Witness on the Run

by Cassie Miles

  Though the Peace and Hope Church seemed to live up to the nonthreatening name, a shiver of fear twitched across her shoulder blades. “We could be walking into a trap.”

  He didn’t deny her statement as they strolled toward the church doors, one of which was opened. From inside, they heard clapping and singing as “If I Can Dream” came to an end. With a polite nod to the ladies at the door who handed out programs, Rafe escorted her inside. They stood at the rear and watched as the congregation got comfortable in the pews.

  In the raised sanctuary at the front, the pastor—a handsome, barrel-chested man in a double-breasted burgundy suit—strutted back and forth behind the railing. His energy couldn’t be confined to the pulpit; this man had to move. His speaking cadence was rhythmic, almost musical, and he reminded her of speakers who had come to her family’s church in Savannah.

  The design of the sanctuary was simple with little more than a cross, a pulpit and benches for the choir. But the decorations were plentiful, including tall bouquets of dahlias and mums and fragrant roses. The floral scent mingled with the waxy smell from yellow, green and orange candles of every shape and size. Hanging from the overhead beams, embroidered banners displayed messages of love and friendship. The pastor wrapped up his message, and the choir, dressed in burnt-orange robes, rose to their feet.

  Peace and Hope was actually very similar to her childhood church, with a diverse congregation and plain decorations instead of statuary. Still, Alyssa was surprised when the pastor spoke of her church and introduced the visiting soloist as a member from that congregation. Her name was unfamiliar.

  The organ player hit the opening chords, and a woman stepped away from the others in the choir. She stood tall, her hands clasped at her breast. Her curly silver hair was tucked into a bun on the top of her head.

  Frozen in place, Alyssa stared. This woman could have been her mom. She had the same high forehead, the same wide-set eyes. When she sang, her soprano resonated with the same compelling vibrato as Alyssa’s mom, Claudia. That voice filled the sanctuary and the nave and flowed out the door all the way to the street. “Amazing Grace” would live forever in Alyssa’s fondest memories. She closed her eyes and imagined that her mom was still living, thriving and having a chance at happiness. But that was a lie. Mom was dead. Alyssa had seen her in the coffin, had wept at her grave.

  The silver-haired woman currently raising her voice in song was, most likely, the anonymous caller who had summoned them to the church. But that wasn’t all. This woman was presumed dead ten years ago, though her body was never found. For better or worse, this beloved and infuriating woman was Alyssa’s aunt Charlotte.

  Chapter Nine

  The shock of seeing her aunt crashed into Alyssa with a paralyzing force that rattled her bones and twisted her muscles in knots. This can’t be! Aunt Charlotte is dead! She was so tense that when Rafe touched her shoulder, Alyssa bolted away from him like a scared rabbit, darted across the back of the church and cowered in the corner. Her heart beat louder than the sonorous voice of the pastor as he directed his congregation to the next hymn.

  Rafe eased up beside her and whispered, “Should we go?”

  “Not until I talk to her.” Somehow, she had to figure out what had happened ten years ago. And why, oh why, had Charlotte returned now? I don’t understand. Alyssa wasn’t rational, couldn’t think.

  “Who is she?”

  She was surprised that he didn’t know. “My aunt Charlotte.”

  “The one who is dead?”

  She nodded. When Charlotte died...or disappeared... Mom had been devastated. Alyssa had been unable to assuage the grief they both felt. Even now, ten years later, she experienced the loss. A sob crawled up her throat, but now was not the time for an outburst. She pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle her sorrow.

  Rafe took her other hand. “Come with me.”

  Her initial horror was beginning to ebb, leaving her numb. “I’m scared.”

  “You were right, cher, when you said we need to talk to her. Why is she here? What does she want?” He squeezed her hand and gave a tug. “It must be important. Why else would she return from the dead?”

  Being with Rafe boosted her courage. With him at her side, she could move forward. She had to know why Charlotte was here and what kind of game she was playing.

