The fact that they were using a prepaid phone didn’t surprise him. It was what he’d suspected.
He shoved the phone in his pocket and went inside where he could smell coffee brewing and could see Kiera in the kitchen. She moved easily around the small area. And, as much as he’d tried to be objective and treat her like any other case, he had to admit that she wasn’t any other case. Her in-your-face attitude on the lawn yesterday morning was an act of defiance that defined their first meeting, an act that had both surprised and intrigued him. She’d been kick-ass from the beginning and despite the reasons for his being here, he couldn’t help the fact that he was attracted to her. He kept telling himself that it was nothing more than superficial. After all, she was rounded in all the right places. A full bottom that he’d love to...
Stop it, Johnson. He pushed the thought from his mind and immediately regretted it, for that thought was replaced by that of the creep who had almost had his way with her. The anger he felt at that thought was like nothing he’d felt before. For the first time in his life he wanted a man to die. For the first time—he wanted revenge.
Chapter Seven
Travis put the bowl down. It was one of a set that were cream colored and scalloped in blue, each with a different farm scene. He guessed that they were another of Kiera’s craft-sale finds. He’d just whipped eggs, and the cheese, tomato, onion and assorted spices were ready to go. He’d been in the midst of making her an omelet for breakfast. It was six o’clock, an early start to the day. It had been a day with a rough start. Getting the third set of anonymous calls had been upsetting for Kiera and something he needed to follow up on with Serene and beef up security.
He glanced over his shoulder. Kiera was nursing her coffee with a hand on either side of the cup. She was looking gaunt, as if it had all been too much. And he wondered how it could not be. It took a special kind of person to bounce back from what she’d endured. He was going to make sure that she started the day out right. With something that stuck to her ribs, as his grandmother was fond of saying. It was from her and his mother that he’d learned the art of cooking.
“It seems like a never-ending nightmare,” she said.
“It will end,” he assured her.
“I hope so,” she said. But her voice seemed dull, almost absent of emotion.
Damn, he thought. Despite how well she’d been doing, right now she didn’t look fine at all. She was sitting like a pale statue at the table. Her mind was obviously somewhere else. He could only imagine that that place was the recent and very ugly past. Was she thinking about her ordeal or about the phone call and her belief that the killer wasn’t acting alone? While he had yet to admit anything to her, his gut told him that there might be some validity to her theory. But instinct and gut feelings wouldn’t convince the FBI on the matter. He flipped his thoughts.
“Can I get you some more coffee?” he asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Kiera?”
He sat down beside her, pulling his chair close to hers. Had he overestimated her resiliency? If needed, he’d be willing to change the shift schedule more than he already had and stay with her through all of today, as well. She needed familiarity; she needed him. He didn’t allow himself to consider that last thought.
There was something that spoke of desperation in the look she gave him. He squeezed her hands, too tightly.
“Ouch. It’s okay, Travis.”
“Sorry,” he said but even as he let her hands go, he remained beside her. He’d be her support for as long as she needed him. But her eyes were dark, brooding, filled with memories that were deep and soul disturbing. He couldn’t stop looking at her. He felt for her on a level that he couldn’t quite quantify. It was as if everything about her mattered—to him.
The connection caught his breath and left him speechless. It was as if there were something special that bonded them in a way neither of them could fathom. He pushed the thoughts from his mind. Seconds slipped into a minute and then two.
“I’m lucky to be alive,” she murmured. “And I want to live. But someone out there wants me dead.”
He didn’t dispute what she was saying. There was no disputing the reality of the threat.
His mind went back to the report. A transit driver, Sophia Antonia, had found her minutes before dawn. The driver’s report stated that she’d seen a woman’s silhouette under the glow of the streetlight. At the time, she’d thought she’d been seeing things. But as she got closer, she’d seen Kiera weaving at the entrance of the alley. She’d seemed fragile, broken even, but she’d waved her hands over her head in a plea for help. At first, Sophia thought she was drunk or high. She said the torn medical scrubs and tunic made her realize that something was very wrong.
He marveled at how luck had both saved Kiera’s life and almost taken it. She had been lucky that Sophia had been there that morning. It was a rough area of town and not the bus driver’s usual route to work. But she was much earlier than usual. As a result, she’d taken the unusual route to grab a cup of coffee at a place that catered to truckers and was open at that hour of the morning.
Sophia had been blocks from her destination when she’d seen the woman stagger from the alley into the light of a nearby streetlight. At first, she hadn’t intended to stop. The fact that she’d backtracked was amazing in itself. It wasn’t a place or time where most would have stopped to help an unknown woman. But Sophia had claimed some instinct told her that Kiera was different, that she desperately needed help. Then, as she’d turned her car around and the headlights had shone on Kiera, she’d seen the state she was in and known then that there was something very wrong. She knew despite the time and place, she had to stop. It wasn’t total bravery; Sophia admitted that she wasn’t unarmed. She went nowhere without her inherited Colt Special. And with that in her hand and her phone in her back pocket, she’d gotten out of her vehicle to investigate. As she’d approached, she claimed that Kiera had stood there unmoving with her torn tunic and pants flapping in the breeze.
