Marcus pulled out a pad of paper. “Walk me through the security arrangements we can make immediately and over the next few weeks at the ranch.”
“Assume he learns Shari is at the Montana ranch: He then has to get to the ranch—by air, by car, across country by horse, or walk in by foot. So that’s our first line of defense. We’ll start with arranging for the county sheriff to close the bridge over the Ledds River. They’ve been discussing the need for repairs for the last four months, so local residents will not be surprised. That will make any traffic approaching the ranch from the south stand out and give us a chance to track it.”
“How do we deploy the security detail?”
By the time the plane touched down at the airport near the lake house, they had worked out a security plan for the next several days. It wasn’t sufficient, nothing really would be, but it was a workable plan.
On the drive to the house, Marcus tried to work out what he would say, and how Shari might react to the news. How was he supposed to break the news there was a paid contract out on her?
They arrived back at the lake house at 9:20 P.M.. Marcus left the others fanning out behind him to cover the grounds and strode toward the house.
“Marcus!” Shari scrambled from the couch in the den to come and meet him. “He was arrested? You got him?”
“We arrested Connor.” The relief that crossed her face was obvious, intense, and complete—and he was going to destroy it. He grasped her hands, cushioned them tight between his own. “Shari, get your things. We need to leave.”
Her relief changed to confusion as his expression registered. “What’s wrong?”
He stopped her words with fingers across her lips. “I’ll explain later. Go. Pack what you can fit in one bag.” He had decided the best way to handle it for now was to simply duck the question. Josh came from the kitchen and Marcus took advantage of it. “Josh, we need to talk.” He nodded toward the den.
Beth was in the doorway of the den, a book in her hand, listening. Marcus crossed to her side, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. “It’s good to see you. Help Shari pack? I’ll explain in a few minutes.”
She nodded, worried. “Of course, Marcus.”
“It will be all right,” he reassured her.
He strode through to the privacy of the den, Quinn joining him.
Josh closed the door behind them. “What’s going on?”
“There’s been a contract put out on your sister.”
Josh absorbed that hit, his eyes widened and then hardened. “Can you keep her safe?”
“I won’t let someone get to her.” Marcus paced the room, anxious to get moving. “We need to get her out of here though. She’s been stationary too long and we need someplace more isolated than this.”
“You’ve got to tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
Marcus turned, frustrated. Shari had ignored his request. He wanted her packing. And definitely not hearing the details now.
“Marcus, tell me.”
He looked at Quinn and realized he had no choice. “Shari, sit down.”
She complied only to the extent she perched on the arm of the couch. “What is it?”
He hoped she didn’t panic. “Connor’s family wants you dead. They’ve put a contract out on you.”
She looked confused. “He’s already tried to kill me twice. This is a surprise?”
“This time someone was hired to do it. We need to get you out of here.”
“You’re afraid.”
“I’m . . . concerned. The man they hired is good.”
“You’re better,” she replied bluntly, catching him by surprise. She surged to her feet. “We split up. I don’t want Mom near me.”
Josh looked over at him. Marcus had to agree with Shari on this one. They were going to need to move fast, and he was very concerned about Beth’s health if things got serious. He couldn’t guarantee medical help would be nearby.
It was clear Josh didn’t want to leave Shari’s side, but he reluctantly nodded. “Aunt Margaret’s in London. Can I take Mom there?” Josh offered.
Marcus looked at Quinn. “Safer than staying in the States,” Quinn agreed. “By the time their flight lands, we can have security ready.”
“Josh, it would probably be best.” Marcus paced over to stand beside Shari. “I’m sorry.”
She shivered. “He’s arrested, and I’m in even more danger.”
“He’s getting desperate.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Trust me, this is almost over. Now go pack. We’ve got to go.”
* * *
“Tell me about the man who was hired.”
Marcus looked up from the very old photo of Lucas he was doing his best to absorb and update. The private jet was cruising at thirty thousand feet. Shari had moved back to join him. Her voice was pitched low, for around them the security teams of men were working. It was after midnight. He nodded to the seat beside him. “Have a seat.”
He waited until she was seated and strapped in, then slid over the sketch he was working on. “His name is Lucas Saracelli. We don’t have anything recent.”
“You said he was good. Why? What makes him good?”
“He’s a patient man. He doesn’t leave a trail behind him. And he doesn’t need to shoot twice.”
“Then I’m not really safe.”
“Not if he can find you, get close. We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “We don’t want a fight with this guy. We simply want to lay low until the grand jury can be impaneled and you can testify.”
“And the trial? It’s going to be months away.”
“We’ll cross one milestone at a time.”
“I’m afraid, Marcus.”
“I know. It’s justified.” He ran his fingers through her hair. The fear he felt was intense for her, but he wasn’t going to let it show. “I won’t let anything happen to you. That’s an O’Malley promise. My promise.”
She leaned over to rest against him. “Thank you, Marcus.” She snuggled her head down against his shoulder. “And to show how much I trust you, I’m going to catch a catnap. Wake me when we get close to wherever we’re going.”
