“It sounds like you’ve known them a long time.”
“I’m a Catskill boy myself. We all used to play ice hockey together after school. When we weren’t skiing, we were skating. And the rest of the year, we spent swimming, hiking, and fishing.”
“It sounds like a good way to grow up.” I replied.
“It was. It was wonderful. We spent a lot of time hanging out together. Jack’s the oldest. He’s always been Mr. Responsibility, and he married one of the good women of the world. He and I went to the police academy together. He became a state cop and I took a job with the Albany Police Department. Lincoln’s the baby of the family. He spent most of his time trying to outdo his big brothers. That’s why he applied to the FBI. It was his way of being a bigger big shot than Jack. Jeff, on the other hand, decided to be a writer, like his mother.”
“I thought his father was the writer in the family,” I cut in, remembering what Tom and Jojo had told me, “and a presidential scholar.”
“He is. But Mom happens to be Lisbeth Causley.”
“The mystery writer? She does all those Inspector Samuelson books?”
“One and the same. She’s also Serena Duvall, the romance author.”
“Serena....” I laughed. “That explains it! Jojo gave me a copy of The Secret of White Jasmine to read.”
“Jojo is one of her biggest fans,” Rocky smiled. “She’s also one of Lisbeth’s favorite sources in law enforcement. They met when Lisbeth was researching, Walk Away Before You Die! When Lincoln wanted to join the FBI, he went to Jojo, who introduced him to her FBI friends. That’s how he met Tom.”
“They certainly do know the art of networking,” I smiled.
“When the Cornwall boys were growing up, they accompanied Liz on her research trips, and she encouraged them to use what they learned for school projects. How many kids can say their mothers took them on ride-alongs in the Bronx or to the state forensic lab to learn about fingerprint analysis? Doc Cornwall might be able to tell you all about the presidents, but Lizzy was the one firing up their imaginations with the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘whodunits’. Those boys were destined to investigate.”
“But Jeff decided against a career in law enforcement. Was that because he wanted to do his own thing?” I posed the query out of curiosity. “Or was it because he just loved writing so much?”
“You haven’t met Jeff yet, have you?” Rocky glanced over at me.
“No, I haven’t. Why?”
“No reason.”
Even as he said that, I could see he was holding something back. Those lips were drawn tight to prevent words from spilling out. I wondered what it would take to loosen them.
“What aren’t you telling me,” I prodded.
“It’s nothing. No big deal. Not important.”
“If you have to tell me three times that it doesn’t matter, it must matter a lot. What is it?”
He drove in silence for another thirty seconds or so. I could see that he was conflicted. Was it loyalty or his position with Jeff’s production company that was getting in the way?
“Can I give you a piece of advice when it comes to the Cornwall boys?” He glanced over at me. “Don’t let them sweep you off your feet.”
“Excuse me?” I admit that I was shocked by the comment, especially since I was so clearly unable to find any kind of lasting romance and had pretty much given up on it. “What does that mean?”
“Lincoln’s an emotional mess, thanks to Deirdre. But Jeff? He’s even worse off.”
“How so?”
“He’s got physical problems.”
“What kind of physical problems, Rocky?” I admit I wanted to know, given the fact that Lincoln had sent me to stay with his older brother. Was I about to get into the middle of an ugly situation?
“After he graduated from college, Jeff broke his back when he fell down a mountain. He’s had five surgeries now and he still walks with a limp.”
“That sounds tragic,” I replied, “but what does that have to do with me?”
“If you only knew what he went through to get back on his feet,” he sighed. “The doctors said he would be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, but he wouldn’t accept that diagnosis. The guy is tenacious beyond belief. He’s got women crawling all over him, thanks to his status as one of Atlanta’s most eligible bachelors. That’s spoiled him rotten.”
“Well, as long as I don’t throw myself at him, it sounds like I’ll be safe, Rocky.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he told me.
“I don’t understand.”
“Jeff did the impossible through sheer willpower and hard work. He’s a very driven guy. Once he makes up his mind to do something, you don’t want to get in his way.”
“So?”
“Can I be frank with you?” He waited until I nodded before continuing. “You’re exactly the kind of woman Jeff will pursue relentlessly, just for the challenge. I’m guessing that your status as a person of interest for law enforcement makes you unable to put down real roots, at least at the moment.”
“Pretty much. I have no idea what’s going to happen or where I’ll wind up.”
“A woman who’s off limits? That’s irresistible to a guy who can’t take no for an answer.”
“Yes, well....”
Rocky’s phone chimed in the console cup holder. He picked up his Bluetooth headset and put it on, inserting the earpiece.
“Yeah? I’m talking to her now,” he said to his caller. “Right. I understand. Got it. I’ll tell her.” He tapped his ear piece with a fingertip and then extracted it, replacing it in the cup holder. “Good news. Atlanta P. D. picked up the guy from the dog park, one Marvin Smith, a petty criminal from Pennsylvania, who just happens to have an outstanding warrant for burglary. They’re going to sit down for a chat with him, while they’re waiting to find out if Pennsylvania wants him back.”
