The Innocent Witness

by Terri Reed

  “We can rule out the congresswoman,” Anthony stated.

  Trent raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

  Anthony recounted Mikey’s imitation of the voice he’d heard the night his father was killed.

  “But could that voice belong to someone close to the congresswoman? Someone who’s using her position to further some unknown agenda?” Simone asked.

  “It’s possible,” Anthony conceded with rising apprehension. Finding the person whom Mikey heard was tantamount to finding a piranha in the ocean. The scope of where to look was vast, with too many variables.

  Joe pinned Anthony with a look. “If you heard the voice, based on Mikey’s impression, would you recognize it?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure.” He’d only heard the imitated voice once, and briefly at that.

  “It’s worth a try,” Trent stated, his fingers clicking on the keys of the laptop. “Okay, here we go. Senator Braverman.” He turned the screen so it faced Anthony. “Gotta love YouTube.”

  The screen filled with a tall, gangly man addressing what appeared to be a town hall meeting. The baritone voice spoken in a distinctly country twang wasn’t the voice that Mikey had imitated. Anthony shook his head in disappointment and frustration.

  Trent turned the computer back toward him and clicked the keys. “I’m going to assume that hearing the Congresswoman won’t help, but if we can rule out the lobbyist then we’ll start combing through the congresswoman’s life.” A frown creased his forehead. “Hmm. Our lobbyist doesn’t appear to have any video uploads.”

  Kyle held a smart phone in his hand. “I’ve got his office number here.” He dialed and asked for Mr. Kent. A second later he hung up. “Mr. Kent is away from the office. And no, Miss Snotty on the other end wouldn’t give out her boss’s whereabouts.”

  “Is there any way to get Kent’s home phone?” Barb asked, then promptly blushed a bright pink.

  “Good idea. Maybe his wife will have an idea where her husband can be found,” Joe said, his voice warm with appreciation.

  Agent Gorman spoke up. “I can get it.”

  Anthony ran a hand over his jaw. His voice shook with dread. “That will take time getting through the necessary red tape. Time we don’t have.”

  “I have a contact at the local phone company,” Joe offered. “Let me see if I can get her to give me the number.”

  Barb blinked. “Her?”

  Joe raised his eyebrows. “Jealous?”

  Making a scoffing noise, she made a face. “No. Just find my friend.”

  Nodding, Joe moved away to make his call.

  Edgy with nerves, Anthony said, “This is taking way too long. They’ve had them for almost thirty minutes.”

  Simone placed a cool hand on Anthony’s forearm. “I know you feel responsible, but you have to set that aside. Mrs. Grant needs you to stay focused.”

  “Easier said than done,” he shot back. “I screwed up.”

  She withdrew her hand. “Believe me, I know the damage guilt can do.”

  Her eyes took on a faraway, haunted expression. He believed her. She carried a burden of her own. Empathy tightened his chest.

  “Got it,” Joe said with triumph. He held out the phone. “Just press Send.”

  Anthony pushed the button and brought the phone to his ear. The line rang for several moments before clicking to voice mail. A man’s voice spoke. The hairs at the back of Anthony’s neck rose. This was the voice Mikey had imitated. He was sure of it. “It’s him.”

  “Marshal Kent, born in West Virginia,” Kyle read from his smart phone. “Graduated from Dartmouth. Married to Millie Kent and resides with his wife in Georgetown. Works for the Barrister Group.”

  “They’ve been in the news lately,” Barb said. “Something to do with defense contracts and the Middle East.”

  Gorman scowled. “Nasty business, that.”

  “How do we find him?” Anthony ground out, feeling the seconds ticking by like lashes from a whip.

  “Let’s start with his assistant.” Trent spun the laptop so they could see the image of a well-dressed young man on the screen. “Wendell Brooks.”

  Wendell sat on a stool near the window of his favorite java joint enjoying a midmorning pastry and a double nonfat vanilla latte. Suddenly he felt exposed sitting in his usual spot. He glanced around, searching for the cause of the unease slithering down his spine. For the past several minutes he had had the distinct impression he was being watched. There was nothing concrete he could point to that made the fine hairs on his arm raise with alarm. And no one appeared overly interested in him.

