Caitlin pulled a pre-loaded wallet out of the secret compartment and tossed her current wallet in. There were three wallets in the side compartment ready for use when or if she needed them. She was Edwina Caitlin Potter now, complete with driver’s license, credit cards, and a military ID. WITSEC advised that witnesses keep their first names. It was too easy to trip up and not respond if you didn’t. She didn’t follow their suggestion exactly. She generally used an awful first name and gave Caitlin as her middle name. It was a good excuse not to use her ID first name.
She grabbed her keys, jumped into the driver’s seat and about jumped out of her skin. Dear God in heaven her bottom was sore! Both hands came down, and she pushed upward lifting her backside off the leather seat. She took a deep breath and lowered herself back down carefully. She had a long drive, but it wasn’t going to be a comfortable one in her condition. Damn, Chase and his Neanderthal ideas!
Edwina Caitlin Potter drove for fourteen hours. She stopped outside a small city and purchased three wigs, stopped again down the road at another store and purchased three baseball caps. She stopped at innocuous Mom and Pop stores or cheap places where all the merchandise was a dollar. Those kinds of establishments couldn’t afford top-notch security cameras. She bought a half dozen pairs of very large sunglasses. She already had in her possession contacts of every color, fake birthmarks, moles and eyebrows. They were hidden in a box labeled wet-wipes in one of the Zip-loc bags she kept pre-packed. She drove through the drive-thru fast food chains and stopped for gas three times, paying in cash and purchasing tourist T-shirts. She changed at rest stops. If there were any cameras turned on, recognizing her would have been difficult unless someone knew her very well. Contrary to her distant memories, the pain in her bottom didn’t go away after a couple of hours. Hour after hour, the burning soreness stayed with her. When she simply couldn’t stand the pain and discomfort any longer she pulled into a slightly rundown motel. She provided the driver’s license of Edwina Potter and paid cash for the room. She made one more stop to a drug store and bought the strongest pain ointment she could find. She picked up some snack foods and went back to the motel. After applying the ointment to her sore bottom, she dropped into the bed. She wanted to cry but she’d trained herself not to and she fought the idea and need of it. As she considered her current situation, she finally gave in, and allowed herself the luxury of a good cry before dropping off into a restless sleep.
* * * * *
Chase woke up to a pounding headache and the horrible racket of a hacksaw sawing through metal. He squinted up at his friend James Fallon, owner of the Motel, and realized through the haze of his drugged brain that James was sawing off handcuffs. “What the…?” He tried to sit up, only to realize his left foot was bound to the bedstead.
James grinned. “I didn’t know you were into kinky stuff. She got you good. It looks like she rolled you and stole your Jeep too.”
“It’s not like that, it was her Jeep,” Chase said. “How long have I been out?”
“It’s 5:30, that’s pm, buddy. She must have drugged you.”
Chase pulled his hand out of the cuff that had been sawn through, and flexed it painfully. James skirted around the bed to get to the other cuff, but before he started sawing again, he poured his old Marine buddy a strong cup of coffee out of a thermos.
“I figured you might need the other coffee for evidence,” James said seriously.
Chase inhaled the coffee again for the second time in thirteen hours. “What time did she leave?”
“I noticed the jeep gone around 8:00 am. I didn’t find you stretched out here until about a half hour ago. I didn’t have any reservations for this cabin, so there wasn’t a hurry to get it cleaned. There!” James cut through the last bit of metal, and the cuff broke away.
Chase rolled off the bed and hobbled over to his duffle bag feeling as if he had a hell of a hangover. He noticed that his computer bag was gone as was his equipment bag. “Damn her, when I catch up with her I’m going to skin her alive!” He snatched his clothing off the floor and pulled on his jeans. He checked his jacket pocket and was relieved to find his cell phone. He speed dialed his partner.
“Blake, I need you. Caitlin pulled a fast one on me. I need a replacement computer, complete with satellite directional surveillance and a vehicle here immediately.” He rattled off the address as James gave it to him. “She’s gone and has a head start on me of about eleven hours. Damn it, she drugged me! I expected resistance, but I never expected that.”
