Reluctant Witness

by Barton, Sara M.

  “Why not just give her the watch with the special inscription, instead of me?”

  “That Citizen Chronograph was at the heart of the puzzle for several reasons. It allowed him to stalk you as you moved through the witness protection program, so he could set you up, and it was the bona fide for his secret bank account because....” Jeff was in the middle of explaining the scheme when I broke in.

  “...the watch had the GPS locator!” That earned me another kiss, this one deep and demanding, leaving me almost breathless.

  “Such a smart girl,” he grinned at me. “Brainy and beautiful; that’s a combination that’s hard to resist.

  “I’m so glad you find it appealing,” I giggled, squeezing his hand in mine and feeling him respond in kind. “So, Leesa didn’t know about the GPS?”

  “No, she didn’t. You have to remember that Jared only chose you because you looked so much like Leesa. He planned from the start to kill you once they had the money, but he knew that Leesa was cut of the same cloth as he was, so he made sure she couldn’t cut him out of the deal.”

  “That’s terrible. But how did Leesa find out about the watch if Jared kept it a secret from her?”

  “There’s more bad news, I’m afraid. Leesa had an accomplice.”

  “What?” I was stunned. “Who was it?”

  “Eve was just arrested.”

  For a moment, I thought I misheard him. “Arrested for what?”

  “Eve was the insider causing problems for the WitSec team. She’s been in on this ever since Jared planned his own fake death in Rhode Island.”

  “But Eve was injured in the parking garage. That’s why she went into labor and had to leave the job early.”

  “Actually, she took oxytocin to induce labor. That story about the fall was just to cover her fanny when the other members of the team were attacked.”

  “I...I can’t believe this. It’s....”

  “Evil?” he suggested helpfully. I nodded. There was no other explanation. “Leesa decided she didn’t want to go into WitSec after she got out of prison, so she and Eve decided to cut Jared out of the picture. Eve found out the FBI had identified that private bank account in Curaçao and was in the middle of working out the legal details to seize it. Someone from the Justice Department started asking what the marshals knew about it. Eve saw a photo of the inscription and memorized it, so Leesa could have a jeweler make a duplicate for her, one that would fool the private banker managing the account. The plan was for Leesa to withdraw all the money and disappear. For her help, Eve would get a hundred grand in untraceable cash.”

  “But the banker would have refused to give Leesa access because he knew the watch was a fake?”

  “Exactly. But Leesa and Eve didn’t know that when they hatched their plot to snatch you. Eve planned to show up here in Kauai and con you into going back to the mainland with her. They needed you to believe you were being readmitted to the witness protection program. Eve would put you up in a safe house, hidden from legitimate law enforcement. Leesa would collect the money in Curaçao. Once the money was in their possession, Eve planned to switch your files and then kill you, so your body would be identified as Leesa’s. They would get rid of you and no one would ever bother to look for Leesa again.”

  “How did they get caught?”

  “They didn’t realize the U. S. attorney in Jacksonville requested an investigation into the mishandling of your case. An internal review uncovered the fact that someone had requested a copy of your entire WitSec file, going all the way back to your childhood, long before the guano hit the fan, even though there was no official review. That was highly unusual. Tovar and Shaun nearly died when they were attacked, but Eve suffered only minor problems. That made her the most likely suspect, so investigators kept digging. Her phone records revealed she was in touch with Leesa before, during, and after the plea deal. How did Eve know the woman who was Jared’s partner before he faked his own death in Rhode Island? Eve had to be in on it.”

  “So it was just dumb luck that exposed the plot? That’s the only thing that saved me?”

  “Not really,” he smiled, tucking my arm in his as we walked on as the moonlight leant a silver air to the evening. “You never had any problems until you met Jared. You spent almost fifteen years as a protected witness without an incident, Chris. Your old WitSec teams vouched for you and your family; they told investigators you were all good, decent folks as honest as the day is long. What changed? You arrived in Rhode Island and met Jared Spears. Under the circumstances, the sensible thing to do was to start digging through any and all information pertinent to that relocation and the man who became your fiancé. That’s when someone finally spotted the resemblance between you and Leesa, his business partner.”