“Wow. Was it really that easy? We didn’t even get to Jeff’s place yet.” I gazed at the passing sign for Peachtree Road. “Amazing.”
“Sometimes the good guys actually win one,” he grinned.
I looked down at Kary, sleeping soundly on my lap, and thought back to the moment I saw the woman who surrendered him on the step of her row house, back in Philadelphia. She had made me uneasy that day. There was something about the way she looked at me.
“Did Lincoln tell you that someone broke into his home in Virginia while I was there?” I asked. Rocky cocked his head to one side, interested in hearing more. “Some guy let himself in when Lincoln took the dog out for a quick run. He was looking for me.”
“So?”
“I assumed it was because of the FBI case, but now I’m not so sure. Could Deirdre have arranged that, too?”
“Interesting question,” Rocky decided. “I guess the only way to know is to find out the truth without compromising your safety.”
“Think you can do it?”
“I do, with a little help from Tom.”
“If Deirdre knows I’m in Atlanta with Jeff, doesn’t that make me more vulnerable? What if her little game to ensnare Lincoln gets dangerous? Shouldn’t I be moved to another location?”
“I’d rather shut her down. Lincoln’s an FBI agent, and if his ex-wife is trading favors with clients and they’re committing crimes on her behalf, it could put him and other FBI agents at risk.” Rocky’s lips curled into a smile. “Let me ask you something. Are you currently a witness for an active prosecution?”
“No,” I admitted. “For some reason, the FBI has decided they don’t have a case to prosecute.”
“Which means they shoved you out of the witness protection program?”
“Well, kind of...yes. But I think that’s because my WitSec team was attacked.”
“Oh boy!” Rocky sounded alarmed. “Tell me more.”
I gave him the short version of what happened at the Gilded Nest, leaving out the part about my grandfather and father, and even Jared. “The marshal handling me show
ed up at the place I was working and someone shot him. That’s when the hit woman kidnapped me and I wound up in Windham, where I met Jack and Philomena.”
“Gee, kid, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”
“Story of my life,” I replied with a shrug. I looked out the window, averting my eyes. I didn’t want Rocky to see the pity party.
“Well, you’re in luck. You’re going to have round-the-clock protection. We’ll get to the bottom of all this. Jeff’s more than capable of picking up the tab.”
“But why would he be willing to pay for my protection?”
“Are you kidding? A real-life damsel in distress? Someone who’s lived in witness protection? You’re catnip for the tiger, woman! You’ll be the inspiration for his next book. He’ll probably even figure out a way to write off the cost of looking after you at the end of the year.”
By the time we pulled onto Route 9, Rocky had lined up a meeting with Jeff and Tom. They were on their way to meet us at Jeff’s condo in Park Place on Peachtree.
“We’re cooking with gas now,” he exclaimed, hanging up. The head of Roaring Kill security was so excited by the prospect of catching Deirdre in the act, he didn’t bother trying to hide his enthusiasm.
“It’s a good thing you’re not holding back. I wouldn’t want you to stifle your emotions, Rocky.” He took my teasing in stride.
“You don’t understand, kid. I’ve waited a long time to see those two guys reunited. I think this might just get the job done. That conniving, two-timing, manipulative, lipstick-wearing barracuda is going down for the count!”
“You’re that confident? What changed?” Half-turning in my seat, I could see the gleam in his eye.
“You. You’re a gift from heaven, an angel sent to knock some sense into those two idiots. You see, as long as you’re in danger, it doesn’t matter what Deirdre wants. Those Cornwall boys will put your interests first. That’s the way they were trained to do things. And we’re going to keep them focused on the prize, keeping you alive. That means they have to cooperate, because if they don’t, they might just help a killer succeed. Oh, this is going to be great!”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “It sounds like trouble to me.”
“Naw, this is going to work,” he laughed. “And do you want to know why?”
“Sure, I’ll bite.”
He flipped his blinker on and turned into a long driveway up to a high rise building. Pulling around to the back, he parked in the SUV in a space by a tall cement wall and turned off the engine.
“You need the Cornwall boys to help you because the FBI cut you loose and the Marshals Service cut you loose. They’re your last hope.”
I sighed at the unfortunate update on my status. “Gee, thanks for reminding me. That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
“Somebody had to do something to cause those federal agencies to drop you like a hot potato. The well was poisoned and we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”
“I don’t know...why do you say someone did me wrong?”
“Your whole WitSec team got knocked out of commission? That’s bizarre. What’s even more bizarre is that neither the Marshals Service nor the FBI are pulling you in for questioning. Not only did someone grab the ball out from under you, you’ve been sidelined. Why? More importantly, hired killers didn’t murder you. How does that even make any sense?”
“Are you suggesting that the government wants me dead and that’s the reason I got pulled out of WitSec?” I demanded, growing more agitated by the second.
“No. I’m suggesting someone did you wrong and got you cut loose, probably by conning the feds. We need to figure out why you’re so important. Come on.” Rocky handed me my pink briefcase and then grabbed my suitcase and the dog carrier. I set Kary on the ground, figuring he needed to stretch his legs. We walked through the parking lot, making our way to the front of the building and into the very grand foyer.
