“That’s a very pretty ring,” Candace said from the doorway.
“Oh!” I hadn’t realized she was there and it startled me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” she said affectionately, and then walked in. “I’m a very soft walker. I used to scare Hettie like that, also. But she was usually doing something she shouldn’t have been.”
Chuckling, I picked up the cell phone and held it in my hands. “It was so nice of you to let me stay here. I’m just sorry to put you out like this.”
“Nonsense. I’m glad you’re here.” She pointed at my finger. “Hettie told me that you were a widow?”
“Yes,” I answered quietly.
“Oh, I hope I’m not being intrusive,” Candace said, sitting on the side of the bed.
“No. No, that’s all right. Um, my wife was murdered two years ago.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” She took my hands in hers and patted them.
My eyes welled up, but I was tired of crying. I shook my head to chase away the tears and gave Candace a weak smile.
“If you ever want to talk,” she said, “I was a widow myself. Years ago before I married Henry.”
“You… you were?”
“Yes. So, I know how hard it is for you, honey. Once the grief ebbs, then the guilt sets in. I had been a widow less than a year when I met Henry. His charm and bravery won me over, but I pushed him away for a long time because it felt like I was betraying my dead husband. It wasn’t until I had a sign from my husband that I knew I was going to marry Henry.”
“A sign? What kind of sign?”
“Well, this will probably sound trivial, but Henry knew how I liked my coffee without my having to tell him. He took it upon himself to find out, just as my first husband had done. It just meant everything to me.”
“Did you, um, compare them?”
“Of course. You can’t help but compare them, and that’s all right. The things I loved about my first husband, Barry, weren’t the same things I loved in Henry. And the thing I loved most about Henry was that he invited Barry into our marriage. He was secure enough with himself to make room for Barry. If you find someone like that, don’t let them get away.”
“Oh. No. I’m not looking for someone.”
“Neither was I, honey,” she said, standing up and patting my shoulder. “It’s okay to mourn for the one you loved. It’s not okay to stop living because you’re afraid of loving again.”
As she walked out of the room, Bubbles walked in, tilted her head at me, and then jumped up in my lap. She began purring and licked me under the chin. She had never licked me before. Some believe that when a cat licks you, she’s telling you that she trusts you. Was that a sign?
*
Relaxing by the pool, my mind drifting in the warm sun, feeling very comfortable in Hettie’s T-shirt and trunks, I found myself wondering what Hettie was doing. Was she safe? Was she at my house yet? No, she said she’d wait until it was dark. Oh, please be careful, Hettie.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, Candace was shaking my arm.
“Honey, you’re red as a beet. You’ve been out here a couple of hours. You should probably get out of the sun for a while.”
“Oh, yes, you’re right. Thanks for waking me,” I replied, sitting up in the lawn chair. “What time is it?”
“Half-past two. It’s poker night, so you’ll be on your own for dinner.”
I looked at her, trying to hide my anxiety. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just stay in my room tonight and, um, read something.”
“Don’t worry, the game is at our neighbor’s house just across the street. You’ll have the house to yourself in about an hour, so watch some TV or listen to music, whatever you’d like.”
“You play poker, Candace?” I asked, exhaling with relief, knowing that I wouldn’t be surrounded by strangers.
“Not poker. But the other wives and I play bridge while the boys gamble away our hard-earned money.”
I chuckled at the vision that it created. “Does Hettie play bridge?”
“Oh, no. She joins the men and usually beats them all.”
“I bet they love to see her walk in,” I retorted.
“You have no idea,” Candace said with a laugh. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some cheeseballs to make. Help yourself to our modest library in the den.”
“Do you need any help?” I offered.
“Thank you, honey. But everything is done except for the cheese balls, and they’re easy to make.”
We walked back into the house, and Candace walked toward the kitchen while I continued into the den.
Henry got up from his recliner and nodded at me. “I’m going to steal a snack, want one?”
I grinned, shaking my head. “No, thank you.”
He continued out of the room, and I walked over to the bookcase. Mostly cooking books and some National Geographic magazines. There were a few Harlequin romance paperbacks, and I selected one with a beautiful maiden and a beefy swashbuckler, then put it back. I don’t mind reading straight novels as a rule, but today, I just wasn’t interested. I picked up a magazine instead.
I heard the phone ring in the kitchen as I was walking toward the bedroom. I stopped and turned. It could be Hettie. I heard Candace talking but I wasn’t sure to whom, so I walked closer.
“No, Hank. Tomorrow night’s not a good time to bring the kids over. … Well, your father has a cold, and I wouldn’t want the kids to catch it. … Oh sure, he’ll be right as rain next week. … I love you, too. Bye, bye.”
“I don’t have a cold,” Henry said.
“I know that, silly,” Candace replied. “I just think it would be safer if the kids stayed away for a while…”
I couldn’t hear the last bit of what she was saying, but I knew it had to be about me. The kids would be safer if I weren’t here. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect her family. I would have been the same way. The thought of being the cause of any harm coming to any of them, caused my heart to skip a beat. I had to do something.
