Witness in the Dark

by Allison B Hanson

  “Don’t cry.” He held up his hands. “Pull it together. Please,” he added the last word as if it were an afterthought.

  Her anger focused her enough that she was able to calm down. She wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes, but no tears had fallen.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen next,” he said authoritatively. “When I get the call that it’s clear, I’m going to move you somewhere safe for the night. Tomorrow, a team will come in to take over your protection detail. I’m going to need your jewelry.” He said it like she wouldn’t even question him.

  “Why?” she demanded. “What team?”

  “My job is extraction and cleanup, not babysitting or inquisitions. If you could hold all your questions until tomorrow, they’ll explain everything. Right now, I need you to be quiet and give me your jewelry.”

  Without thinking, she pulled off her ring and handed it to him. He put it in his pocket and held his hand out for her necklace.

  “Hmm. March,” he noted, taking in the aquamarine.

  She nodded as he crammed it in his pocket and pointed at her watch.

  “No.” She covered it with her hand. Like she could really stop him from prying it from her wrist. He looked extremely capable of taking anything he wanted from her. Anything. “Not the watch,” she begged. “It’s the only thing I have from my dad. He died before I was born. Please?”

  Garrett tugged at his bottom lip but shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’ll need to take it. It’s for your own good.” At least he sounded remorseful.

  This man had saved her life. She didn’t want to make his job more difficult, but this watch was the most valuable thing she owned, even though it had probably only cost a hundred bucks.

  “Why? What do you need it for?”

  “Remember the part about holding your questions until tomorrow?”

  “But this could all be a trick so you can steal my jewelry.”

  He blinked, then laughed. “Seriously? You think I went through all that trouble, leading you around for blocks while getting shot at, for your wristwatch? Hell, it’s not even a Rolex.”

  Okay. When put like that, it didn’t seem likely. “Will I get it back?”

  “No,” he answered flatly. Something about his tone and the fact he hadn’t lied made it easier for her to give up her watch.

  Holding back more tears, she slid it off her wrist, and dropped it mutely into his open palm. She’d never known her father, but losing the watch felt like losing him.

  It was ridiculous. It was only a watch, but it hurt to give it up.

  “I’m sorry.” He stared down at the watch for a moment before tucking it in his pocket. “Really.”

  She nodded and went to sit in the chair in the corner farthest away from him. Not that she could get too far; it was a small room. And chilly. Now that she wasn’t running for her life, she felt the cold settle in and rubbed her arms with her hands. Her T-shirt didn’t offer much in the way of warmth.

  Without a word, he shrugged off his leather coat and wrapped it around her. It held the heat from his body and she warmed up quickly. He went to the thermostat and pressed a few buttons. Immediately, the metal radiators ticked with the flow of heat.

  “How’s that?” he asked after a few minutes.

  She nodded. “Good.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, after I got you back to my hotel room, I would’ve explained everything, and then I would’ve stayed until tomorrow when your protection detail arrived. I definitely would not have touched you inappropriately.”

  She didn’t know him at all, but something in the way he looked at her when he said it made her believe him. But she still had to ask. “So you wouldn’t have held a gun to my head?”

  He sighed. “People move faster when their life is in danger. I needed you to move faster. As I keep saying, it would’ve been better if you’d just taken me up on my offer to get a drink.”

  “Maybe your kissing needs some work,” she suggested tartly.

  Definitely not true. His kissing was perfect.

  “Hey,” he protested. “No need for insults.”

  His comment made her feel bad, which in turn angered her. Why should she feel bad about hurting his feelings when he’d just held a gun to her head and stolen her only family heirlooms?

  “What was wrong with the kiss?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

  She sniffed, softening a bit, though God knew why. “It was a little too perfect to be convincing.”

  “Too perfect?” He shook his head with lifted brows. “I’ve never heard that before.”

  “Well, they should have sent a marshal who was a little less—” She gestured toward his body.

  “Senior inspector,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “I’m not the marshal. Technically, I’m a deputy marshal, but my title is senior inspector because of my specific job.”

  “Ah.”

  “Anyway, a marshal who’s less…?” He tilted his head to the side, clearly not understanding what she’d been inferring.

  “Never mind.” She didn’t want to talk about her attraction to the sexy marshal. Er, inspector. “By the way, the name Garrett is a little pretentious. Next time, you should go for something normal, like Todd or Steve.”

  “I’ll tell my mother you said so.” He checked his phone.

  “It’s your real name?” She’d thought government agents always used aliases. Was nothing she’d seen on TV real?

  “Yep.”

  “God, just kill me now,” she muttered.

  He chuckled. “My middle name is Steven, though, if that helps.”

  She could feel her face burning. “I’m sorry.”

  “I had a friend in third grade named Todd,” he said as he typed something into his phone.

  Either because she was exhausted or because she was terrified—or maybe both—she burst out laughing. She couldn’t stop. She was almost to the point of hysterical.