  The Hope and Peace congregation—filled with the spirit—sang “Wade in the Water” with gusto and hand clapping, barely noticing as Rafe guided her down the aisle under the windows. In spite of the emotional chaos that raged within her, she found herself humming along with the old-time spiritual, a familiar touchstone. When she was a kid, she’d stood in the front pew and belted out hymns in her imperfect alto while her mom and her aunt stood on either side of her and sang like angels.

  When they approached the altar rail, Charlotte gestured to them and moved toward an exit at the back of the sanctuary. Rafe led Alyssa past the choir into a hallway. A door at the end stood open.

  Before entering the room, he scanned the hallway. His jacket was pulled back, revealing his weapon, and she remembered that he was a bodyguard. They needed to be vigilant. The innocent-looking congregation might be harboring a snake—three snakes, to be more precise, Woodbridge and his two companions. Was Charlotte working with them? Would she hesitate for one minute before throwing her niece under the bus?

  On one level, Alyssa was happy that her aunt was alive and well. No longer alone in the world, she had family again. But she was also furious. Charlotte had chosen to leave. Faking her death was bad enough, but she’d made it a hundred times worse by choosing to stay away from them. When her mom died, Alyssa could have used the loving support of her aunt, but Charlotte couldn’t be bothered to come home.

  Alyssa stalked toward the open door. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “I’ll go first,” Rafe said as he drew his weapon.

  She followed him into a plain, windowless room that seemed to be used for storage and changing clothes. Tidy but musty, there were cardboard boxes on the floor. Shelves and cabinets lined the walls. Choir robes in burnt orange, burgundy and green hung from metal racks.

  Standing with her back to a full-length mirror, Charlotte waited for them. Over six feet tall in her high heels, she was long limbed and chic in a sleeveless black dress with a heavy gold necklace. Her generous mouth stretched in a grin, and she held her arms wide. “Come to me, my sweet niece.”

  Alyssa caught her breath. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t forgive and forget. Not without an explanation.” She was hurt and angry. Surely, that was understandable. There had been many gallons of water under this bridge. “The last time I saw you, I was sixteen. And you were a brunette.”

  The platinum and silver bun on top of Charlotte’s head was coming undone. Wispy curls tumbled artlessly and encircled her face. She pointed a long, bony finger at Alyssa’s blond wig. “At least I’m not trying to be a princess.”

  “Neither am I.” Princess was a game they’d played when she was a little girl. Aunt Charlotte was the best when it came to imagination and dress-up. Real life wasn’t her thing.

  “Remember?” Her voice held a teasing note. “We had to slay the dragon.”

  “I’m not dressed up like this for fun and games. This wig is a disguise I’m wearing because somebody is trying to abduct me.” Resentment bubbled up inside her. “I suppose you know all about that.”

  “Why would I?”

  “You called and invited me to the Día de los Muertos parade. Am I right? Was that you?”

  “So what if it was?”

  “At the parade, you signaled me and I got attacked. Coincidence?” Alyssa didn’t dare take off her sunglasses; she didn’t want her tears to show. “Who are you working for, Charlotte? I hope they’re paying you enough to make it worthwhile. What’s the going rate for betraying your family?
”

  “I’m disappointed in you, Lara.”

  “I don’t use that name anymore.”

  “After what you’ve been through with WitSec, I thought you’d understand the terrible problems that have plagued my life. For ten years, I’ve been in hiding—a woman without a home. Not that it’s been all bad. I have enough cash and assets to get by, and my singing career is doing fairly well.”

  “You sing in public,” Rafe said. “That doesn’t seem like hiding.”

  “You’re not a pro, so I wouldn’t expect you to understand. In every big city, there are dozens of dreadfully anonymous piano bars. When I hook up with a band, I can sing at weddings and parties. If I didn’t have to keep such a low profile, I could be a star.”

  Alyssa gave a snort. “Yeah, sure, just like I could be a princess.”

  “Don’t sass me. I did what was necessary to survive. Sometimes, it’s best to run away and live to fight another day.”

