around as Brad turned on some lights. It wasn’t at all what she had expected. “This is very nice. When you said cabin, I had something much more rustic in mind. This is really a vacation home rather than a cabin.”
“It definitely has all the amenities, including a TV satellite dish and a hot tub on the back deck.” He led the way upstairs to the bedrooms. There was a moment of hesitation, then he put his arm around her shoulder and they walked into the bedroom together. It was late and they both needed some sleep. Brad did a quick check of the house to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, then set the perimeter alarm system.
He went back upstairs. Within five minutes Tara was snuggled in his arms as they lay in bed together. As much as he wanted to make love to her again, his mind kept going to thoughts about the case. He couldn’t turn off the questions circulating through his head.
“Do you think you’d recognize Doreen Vincent if you were face-to-face with her and she was using a different name? Is the photo of her with her father the only picture you’ve ever seen of her?”
“I’ve seen several other photos. The one of the two of them was in a frame and John kept it on his desk, so I’ve seen it lots of times. As to whether I’d recognize her if I simply saw her…I’m not sure. I think I probably would, at least I think so if she hadn’t done anything to change her appearance.”
“You said you’d never met her? You’ve never heard her voice? Not even to maybe take a phone message? You don’t know if she speaks with a regional accent, has a high-pitched voice, a nasal quality or anything of that sort?”
“I haven’t a clue what she sounds like. I’ve only seen pictures.”
“So, if she’d had some plastic surgery done, changed her nose and maybe her chin or something like that, you wouldn’t recognize her? She could be someone you come in contact with every day and you wouldn’t know it?”
Tara turned on her side, raised up on her elbow and looked at him. “What are you getting at? Do you think someone I know is really Doreen Vincent? Do you have anyone specific in mind?”
“I was wondering about your friend, Judy Lameroux.”
“Judy? That’s ridiculous. She couldn’t be involved in…” Tara’s voice trailed off as she turned the notion over in her mind. She’d also believed that Danny couldn’t be involved. Judy’s physical description fit as far as height, eye color, hair color and age. Her face didn’t match, but plastic surgery could have accounted for that. Was Brad desperately reaching for answers or was it something for her to be concerned about?
She hadn’t thought about it until he brought up the idea, but it had been kind of odd the way they met—that Judy would be in a bookstore nowhere near her home or place of business, that they would both reach for the same book at the same time. Was she reading more into the situation than was there or was she ignoring something very obvious?
Tara shook her head, no longer sure what to think or believe. “I don’t want to suspect my friend. I don’t want to be so suspicious that everyone I encounter becomes someone to fear. I’ve lived that and I don’t like it.”
Brad placed a tender kiss on her cheek, then pulled her tighter into his embrace. “I don’t want you to live that way, either. But I don’t want to dismiss something that could be dangerous. We have to consider and be open to every possibility.”
She couldn’t keep the quaver out of her voice or stop the cold shiver that swept through her body. “You mean like me refusing to believe that Danny Vincent could be involved until it was so obvious that even a three-year-old could have figured it out?”
Brad knew it had been a rhetorical question, but that didn’t prevent the emotional impact of her turmoil from leaving a deep scar on his consciousness. He had failed before and as a result had been living an emotionally closed-off life. Somehow he had to make sure he didn’t fail again. More important to him than catching the person responsible was making sure that nothing happened to Tara.
Somehow when he wasn’t looking she had managed to become the single most important person in his life and it was up to him to make sure she was protected. It had gone far beyond merely doing his job. He didn’t even want to think about how personal it had become. Was it possible that he might be falling in love with her? He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer to that question. He wasn’t sure he could handle the full implications of just how much she meant to him.
His thoughts gravitated back to the serious business at hand. Even if Judy Lameroux and Doreen Vincent were one and the same person, that still didn’t tell him who within the Marshals Service had been responsible for providing classified information and then ultimately monitoring his whereabouts.
And as long as he was adding people to his suspect list, in addition to Thom Satterly and Ralph Newman, there was Shirley Bennett. Was her computer expertise good enough to have created a false identity for herself that was so foolproof she had actually been able to procure a job with the U.S. Marshals Service without being detected? It certainly wasn’t an impossible task, and if she had been able to accomplish that, she wouldn’t have any trouble hacking into classified records.
He conjured up an image of Shirley. Her age was correct, but her appearance was way off. The most obvious difference was her height. Everything else could be altered, but Tara had pegged Doreen Vincent’s height at five foot six and he knew for a fact that Shirley was only about five-three.
Once again too many questions and no answers. He wasn’t all that easy in his mind about having chosen his sister’s cabin, either. True, it had no connection directly to him, but it wouldn’t take too much effort to connect him to his sister through his personnel file and her name to the cabin. It was something he had initially dismissed as not very likely, but now he wasn’t so sure. It was another item on his mind that he needed to talk about with Tara.