  He laughed, too, but she was sure any second he would get tired of her hilarity and slap her out of it. She took a few deep breaths, and after a couple of extra snickers, she wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry about that,” she said.

  “Much better than crying.”

  “I had a friend named Todd, too.” She took another deep breath, and the crazy moment passed.

  She was suddenly exhausted. She rested her head on the table and closed her eyes. While she focused on her breathing and tried not to doze off from the adrenaline drain, a few things became clear to her.

  When she raised her head, he was watching her. He looked away when she caught him.

  “This team…my protection detail, you said?” she asked. She really needed more information.

  “They’ll explain it all. I don’t get involved in that end of things.”

  But she was piecing it together from the crime shows she’d seen. “You’re putting me into witness protection? You took my jewelry so you can fake my death, right?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “You’ll be in temporary protection until after Congressman Howe’s been arrested and gone to trial. Once it’s over, they’ll find a new place for you to live. New name. New life.”

  “And my old life?”

  “Sorry.” That word alone explained everything better than the team would the next day. Her old life was gone. Forever.

  “My friends will think I’m dead?” She was cold again, despite the warmth of the coat.

  “Yes.”

  “Nikki will be so sad.” Sam was already sad just thinking about how much she was going to miss her best friend.

  “She’ll be safer, and you’ll be safer, if everyone thinks you’re gone. At least you don’t have parents.”

  She frowned. “What makes you say that?” She watched his face for a reaction, but there was none. She’d told him all about her fake parents, as well as her imaginary brothers and sisters.

  “I know everything about you. It helps when I’m b
ringing someone in.”

  She skipped over the whole “bringing someone in” part because she knew if she asked, he’d just tell her the “team” would explain it. “Everything?” she demanded.

  He pushed out a breath. “Samantha Elizabeth Hutchinson—God, that’s a long name. Twenty-six. You’ll be twenty-seven on March ninth. You were named after your father Samuel Hutchinson, who died two months before you were born in a car accident.”

  “Wow.” How on earth—

  “You’re originally from Chicago, but you moved to D.C. when you got a full scholarship to Georgetown. You studied psychology and marketing, and you took a job at a newspaper in sales three months ago. Your mother died while you were in college, and you’re dating Lance Weaver.”

  “Fuck me,” she mumbled as she covered her face with her hands.

  “Yeah. You took some liberties with your backstory.” He smiled. “Why’d you say your father was a fireman? You could have told the truth on that one.”

  Her father had been a decorated police officer. A hero. But she didn’t know him. To her, he wasn’t real, so why not make him anything she came up with?

  She snorted and ignored his question, focusing on the one thing he had wrong. “You obviously don’t know everything. Lance broke up with me yesterday.”

  “Good,” Garrett said tonelessly. “You’re better off without him.”

  Her mouth fell open, and she didn’t know how to respond.

  “You think you’re so smart,” she said, poking her finger at him angrily. “You think you know me because you read some file? Well, you thought I was going to run off with you tonight when you asked, and you were wrong about that, Mr. Perfect Lips.”

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  Her lip shook a little, but she bit it to hold it in place. She put her head down again, tasting blood. “How much longer do we have to stay here?” she asked into the table.

  “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I hear back.”

  She nodded against her arm and let her eyes close. The adrenaline crash had left her exhausted, but her mind was still flitting from one insignificant thing to another. Like how she was leaving Anthony short-handed. How she’d left half a sandwich in the refrigerator at her new job. How she’d just filled her car with gas and it was probably leaking all over the street.

  She should have been thinking of more important things, like where she would live.

  If she lived.

  Chapter Eight

  It felt like Sam had only been out for a few minutes when Garrett shook her awake. He was gentle about it for someone who was capable of holding a gun to her head.

  “It’s time to go.”

  She nodded, wanting to get out of the cramped little room. “I’m awake.”

  “We’re going to hold hands and walk casually to the car at the end of the alley. We’re not going to run or look around like we’re up to something.” His breath stirred the hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “If I tell you to get down, do it immediately without hesitation. Okay?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded to reinforce the word.

  “Let’s go.”

  He slipped his hand into hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. With the other hand, he put the gun in the front of his jeans. He’d told her not to run or look around, but he was walking awfully fast and looking around quite a lot.

  A silver sedan was parked where he’d said it would be. When they reached it, he opened the passenger door for her before walking around the back and sliding into the driver’s side.

  “Good job,” he said.

  “It was walking. How badly could I mess it up?”

  He gave her a look as if to say it was both possible and expected. “We’ll be on the road for a while. You can sleep some if you’d like.”

  Not a chance. She was wide awake with her second wind and a new supply of adrenaline. “Is this your car?”

  “No.” He frowned.

  “What kind of car do you drive normally?”

  “I don’t have a car.”

  Really? That was weird. Who didn’t own a car these days? “A motorcycle, maybe? You look like the type who has a motorcycle.” Great. Now she was babbling.

  “Sam?”

  “Yes?”

  “Remember how I told you I don’t deal with questions?”