Henry came around the corner and almost ran into me.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you there. Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I was wondering if you’d mind my using your computer. Hettie took hers with her, and I wanted to look up some recipes. It’s so much faster looking online than going through the cookbooks.”
“Sure, but—”
I raised my hand. “I know. They warned me not to sign into anything under my real name.”
Satisfied, he led me back to the office. He pulled a small card out of the side of the laptop and then said, “Help yourself.” He left me alone in the room.
I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, a car, maybe. WITSEC gave me a generous amount of startup money, so renting a car wouldn’t be a problem. But where would I go? I had that job waiting in Arkansas. That would be a starting point, except it would take forever to drive there. And driving that far by myself was not a wise idea, even if I weren’t in a witness protection program.
I opened a browser and on a whim, did a search for airplane tickets. I was terrified of flying, but a little Dramamine and a stiff drink and I should be able to sleep right through it. Especially if I sat in the aisle seat, away from the windows. I could buy everything I need at the airport, including the ticket. I just needed to write a note to the Quinns, then sneak out after they left for the card game. Do I have the guts to do this? The sudden vision of my parents convinced me that I did. There was no other choice.
Chapter Thirteen
U.S. Marshal Hettie Quinn
Examining the bar of soap, I found it had a slot the size of a quarter carved into one end. I used my fingernails to chip off chunks until I could crack open the bar. A plastic memory card holder with a standard definition card inside fell out. The SD card was only sixteen megabytes, small by today’s standards. Someone, I assumed Mr. Yarbrough, had written 1 of 3 on the card. Did that
mean there were other memory cards stashed in the house somewhere? If so, they were hidden even better than this one. I had already looked everywhere and exhausted all my ideas. I decided to go back to my hotel room and see what was on the card. Maybe it would tell me where to look for the other two cards.
By the time I got back to my hotel room, it was almost three in the morning and I was exhausted. But, like a kid on Christmas morning, I was anxious to find out what was on that card. I unclipped my holster and laid it on the nightstand, then I emptied my jean pockets of my wallet, loose change, and car keys, and laid them beside my gun. Next, I unlocked the safe and retrieved my laptop. Sitting on the bed, I opened the monitor and inserted the SD card. There was only one folder on it, and I double-clicked it. Inside were ten thumbnails of pictures, all of Connie and some of Connie holding Bubbles. Connie’s smile was large and relaxed and you could tell she was playing for the camera. The backgrounds were different in each photo, as if she were on vacation and visiting different locales.
My gaze was drawn to a particularly poignant photograph where Connie wasn’t posing. I don’t think she was aware someone was taking her picture. She was in a cemetery, sitting in front of a tombstone. The photo was pretty grainy so I opened the picture in Window’s photo view, but I still couldn’t make out whose name was on the stone. I assumed, considering Connie’s lowered head and drooping shoulders, that it was Meredith’s grave.
All the pictures except that one looked like they had been taken on the same day, because Connie was wearing the same clothes in all of them. Except for that cemetery photograph. That had to mean something. I clicked on the photo’s properties and found the cemetery’s name under the comments, and the date it was taken, which was three months ago, when Yarbrough first approached the FBI. Oh, yeah. That meant something all right.
Pulling the card out of the laptop, I put it back in the plastic case. Then I picked up my wallet, which was basically just a thin aluminum shell with two acrylic caps that held my two credit cards. I used the case mostly for my credit and debit cards, and business cards. I dumped the credit cards on the bed and slid the SD card inside, then I put my bank cards back in. The business cards, like Krauss’ phone number, I added to my money clip. The memory card wasn’t as secure as I would have liked it, but I wasn’t going to leave it behind. I needed it to stay with me for now and I wasn’t planning to tell anyone about it. Not until I had all the pieces of evidence in my possession. I clipped on my gun, grabbed my keys and laptop, and ran out the door.
*
It was still dark when I arrived at Willow Park Cemetery. The entrance was gated but the gates were open, so I drove in. The cemetery was larger than I had expected. The gravel road only made a circle around the square area. I decided to park the rental and do a search on foot. Less conspicuous at that hour. The photo showed Connie at a tombstone by a very large oak tree, close to the stone fence that surrounded the cemetery. I looked around and, of course, there were three large oaks in three different corners of the cemetery. Nothing to do but start walking.
The first tree was by the older tombstones, some so old they were falling apart. I continued down the path to the next tree and saw a shadow suddenly dart out from behind a headstone. Pulling my gun, I ducked behind another headstone. Then I heard a meow and looked down. The cat had a harness on with the leash attached. What the hell?
“Bubbles, come back here.”
“What the fuck?” I growled, jumping up.
Connie gasped and took a step back.
“Damn it!” I holstered my gun and glared at her.
“Hettie?”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
She looked shocked, timid, and I could tell she had been crying.
I lowered my voice and softened my question. “You’re not supposed to be here. What’s going on, Con… Amanda?”
It was a safe bet that if anyone was following us, they already knew who Connie was, but it was best to adhere to protocol.