Then Kiera had spoken the only words she was to speak until she arrived in the hospital.
Help me.
And the transit driver had.
She’d taken Kiera to her vehicle, put her in the backseat, then called 911 and waited for help to arrive. The state Kiera was in had the woman nervous as to who might have done this to her. And she’d admitted to locking the doors and sitting poised at the wheel, with the engine running, ready to take off if necessary.
“I’m fine, Travis. It’s just...” She brought his attention back to where it needed to be, on her.
“You’re sure?” he asked, taking her hands in his and squeezing them.
“Positive,” she said with a smile and pulled her hands free. “Hungry,” she said with a tentative smile. “What’s the time on that omelet?”
* * *
TEN MINUTES LATER she took the last bite and pushed the plate to the side.
“This is the best omelet I’ve ever tasted,” she said. “You’re a fantastic cook. Thank you.” She stood up, picking up her plate and reaching over to pick up his. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?”
“My grandmother insisted I learn,” he said with a smile as he put his hand over hers. “And my mother,” he finished. “Let me clean up.”
“No,” she replied. “I need something to do and you said you had to go into the office.”
“You’re sure?” He didn’t feel concern at leaving her alone. She wasn’t a runner. That he was sure of and that was what the FBI had been concerned about. He knew that for the most part, James trusted his assessment. He’d make sure she was safe and he wouldn’t be gone long. But, in that time, he’d arranged for the area to be patrolled by a police officer and later this afternoon Devon would take over. In the meantime, he had no qualms about her safety. He’d covered all the angles.
“Positive,” she sai
d. “I need to get back to a routine. Nothing better than dishes to take one’s mind off things.”
“Alright,” he said, appreciating the way she was able to return to normal despite the trauma she’d been through. He guessed much of it was pretend on her part. And, while it wasn’t healthy in the long run, in the short term it helped her cope. “I won’t be gone long. An hour tops. You know my number—call me if there’s any trouble, anything at all,” he said. “I’ll get a patrol car in the area while I’m gone.” For she might not be a runner but he wasn’t one hundred percent confident, considering her belief and the calls, about her safety.
“I’ll be alright.”
“Keep the doors locked,” he said a few minutes later with his hand on the doorknob. “Call me...” he repeated.
“No worries,” she said.
And she stood on the step as he pulled away, a lone figure who looked too small, too vulnerable. The memory of her standing there, of her vulnerability, stuck in his mind. As a result, he drove a little too fast, trying to shorten the time he was gone, the time she might be alone.
Chapter Eight
“I need electronic security in place and I need it yesterday,” Travis said. He was in the FBI office in Cheyenne. He and Serene had already gone through a minute’s worth of niceties. He didn’t have any more time than that.
“I’m sorry to rush this but...”
“No problem,” Serene interrupted. “Keep the facts coming—you know I don’t do well with small talk.”
Despite being head of her unit, Serena was still very hands-on. He knew that other than giving her the specs of Kiera’s property, she’d handle the rest without his help.
Serene made a note of all the relevant details, asking him pertinent questions as she typed. “I’ll have a man out within the hour,” she said and looked up from her computer screen. “Motion detectors, cameras, the works. There won’t be anything that happens around her place that we won’t be on top of.”
“Today?”
“Today,” she promised. “Give your witness the heads-up that there’ll be activity around the house. Better yet, make sure you’re there.”
If he didn’t know her as well as he did, he would think that she was implying that he needed to be told how to do his job. But he knew that Serene didn’t mean to undermine. That was just her manner. He’d known her for years and had a friendship that had begun with a series of misguided dates.
“Sit and we’ll finish this up,” she said without looking at him.
He pulled out a chair. They both knew the drill. He provided the information she needed and offered photos of the problem areas he’d identified. He listed the specifics almost by rote as he’d memorized them yesterday when he’d first seen the place.
“The system will be in place by early afternoon,” she said as she looked up from her computer screen. Her eyes were molten and dark and, right now, razor-sharp.
“I’ll set up a system that will be monitored from here. But you’ll also be able to access it. I’ve made it inaccessible inside the unit based on what you’ve said of your witness.”
“I can work with that,” Travis said.
She looked at him. “There’s something else. The phone. What are you going to do about that?”
“I bought a prepaid for her to use and I took hers. That way if there’re any more of those calls she won’t be receiving them.” He put the phone on the desk. He’d been clear with Kiera that her family and friends wouldn’t be able to contact her, but that she could still reach them. She’d promised him that she’d limit her calls and not reveal any vital information like her current situation with law enforcement or anything regarding the case, including the threatening calls. She’d agreed and said that she’d warn her friends that she’d be out of communication for a time.
