“What about your security footage? You’d been watching the entire building, right?”
“Most of it. We have footage of the car entering the parking garage about an hour before you left the apartment. The perp got out and walked away. He was wearing a hat and scarf. Not unusual this time of year, but certainly good for hiding someone who doesn’t want to be identified. Obviously, he knew when your appointment with Antonio was, and he was waiting for you to leave for it.”
“Why not just shoot me when I walked outside, then?” she asked, her muscles trembling slightly.
“Too easy for him to be seen. He was probably hoping to take a shot as we were leaving. Either that or he was just using more scare tactics and never intended to attack you physically.”
“If that’s the case, it worked. I’m scared.” She turned to look out the side window, her ponytail swinging slightly as the SUV bounced over a rut in the road.
“Don’t be. The bomb was an act of desperation. The perp might have known where you were, but he still wasn’t able to get to you.”
Saunders and Fiske were small-time thugs. Their criminal records were rife with petty crime and drug dealings. Nothing big. Even considering the money Joe owed to the crime organization they were affiliated with, it was surprising that they’d crossed the line into murder. Someone else was calling the shots. More than likely, someone both men were afraid of.
They weren’t saying, though.
They’d been silent on the motive for murder, refusing to answer questions during the year that they’d been awaiting trial. That wasn’t going to affect the outcome of the case.
Thanks to Annie.
She was the perfect witness. Intelligent. Hardworking. Focused. A law-abiding citizen who’d never even gotten a parking ticket. She’d spent her life playing by the rules. The prosecuting team had left no stone unturned. Antonio had looked for even the smallest thing because he’d wanted to make sure the defense wouldn’t be able to plant doubt in the minds of the jury.
There’d been nothing.
Annie would go to trial with a pristine past, her memory of her husband’s murder clear and crisp in her mind. She’d seen everything. Saunders pulling the trigger. Joe falling. Blood splattering on the white cabinets and the floor. John Fiske hovering in the back doorway, urging Saunders to hurry up. The gun pointed at her head, misfiring and clattering onto the floor.
Hunter had heard the story dozens of times over the past month. Annie had told it the same way every time, her voice shaking a little, her face pale. He’d detached himself from her fear and pain because he’d wanted no part of it. Staying focused on protecting her meant not giving in to the compassion and sympathy he had for her.
She needed more than that, though. She deserved more.
She’d said it herself—he was all she had. The closest thing to friends and family she had.
He pulled on to a cul-de-sac lined with oversize houses and drove to the end, where a brick two-story hulked over a pristine yard. The driveway was three cars wide to match the garage. Antonio’s black Cadillac was already parked in one of the spots.
“Is this it?” Annie asked as he parked next to Antonio’s car. “The house is huge!”
“Looks like twenty people could live in it comfortably,” he agreed, but his mind wasn’t on the conversation or on the house. It was on Annie. On everything she’d been through, everything he’d shoved to the back of his mind because he didn’t want to see her as anything other than a job he had to do.
Something had changed.
He’d acknowledged that to himself, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. He knew what he had to do. Get her into the house, let her be questioned for hours in preparation for trial.
He touched her shoulder, his fingers curving around narrow bone and firm muscle. “When this is over, when the trial ends and Fiske and Saunders are in jail—”
“If they are. We don’t know what the outcome is going to be.”
“I know. Your testimony is flawless, and the case is airtight,” he assured her, worried about the dark circles under her eyes and the pallid cast to her skin. Despite the cookies she loved so much, she was still losing weight, her cheekbones gaunt, her eyes hollow. The year of hiding had taken its toll. He wanted to take away the stress and anxiety, give her something that would make her smile.
“I hope you’re right, Hunter. I just…” She bit her lower lip, her gaze dark and troubled. “I want to get my life back. I want to go to the park with Sophia and know that we’re going to be safe. I want to go for a jog, buy groceries, drive to work without looking over my shoulder. I want all the things that I took for granted before.”
“You’ll have them.”
She sighed. “You want to hear something funny?”
“Sure.” But he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be funny.
“I’ve never really liked St. Louis. I always wanted to live somewhere rural. Like Wyoming or Montana or North Dakota. I wanted a lot of wide-open space where my kids could run and play in clean, fresh air.”
“I know a place like that. I spent every summer there for the first eighteen years of my life.” Because his father had been too busy to take a vacation, and his mother had been too overwhelmed to plan a vacation for her kids, they’d flown to Montana to visit her family every summer. Hunter’s uncle Nate had taken all three kids under his wing, but Hunter had been the one who loved the ranch, the fresh air, the clean crisp air the most.
He’d almost moved to Billings after he’d graduated college, taken a job in law enforcement there, but the job with the marshals had opened up. It was an opportunity he’d been hoping for, and he’d taken it.
“I spent every summer at the St. Louis library,” Annie said. “Reading about all the places I wanted to visit. Milwaukee wasn’t one of them.”