  Still, the sensation persisted.

  Sweat broke out on his brow. He tugged at the collar of his starched white dress shirt and told himself he was being paranoid. Just because he swam with sharks didn’t necessarily mean he’d get eaten. Though…the way Kent had looked at him last night, like he was worse than gum stuck to his shoes, had sent a chill of unease sliding over him.

  When he’d arrived at Barrister Group and learned that Mr. Kent wasn’t in yet, he’d taken advantage of the boss’s absence and split. Mr. Kent was a stickler for promptness and hard work.

  But when the boss is away, the minions will play.

  Kent was always pontificating. You don’t get to be where I am in life without putting your nose to the grindstone and doing the hard work necessary to make it happen.

  Wendell rolled his eyes as the remembered words rang hollow inside his head. Like Kent ever did his own dirty work. A hired team of unsavory characters always got the seedier jobs done. Wendell hated dealing with them. Crude and rough men who eyed him like he were a tasty morsel to be chewed up and swallowed.

  But Kent paid Wendell well for his organizational skills. And his willingness to keep his boss’s unpleasant secrets.

  Secrets that could put them all in jail for a very long time.

  If it weren’t for the money and the debts piling up, Wendell would walk away.

  He shivered. There it was again. That strange, frightening sense of observation.

  Not good. Best get back to the office where he’d be safe inside the secure building with the armed guards who weren’t on Kent’s payroll, and Wendell would know since he handled all the books for Kent. With shaky hands, he gathered the remnants of his treats and threw them in the trash. Pushing through the glass door leading to the street, Wendell was struck once again with the disagreeable feeling of having his every move kept track of.

  A mixture of tourists and businesspeople crowded the sidewalk. But none were looking at him. Jockeying his way through the throng, he reached the far corner of NW G Street and waited for the light to turn green. When the light changed, he stepped out into the road.

  A shudder shimmered over his flesh. Something wasn’t right. He glanced behind him with a sense of dread. A hulking bald man with bulging muscles beneath a black T-shirt dogged Wendell’s steps.

  One of Kent’s hired thugs.

  Fear rocketed through Wendell’s heart.

  He increased his pace, eager to reach the sanctuary of their office with its state-of-the-art security system and armed guards. Dodging an older couple holding hands, he hurried for the sidewalk.

  Wendell glanced back again. The Hulk closed in. Something shiny glinted in his beefy hand. A knife. A tight fist of terror closed around Wendell’s throat.

  Panicked, he broke out in a run.

  Feet pounded on the sidewalk behind him.

  Up ahead a tall, dark-haired man blocked the entryway to the building. He stared at Wendell with a strange look on his face as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A grown man in a panic.

  As Wendell slowed, he realized the man’s gaze went past Wendell’s shoulder to his pursuer.

  “Hey!” the guy in the doorway roared. “Stop!”

  He pushed past Wendell as Wendell pushed to get into the building. Another man, similar in looks to the taller one, raced to get by, too.

  Wendell spun around to see Mr. Muscles
turn and flee down the street. He hopped into a waiting sedan and roared away, weaving through the southbound traffic, leaving his pursuers in the dust.

  Blowing out a breath of relief, Wendell straightened his tie and tried to calm the frantic beat of his heart. He was safe. But deep down he knew this was only a momentary reprieve.

  The game had changed.

  Obviously Kent had sent one of his minions to do away with him. Anger stirred beneath the pervading fear. After everything he’d done for Kent. The risks he’d taken…. Wendell seethed.

  If Kent thought he’d be so easily disposed of, he had another thing coming.

  “Wendell Brooks?” a deep voice spoke near his ear.

  Startled, Wendell whipped his attention to a stocky man with graying hair and an off-the-rack brown suit. He flashed a badge. “Agent Gorman, Secret Service. May we have a word?”

  For a second Wendell contemplated running again. But then he noticed the agent wasn’t alone. And the two men and two women looked ready to eat him alive. No way would he manage to evade them all.

  Putting on his most practiced smile, he said, “Agent Gorman, what can I do for you?”

