He held open the door. “Wilks, Chester, guard.” The dogs moved outside in a rush, dividing up as they went through the door and none of the roaming-around behavior of earlier anywhere in evidence. They looked mean now in a subtle way, hair stiffer, patient, standing to smell the air for anything, anyone. Former police dogs did come with some useful training.
Amy stood by the fire, warming her hands. She’d shed the coat and gloves. Thinner, dressed for the cold, the sweater cream-colored wool, the jeans new, the boots polished. She looked nothing like the lady he had met three years ago. “I think I like you as a redhead.”
She gave a slight smile. “It’s closer to the real me.” “We’ve safely got an hour, Amy. It will take at least that long for someone to try and get in near this cabin quiet enough to avoid the dogs.” He moved over to the oven and slid out the tray. “I know, more food. But you called my cell phone while I was just taking the steaks off the grill, and it seemed the thing to do.”
She laughed and he liked the sound of it. “I can’t say I mind; it’s been a long few days of traveling.” She pulled out a chair at the table, which dominated the room.
“The steaks aren’t going to be my best, but they’ll do on a cold night.”
He waited to see if she had any appetite at all or was simply being polite. Her answers were open enough, her voice calm, but she hadn’t met his gaze for more than a moment since she had arrived. The tension in her was skimming just under the surface.
Not much appetite, he concluded within moments. The fact she wasn’t looking at him told him more. “How close did they get?”
She turned the glass of iced tea he had poured her, looking at the way the firelight reflected through the ice cubes. “Waiting in my home when I came back from work one night,” she finally said softly.
He wanted to reach over and touch her hand, to ask what had happened that night but knew there were some memories just better left alone. “I’m sorry.”
“At least there wasn’t someone dead left in my wake this time. They had someone inside the FBI group; that’s the only thing that makes sense for how they got on my trail.”
“You’ve been running since Minnesota?”
“You’ve been talking with Sam.”
“Finally. I should have realized he was working for you years before.”
“Sometimes keeping people safe can mean being very rude. I couldn’t chance getting in touch, Luke. And Sam … he knew the dangers going in.”
“I know.”
“How are they? Marie and Tracey?”
“They’re safe; they’re getting accustomed to the news of their father and the will. They seem to get along okay with the new cousin.”
“I remember Daniel from high school in a vague kind of way.”
“He’s been a friend of mine for a long time, Amy; he’ll handle this right.”
“That’s good to know.”
She toyed with her food, and he wondered how long she’d been so tight on the edge of breaking. The confidence he’d seen in her years ago was a thing of the past; she had felt hunted for a very long time, and it showed in the strain around her.
“Richard will try to get the money from them,” she said quietly.
“I know. The security guys around your sisters are aware how serious the threat is. No one is taking chances with this.”
“I ran to keep them safe, and now trouble just walked in and swallowed them. Do they know?”
“No, but they’re going to have to be told. For their own safety they have to know the threat out there.”
She nodded and then picked up the glass and walked away from the table to return to the fire and the warmth being cast off from it. “What would you have said, if I had called all those years ago?”
He pushed away his plate before he answered. “Yes, with a condition: that you come in from the cold. That you settle around here where I can watch out for you. I’ll keep you safe. And if I fail—if I can’t keep you alive, then I’ll accept the letter and finish what you began.”
“I left myself open for that counter; I didn’t think of it.”
“Think about it now. Your choice of name, location, job. Just as before. But when you come, this time I’m watching your back. You should say yes. It’s the final steps to freedom, and for that you need to trust someone to help you. Let me.”
He wanted her to trust him, wanted it more than he could explain, but as he watched her struggle with what to say, what to decide, he knew it was still wishful thinking that she’d be able to make that huge of a step right now. “Give me a chance, Amy. This time the cops aren’t going to let you down.”
She looked up, and there was uncertainty in her eyes, a want to believe him and a doubt fixed by experience. She offered a quick smile. “You surprised me, and I didn’t think that was possible anymore.”
He noted the change in subject but wasn’t going to press his offer and risk a no. He couldn’t afford a no from her, not when that meant she’d be on her own as this was wrapped up.
“I’m worried about the cop I already pulled into this.”
“Who is he? The guy you trusted with the accounts?”
“An FBI agent with the Dallas office named Jim Nelson. Fifties, a wife and two college-aged kids; he worked narcotics cases in the New York office before moving to Texas.”
“Did you really worry about him taking the money if you turned over everything you had?”
“No. I worry about him turning up dead.” She studied the burning logs in the fireplace. “There isn’t much they could force him to say. The hand-offs are always done with no notice to him, and I leave the state immediately afterward. He’s never known where I was or when I would be back in touch. He doesn’t know the name Ann Walsh or Kelly Brown or the other names I’ve used; he doesn’t know I was ever in this state. But still I worry that somehow Richard Wise figures out Jim is the cop I’ve been talking to and turns his fury that direction. Jim’s at risk, and as much care as the man takes, I still worry that it won’t be enough. The guys on my tail—they showed up within days of my last hand-off. The only thing that makes sense is they had Jim already under surveillance from the prior accounts I’d turned over or else someone in that office got turned.”