He’d been surprised that it wasn’t an issue for her and more surprised when he learned that she had no close family. In fact, he’d not only been surprised but floored. He knew that she had been orphaned. He knew that she’d been raised by an aunt and he knew what the file had said, but he hadn’t taken that information literally. In the back of his mind he’d always thought that there was someone.
He couldn’t imagine being alone like that. He couldn’t imagine not having to make sure there was some way to communicate with people who had always been there for you. In his vibrant and close-knit family, that wouldn’t happen. His family had deep roots in Cheyenne although some of them had since scattered farther afield. But none of them would be okay with being out of touch with him. In fact, they’d proven their need to stay in touch over the years—and when he could be, he was there for them, always leaving a way for them to be in contact. Only last week, he’d stopped by his aunt’s apartment to help her move a dresser, and minutes ago he’d made a quick call to check on his mother, as his father was on a business trip. The fact that Kiera had no biological family was something he couldn’t comprehend. But she claimed her family were her friends, even her coworkers. And she’d been concerned about them and relieved when he’d told her that she could call them using her prepaid. The phone’s number would be blocked. She’d already been instructed not to give the phone number out. He wasn’t ready to trust anyone, not even her inner circle.
“Excellent,” Serene said bringing him out of his thoughts of Kiera. “We’ll monitor the calls. I’ll try to run a trace on anything suspicious. Give me the number of the prepaid and I’ll forward anything personal directly to her.”
“That’s it,” he said a minute later as he stood up. “Anything else and I’ll be in touch.”
With the surveillance issue in motion, he headed down the hall.
You’ll die before you’ll ever testify.
The words were dire. They were not words that could or should be ignored. Crank call or not, he couldn’t assume that it was benign. His gut was telling him that there was weight behind the threat, that it might not be chance that had her receiving those calls. That was why he was here.
His steps echoed as he strode down the hallway. A minute later he was outside James’s office.
He gave one hard knock on the door. The sound echoed down the corridor. He didn’t knock twice. James was expecting him. His hand was on the doorknob when he heard the greeting and was told to come inside.
“What’s going on, Trav?” James asked after Travis had taken a seat. “I heard you’re lining up electronic security on the witness’s home.”
“I did. Kiera’s been receiving anonymous phone calls since she returned home.” He went into the details of the calls.
“Have you witnessed any of these calls?” James interrupted.
Travis was not fazed by the interruption. He would have been more disturbed if James hadn’t interrupted. For that was his habit. He was an interactive, if slightly abrasive, listener. The only time that fact changed was if the topic had no interest or relevance for him.
“Not until early this morning. The last call was five after five. For the first time there was a voice.” He paused. “She’s adamant that there were two perps that night.”
James was looking at him with interest.
“Serene has determined that the calls were made on burners.”
“So, there’s no way of linking them to a person, an account,” James said thoughtfully.
“No. And they appear to have been made from various points throughout the city.”
He looked over James’s shoulder where he could see a partial view of Cheyenne’s skyline. Cheyenne was a small city. It wasn’t a place where one expected a woman to be afraid for her life. But crime occurred everywhere, even where it was least expected. If nothing else, his career had taught him that.
James sat back with a look of concern on his face. He laced his fingers and batted his thumbs. “Initially, our biggest threat was the chance of the witness disappearing. Running if she felt
threatened. This will only exacerbate the potential for that problem.”
Travis didn’t say anything to that. The possibility that the witness would run had been a concern for the feds since the beginning. They based that fear on the fact that their witness was insistent on her belief that there was more than one perpetrator. Another threat could cause her risk of flight to increase. He wasn’t so sure that they were right. After meeting Kiera, after seeing how much she cared for her condo, how much she cared for the cat she’d adopted and how much she loved her life and job—he saw no risk of flight.
“I don’t think running is a problem. I think we have a different situation to be concerned about,” he said. “The last call threatened her with death.”
“Did the others?” James asked without skipping a beat at the switch in direction the conversation was taking.
“She says no. According to her, no one spoke during the other calls. The first of the set was only a hang-up and the second was heavy breathing. Like I said, according to Kiera, always at the same time, same duration. Until this morning when the last call changed everything.”
“This has been going on for three mornings, if we include today. And she didn’t feel that it might have been important to notify us immediately?”
“She mentioned the calls to the police officer on duty, the first morning they happened. But she said that, despite how distraught she was over them, he’d basically blown her off. Told her she was imagining things as a result of the trauma she’d been through.”
“So not only did he push aside a key piece of evidence, he decided to play amateur psychologist.” James swore, as he turned his attention to his computer. “I’ll be looking into this. In a case like this something like that should not have been ignored.” He frowned. “I’ll be pulling him off this case, that’s for sure.”
His fingers flew on the keys as if making notes as he talked. Seconds passed and he stopped, pushed the computer to the side.
Wanted by the Marshal Page 6