The Witness

by Dee Henderson

  Connor handed her the popcorn box and shifted in his seat to unclip the pager from his belt to read the text message.

  “Trouble?” she whispered as she saw him clear the message and return the pager to his belt.

  He reached over and gripped her hand again, and she was surprised at the sense of tension she felt in him. “No trouble, just good news.”

  She turned her hand to settle it more firmly in his. He hadn’t talked much about his job and the fact he had returned to work this week. But it was there, skimming just under the surface. She’d sensed the tension in him when he had called in the evenings to chat. He had mentioned he didn’t leave work behind as easily as Marsh did, but he ducked her questions about it. Good news that left him tense—she rubbed her thumb alongside his and wondered who it was that had been arrested.

  Chapter Eleven

  “THEY’LL BE HERE, AMY,” Luke reassured softly. He had made the two pages a short time ago and thought the first of the sisters was no more than ten minutes out.

  She turned from watching the moonlight shimmering across the frosted ground. “I know.”

  He had expected the nerves and the uncertainty. He hadn’t expected the sadness. It seemed to press in on her like an enfolding blanket. Amy wasn’t ready for her sisters’ arrival, and he didn’t know what to say to help her.

  The music clicked over to something softly romantic, and he nodded toward the food. “You ought to eat something or have a drink. I know it’s hard to wait, so let me be a bit of a distraction.”

  She smiled at him, and it was the full smile he remembered from years before. “Trust me, Luke; you don’t need help to be a distraction. It was very nice tonight, stepping out of the car and seeing you waiting for me. I appreciate all the arrangements.”

  “Caroline helped me out.” He saw her lifted eyebrow. “Former army, former cop, a very good friend when you need someone to trust. I’m doing my best to convince her to unretire.”

  “Bad shooting?” she asked softly, anticipating the cause.

  “One of the worst the department ever had.”

  “I’d like to meet her.”

  “You will. She’s around here somewhere; she simply excels at being discreet.”

  Amy smiled. “I wonder what she’d say if she knew reality. I’m trying to trust you, Luke. It’s just not that easy anymore to trust anyone. Without that—” she shrugged—“it kind of precludes about anything else, even the friendship we’ve been skirting around since we first met.”

  He served himself a plate and nodded for her to join him. “Eat something or those aspirins you’ve been popping are going to just make the headache worse.” She joined him, and he considered her thoughtfully a moment. “Do you still trust God?”

  She looked over, startled.

  “I understand entirely the doubts that surface when you look at someone and can’t totally be sure if what you are seeing is the real story. You ran into a lot of people with a dark, dangerous side. But is it trust that is the problem, or is it discernment of who is safe and who is not?”

  “Good question. I’ve never really thought about it in those terms.” She stuck toothpicks into a couple meatballs and two of the sweet pickles. “‘God is in heaven; He does whatever He pleases.’” She shrugged. “That was the only verse in the psalms that made the most sense over the years. He let me get hurt, and maybe I was naive, but that didn’t fit what I thought was the expectation about being a Christian. Not the kind of deep, damaging hurt I took after I spent a lot of time praying about dating Greg. I never really even sensed a back-off check in my spirit about the relationship. Maybe I was deaf, but I didn’t get the warning I thought I would for what was coming. I assumed there would be protection or at least an end to the harm in a reasonable time, that God would keep me safe. Eight years and a dead cop later—that kind of changes things.”

  “God is against you? or unconcerned about what happens?”

  “That’s probably where my head was at the first few years. I was in too much panic and stress to be anything more than horrified that even prayers for safety didn’t seem to be getting answered.” She walked over toward the couch and sank down into it to enjoy the warmth from the fire. “Maybe time changes things, but I’m past the worst of that reaction now, I think. I know the evil is not past yet. But this is earth, not heaven. And the reality on earth is it’s the good days that are the exception in this life, not the bad. Once that settled in, it changed my perspective and made this easier to face.”

  She turned to face him as he settled into the chair to her right. “Now … God hasn’t changed. He’s still loving, righteous, and in charge. And evil and free will still exist. God could change this, but it doesn’t necessarily mean He will. I still pray He’ll end the dilemma I am in, but I gave up expecting it to happen tomorrow. Everyone gets their own unique mess to try to survive in life, and mine came when I was in my thirties.”

  “You have survived it, Amy. It hasn’t knocked you into pieces and left you unable to function, unable to cope. And even in all this—God hasn’t forgotten you. He cares about your days, every one of them.”

  “I know. I’ve grown up quite a bit, I think. There were many days I wondered if I could take even one more hour of it, let alone another month. I don’t like to run, Luke. I don’t like to be afraid. But part of me has started to cope with the fact I’m doing both. That’s been by God’s grace. Accepting where I’m limited and figuring out there will be some way through the latest wrinkle. Someone wants me dead; that’s the stark reality that leads every other one. The hatred is too strong now for it to ever disappear, not even after the money and last ledger are turned in.”