“I’m sorry. You must see you can’t run forever. You need more help than Sam can give you. And your sisters—it would destroy them to hear you’d been running all these years and then were killed. You can’t do that to them.”
“They’re in enough risk without me showing my face and just adding to that risk.”
“You came back to see them, didn’t you? to know for certain they were safe? that they had adequate protection?”
She didn’t turn her attention from the fire, but she nodded.
“Then let me do my job and help you out. Let me set up a reunion.”
She violently shook her head, not looking back toward him.
He walked around the table and joined her, sliding an arm around her shoulders as she battled silent tears. He could feel her grief, and he wished he could end it. “They’ve thought you were dead for the last eight years; let’s end at least one grief they’ve carried. We can go on the offensive to deal with the rest of it.”
“I’d bring trouble right to their doorstep.”
“Trouble’s already here, and your presence won’t change it. If anything, your being so hard to find makes your sisters the more attractive targets.”
The words were cruel to be kind, and he felt her stiffen. “You can’t drive your sisters into a life on the run too, and that’s what this is going to come down to unless it is finally stopped. Let me and the officers working with me do our jobs; let us finally stop this.”
“It can’t be done.”
He smiled. “Sure it can. Richard Wise is in jail. The guys who still have enough loyalty to him to do his bidding are less than a couple dozen. All it takes is one or two arrests and you and your sisters are suddenly not nearly so attractive a problem to t
ake up. We’ll win based on attrition, if nothing else.”
She didn’t answer him.
“Trust me, Amy. Please.”
He felt the sigh that came from her as a soft acceptance. “I so want to see them again, just once.”
He eased back a step and pulled out a handkerchief. He gently wiped at the tear traces on her cheeks. “Let me set it up. Let me show you it is possible to safely settle here near your family.”
“If there’s a mistake, one or both of them dies.”
“Do you really have a choice? You leave them thinking you are dead, they’ll resume the search for information. They’ll slip security around them not realizing the risk. They’ll let someone looking for you convince them you’re still alive. It’s not going to get better, Amy. It’s not going to go back to the way it was.”
“One time, Luke, one meeting. That’s all I can offer.”
“Then I’ll take it.” He tucked the handkerchief into her hand and smiled to lighten the moment. “Practical stuff first. What name are you using? Where are you staying?”
“I can’t answer that. I can’t,” she whispered.
The words erased his smile and his optimism. The idea he was through this lady’s fear was merely a shadow; he didn’t have her trust yet. He pulled back the hope he’d felt and quietly settled for what he thought she could accept. “Are you okay for cash?”
“Yes.”
“Got something to wear to a reunion?”
It got him a brief smile.
“I’ll get it set up for Thursday night, somewhere private, easy for you to access, and far from the attention that is around your sisters. I’ll make sure your sisters get there without a reporter or anyone else trailing them.”
“They can’t know ahead of time. The odds are too high I might have to wave off.”
It was a reasonable fear. “I can wait until you are there, then give the all clear to their escorts. If it’s waved off they’ll never know it was ever being planned.”
“Thank you.”
“I brought a phone with me for you, never used; the number is not going to be in anyone’s hands. Call me Wednesday night, eight o’clock. I’ll give you the details for when and where. Are you set okay for transportation? I can arrange another car.…”
“It’s covered.”
He wasn’t sure what to ask next, to say.
She looked away from him. “It’s best I get going. Thank you, Luke. You can’t imagine how much I want to see them again.”
“Thursday’s going to be just the beginning.”
“We’ll see. Thanks too for the meal.”
“Next time we’ll make it a dinner when you’re feeling more able to eat.” He helped her with her coat. His expression sobered. “No matter what happens, if trouble shows up, if you have to leave, promise you’ll call me. Promise you won’t just disappear again without a word.”
“I’ll call.” She rested her hand on his arm, squeezed gently, and disappeared through the back door.
Luke heard his dogs greet her. He cleared away the dinner plates, put the remaining pieces of steak on two paper plates for the dogs, and when he moved to the back door to let them in, Amy was gone.
Chapter Nine
THE GROUND WASN’T FROZEN YET, but it was hard packed and ankle turning, and the walk took twenty minutes across rough pasture. She was a lone figure on the horizon with nothing around her but the fence she was working on and the tools she carried. The destination was easy, but what Luke would say was not so simple. It was too early for the coffee he carried even though the sun was up, his sleep something that had ended with the alarm clock sounding at 4 a.m. He could think of a lot easier ways to start his Monday morning.
“You’re a hard lady to find, Lieutenant.”
Caroline St. James looked around to see him, and he caught a brief flash of surprise followed by stillness. “Chief.” She turned her attention back to the job at hand and tightened another coil of barbed wire, then stapled it to the post.
“I thought you were staying in the city this winter.”
“My uncle needed a hand.”
“Humm.” It looked like she was rebuilding most of this pasture fencing. He set aside his coffee and put his weight against the next wire to be stretched and pulled it taut. She drove in the staples.