She sounded so disgusted that he chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek without realizing what he was doing.
He pulled back, clenching his hands into fists to keep from touching her again. “Sorry about that. I didn’t get to make the choice about where you were going when you left St. Louis.”
“It’s a nice enough place, but after this is over, I’m going to go somewhere else.”
“Yeah?” He got out of the SUV, walked around to her door and helped her out. “Where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere safe. Somewhere where Sophia can run around and keep pets and enjoy being a little girl.”
“I’ll make sure you get to go where you want this time, so think about it between now and the trial,” he said. The cul-de-sac was still and quiet, but he hurried her to the porch, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He wanted her inside and safe.
“Thanks.”
“The other thing I’m going to make sure you get is a visit with your parents before you leave town.”
“Really?” She stopped, her foot on the first step of a wide front porch, sunlight glinting in her dark hair. Threads of gold and red were woven through the dark strands, the burnished highlights natural and even more beautiful because they were.
“Yes.”
“I thought I wasn’t going to be able to see them while I was here.”
“Once the trial is over, I’ll try to arrange something. It should be safe for you to spend a few hours with your folks.” He cupped her elbow, urging her up the stairs. The danger might be minimal, but the sooner he got her inside the house, the happier he’d be.
The door opened before they reached it, Steven Antonio motioning for them to enter.
“Glad you could make it for the meeting,” he said, his narrow face creased in a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “We’ll be in the office in the back of the house. Bud made coffee.”
“Bud?” Hunter asked.
“Hollingsworth. He heard about security being breached at the safe house and knew I’d been planning to meet with Annie. We were at lunch yesterday discussing the case. He offered his place. It seemed like a
better idea than bringing Annie to my place or my office.”
The news was a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. A retired U.S. marshal, Bud was a go-to person when difficult cases arose. As a matter of fact, Hunter wouldn’t mind discussing the case with him. He might have some ideas about who the leak might be or, at least, where it might be originating. “Is Bud around?”
“Right here!” Bud called from a room to the left of the door. A second later, he appeared in the doorway, his khaki pants and blue polo more casual than any outfit Hunter had ever seen him in.
“How are you, Hunter? Annie?” he asked with a warm smile. “I heard there was some trouble yesterday.”
“Everyone is fine, but you’re right. We’re having a problem,” Hunter admitted.
“A leak, if the way the safe houses are being found is any indication. Want to hash it out while Steven and Annie talk?”
Hunter hesitated, realizing that if Annie were any other witness, he’d be fine with Bud’s plan.
“Sure,” he said, giving Annie a quick smile. “Unless you’d rather I stay with you.”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks.”
“All right. Let’s get this show on the road, then,” Steven said, taking Annie’s arm and leading her down the hall.
She seemed reluctant to go, her muscles stiff and tense, her footsteps heavy as she walked into a room to the left of the door.
Hunter wanted to go after her, wanted it more than he wanted to follow the rules and stick to protocol. Wanted it not because he thought she wouldn’t be safe, but because he thought she needed him.
Even if she wasn’t willing to admit it.
FOURTEEN
By the time Annie answered the last of Steven Antonio’s questions, her head was pounding so hard she thought she was going to be sick.
Not enough sleep and too much worry. That was the problem. The only solution was getting through the trial.
She sipped lukewarm coffee while Steven glanced through his notes, deep lines grooved into his forehead. He probably worried a lot and spent too many nights bent over files and notes.
She couldn’t fault him for being meticulous and thorough. She couldn’t hold it against him for wanting to make sure every detail had been covered, every possibility discussed.
But she was tired. They’d been there two hours, and she was ready to go home to Sophia.
Home?
She and Sophia didn’t have one anymore.
Not yet, but if Hunter was telling the truth, she could choose any place in the United States to settle down in. She could rent a little house on acreage in a small community where everyone knew everyone.
She could have the things she’d wanted when she’d met Joe but had given up because his dreams were so different from hers. Of course, she’d have it all as a single mother. She’d never expected that, hadn’t planned for it.
She’d never wanted to raise a child alone, but she’d make it work. Just the way she’d made the past year work. One day at a time.
“Okay, Annie,” Steven said. “Looks like we’re all set. I don’t think I’ll need to see you again until the day before the trial.”
“That’s great!” she exclaimed.
He smiled, running his hand over thinning brown hair. “I’m glad you’re not disappointed.”
“It’s not that I don’t enjoy our meetings—”
He laughed and shook his head. “Better not start lying now, Annie. Your reputation is stellar, and we want to keep it that way until the trial.”
“Okay.” She smiled, relieved that the meeting had drawn to an end. “It’s not that I have anything against you. I’d just prefer to be with my daughter. Especially with everything that’s been going on.”
“Understandable, and I think keeping you in one place rather than having you transported to more meetings is the best way to keep you safe.” He stacked a sheaf of papers and placed it in a folder. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll see if Bud and Hunter are finished.”