She frowned and knelt, picking up Bubbles. “Bad kitty, running away like that.”
“Amanda?” I pressed impatiently.
“I flew here… sort of,” she replied.
“I don’t understand. It’s not safe for you here.”
“And it wasn’t safe for your family, either. Give me some credit, at least I came here while it was dark.”
I was at a complete loss. Something must have upset Connie bad enough to get her on a plane. Why didn’t my parents call? I pulled my throwaway phone from my pocket and looked at it. The damn battery was dead.
“Damn it!”
Connie took another step back, clutching Bubbles to her chest. I felt like a heel for scaring her and a complete idiot for forgetting to charge that piece of shit phone. Cheap cell phones have cheap batteries that need charging twice as often as the more expensive ones. Which I knew.
“I’m sorry, Amanda. Let’s start over. What are you doing here? What happened?”
She looked down at the cat and for a moment, looked like she might cry, again.
“I just felt like I was intruding on your parents. I was terrified that something would happen to them because of me.” She paused and took a breath. “They were so nice to me. I just couldn’t… I don’t know what I would have done, if…”
She began shaking, and I stepped closer, wrapping my arm around her shoulder.
“It’s all right, kid. I understand.” I wanted so badly to move the cat out of the way and take Connie into my arms. Instead, I sneezed three times.
She set Bubbles on the ground again, holding onto the leash.
I was about to put my arm on her shoulder again, when I realized… “Wait. I thought you were afraid to fly?”
She tilted her head and grinned at me. She had her contacts in, but I could see the smile behind the bloodshot eyes.
“I am. Apparently, with enough liquor and air sickness pills in me, I’m not afraid of anything.”
I laughed so hard that I scared the cat. Leaning in, I kissed Connie on the forehead. Too cute.
“Are you still angry with me?” she asked shyly.
“I wasn’t angry. Okay, well, maybe a little angry, but it was more because I was afraid for you. I can’t protect you if you won’t let me.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I had intended to fly on to Arkansas later today. I just had to visit my parents’ graves first.”
“Are they buried here in this cemetery, too?”
“Yes, just there,” she replied, pointing at the double-wide headstone a few feet away. “At my insistent, Mom and Dad made out their will and bought their plots shortly after Meredith was killed. I also have a plot here beside her.” She turned and pointed to the tombstone next to the oak tree.
“Amanda, I need to look at Meredith’s grave.”
“You do? Why? I mean, sure, but why?”
“I think your father left a clue on or near the grave.”
“No, he wouldn’t do that,” she said, shaking her head decidedly.
“He would if he thought no one would look there without reason.”
“Like what? Did you find something?”
“Yes, I did and it led me here.”
“Then let’s go find it,” she said, leading the way. She stopped suddenly and turned back to me. “What are we looking for?”
“I’m not sure. It could be another memory card, or flash drive, probably something small like that.” She looked puzzled so I explained further. “Your father hid a memory card inside a bar of soap in the guest bathroom, and your pictures were on it.”
“My pictures? Do you mean pictures of me?”
“Yeah. You were hamming it up for the camera, wearing the same thing but posing in different locations.”
“Oh. Meredith took those on our honeymoon,” she replied, continuing to walk. “Were there any pictures of Meredith?”
“No, sorry.”
“Why on earth would Dad put those pictures on a memory card and
then hide it?”
“I think your dad was using them as a message. There was also a photo of you here, in the cemetery, taken three months ago. Do you remember it?”
“No. Why would anyone take my picture here?”
“Did your father ever come with you to the cemetery?”
“Rarely. He would bring me if the weather was bad or he had an errand to run. Do you think he’s the one who took my picture?”
“I do.”
“Why?” she asked, coming to a stop in front of Meredith’s grave. Why would he want a picture of that?”
Kneeling in front of the tombstone, I replied, “The answer is somewhere here.”
I looked closely at the headstone. An upright monument with a flower vase that staked into the ground in front of it. The flowers were silk and still looked like new. I read the inscription as if there might be a hidden code in it. Then I ran my fingers along the base where it was embedded in the ground. The grass still had that winter shade of brown coloring, and I could tell it had not been replanted in a while. There was nothing there.
“Amanda, I need to pull the flowers out, okay?”
“Oh. Um, sure. I just changed them a few months ago.”
I pulled the fake flowers from the vase and looked inside. Something was there. Reaching inside, I pulled out a sealable freezer bag with a micro-SDHC card inside. The secure digital high capacity card was one of the new and improved cards. I was impressed with Mr. Yarbrough’s technical knowledge.
“Found it!” I exclaimed.
I stood up and pulled the micro card from the bag.
This card was half the size of the first one I found, and so was the small plastic case it was in. Though the card was smaller, it had a 64GB capacity. Must be something big on this one.
“What’s that?” Connie asked.
I handed the card to her. “Another memory card. Your father is not making it easy for us.”
“I’ll take that,” a deep voice bellowed. The man stepped out from behind a headstone three rows back from the oak tree. He wore a ski-mask and a dark windbreaker. He was also pointing a semi-automatic pistol at us.
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