“Where’s she headed?” Blake asked.
“I don’t know, but she’s bugged. She’d snatched my computer. It’s encrypted, but she’s an expert, so we’re got to get to her before she breaks the code and realizes that she’s being tracked.” Chase turned to his friend James. “Is there an airport with helicopter services anywhere close?”
“Yeah, there’s a private field about forty miles from here.”
“Hold on,” Chase barked at Blake. “James, get on the phone with whoever runs the airport and ask if a small plane can be landed there as soon as I can make the arrangements. Also ask, if I can hire a helicopter, with or without a pilot. I have my licenses to fly most commercial helicopters. I’ll call back to them and give them my credentials if they are needed.” He switched back to Blake. “Get me another computer signed out and an equipment bag, you know what I need. If I can get the stuff flown in, it will be a lot faster, and if I can hire a helicopter, I can track her faster. Bounce that up the line to Hank and tell him I might need some assistance on this. The bug only has a range of thirteen hundred miles, and she’s has an eleven-hour lead. Even if she’s only driving the maximum speed limits, she got a good seven or eight hundred mile lead on me. There’s no time to spare we have to move fast. I want you to head to Reno and see if you can get any information out of that woman who did the interview with her. Yeah, the looker that was on the TV segment with her. Find her and grill her!”
An hour later, Chase had pulled in nearly every favor he’d ever been owed but he had what he needed. James had driven him to the airport and when the Cessna landed, he signed for replacement equipment and weapons. He booted the computer to make sure it had the programs he needed and jumped into a hired helicopter. He and the pilot were in the air ten minutes later. The satellite directional surveillance targeted his goal within seven minutes. He was heading for Eugene, Oregon, estimated ETA three hours at an average speed of 250 mph.
Blake Ford’s trip was less urgent. He parked his car at the airport and took the first flight out to Reno with an estimated flight time of one hour and forty minutes. He’d pick up a rental vehicle at the airport. He was already programming the GPS on his phone for the directions from the airport to Ms. Valerie Hannah’s Reno address.
Chase’s head was pounding, and he was about half sick to his stomach. It wasn’t from the flight. It was the after effects of whatever drug she’d used on him. He’d have her in another couple of hours. The latest technology was pure genius and the little tracking chip he’d hidden in the upper housing of her glove compartment was leading him straight to her. As long as she didn’t try to boot up his laptop and dive into his software she wouldn’t know she was being tracked. Once he had her in custody, they had a few things that needed to be addressed. The most important: Who was in charge?
* * * * *
Blake Ford parked his rental SUV and looked up to the window on the fourth floor. The lights were on, and a shadow kept passing in front of a small window, either a kitchen or a bath. As he crossed the parking lot, he was trying to figure out his plan of attack. He’d watched the two minute clip several times and had gone online to check out the TV station’s backlog of videos. He’d watched her in several other film clips, and in his opinion, Valerie Hannah was spectacular. She’d towered over the five-foot five Caitlin and yet she been wearing those sky-high, sexy as hell high heels in the clip before the camera had panned in for a close-up. Oh, and what a close-up it had been. She had coff
ee with cream skin, long black hair in those little spiral curls, a beautiful Vanessa Williams look-a-like face and a booty that had made him twitch to hide an instant hard-on. This gal had it all, and he wouldn’t mind having a piece of it. The trick was going to be interrogating her to get the information he needed without turning her off him completely.
Valerie opened her door, and gave the man who stood in front of her a full suck-in-your-breath-and-raise-the-girls-up-and-out, appraisal. She watched his eyes go to her rising cleavage, and it gave her insides a little happy dance of returned interest. This guy was worth some interest because standing in front of her was her fantasy guy. He was tall, black, built and a fine specimen of a man.
Blake flashed his badge. “U.S. Marshal, Blake Ford. I need to speak to you about Eugenia Caitlin Randolph.”