And I wonder why I love you. He leaned over and kissed her forehead softly. “Sleep well.”
He watched her drift to sleep.
Jesus, I wish I could trust You with her safety. She’s now as important as any O’Malley to me. She’s got a lot of courage, and she’s trusting me not to let anything happen to her. Quinn and I know how good Lucas is. I’m going to need help.
That’s my reality, Jesus. Are You as invested in my family and Shari as I am? That’s my line. It’s not one particular prayer, any one answer; it’s a settled, absolute bedrock confidence that I can trust You with the people I love.
Show me the way back.
* * *
Shari looked down on the ranch as they descended to the private airstrip at dawn. She hadn’t asked where they were going; had been surprised when twenty minutes ago Quinn had moved to the seat beside her, pointed out the river below, and indicated it was the start of his ranch land.
“Quinn, how do you ever leave here? It’s beautiful.” The ranch below was rolling hills, large stretches of timber, and a lot of pastureland. She could see the cattle from the air.
“Someone has to stick with Marcus to keep him out of trouble.”
She heard the humor but also a lot not getting said. She liked Marcus’s partner, but even after spending weeks with him, she had learned very little about him. Marcus trusted him absolutely and that was enough for her to do the same.
The plane set down on the airstrip and taxied toward an open door hangar with a Cessna inside. They were about a half mile from the ranch house she had seen from the air. When the plane came to a stop, Shari unbuckled her seat belt and gathered up the one bag she had with her and her briefcase.
“Stay inside for a moment,” Marcus cautioned.
Sh
e waited for them to secure the area.
“Okay, Shari.” Quinn offered her a hand down the steps as she left the plane. “Welcome to my home.”
She looked around, curious. “Thank you for offering such a wonderful hiding place.”
“It’s my pleasure. Let’s get you under wraps.”
The security detail with them had already fanned out.
A truck pulled up. Shari dropped her bag in the back and got into the passenger seat as Marcus traded places with the driver. He turned the truck toward the house. “I need to explain a few things if you’re up to it.”
She looked over at him, seeing the intensity, and nodded. “Of course.”
“Quinn has a number of ranch hands who will be patrolling the boundaries of the ranch, but it’s open land. So what we’re going to do is establish a very tight perimeter around the house, out at about five hundred yards. Inside of that will be constant patrols. I’m afraid it’s going to mean you see a lot of the ranch house and not much of the ranch.”
“I’ll cope. Just tell me what you need me to do. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”
“Trust me. We’ll be fine.”
They passed several large barns and a stable on the way to the house. She would love it here had she been able to visit under other circumstances. There were horses in the pasture near a barn.
Marcus parked in front of the house and came around to help her down from the truck. Shari walked beside him to the house. The one-story ranch house sprawled, breezeways and vistas connecting together what appeared to be three different wings. Flowers lined the walkway, and hanging plants, spaced between white columns, decorated the porch.
Marcus held the door for her; she stepped inside and stopped. She found herself standing on the threshhold of a great room—open, spacious, gleaming with hardwood floors. It was as modern as any she had ever seen—Western, masculine in tone and furniture, but filled with art, both sculpture and oil paintings, the open room adding an enormous sense of calm coolness, as if the house had seen generations and stood unaffected.
“This is Quinn’s home?”
“He can surprise you,” Marcus replied. “I’ll introduce you to Susan and her husband, Greg, later. They maintain the house and grounds when Quinn is away.” He smiled. “Susan’s responsible for the order you see. You’ll like them, I’m certain.”
Marcus gestured to the hallway to the left leading into a wing of the house. “It’s best if you take the first guest bedroom. It doesn’t have the best view, but in this case that will be an advantage.”
Shari nodded and walked through to the room he indicated. There was a Spanish flavor to the decor in its bold color bedspread and the rugs on the hardwood floor; the furniture was heavy mahogany. “It’s beautiful, Marcus. I’ll be comfortable here.”
“Good. Unpack. I’ll check with Quinn, then I’ll give you a tour.”
She nodded and lifted her bag to the bed, opened it, and began putting items away. She was grateful that they had chosen a private home such as this for the next few weeks. The house was beautiful. It conveyed a calm and restful tone—if she had to be housebound, at least it would be restful versus stuck in the impersonal quarters of a hotel somewhere.
Marcus and Quinn hadn’t chosen this place at random. They wanted to be on familiar ground they controlled. They were setting up for a siege. She pushed the disquiet of that thought away, stored her empty bag in the closet, and went to find Marcus. She found him in the kitchen, talking on the phone as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Shari.” Marcus held out the phone. He smiled at her puzzlement. “Your mom.”
She whispered a thank-you as she accepted it. It was wonderful to hear her voice. “I’m fine, Mom. It’s beautiful here.”
She settled into a chair at the table and spent fifteen minutes reassuring herself that Josh and Mom were safe, reassuring her mom of the same with her. When Shari was done, she smiled and held out the phone to Marcus. “Thank you. That was nice, for both of us.”