  She looked toward the window and the night. “I worry about what this will do to Marie and Tracey when they know the truth. Sometimes it’s a whole lot easier to live with what you think is the truth than to have to face what is the truth.”

  “As bad as the truth will be, you’ll still be comforting them just to let them know you aren’t dead.”

  “And when they spend the next weeks and months worrying every day about my safety?” Amy shook her head. “It’s like asking them to drink poison, not enough to be lethal, just enough to haunt their days. When I have to go silent, when I have to run—what then? They live afraid for me, frantic to know where I went and if I’m okay. When I run I can’t have them coming after me.”

  “When you run, they become the easier targets. That’s reality too. Protection that encompasses only you won’t help them, and protection that encompasses only them won’t help you—not really. You need to come in from the cold and let this be managed properly.”

  She turned her head to look at him, and while he knew she was accepting his argument, it didn’t mean she was agreeing with it or accepting the implications of that. She wasn’t ready to cross that line and face what it would mean to totally trust someone else for her safety, and he could understand that fine line. “You’ll have to trust me as a simple leap of faith. Just like you’ve chosen to keep trusting God. I’m not infallible, but I’ll promise you my best. There’s no other way for you to cross that threshold to trust me but to just risk it.”

  He saw lights cross the windows and so did she. She rose, and he took her plate for her. “You want to do this alone or with some company?”

  “Stay … please.”

  He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “They love you. Remember that.”

  “This isn’t the way home,” Marie realized as Connor turned off the interstate. “Where are we going?” She looked over toward him.

  He turned his head to briefly smile at her before looking back at the road. “There’s been a stop added to the evening that I think you might enjoy. We’re almost there.”

  “What?”

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Trust me. It’s in the category of being nice.”

  “Daniel set something up?”

  Connor shook his head. “You’re welcome to turn on the mi
rror light and check your makeup if you like. You look gorgeous, but you can fuss a few minutes anyway.”

  “Now I’m really wondering.” She picked up her purse.

  He turned again, and in the night it looked like an expensive area of homes, vast expanses of land stretching between gated entrances; the home that must be back on the private roads so far back as to not be visible from this road.

  She brushed out her hair and touched up her lipstick. Someone Connor wanted her to meet? Surely his parents didn’t live out this way; surely he’d warn her before a meeting like that. Meeting just anyone when it was after nine o’clock didn’t seem likely. Was there a place back here he knew about? Cops did know a lot about the area. Something he wanted her to see? The moon was bright in the sky, and it was a nice evening to walk if you bundled up well.

  He was driving toward the home ahead, this road leading back to an imposing gate set into what looked like a massive wall of stones. “Connor, I don’t like surprises,” she whispered, worried now as he pulled up and lowered his window. The fact he knew the security code to punch in put her even more on edge.

  “Relax, honey. An hour from now you’ll be hugging the breath out of me, I suspect,” he teased, but his hand was gentle as he reached over to take hers again.

  The gates opened.

  He followed the drive, and a massive home appeared, three stories, huge windows. Lights were on and she could see smoke lazily rising in the still night air from two chimneys; the home was occupied. Connor circled the home and parked before a four-door garage.

  A possible client for the gallery? If they can afford the house, they can afford some very nice artwork. Marie settled with that thought, for that might make sense, given how Connor was treating this stop.

  He came around to open her door, and she let him take her hand. He locked the car behind them and nodded toward the breezeway patio doors. “Let’s go inside.”

  The breezeway had marble floors. Already clued in to the wealth in this home, it was still a startling realization. Another set of glass doors automatically opened for them, and they stepped from the wide breezeway into a great room with soaring ceiling, comfortable couches, and a grand piano tucked into the corner. The room overlooked part of the backyard, and it was as landscaped as she had suspected, soft lights illuminating walkways.

  “Go on through to the more formal living room,” Connor suggested, nodding to the wide arched doorway into the adjoining room. She could hear music.

  She didn’t ask the questions begging to be asked. She walked through the arched doorway and into the loveliest room she’d seen in years, fires casting off warmth, the expanse of windows suggesting more of the spacious yard waited outside, the smell of cinnamon and the rich smell of honey hinting of something in the kitchen off to her right. And her attention finally focused on the people—startled surprise at the sight of the police chief here and then the lady with him.

  “Hello, Marie.”

  The whispered words in the voice she had never forgotten … Marie froze; the pounding of her heart sounded so loud in her own ears, an awareness of such incredible shock running through her, that her mind wasn’t sure how to move her limbs. She was aware, too, of Connor being the one gripping her arm so tightly she couldn’t stumble even if her legs gave way. He had her safe and he had her here—here where Amanda stood, where Amanda was alive.

  “Mandy—” She took one tentative step toward Amanda as she put all of it together—the stress in her sister’s face, the hair colored to deal with early gray, and the steady gaze perfectly matching the gaze she’d loved for so many years she could still see it in her dreams. Her sister, alive and well.