Valerie’s instantly forgot her sexy pose. “Has anything happened to Caitlin?” she demanded.
Blake looked behind him to the hallway. “Could we take this inside, please?”
“Oh, sure,” Valerie said, but stopped him by putting her hand on his rock hard chest. “Could I see the ID again, please?”
Blake handed it to her, and she looked at it closely before handing it back to him. “Come on in. Oh, my chops!” She ran to the kitchen, skidded in front of the stove and pulled a sizzling frying pan off the burner. She “ouched” at her burned fingers, but ignored them and picked up a fork and turned the chops over. “Oh good, I didn’t burn them!”
Blake had followed her. Turning on the kitchen faucet, he took her hand and put it under the running water.
Valerie looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you!”
Blake smiled back and looked down at her reddened fingertips. “They’re not blistered.”
Valerie took her hand back. “Sorry, but I didn’t want to burn them, the pork chops I mean. I don’t allow myself fried foods very often because I have to keep the weight down. They say the camera adds ten pounds, in my case I think it adds twenty-five.”
“Lady, there is absolutely nothing wrong with your body,” Blake said honestly before he could stop himself.
Valerie smiled again, but she did catch herself. “Oh, I’m sorry, I got sidetracked. What’s this about Caitlin?”
“I need to discuss Caitlin Randolph with you. You did an interview with her. How well do you know her?” Blake asked.
“She’s my best friend,” Valerie said loyally. “Is she in trouble?”
“She hasn’t broken the law,” Blake responded. “I need to know if you have any idea where she might have gone to hide. Someplace she likes to vacation or somewhere she goes to visit friends. She could be in a lot of trouble.”
“I was with Caitlin last night. She was fine, and she didn’t say anything about being in trouble.”
“As soon as you dropped her off, she was intercepted and taken into custody by a U.S. Marshal. Early this morning she gave the Marshal the slip. We need to find her fast. Her life could depend on it. I also need to insist on this conversation being totally confidential,” Blake said very seriously.
“Is Caitlin in danger?” Valerie asked, and suddenly her eyes flashed upward to meet his. “Caitlin’s in the Witness Protection Program, isn’t she? That’s why she was quiet and secretive and never wanted to go in front of the camera!”
“She was,” Blake admitted. “She left the program. Your news feature has made her a target again.”
Valerie, realizing the consequences of what she’d talked her friend into doing lost her legs as her knees buckled. The U.S. Marshal scooped her up before she hit the floor and set her down on a kitchen chair. He opened her refrigerator and handed her a cold soft drink. She didn’t pop the top but held the can against her forehead. “I talked her into doing that piece when the lady who runs the Mustang program didn’t show up. I promised her the segment would only run locally. When the segment was picked up nationally, I was so happy. I never gave a thought about how it would affect her. I didn’t know. She never told me!”
“She couldn’t,” Blake explained gently. His phone rang, and he stood up to answer it. “Yeah?” It was Chase, telling him that he was on his way, and gave his location. He explained that he had a fix on Caitlin’s location and was only an hour out from his destination. He’d call back as soon as he made contact with her again. Chase still wanted him to interrogate Ms. Hannah for information. Blake disconnected the call and looked over at the distressed woman with a thoughtful glance. He had more time than he thought.
“Oh, God, what have I done?” Valerie exclaimed. She stood up and pushed away from the table, but stumbled as her stomach could be heard rumbling.
“Hey, when’s the last time you ate?” Blake demanded guiding her back to the chair again.
“Sometime last night,” Valerie admitted and she used a spoon to raise pop-top of the soda can so she wouldn’t break one of her long nails. She drank some of the diet soda.
“Well, that’s not going to do you any good!” Blake huffed disapprovingly.
“I was planning on a good dinner tonight,” Valerie said. “I was saving today’s calories for it!”
Blake grimaced and took off his jacket, hanging it on the back of the other kitchen chair. “That was almost a stand-down call. We still have to talk but my timetable isn’t so urgent. My partner has a fix on Ms. Randolph, and he’ll call when he makes contact.” He looked around the tiny kitchen. “What were you going to have with those chops?”