“You’re welcome.” He hung up the phone. “Are you fine?” he asked quietly.
She took a deep breath and let it out, accepting for the first time since she had been told the news just what was being asked of her. “I’m not letting the man who killed Carl and my father off. I’ll testify. Your job is to get me safely there. I’ll do whatever you say is necessary. Courage I don’t lack. Common sense, yes. Courage, no.”
He looked over at her, not saying anything for several moments. “You’ve got backbone. I admire that. This isn’t going to be easy.”
She understood that. She knew she didn’t understand the risks and danger as he and Quinn did, that he would never reveal most of them, but she understood the fact she would have the best security that could be offered. “No, it’s not going to be easy. But it’s the right thing to do. I’m stubborn that way.”
“We had to rush you away from the lake house. I’m sorry you were not able to have more time with your mom. And Josh is already frustrated with the distance.”
“We’re a strong family; Josh will get over it, and Mom has every confidence in you, in God. She’ll worry about my safety, but she’ll cope.”
He held out his hand. “Come on. Let me show you your new home.”
Shari followed him through the house, taking her time to linger on the art and the books and the photos. “I would never have imagined this to be Quinn’s.”
“He finds items he likes and sends them back here. Some of the pieces are works of his mom’s. She was a gifted sculptor. This house is a memory to her and the love of art she passed to Quinn. He doesn’t take enough time off to enjoy this place as he should.”
“Why is he a marshal when he has this ranch? Surely it’s a profitable enterprise.”
“It’s one of the best in the state,” Marcus replied. “Quinn has good reasons for the choice he made. And the ranch will still be here thriving when he wants to come back to it full time. His ranch manager is an excellent man, dedicated to this land.”
Shari was surprised that Marcus chose not to answer her question, then realized Quinn had also made the same evasion earlier. A mystery there. She tucked it away to think about over the next few weeks. Spending time here would probably give her the answer.
“Come on, let me introduce you to Susan.”
They found Susan in the kitchen starting breakfast. Marcus introduced her and Shari knew immediately from the warm welcome that she had found another friend. She asked if she could help fix breakfast, and Marcus left her there while he went to touch base with Quinn.
Shari was fighting fatigue by the time Quinn and Marcus came back to the house and breakfast was served. The sleep on the plane had been short and broken. She forced herself to eat something, then listened to Marcus and Quinn as they discussed the plans for the next few days.
She carried her plate back to the kitchen.
“Shari, go ahead and turn in.” Marcus paused at her side, his hand rubbing the back of her neck. “I know you’re exhausted.”
She wanted to lean against him and just accept the strength he offered. She accepted reality. “Yes. But don’t let me sleep the entire day away.”
“Four hours. Six, if you’re deeply asleep,” he reassured.
She walked through the house to the guest room. She was surprised to see a large vase of red roses now on the nightstand. Shari crossed over to them and withdrew the card.
You are the best: courageous, brave, and funny. Remember that. Marcus.
She blinked back tears. The tenderness was overwhelming. She pulled one bloom from the vase. He was a wonderful man. Special. And she was in love with him.
She curled up on the bed, holding the rose, and letting the tears she had denied for so long fall, too tired to fight the sadness that welled up inside along with joy. Optimism was breaking against reality and shattering. She was going to get her heart broken again. His doubts would pull her away from her faith if she let her heart become fully att
ached to him.
Jesus, why does life just keep getting harder? I love Marcus. I want a future with him. She wiped away her tears. She was tired of being afraid. Protect me. Protect Marcus.
Was it possible to resurrect her dreams? For a marriage, a future? Lord, You’ve instilled them in my heart. Let them come true. I want these tears to turn to joy.
Chapter Seventeen
“Dave, consider something,” Marcus directed his request toward the speakerphone on Quinn’s desk. “Connor waited nine months after the execution of his brother to kill Judge Whitmore. Why wait? Why wait nine months and then take the risk of shooting him in a place full of potential witnesses and cops?”
“The murder was planned only after Judge Whitmore emerged as a contender for the short list,” Dave speculated. “Connor didn’t want the judge who sentenced his brother making it to the Supreme Court.”
“Exactly. But I think it’s even tighter than that. Whitmore’s name was floated months before as a potential candidate. Why didn’t Connor act then? It makes sense now, knowing that Whitmore didn’t make the original short list of names, but how did Connor know he wasn’t going to make that list? It wasn’t until Shari’s brief appeared that the odds became good that Whitmore would be added to the list and have a good chance of being nominated.” Marcus tapped his knuckles on the polished wood of the desk. “Connor is a lawyer.”
Dave’s voice hardened. “He somehow saw a copy of the brief.”
Marcus had a sinking feeling that this case was going to link back to Shari’s brief after all. “Find out. His law firm has a Washington office so it’s not implausible that someone at the firm has a contact inside the Justice Department. Something put this man in motion; I want to know if he saw a copy of the brief or if we can establish someone told him about its existence.”
“I’ll put a high priority on finding out,” Dave agreed.
“That’s my one new observation since yesterday. What do you have?”
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