“All right.” She stood as he exited the room, afraid if she sat in silence she’d fall asleep.
She wasn’t sure who Bud Hollingsworth was, but his house was gorgeous, the office large with floor-to-ceiling windows that probably looked out over the front and side yards. She couldn’t know for sure, because heavy curtains blocked the view. She didn’t dare pull them back and take a look outside.
Faint voices drifted into the room, but they didn’t seem to be coming closer. She walked to a large shelf filled with books, each one turned with the spine out, all of them organized from tallest to shortest. No photos of family or friends, but the place had a homey feel. She wouldn’t have minded having an office with shelves of books and a big desk.
She wouldn’t have minded just having the little house that she and Joe had chosen together, the tiny kitchen with the peeling linoleum.
For some reason, thinking about that made her eyes burn and the knot in her chest grow tighter. Once the trial was over, she’d move on. All the things that she and Joe had created together would become distant memories. She tried to remember their wedding day, the way he’d looked as she’d walked toward him down the aisle, but she only had a vague impression of sandy brown hair and a thin face, a tuxedo and a church filled with well-wishers.
“We’re finished, Annie. Ready to go?” Hunter appeared in the doorway, his eyes deep chocolate-brown, his face cut in hard angles and plains. If she closed her eyes, she knew she could picture him perfectly.
She swallowed down a wave of grief and guilt. It had been only a year, and she’d already forgotten so much about Joe. The most vivid thing she remembered was his death.
And his lies.
“Are you okay?” Hunter stepped into the room.
“I’m fine,” she lied, because she couldn’t tell him why she wasn’t. Not without saying more than she wanted to.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Thanks.” She grabbed her coat from the back of the chair she’d hung it on.
He took it from her hands, helped her into it, his knuckles brushing her nape. “Let me rephrase that. You look beautiful but tired.”
“Thanks. Again,” she murmured, her cheeks suddenly hot, her heart racing a little too fast.
“It’s just an observation.” He pulled the edges of her ponytail out from the collar of the coat. “No need for thanks. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He pressed a hand to the small of her back. Even though she was sure she shouldn’t be able to, she could feel the warmth of his palm and the gentle pressure from each of his fingers.
For a year, Hunter had been in the periphery of her life. He’d called the shots, made the decisions, told her where to be and when. Other than that, he’d kept his distance.
He wasn’t keeping his distance any longer. She couldn’t deny her heart’s quick thrum of happiness at the thought. She also couldn’t deny that guilt that stabbed through her.
Joe had been dead for only a year.
How was it possible that she was looking at another man? How was it possible that she was finding him attractive?
Not just his looks, either.
The way he cared for Sophia. The way he cared for her. He was always kind, always willing to go the extra mile to make sure they were comfortable and happy. He’d been there for her through some of the toughest times she’d ever lived through. She knew he’d just been doing his job, but things would have been a lot worse without him there.
A schoolgirl’s crush, that was what she had.
And it was downright embarrassing.
She cast a quick look in his direction.
He seemed oblivious to her thoughts.
She hoped that he was.
Feeling a quick zing of physical attraction was one thing. A full-blown case of puppy lo…
“Enough!” she whispered. She did not have a case of puppy love. Not even close. What she had was a splitting headache and a brain that was functioning on three hours of sleep.
“What
was that?” Hunter asked, one dark eyebrow raised in question.
“Just talking to myself.”
“Do you make a habit of that?”
“Only on days when I’ve been driven crazy by repetitive questions and memorized answers.”
He laughed, pushing open the front door and motioning for her to wait while he walked onto the porch.
“We’re good. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and hurried to his SUV. She climbed in quickly, more to put some distance between them than because she was afraid that danger might be lurking nearby.
She thought he would close the door, but he leaned in, his face a couple of inches from hers. “For right now, we’re just going to concentrate on getting you to trial. We’ll worry about the rest after it’s over.”
“The rest of what?”
“This.” He touched her cheek, his finger trailing along the hollow and stopping just short of her lips.
Her breath caught. Her heart skipped a beat.
She wanted to close the distance between them almost as much as she wanted to run from the way Hunter made her feel.
He closed the door, leaving her pulse thrumming and her thoughts racing. It took him way too little time to round the SUV and get into the driver’s seat.
She tensed, not sure what he was going to say. Not sure what she should say.
“How did the meeting go?” he asked, the question so mundane, so typical of every conversation they’d ever had that she wondered if she’d imagined his other words.
“The same as always. Steven says that we probably won’t have to meet again until the day before the trial.” She hoped he couldn’t hear the slight tremor in her voice.
“That’s good news. The more hidden we can keep you, the more likely our chances are of getting you to trial without another incident.”
“Is that what you call a beheaded doll and a bomb? ‘Incidents’?” she asked, doing her best to act just as fine as he seemed.
Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 Page 13