He had become a target by virtue of being with her. He was the one they were able to track, but their ultimate goal was her. Once again the thought crossed his mind—why would they still want Tara dead when everything else was out in the open? What purpose would Tara’s death serve at this point? Why take the risk for no return? As much as he didn’t want to dwell on it anymore that night, he knew they needed to discuss one very important matter.
He ran his fingers through her hair, then cradled her head against his shoulder. “There’s something we need to talk about.” Her body stiffened in his arms in response to his words. He held her tighter, wanting so much to protect her from everything but not sure if he could.
“I think we need to separate. I’ll stay here. You need to get out of the state. So far everything they’ve done to find you has been the result of tracking me. I want you out of the way so I can set myself up as their immediate target. They’ll watch me assuming I’ll lead them to you. I have two people I trust who can help you. One you met, Ken Walsh, and the other is Steve Duncan, my friend who’s a homicide detective with the Portland Police Department.
“While Ken is known to some of our suspects, Steve is a new and unknown face. I’m going to have him pick you up and take you to Portland. He can coordinate with Ken in finding a safe place for you until this is over. I’ll call both of them first thing in the morning and set this plan in motion.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, then her response came out clear and emphatic. “No.”
“What?” He raised up on one elbow. Had he heard her correctly? “What do you mean by no?”
> “I mean no, I’m not going to do it. You’re in danger because of me. I’m not going to go and hide somewhere while you set yourself up as a target. I’m in this all the way. It won’t do any good for me to be somewhere safe. If anything happened to you it would be because I was hiding away and they decided to eliminate you as the obstacle preventing them from getting to me. Ultimately I wouldn’t be any safer than I am now, with the difference being that you’d be dead.”
She looked up at him, reached out with trembling fingers and touched his face. Her voice was soft but it held a firm determination. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me while I was safely in hiding. I’m their primary target and I should be the bait to draw them out into the open.”
“I can’t allow you to risk your life that way. I’m trained to do this type of work. It’s the Marshals Service that should be protecting you and right now I’m as close to that as circumstances allow.”
“As you said, it’s my life and I won’t have anyone else making that type of decision for me. I’m not going and there’s nothing else to discuss in the matter other than how we are going to proceed.”
A little tremor of uncertainty swept through him. She sounded so determined, so positive in the stance she had taken. He didn’t like the idea of being separated from her, but the thought of her being harmed because of him was something he knew he would never be able to live with a second time. Somehow he had to dissuade her. Even though he admired her courage and respected her determination to stay, he had to talk her into letting him do what needed to be done.
“Tara, listen to me…”
“No. I’m not leaving and there’s nothing more to say.”
Brad knew there was no use continuing the conversation that night. He would call Steve first thing in the morning and send Tara to safety, somewhere away from the danger. But for tonight they would be safe.
He pulled her body over on top of his. He ran his hand down her bare back as he captured her mouth with all the passion and desire he had been trying to keep at bay. This could be their last night together and he wanted it to be enough to live in his memory and sustain him for the difficult days ahead.
“I’VE BEEN WATCHING the cabin for the past three hours like you wanted.” He shifted his cell phone to the other ear as he reached across the car seat to grab a can of beer. “You were right. They showed up about half an hour ago. The exterior lights are on, but the house is now dark. They’re still in there, probably for the night.”
“You’ve had more than enough opportunities to do away with her, starting back when it would have been considered just another unfortunate accident before anyone had stumbled across what had really happened. It’s too late to turn back now. She’s become a thorn in my side, an itch I can’t scratch. I want her eliminated along with her protector.”
His anger flared. “You want me to kill a deputy marshal? Are you crazy? We’ll never get away with that.”
“I’ve had it with your incompetence. It’s your screwups that have us in this mess. Just do it!”
“Hold on a damn minute! You don’t give me orders, not now and not ever. We need to get a few things straight. You seem to have the very wrong idea that you’re in charge here, and we both know that’s not the way it is.” He popped open the can, took a sip and listened.
“We can have this out right now—”
He’d heard enough. He clicked off the cell phone, terminating the conversation in midsentence. He tossed the phone on the car seat next to him. This showdown had been brewing for several months and couldn’t be put off any longer. The stakes were too high. There was too much money at risk for him to ignore the problem any longer.
He turned his attention back to the darkened cabin. Kill a deputy marshal? That was more trouble than he was willing to take on. And as for getting rid of Tara, he’d tried three times without any success. He had even given the assignment to Pat, which had also failed. In retrospect he realized that he had rushed Pat too much by insisting that it be done that same day.