She’d grown up on this land. She’d learned to shoot in the upper pasture firing at old Coke bottles and learned to be still and watch by tracking deer through the woods. He’d thought when he first met her that the city and the job wouldn’t be her cup of tea, but she’d turned out to be one of the best cops he’d ever had the privilege of working with.
“What brings you out to find me?”
“Trouble.”
She paused long enough to read his expression. “Not a shot cop.”
“Not quite that bad.”
She picked up her tools and moved to the next fence post.
“Have you been following what’s been going on with the Griffin sisters?”
“I’m not entirely cut off from the news out here, Chief.” She smiled. “I’ve met the youngest, Tracey. Marsh is seriously attached to that one.”
“There are three sisters: Marie, Tracey, and Amanda. The oldest, Amanda, you’ll remember as Kelly Brown.”
Caroline stopped working and leaned against the post to consider the name. She nodded. “Bressman’s Jewelry store three years ago—the murders. The lady gave us the name of the shooter—yeah, I remember her. I was interviewing one of the former employees who had made a threat against the store manager when Marsh passed word they had an ID on the shooter. You’ve got me curious.”
“Amy witnessed a hit in New York eight years ago and has been running ever since. There’s a dead cop along the trail, along with a few other close calls, and a bunch of money a guy wants back at any cost.”
“And her sisters just inherited money and became new targets.”
“Yes.”
Caroline winced. “I can see that would indeed be trouble.” She secured the next loop of the wire. “What do you need?”
“A safe place for a reunion. The two sisters think Amy died in New York. They haven’t seen her in eight years.”
“She’s back in town?”
He smiled. “She keeps her own counsel, kind of like someone else I know. She’ll call me Wednesday night for details.”
“There are a lot of reporters around the sisters. I’ve seen the news stories being run every day. They are making the two of them the main celebrities for the winter people-watching season.”
Luke smiled at the way she put it but thought it pretty accurate. The events in Marie’s and Tracey’s lives were being made into something even bigger than their story already was. “I’ll arrange the transportation to get them out of that spotlight. I need somewhere remote, absolutely private, with several roads in and out, and if you can add elegance and food and drinks and a lot of Kleenex it would help. Plan for Thursday night, and I’ll bring them in after dark.”
“I’ve been chosen for this assignment, I see; why?”
“Amy’s former army too.”
Caroline looked at him. “You always did like to go for the jugular when you needed to use it.”
“Logistics, she said. And good at it. She was in a long time.”
Caroline sighed. “It’s going to cost.”
Luke held out an envelope. “Blank checks already signed and you’re authorized for all three cards; try not to max them all out, please.”
She tucked the envelope into her coat pocket. “At this point I’m curious enough I’ve got no choice but to do it just to meet her. You know her well?”
“Not nearly as well as I would like.” He reached for his coffee, satisfied the biggest objective of his day was covered. “You should think about coming back to take over major cases, Caroline.”
“I retired.”
“Unretire.” He reached out a hand to rub her coat sleeve. “You’re missed. And there is nothing
you could have done differently.”
“He left behind a wife and two kids, and I’m the one who put two bullets in him. He was breaking up under the stress in his life, and the officers around him didn’t see and stop the spiral. I can’t do my job when I’m wondering what is going through the head of the guy beside me and behind me.”
Luke didn’t dispute any of it; he—more than anyone—knew the pain she carried. She was tall and proud and comfortable with herself, but the shooting had taken a lot away from her. “You’ll suffocate out here, in the absence of the job you wanted since you were a kid. You are a good cop, and nothing that happened changed that.”
“I don’t want the dream anymore, Luke. It’s not worth the hurt.”
He slowly nodded. “Think about it anyway. I’m keeping a slot in the payroll for you—any time, any job—you’ll be welcome back.”
“I appreciate it.” She picked up her tools. “What of this do you want to approve?”
“I’ll trust your judgment. I’ll just need specifics before Wednesday evening.”
“Who knows about the reunion?”
“Me. You. In a short while Marsh and Connor. That will be it.”
“That’s best.”
“I think so too.”
“I’ll call you when I have something arranged.”
“Thanks, Caroline. It means a lot.”
She smiled. “I think you mean Amy means a lot. I’m glad for you.”
“Don’t get your hopes up; she won’t even tell me the name she’s using now.” He smiled and finished his coffee. “I think someone is going to fall hard for you one day, Caroline, and they’ll never know what hit them.”
“I do have that effect on guys,” she agreed, smiling back. “Get to work, Chief. This problem is covered.”
Because he knew just a layer of the depths in this woman and the deeper waters inside her heart, he reached over and gently brushed a glove down her cheek. “I’m glad we dated all those years ago; I’ve been waiting for someone to match you for a very long time.” She’d been in the army then and home between deployments. Caroline was one of the most fascinating ladies he had ever had the privilege of getting to know, as well as being one of the most beautiful. The years hadn’t changed that impression of his friend.
The Witness Page 13