  “Where did you learn that? From a fortune cookie?”

  Rafe inserted himself between them, spreading his natural charm like a healing balm on this most horrendous of family reunions. He introduced himself to her aunt and said, “I know your first name is Charlotte. What’s your last name?”

  “Take your pick,” she said with a toss of her head. “Do you want my maiden name or my surname from one of my three marriages? Or maybe I should give you one of my aliases.”

  “I get it,” he said. “Your life is complicated, and you have much to discuss with your niece, but now is not the time for a chat. The church might not be safe for her.”

  Her green eyes narrowed. “I’d never do anything that would put Alyssa in danger.”

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “In the Ninth Ward at this church? I knew the pastor and contacted him when I got into town. He invited me to do a solo. I’m not getting paid, but I never turn down a gig.”

  “I meant,” Rafe said, “why are you in New Orleans?”

  “To contact Lara or Alyssa or whatever she’s calling herself. I had hoped we’d meet at the parade.” Her head swiveled toward Alyssa. “We missed connections.”

  Or maybe Charlotte’s call was an excuse to draw her into danger. “Your phone call came from Anonymous. Why didn’t you identify yourself?”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes like a disgruntled teenager. “I figured it was better to meet for the first time in person. If I announced myself on the phone, it would have been a shock.”

  “Did you think it would be better to pop up like a returned-from-the-dead, zombie jack-in-the-box?”

  “Sarcasm is such an unattractive quality.”

  “So is stupidity.” Alyssa didn’t want to be mean but couldn’t help herself. “What did you think would happen when I saw you on the street?”

  “A warm hug? A kiss on both cheeks?”

  “I thought you were Mom’s ghost. You scared me out of my skin.” Alyssa shook her head. “Enough of these guessing games, just tell me the truth. Are you working with Woodbridge?”

  “Who’s that?” Her eyes widened in what might have been an innocent expression, if this woman had been capable of truth or sincerity. “I’ve never heard that name.”

  “Who wanted you to come to New Orleans and find me?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Alyssa turned on her heel and took two long strides toward the door. She felt her aunt’s gaze boring a hole in her spine, but she didn’t look back. “I admire your ability to survive, Charlotte. And when it comes to singing, you’re incredible. But there’s more to life than talent and money. You hurt me, and you hurt Mom.”

  “What about me? My pain? It wasn’t easy to walk away. Yes, I lied, but I’ve paid the price. My life has been a living hell.”

  Alyssa paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Why did you do it?”

  “If I had stayed in Chicago, they would have killed me and probably would have come after you and Claudia. It was my fault. I double-crossed Frankie Leone.”

  Alyssa whirled to face her. Frankie Leone was the man who had died in her arms. She glanced at Rafe and saw a similar recognition on his face. Alyssa cleared her throat. “Keep talking.”

  “I was dating Frankie. I think he was involved with the McGill crime family, the same guys who are after you. In his apartment, I found a stash of money and merchandise that he was holding for them, and I gambled it away. Frankie tried to protect me, but I had to disappear—just like you had to change your identity in witness protection.”

  Alyssa asked, “How did you manage to escape?”

  “I had a few powerful friends.” She twined her hands at her breast—a dramatic gesture. “They helped me fake my death in that fire. One of them arranged transportation and set up an account to pay my living expenses.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere! Alyssa demanded, “Who was this friend?”

  “He made me promise never to tell anyone, especially not you.”

  Alyssa couldn’t think of a single reason why her aunt’s secret benefactor would single her out. Until the moment when she accidentally stumbled over a murder, she’d been a quiet accountant who juggled numbers and kept to herself.

  “Your benefactor,” Rafe said, “did he send you on this trip to New Orleans to find your niece?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does he want from her?”

  “Information.” Charlotte exhaled a dramatic sigh. “A large sum of money has gone missing, and he thinks Alyssa might know something about it. Listen, I’m one hundred percent sure that he means no harm. He’s basically a good, decent person.”