  A hand grabbed him powerfully by the neck. A surprised cry escaped as he was spun around to find himself staring into the feral gaze of the tall, dark-haired man.

  “Where’s Kent taken her?”

  TWELVE

  Trapped in the SUV speeding along U.S. 29 away from the city, Viv waved and gestured to passing cars trying to gain someone’s, anyone’s attention. But no one noticed. She wanted to scream with frustration. The dark-tinted windows kept her hidden from vehicles sharing the road.

  She yanked on the door handle. Locked. With frantic fingers, she worked the lock mechanism. No help there. The driver must have engaged the child-safety locks.

  Despair threatened to rob her of what little strength remained. She tried to stay positive. Anthony would come after her.

  But for all she knew Anthony was dead.

  Grief welled up, filling her eyes with tears.

  She and Mikey could be next.

  No! She couldn’t go there.

  She pressed a hand to her forehead. Stop it! she commanded herself. You can’t give up hope.

  Her faith wouldn’t let her lose hope. God was on her side.

  Shaking with icy terror, Viv clutched an agitated Mikey to her as the SUV turned off the highway and entered the Rocky Gorge Reservoir area and bounced along an unpaved rural road. The wooded areas along the Patuxent River were perfect for dumping a body. Two bodies. They wouldn’t be found for a very long time. She shuddered with dread.

  Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she chanted in a soft voice, “I will not be afraid. I will trust in the Lord.”

  Lord, if it is our time to go to heaven, please let it be quick.

  She didn’t want Mikey to suffer.

  The vehicle hit a hole. The SUV jolted, sending a painful recoil through her. She cried out. Mikey’s high-pitched wail reverberated through the interior.

  “Shut that kid up!” the passenger in the front seat shouted.

  Viv sent the stranger hidden behind the tinted partition a caustic glare.

  Soothing a hand down Mikey’s back, she whispered, “Shh now, baby. We’ll get through this, baby.”

  The SUV slid to a halt in a clearing, the sound of loose rocks and dirt beneath the tires as ominous as a scream. All around them were woods thick with trees and underbrush. All around them were possible grave sites. Her breathing turned shallow with fright.

  The men climbed out from the front seats. The lock popped on the side door. Sheer black terror crashed through her like an angry bear disturbed from its sleep. She lunged for the door handle, wanting, needing to keep the door closed and the evil men away from her son. But her grip was no match for the strength of the driver.

  The door was wrenched out of her grasp. Viv scooted back and flung her arms around Mikey, shielding him. He squirmed to be free.

  Rough hands pulled Viv and Mikey from the SUV. They landed in a heap on the hard ground. Mikey immediately jumped to his feet and began flapping his hands near his ears. His wails filled the sky. Viv stared at the man who’d driven her here. He’d removed his mask, revealing a scarred face and closely shaved scalp.

  “Bring them,” Steven’s killer said from around the front of the SUV.

  The driver yanked her to her feet. “Get up!”

  No. She wouldn’t make this easy for them. She went limp.

  With an oath, the man’s fingers bit into her flesh. His big hand squeezed her arm in a painful vise. Dragging her behind him with one hand, he easily lifted Mikey up by the waist and carried him.

  “Please, don’t do this!” Viv pleaded.

  The man ignored her and continued on. A handgun was tucked into the waistband of his pants over his kidney. Viv twisted and turned, trying to reach it. Her attempts fell short. Frustrated, she screamed. Maybe someone would hear. Startled birds flew from the tops of massive oak and hickory trees.

  “Shut up!” her captor snapped.

  Viv screamed louder, giving voice to the fear and anger and despair welling up inside. Mikey, obviously upset by his mother’s cries, released his own wild screech.

  There was a barely-discernible path through the underbrush. Viv dug in her heels. Mikey wiggled and squirmed. But they were no match for the man who held them. He stopped at a small wooden lean-to. The door stood wide open.

  Viv grabbed the doorjamb and hung on. Mikey was thrown inside. The man lifted Viv off her feet and unceremoniously dumped her on the floor.