  Marie began to smile as she rushed across the room. “Welcome home.” She felt Amanda’s arms close around her as she wrapped her own around the too-tall and too-thin frame and felt like heaven opened to smile at her, so great was the joy that welled up inside and turned her heart toward hope and joy.

  All those years of prayers and the answer was so joyously better than anything she had ever hoped. “God brought you back. He brought you back.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything,” Mandy whispered.

  “I wouldn’t have stopped looking; I never should have stopped looking. They told me you were dead; they convinced me you were dead.” The horror of having given up the search made the grief squeeze like a vise around Marie’s heart, the pain of so many lost years incredibly intense.

  “Sam had to help me convince you of that, honey; there was no other choice. You had to stop searching, for both you and Tracey’s sake,” Mandy whispered.

  Marie eased back enough to touch her sister’s face, knowing there was no way to understand that.

  “I’ll be able to explain some of it. I’m just so sorry you had to grieve for me as gone. Don’t blame Sam. I didn’t give him any options.”

  She wanted answers, wanted to cry why, but instead smiled through her tears. She wouldn’t take the pain out toward Mandy, who had been her older sister and protector and confidante all her life. The reasons would be there and have left Mandy no choice; a lifetime together made Marie sure of that. “You’re found now. You can’t know how good this moment is or how much I’ve hoped.”

  “Better than a birthday surprise?”

  Marie laughed, released from the tension by their shared memories. “Better.”

  “I owe you a few years’ worth of birthday parties and Christmas presents and sloppily made breakfasts in bed and giggling girl talk.”

  “Yeah.” Marie hugged her sister hard, afraid this moment would vanish on her, the tears breaking past her ability to control them. She tried to stop the sobs, and Mandy held on.

  “I know, Marie. I know,” Mandy whispered.

  “Sorry.” Marie fought back the tears and forced a smile. Mandy had the Kleenex pack already in her hand and shared. Marie could see her sister struggling to control her own emotions. She’d been afraid of this moment, Marie realized, surprised, Mandy afraid of the reception she would get when she appeared. “Explain it all later, Sis. For now I plan to celebrate and maybe tease you about coloring your hair. You never could stand the thought of that.”

  “Early gray runs in the family.”

  “Tell me about it,” Marie agreed, softly laughing. She looked beyond Mandy’s shoulder to where the chief of police stood near the fireplace, watching them, watching Amanda. “Thank you. However you managed this.”

  He smiled back. “You’re welcome, Marie.”

  “Tracey’s coming?”

  “She’ll be here with Marsh anytime.”

  Marie looked back at her sister. “When she shows, you’ll be flooded with happy tears again and probably a joyfully screamed greeting.”

  “Oh, I hope so. She hasn’t changed.”

  “No. Just grown up.” She reached up to touch Mandy’s face, trying to understand the changes in her sister, the years of stress showing where there should have just been years of joy had life turned out differently, and her emotions faltered. How much history had gone wrong for her sister to age her before her time, to make those beautiful blue eyes so clouded with stress. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed you, Mandy.” She wiped her sister’s tears. “Come on; sit down. Talk to me.” She settled beside her sister on the long couch.

  “It’s going to take a while, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m not planning to go anywhere,” Marie replied, smiling. She looked across at Connor. “You knew.”

  “A few days now,” he softly replied.

  A few days—before the turtle, before the call to ask for a date, before Sunday night and the help with the paintings and the casual talk about family and history. Her heart swelled over what he had done in the last few days for her and her family, and there wasn’t going to be words to say thanks. She smiled. “I’ll have to remember how well you can keep a secret.”

  “I’m getting drinks. What are you interested in having? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Something cold?” he
offered, smiling back.

  “Tea would be fine.”

  “What about you, Amy? Need a refill?”

  “Coffee, thanks.”

  Lights passed across the windows, and Marie felt Mandy tense. She gripped her sister’s hand.

  “Marsh and Tracey,” Connor confirmed, looking out the window.

  “Do you think she’s going to be mad?” Mandy whispered.

  “A little. But a lot more overjoyed,” Marie promised.

  They heard Tracey laughing with Marsh about something, and she came through the archway into the living room, slipping off her coat. Marie saw the first moment it hit, the way Tracey froze, and then she was running, jacket not off yet.

  “Mandy!”

  Marie leaned back with a laugh as Tracey about squashed her sister in a hug, her coat trailing behind her. “You’re real; you’re thin; I’m so envious; you’re coloring your hair—oh man, that means I’m going to be doing it soon too. What happened? Where have you been? Why didn’t you call me? Oh, you look good.”

  Mandy wrapped her arms around Tracey and just smiled. “I missed you too.”

  Tracey impatiently pushed aside the coat and sank onto the couch on the other side of Mandy. “Marsh, you should have warned me. I about had a heart attack.”

  “Hmm, I could have.” He came around behind the couch and took the coat out of her way, then leaned over and kissed her. “You like surprises.”

  Marie laughed at the way Mandy was checking out Marsh. “He’s a cop too, Connor’s partner,” she whispered.