  “So how do you know it’s really over now, that I’m no longer in danger? What if Leesa decides to hire someone to kill me?”

  “There’s no motive for retribution against you, love. She didn’t get caught as part of our effort to protect you. She got caught because the WitSec team was under review for its own mishandling of your case.”

  “Oh.”

  “Leesa is no longer eligible for witness protection when she gets out, which will be several years from now; the prosecutors are filing more charges against her. As for Eve, she agreed to cut a deal in exchange for letting her mother take care of the baby while she’s in jail. Anything happens to you and Eve permanently loses contact with and custody of the child. As for Spears, he’s not going to do anything stupid, Chris. He wants out of jail when he finishes his sentence and straight into WitSec. The people he double-crossed have already sent word through criminal channels that they have a contract out on him, so there’s no benefit to harming you, not with so many angry investors out to get him.”

  “What I don’t understand is why I am able to use my real name now.”

  “That’s actually an interesting twist to this story. Believe it or not, your old WitSec team got you a Social Security number in your real name.”

  “They did? Why?”

  “A lot of thieves search for what they call ‘clean identities’; they troll for names of people who never obtained Social Security cards and claim those identities for themselves. To thwart that game, your original WitSec team obtained a Social Security card for you, to keep your real identity out of the hands of criminals. About twelve years ago, there was an alert that someone was checking on your Social Security number in the federal database. That set off alarm bells, so your WitSec team tracked the action. The scam artist got rolled up with about a thousand stolen Social Security numbers, some of which belonged to protected witnesses. Your team made sure to keep yours active, right up until you left Texas for Rhode Island.”

  “Wow,” I sighed. “It’s all so complicated to protect people like me, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed. But now, with so much time passing, and folks looking for Margot Floyd and Marigold Flowers, it seems a good time for Chris Neeson to restart her life.”

  “It feels so strange, Jeff.”

  “I can understand that, but you won’t be doing it alone. Your dad’s going back to his birth name, too.”

  “I never thought that would ever happen, but I’m glad it did. I’m looking forward to being me again.” I stopped, ready to turn around. “Shall we head back?”

  “In a moment,” he replied, taking me into his arms once more. “Moonlight becomes you, Chris. You look so lovely.”

  “Do I?”

  “You do,” he told me, his hungry mouth hovering near mine. I pulled him closer, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck.

  “Kiss me, you fool,” I demanded, laughing, “and be quick about it.”

  Cooper waited patiently at our feet until our lips parted and we came to our senses once more. The dull roar of the ocean and the warm breeze on my cheeks felt heavenly, but it was nothing compared to the nearness of Jeff. It was as if I came alive at his touch.

  Fifteen minutes later, we reached the resort,
dog in tow, when I realized I had no way of getting in touch with my father.

  “I don’t even know where he’s staying,” I confessed.

  Jeff laughed, hugging me. “Not to worry, Chris. It’s all under control.”

  “It is?”

  “Look over there.” He pointed his finger at the building next to mine. In the soft glow of landscaping lights that illuminated the grounds, I could see four figures on a lanai. Someone stood up and walked over to the sliding glass door, disappearing inside. “Shall we join them?”

  “Let’s,” I agreed.

  As we moved forward, Jeff’s hand slipped away from mine. I tried to grip it tighter, but it got away. “It’s show time, Chris. Let’s not give ourselves away to the audience.”

  “Right,” I sighed, feeling the weight of our secret. It wasn’t time to share it with the world. We were still in hiding, but for how long?

  A moment later, I watched Cooper march confidently onto the lanai to make the rounds of the assembled crowd. He sniffed everyone in turn, curiosity getting the better of him, before pawing me to pick him up.

  “Chrisanth, Jeff, would either of you like a cocktail?” P. J. asked, standing at the sliding glass door.

  “No, thank you,” I told him.