At this point there didn’t seem to be any real reason for getting rid of Tara. Things had gone beyond the point of creating accidents and now there was a deputy marshal involved. Business matters were running along smoothly. The two witnesses that posed a threat were dead. There wasn’t any real evidence to link him to any of it. The deaths of the witnesses had already been declared accidental and there wasn’t any proof to the contrary. Maybe Brad Harrison had his suspicions, but his concerns were not supported by anyone else.
If everything just stopped right now, it would all blow over and no one would ever know what really happened. If they did some digging, the police might have been able to make a connection to Pat, but that wasn’t a problem any longer now that Pat was dead.
He took another long swig from the can of beer. He needed to reassert his authority, establish once and for all that he was in charge. And somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that meant getting rid of Tara. It was a matter of self-preservation. She was a threat to him. There was no room for sentiment.
Chapter Twelve
The loud noise pierced the nighttime quiet. Brad jerked upright, shaking his head to clear the sleep from his mind. The adrenaline surged fast through his body, which put his senses on immediate alert. His heart pounded, sending his blood racing through his body. He hadn’t anticipated anything, at least not this soon after their arrival.
Tara raised up on one elbow, her voice filled with the hazy sleep that circulated through her thoughts. “Brad? Is something wrong? What’s that noise?”
He forced a calm to his voice, not wanting to panic her. “It’s the perimeter alarm. Probably just a raccoon looking for food. It happens all the time. You stay here. I’ll go turn the alarm off.” He pulled on his jeans as he glanced at the clock. It read 5:20 a.m. He took his handgun from the holster on the nightstand, then moved quietly down the hall toward the stairs. After checking the control panel for the point of attempted entry, he reset the alarm.
Someone had tried to force the back door. He didn’t for one minute believe the raccoon story he’d given Tara, but he didn’t want to alarm her unnecessarily. The only question that needed an answer was whether the culprit was a common burglar who thought the cabin was unoccupied or someone who had managed to track them down in spite of the precautions he had taken. And if someone had tracked them down…how had they done it so quickly?
He proceeded down the stairs and through the dark cabin toward the back door, clicking off the safety on the 9mm as he went. Pausing just inside the door, he listened for any sounds that could give him some information. He reached for the bolt lock, then pulled back his hand. He had rearmed the system and opening the door would set off the alarm again. He moved to the window and peeked cautiously around the edge of the miniblinds. The exterior lights illuminated the immediate area. Whoever was there had been scared off by the alarm—at least for the moment.
Before returning upstairs he turned on a light in the kitchen and another in the living room so that it would appear to anyone who might still be watching the cabin that the occupants were now awake and downstairs. He hurried back to the bedroom. Tara had put on her robe and was sitting on the edge of the bed.
She looked at him expectantly, a hint of urgency in her voice. “What did you find? What set off the alarm?”
“I didn’t find anything. Whatever it was had apparently been scared away by the noise.” He returned the weapon to its holster.
Tara stood up, tightened the belt sash at the waist of her robe and took a deep breath. She tried to read his expression, to figure out what was going through his mind, but all she saw was the practiced facade that didn’t give away even one thought.
“Please don’t lie to me, not now…not after everything that’s happened. Someone tried to break into the cabin, someone who wanted to kill us.” Just saying the words out loud caused a chilling shudder to work its way through her body. Brad had thought they w
ould be safe at the cabin, at least for a while. But the reality rang loud in her ears. She would never be safe. And because of her, Brad would never be safe, either.
He pulled her into his arms. His strength and determination radiated to her uncertainty. She felt protected in his arms, as if everything would be all right.
“I’m not lying to you. I looked and I didn’t see anything or anyone. I don’t know what set off the alarm. It might not have had anything to do with us. My sister and her husband don’t live in the cabin and they don’t rent it out, either. It could have been someone assuming no one was here, just a common thief wanting to grab a television. It could even have been someone looking for a place to sleep for the night.”
She tried to take comfort from his words, but could not get past what she knew was true. “You don’t really believe that any more than I do. Someone knows we’re here.”
He held her in his embrace, her body pressed against his and her head cradled in his shoulder. He didn’t respond to her statement. There was nothing to say, nothing that could change the truth of her words or the reality of the situation—it was possible that someone had already tracked them.
“It will be daylight before long. If someone has managed to find us here, I don’t think they’ll try anything during the day. Hopefully by tonight we’ll have some concrete leads to follow.”
“What happens now?”
“Let’s check the kitchen and see what’s available for breakfast. I’m sure there won’t be any perishables in the refrigerator, but my sister usually keeps the pantry stocked as well as the freezer.”
Tara located the coffee canister and soon had a pot of coffee ready. They found some breakfast items in the freezer, popped them into the microwave, then sat down to eat. They talked casually over breakfast, although an undeniable undercurrent of nervous tension played through the air.
In His Safekeeping Page 18