  “Sorry. I’m nervous, and I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

  “Stop being nervous. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “If you say so. You’re not the one who has to start over.” She let her head rest against the glass.

  “At least this way you have a life to start over. If you’d stayed, you’d be dead. Which would you prefer?”

  “Alive,” she said and shut up. A few minutes later she let out a sigh. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “It’s my job.” He reached over and patted her arm. “But I was happy to do it. The cheesesteak was really good.”

  She smiled into the darkness at his joke, feeling a little better.

  An hour or so later, he stopped at a motel and told her to wait in the car while he went inside to get them a room. She ran her fingers through her hair and smoothed her hands over her shirt. It was stupid that the idea of sharing a room with Garrett was making her even more nervous. As if he cares.

  He was everything one would expect in a hot government agent. From the muscles and the flat hard chest, to the grin and the gruff demeanor, he was totally sexy and in control. She shook her head. He wasn’t interested in her, other than in keeping her alive so he could collect his paycheck.

  “Ridiculous,” she said out loud, and tried to stay calm.

  He came out and motioned her out of the car, went to the trunk, and removed a backpack.

  Once inside the room, he set the bag on the bed and pulled out some women’s clothes. He tossed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on the bed, along with two pairs of sweatpants. They appeared to be her size. He went to the window, pulled the curtain back to look out, and started texting someone.

  “Are these for me?” she asked.

  “I doubt they’d fit me.” He winked before checking the window again. “Keep the backpack. There’s toothpaste in the front pocket.”

  She wanted to hug him, but she didn’t. “Thank you.”

  “No need. It’s protocol. Your team will be here soon.”

  “Are you leaving?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I only do the extractions and cleanups. I don’t babysit. Besides, I still have a lot to do tonight.”

  Like staging her death?

  For a moment she wondered how he might do it, then realized it didn’t matter. Dead was dead, and as far as her friends would ever know, it was real.

  “Right. Well, thank you for everything. You know, for stealing my jewelry and holding a gun to my head.” She smiled so he would know it was a joke.

  To her surprise, he snorted, which seemed pretty close to a laugh. “Still nervous?” he guessed. “Your handlers are Deputy Marshals Tom Benson and Wendy Shultz. I’ve met Tom twice, but never Wendy. Tom’s a good guy. I’ve heard Wendy is kind of snooty, but competent.”

  Sam nodded, but was still stuck on being dead. “Why do you need to fake my death? Once I testify and the congressman is behind bars, I would be able to be me again.”

  Garrett was already shaking his head before she got all the words out. “Someone like Howe will be ready to petition for a retrial before the gavel is down. If something were to happen to you before a second trial, he could get off. That’s if we can get him behind bars in the first place.”

  She frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t we? I’m telling the truth. He did it.”

  “Proving that might be more difficult than you think.”

  “If I’m supposed to be dead, how can I testify? Won’t I be on the news?”

  He shook his head. “No. There are special procedures for protected witnesses. No one will know you’re still alive, except for the people who have to be in the cour
troom.”

  “Won’t Congressman Howe need to be in the room?” She seemed to remember something about having the right to face an accuser.

  “Yes, that’s unavoidable. But everyone else takes an oath of secrecy. And you’ll be gone again before anyone can start a rumor about you being alive.”

  She shouldn’t have asked. “Can I go change?” She pointed to the bathroom.

  “Sure.”

  She locked the door before washing her face and slipping on the comfy clothing. She sighed at her reflection.

  How on earth had she gotten here?

  A few days ago, she was happily serving pizza and had a boyfriend.

  Now, she was all alone in the world, and everyone she knew and loved would soon think she was dead.

  And if Howe ever found her, she really would be dead.

  Chapter Nine

  When Sam came out of the bathroom, the scene had completely changed. Garrett was gone, and in his place was a man about his size, but with white-blond hair. There was also a woman about Sam’s age. When she turned her head toward Sam, her chin-length black hair shimmered in the light.

  The woman smiled and held her hand out. “Hi, Ms. Hutchinson. I’m Deputy Marshal Shultz. Call me Wendy. And this is Deputy Marshal Tom Benson. We’ll be your protection detail until the trial.”

  “And I’m Sam.”

  Deputy Benson shook her hand and left the room. He was not attractive, and she didn’t see any dimples when he smiled. She missed Garrett already.

  “How long until the trial?” she asked.

  “Considering the subject hasn’t even been arrested, it could be a while. But we’re going to be great friends,” Wendy said with a fake smile.

  Sam didn’t like her already. She really, really wanted Garrett to come back.

  Wendy must have sensed her disappointment about becoming her gal-pal and frowned. “Get some sleep, we’ll be moving you in the morning,” she ordered, dropping the friend routine.

  Wendy moved her other clothes off the sofa and set them next to the television, snorting at the tag on the jeans Garrett had bought her.

  Sam gave an inward sigh and prayed the trial would come soon. She could already tell being dead was going to be a major inconvenience.