  “I’m good,” the son replied. “Chris wanted to see her father.”

  “Dad, I just wanted to make sure you had my new phone number. I’m in the next building, top floor, in case you need me.”

  “Good to know, dear. I’m so delighted to see my daughter again,” he told the others. He punched my cell phone number into his contacts list as I read the numbers off to him. “It’s been such a long time. Now, let me give you mine.”

  My father and Lara each had one-bedroom units in another building on the other side of the pool, with balconies that overlooked the parking lot and the distant mountain.

  “Jeff is staying here with us,” Liz announced, glancing at me, “in case anyone is interested. It’s so nice to have our son along on this trip. Usually he’s so busy in Atlanta, we’re lucky if we get to see him for the holidays.”

  “Now, Mom....”

  “It’s true. You know I miss you, darling. I never really have a chance to spend enough time with my boys anymore.”

  “You should all come with us tomorrow and see the plantation,” Lara decided. “They not only grow coffee and cacao, they also grow their own organic spices.”

  I thought about Nora Hazen, Lisbeth Causley’s fictional heroine in Vanilla Orchid Magic. She went to the Big Island to find her paradise with Jean-Claude. Kauai was similar in many ways, with the same volcanic soil that made the coffee so delicious. Perhaps I might learn something on this field trip with my father and Lara.

  “The range of spices they produce is impressive,” my father told us. “Cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, vanilla beans....”

  “Vanilla beans...like from the vanilla orchid?” I interrupted, excited at the prospect of seeing the real thing.

  “Absolutely. The vines grow on host trees in the forest. It’s an amazing sight, Chris.”

  “And these farmers are also well-known for their organic Hawaiian honey,” said Lara.

  “Hawaiian honey,” I laughed. “It sounds so exotic.”

  “Doesn’t it just?” Liz leaned over and poked her friend. “It sounds like something you apply to your skin, like a spa treatment...or a love potion. Perhaps I shall buy you a bottle. Or two. Or three.”

  “Cheeky little twit.” Lara shook her head in mock disappointment, playing the role of disapproving teacher to Liz’s rambunctious student.

  “I believe the term you’re looking for is incorrigible,” said the romantic suspense author, a gleam in her eye. “Do you suppose they sell it by the gallon? That would tide you over for a while, professor.”

  Chapter Fifty Two

  “I’m going to ignore you now,” Lara told Liz, giving the author a good view of her back as she turned her attention to the rest of us. “Tomorrow, you’ll see a wide variety of flowers planted all over the farm, everything from wild flowers to cultivated ornamentals, which are there to attract birds, bees, butterflies, and even moths, as pollinators.”

  “Look at her,” Liz sighed theatrically, rolling her eyes in Lara’s direction. “All she can think about is plants, plants, plants. Not a romantic bone in her body.”

  I laughed aloud. To a lay person, including most home gardeners, foliage and blossom discussions were usually limited to how pretty the begonias were this season. But as a member of the Neeson family, I had grown up with parents and grandparents whose dinner conversation included topics such as pesticides and plant peptides. It was in their blood.

  “I guess it depends on whether or not you speak ‘plant’, Liz. In my father’s case, it’s the perfect aphrodisiac, catnip for the tabby. Talk to him about soil PH and plant hormones, and he just melts in ecstasy,” I told her. Everyone laughed, even as my father nodded enthusiastically. I glanced over at Lara. Was she blushing?

  “They are two peas in a pod, no doubt,” P. J. joked. We all groaned in unison. Cooper added his own little woof.

  “Vegetable humor, in case any of you missed it,” the history professor pointed out.

  “If only we could have,” Jeff quipped.

  “I swear these two are so plant crazy, a mere whiff of fertile soil might make them swoon and go weak at the knees,” Liz grinned impishly, “and then how do we revive them? Throw some Miracle-Gro at them?”

  “I beg your pardon, Lisbeth Causley. I’ll have you know I am quite respected in my field of study. I have earned my reputation due to my encyclopedic knowledge of plants. I will not dumb myself down to get a man. I was born smart and that’s the way I’ll die, with my favorite pair of Wellies on.”