  He gave her a vicious kick in the side. “That’s for being so difficult.”

  Pain exploded throughout her torso. She doubled up with a moan.

  From the shadowy corner, Steven’s killer tsked. “Really, Carl. That wasn’t necessary.”

  Carl grunted, slammed the door shut and leaned against the wall.

  Viv roused enough from the blow to her side to jerk her gaze across the one-room shack.

  A man dressed in a gray three-piece suit sat at a small table. Close at hand lay a large-caliber handgun. Astonishment drained the blood from her head. For a moment the room tilted. Black spots burst through her vision. She blinked until they cleared. “Marshal?”

  His lips spread in a semblance of a smile.

  Viv trembled at the coldness in the blue eyes staring at her.

  “You’ve made things very difficult, Vivian.”

  Her mind reeled.

  Marshal Kent was Steven’s killer!

  But the Kents were nice people. Family friends. Marshal had been a mentor of sorts to Steven over the years, always quick to bolster Steven’s ego with encouraging words and wisdom.

  And Millie, Marshal’s wife, had often sought Viv out at social functions. She’d recently asked Viv to serve on a charity’s board, raising money for unwed teenage mothers. Viv had had to decline because of the time commitment. Millie had understood.

  Which explained how the men hunting them had known about Mikey’s Wanderer Alert system.

  Viv struggled to an upright position. Mikey had quieted and stood in the opposite corner, rocking slightly as he twisted his finger.

  “Why?” she asked, her voice revealing her astonishment. “Why did you kill Steven?”

  Kent blew out a breath. “Believe me, Viv, he didn’t have to die. He was one stubborn man. I tried to talk some sense into that boy, but he wouldn’t listen.” He gave a mournful shake of his head. “I taught him so much. Poured myself into him and his career. And then he turned on me. I couldn’t allow that.”

  Somewhere between her curiosity and her fear was the thought, keep him talking. As long as he wanted to talk, he wouldn’t kill them. “You were part of his straw donor scam. He was blackmailing you.”

  “Clever girl. Only he wasn’t the brainchild behind our own personal little hedge fund. I was,” he boasted with pride. “I needed him to win the upcoming election. There are plans that need to be fulfil
led. Steven was the golden ticket to making everything possible.” His face twisted in a dark rage. “Now I’ll have to start over. Groom some other schmuck. It isn’t as easy as it used to be. Too many watchdogs now.”

  “So Millie was a part of this scam?” Viv said. “Her kindness toward Mikey and me was all a pretense?”

  “No, no. Dear, sweet Millie has her head so high in the clouds she doesn’t know which way is up.” He pushed to his feet.

  Panicked, Viv stalled. “Why Steven? How did you pick him?”

  Marshal raised an imperious eyebrow. “I didn’t pick him. Your father did.”

  Shock clutched at her chest. “My father?”

  “Didn’t know we were acquaintances, did you? Yes, your father had a vested interest in wanting a political figure in his back pocket. He discovered Steven. Even financed Steven’s first campaign. But then Steven turned on him.” Again, Marshal shook his head. “I should have anticipated Steven’s betrayal.”

  Mind reeling, Viv said, “I don’t understand. What do you mean Steven turned on my father?”

  There had always been an undercurrent of tension between her father and Steven. But she had dismissed the unease as her imagination. After all, her father had advocated the strongest for a marriage between his only child and Steven. Her mother had run a close second. Her mind grappled with the revelation that her own father had used her for his own gain. What kind of parent did that?

  Viv glanced at Mikey, longing to take him into the shelter of her arms. The more Marshal spoke the more withdrawn Mikey became. He had sunk to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest. She ached for her child.

  “Your rascal of a husband threatened to expose your father’s less-than-ethical land deals. All LeMar had to do was persuade you to become Steven’s bride. Which I could appreciate. A smart move on the boy’s part. Steven wanted the validity your family name and money brought with you. Plus having a former beauty queen on his arm didn’t hurt any.”

  She’d always known she was nothing more than a trophy wife to Steven.

  Marshal gestured to Carl with his hand. “Take care of them. There’s a shovel behind the hut. Bury them deep.”