  As if Charlotte was a good judge of character? Alyssa wasn’t buying this story. If this decent person had nothing to hide, why didn’t he just call her? Why set up this elaborate ruse? “You can tell your so-called friend that I don’t know anything about the seven million, six hundred thousand dollars, which is exactly what I told the FBI and WitSec.”

  “Can I see you again?”

  “There was a time when I would have done anything to be with you again.” Alyssa steeled herself inside. “But I don’t need you anymore. I’m totally independent. I’ve learned how to take care of myself.”

  “I used to think the same thing. And I used to be just as proud as you are. That was before I spent ten years moving from place to place, always looking over my shoulder. I couldn’t put down roots or make friends. There were times when I would have traded all my talent and my money to be normal—just a normal woman who could fall in love. When you’re on the run, you can’t trust anyone. Without trust, you can’t build a relationship.” She glanced back and forth between them. “I envy you, sweetheart. I could never have what you and Rafe have.”

  “What? Me and Rafe? We’re not a couple.”

  A knowing smile curled Charlotte’s lips. “I see the way he looks at you. And I caught you looking back.”

  Before Alyssa could voice another objection, Rafe stepped into the conversation. “I have two questions, Charlotte. First, do you know Diamond Jim Davidoff?”

  “Sure, everybody does.”

  “Was he one of your special friends?”

  “The last I heard, Diamond Jim was too busy running his auto scams to mess around with anything else.”

  “Second question,” Rafe said. “Is Darren Jessop one of your associates?”

  “Special Agent Jessop? As a matter of fact, he’s a pal. When I first got to New Orleans, he set me up with a place to stay.”

  “Does he know you’re here at this church?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Rafe said. “Therefore, we must say adieu.”

  Alyssa allowed herself to be propelled from the room without saying a proper goodbye to her aunt. Charlotte was mistaken in thinking that she and Rafe had a relationship. He was her bod
yguard, nothing more. Why would she even consider her aunt’s opinion? The woman’s life was one terrible decision after another, and she was wrong about almost everything. Alyssa couldn’t pinpoint the lies in Charlotte’s story, but she was certain that her aunt hadn’t told the whole truth.

  Rafe hustled her out a rear door that opened onto the garden between the church and the recreation hall. Members of the flock were drinking coffee and nibbling on homemade muffins and cookies. It was a charming, normal scene on a pleasant Sunday morning that contrasted the wild, jagged emotions tearing through her. She and Rafe moved away from the crowd, nearly running.

  In seconds, they were in his SUV. As he pulled away from the curb, she pressed her back into her seat and inhaled a deep breath, struggling to release her tension. “Is somebody after us?”

  “It’s possible, cher.”

  “As soon as Charlotte mentioned Agent Jessop, you dashed out the door. Do you think he’s here?”

  “I do,” he said. “Jessop has been in touch with Charlotte since she came to the city, and he’s FBI. That means he has her under surveillance and is tracking her movements.”

  She realized that he was speaking from personal experience. “Is that what you would have done when you were a fed?”

  “It’s standard procedure.”

  “Similar to the way you followed me.” For more than two weeks, he’d been on her tail, and she hadn’t noticed him lurking in the shadows. Rafe was clever and skilled. There was no way she should trust this pirate. And yet... “Jessop is a federal agent, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Why do you think he’s dangerous?”

  “I don’t know, but it could be for the same reason that Marshal Woodbridge dressed like a skeleton and tried to kidnap you.”

  “The money?”

  “Possibly.”

  When it came to keeping her in the dark, he was as bad as her aunt Charlotte. They played their games and left her feeling like an idiot. She ripped off her sunglasses, took a tissue from her purse and confronted her image in the visor mirror. Her leaky tears had destroyed her eyeliner and mascara. “I should have figured out what was going on with Charlotte. But how could I? She was supposed to be dead. How could I guess that my aunt was on the run? What kind of crazy lady fakes her death and disappears?”