“Oh, that’s not important, now,” Valerie, exclaimed.
“Yeah it is. I don’t want my assignment to fall on her face from hunger. It’s much too pretty a face for that.” Blake opened the refrigerator and perused the contents. He pulled out two decent sized potatoes and a plastic container filled with a green salad and set them on the counter. In the cabinets, he found several cans of vegetables, and added them to his finds. He started rummaging in the kitchen drawers.
“What are you doing?” Valerie demanded.
“Fixing dinner,” Blake Ford said with a smile. “First, we eat and afterwards we can talk. I need a can opener.”
“One drawer over,” Valerie said, watching as he proceeded to scour her kitchen cabinets for bowls and pots.
“If you feel up to it, set the table,” Blake said over his shoulder as he assembled what he needed.
Valerie simply stared at him in surprise. No man had ever offered to cook for her, not once. They expected her to cook. Heck, she’d been invited to dinner, arrived at the man’s house and he’d actually expected her to cook it. Never had any man taken over her kitchen and he seemed at ease doing it. She watched as Blake washed the potatoes, punctured holes in them, rubbed them with butter, put them into a plastic bag and popped them into the microwave. He smiled back at her, and she felt her entire body turn to pure liquid lust. This shouldn’t be happening now. Her friend was in trouble. Valerie stared at the broad back of the man standing in her kitchen in amazement. As sure as she knew she’d do anything in her power to help Caitlin, she also knew she’d do whatever it took to keep this man in her life, at least until she found out if he was as good as he looked.
She got up and set the table, using her real dishes rather than the paper plates stacked on top of them. Thank goodness, she at least had them, and real silverware. Her mother had seen to that when she’d moved into the apartment, insisting on filling her cupboards with things that she never used. At least she knew where the stemware was, and she had good wine and a corkscrew. Often, after a long day, a glass of wine was dinner.
Blake did the honors, popped the cork and poured each of them a glass. Fifteen minutes later, they sat down to her chops and food that had been miraculously transformed into a real dinner. Valerie considered that a minor miracle although she knew her mother bought groceries and tried to stock her refrigerator/freezer and cabinets every time she visited. Who knew those things could be transformed into a candlelight dinner? Especially by the sexy man sitting in her tiny kitchen with his large masculine presence and
looking so damn fine!
“Eat up,” Blake Ford said tapping his glass to hers and focusing his steady, sexy attention on her. “We’ll figure out what’s for desert later.”
Valerie’s panties were suddenly, uncomfortably wet.
Chapter 3
Within a thirty-mile radius of the motel on the outskirts of Eugene, Oregon, Chase had the exact coordinates of Caitlin’s jeep, and the name and address of the motel where she’d stopped for the night. Seventeen minutes later, he shook hands with the helicopter pilot that had brought him that far with very few questions and signed out a rental car at the airport. Thirty-eight minutes later, he pulled into the Shady Pines Motel. The sign said it was family owned and operated for forty-five years. It looked old but well maintained. He did a walk-around and located Caitlin’s Jeep parked at the far side of the parking lot, as close to the exit onto the main road as possible. He went back to the office and asked to see the owner.
Chase explained the situation as succinctly as possible to the owner of the motel. The man wanted no trouble and Chase promised him that there would be done. He paid for the empty rooms, two on either side of the one that Caitlin was staying in, and that appeased the man somewhat. Chase knew that Caitlin was probably armed. Actually, he knew she was armed because she had his weapons. What he didn’t know was whether she had trained in the use of weapons. She’d been out of the program for three years, so he’d bet the odds that she was qualified. The question was if he knocked on the door would she fire on him? She had reasons to be angry. She didn’t like his interference in her business and most likely she was still tender from the spanking he’d given her the evening before. It was far safer scenario to have the owner of motel knock and get her to open the door.
Caitlin's Conspiracies Page 3