“Welcome to Park Place on Peachtree, your temporary home, sweet home. Jeff recently bought his place here,” my bodyguard informed me. “He’s barely had time to move in.”
Greeted by a friendly young man in uniform at the concierge desk, Rocky announced that we were visiting Jeff.
“Yes, of course. Mr. Cornwall called a little while ago and said you have a key to let yourselves in. He should be arriving shortly.”
“Thanks.” Rocky took my elbow, leading me down the long hallway on the ground floor, past the elevators.
“We’re not going up in the elevator?” Given the stature of the high rise building, I just assumed Jeff’s unit was on one of the upper floors, with a panoramic view. My bodyguard smiled.
“You were expecting the penthouse?”
“Kind of,” I admitted sheepishly. “I heard all about how Jefferson Cornwall made a fortune with his thrillers.”
“Then this will probably come as a real shock for you,” he chuckled, stopping in front of the last door. Inserting a key, he gave the door handle a twist and I heard the click; pushing open the door, he stepped aside to let me in.
“Welcome to Jeff’s castle,” he announced.
“Whoa!” I exclaimed, as I crossed the threshold. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what I saw. Stepping into the elegant, unfurnished foyer, my eye was immediately drawn to the light coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the very long hallway. Above me, the coffered ceilings were easily fourteen or fifteen feet high, accented by elaborate moldings that only served to make me even more aware of the architectural grandeur. Rocky set down the nylon cases on the honed white Carrara marble floor and tucked his hand in his pocket, groping for his phone.
“I’ve got to take a call. Go look around, make yourself at home,” Rocky told me. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
Chapter Nineteen
I made my way down the corridor, with Kary in my arms, taking in all the ornate details. There was gilding everywhere -- on the crystal sconces and chandeliers, on the carved plaster reliefs above doorways, and even on the stenciled trefoils of the walls. I felt like I had stumbled into a condo version of Versailles.
The hallway led me past several closed doors into an enormous living room, carpeted in ivory wall-to-wall broadloom. The two sets of oversized sliding glass windows were flanked by magnificent carved columns capped by embellished capitals and corbels. Pilasters rose up from the floor to greet the two-story ceiling and ornately framed wall panels sat above the wainscoting. These had been decorated with intricate plaster reliefs of acanthus leaves, fleurs de lis, floral bouquets, and ribbons, distributed by a heavy hand that obviously didn’t know when to say no. Tiny cherubs with chubby cheeks, their faces wreathed in laurel boughs, sat centered above each plaster panel. There was nary a piece of plaster decoration that was not gilded.
Two massive chandeliers hung suspended from chains, dripping with gold detailing and crystals, each with three tiers of electric candles. I could well imagine the blinding light from these at night.
But it was the ceiling that jolted me unexpectedly. Every square inch of it was painted with colorful images of lords and ladies cavorting alongside naked wrestlers and flying angels in various states of undress. All of the trim had been gold-leafed, including the many domes.
Much to my surprise, there wasn’t a stick of furniture anywhere, not a chair or a table to be seen. What remained, however, was the imprint of the furniture that had recently graced this living room. I could see the impressions in the thick, ivory carpeting.
All of the overblown adornment of the condo ended at the glass doors. Just outside the living room was an empty courtyard that ran the length of the building, a wide open space of nothing but gray brick pavers. I stood at the glass door, staring out. Three small garden planters, looking rather forlorn in such a large, sterile space, were lined up by one set of glass doors, barren of greenery. No small shrubs or bushes poked out of the soil, no topiary trees stood tall. The concrete walls were tall enough to keep out cur
ious garden peepers and offer some privacy, but they reminded me of a correctional institute. The only thing missing was the barbed wire. A dark gate, the only touch of color, broke up the long stretch of hard, unyielding wall. At a glance, the patio seemed like a desolate afterthought, void of any architectural interest.
“What do you think?” said a strange voice just a few feet behind me. “Do you approve?”
I jumped at the unexpected sound. Whirling around, I came face to face with a tall, lean man with the look of a rugged outdoorsman. He wore a blue-striped Oxford cloth shirt that was open at the collar and a pair of faded jeans. His hair was tousled, as if he had just rolled out of bed. On his face was a two-day growth of beard. Staring at him, I could see there was no mistaking the Cornwall genes. They were definitely there, but there was something more, something that I was unable to resist the moment our eyes met, a powerful force that drew me in like a magnet. I was mesmerized.
“Hi,” I said, suddenly unsure of myself. “Are you Jefferson?”
He took a step forward and extended his hand to me. I noticed he leaned his body to one side as he moved. “Most folks just call me Jeff. You must be Marigold, also known as Susan.”
“I am.” I took it, feeling the warm of his strong grasp as our hands touched. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Nonsense. It’s my pleasure.” There it was, the roguish smile, guaranteed to charm. I began to understand why Rocky tried to warn me about Jeff. He was smooth in his movements, almost cunning. The eyes were hawk-like, intent on observing me, and I found myself cringing under the scrutiny.
“Again, what do you think?” he inquired. Folding his arms, he crossed them across his broad chest. I reminded myself to be careful in letting my guard down around this man.
Reluctant Witness Page 15