  “Oh, nothing like ugly garden boots to turn a man on. Talk about sexy footwear. Ooh-la-la!”

  “Speak for yourself, madam,” my father piped in. “I really dig a woman who’s not afraid to get down and dirty.”

  “Dig...botanist humor,” P. J. chuckled.

  “Oh, Woody!” Lara threw back her head and laughed. I thought that was a good sign. Watching them together made me feel hopeful that my father had met a companion who genuinely shared his interests. Lara was definitely her own person, no imitation of the woman my father had loved for so long, but she seemed a good fit for him. I thought my mother would approve of this match. She and Lara would probably even have been friends, had they ever met.

  “Another man who likes corny humor,” P. J. remarked, lifting his glass in a toast. A moment later, he realized what he’d said. “There I go again, more....”

  “...vegetable humor,” Jeff completed his father’s sentence with mock exasperation. “Holy cow. I don’t think I can keep up with such scintillating conversation. I’m in over my head here.”

  “Cows are a gardener’s best friend. They produce nature’s fertilizer, and that’s no bull,” my father chuckled. There were more groans.

  “Want a shovel, son, to dig yourself out?”

  “Actually? I think I do.”

  I realized the men were trying to distract the ladies from the subject of romance but, unfortunately for them, there was one very determined matchmaker on the job. I took pity on them as she started again.

  “Plants can’t keep you warm at night,” Liz countered. “You can’t cuddle with a fern.”

  “No,” I agreed, “but never underestimate flower power. Those blossoms have communicated our thoughts and intentions for centuries. We give them when we want people to know we care and we surround ourselves with blossoms on the happiest and the saddest of occasions. A beautiful rose can speak to the most reticent of hearts and move mountains.”

  “Bravo! Spoken like the daughter of a botanist,” P. J. cheered me on, clapping. “And now that I know flowers mean nothing to you, dear wife, I shall save myself all that money on our next anniversary by skipping the dozen red roses.”

  “Do that at your own peril, my danger-lo
ving husband,” replied Liz, raising an eyebrow. “Fair warning.”

  “Thank you for being such a dear champion of all things green,” Lara rewarded me with a warm smile, even as she landed another barb in Liz’s direction. “At least you understand their importance in the life cycle, which is more than I can say for the romance writer amongst us.”

  “I’ll have you know those romances and Inspector Samuelson have kept my husband in clean, white athletic socks for the better part of the last three decades.”

  “For which I am eternally grateful,” P. J. acknowledged wryly. “It’s been magical, my love.”

  “It has, hasn’t it? Marriage is a fine institution. I highly recommend it, not only to my friend here, but also to my son.”

  Lara let out an audible sigh. Jeff rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation.

  “Thank heavens my mother writes more deftly than she speaks,” he countered. “Her conversation is often about as subtle as the sledge hammer with which her villains sometimes bludgeon their victims.”

  “I believe she owes her success as an author to heavy editing,” P. J. informed us, even as Liz made a face. “Unfortunately for all of us, she doesn’t often filter her own speech.”

  “Fine, I give up! You’ve all made your point. Tell us all about the birds and the bees, Professor ‘Smarty Pants’ Street! We’re on tinder hooks.”

  “Fine. I will. The farmers we are visiting tomorrow are beekeepers and members of the Hawaiian Butterfly Society,” Lara told us. “They’ve taken a proactive role in educating their fellow farmers about the benefits of nurturing bees and butterflies. You’ll probably see several of Hawaii’s seventeen species, from the gulf fritillary to the banana skipper to the painted lady. Feel free to bring your cameras.”

  Would the visit tomorrow give me a glimpse of what the fictional Nora’s farm might be like? I found the thought intriguing. What was the name of that company Nora started? It was on the tip of my tongue...something to do with butterflies. The Hawaiian Butterfly Coffee and Spice Company -- that was it.