“It has great potential. It’d be a nice guest room,” I paused to consider other options, “or maybe a home office. Or even both.”
“Indeed. As you can see, I do sometimes work up here.” He picked up the files and deposited them on top of a plastic bin before moving the chair over by the wall. “Tonight I’ll try it out as a guest room.”
“You’re sleeping up here...on the floor?” I wondered, gazing at the clutter that was spread from one end of the loft to the other. The thought of taking his bedroom and consigning him to a night of bone-numbing discomfort sleeping on the floor kicked my sense of guilt into high gear. Surely that leather sofa downstairs would be a more pleasant alternative. More importantly, what if someone broke in while we were sleeping? I confessed my anxiety about having him so far away.
“Not to worry, Marigold. I’m fast on my feet. Now,” he gave me congenial smile, “how do you feel about pizza for dinner?”
We spent the evening relaxing on the sofa, the dog curled up between us. Just after nine, Lincoln’s phone chimed. I heard Ding, Dong! The Witch Is Dead. Looking at the screen, his brow creased in consternation. “Sorry, Marigold. I’ve got to take this call.”
“No problem.” I watched him walk away, speaking softly, as he padded up the stairs in his stocking feet. It was obvious that the caller was someone he knew intimately. Was it Deirdre or was it another woman?
Chapter Twelve
He came back and sat on the sofa half an hour later, subdued and serious. By that time, I had switched the channel to HGTV and was engrossed in a house tour. When he finally spoke, it was to apologize.
“I’m sorry about that.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to leave you on your own for so long.”
“Not to worry. Kary and I were just getting to know one another. He’s a big fan of belly rubs.”
“Aren’t we all?” His half-hearted attempt at humor couldn’t disguise the fact that he was distracted, a fact drilled home to me when his phone rang again and he vaulted to his feet. I heard the same tune. It had to be Deirdre. This time, Lincoln sequestered himself in the kitchen. I heard him utter few sharp words before he retreated to the far corner.
It was another ten minutes or so before he returned. This time his mood was sullen, and he didn’t bother trying to hide it. Lincoln sat back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. Was he waiting for his phone to ring again? Judging from the clenched fists, it looked like he was itching to have the last word in the next confrontation. No doubt he was rehearsing the words in his head, going over the points he wished to make. I decided the best course was to let him be, so he could figure it out for himself. At quarter to ten, I scooped up the dishes and took them into the kitchen, where I loaded them into the dishwasher.
Kary followed me into the kitchen, stopping at his bowl for a few sips of water. He leisurely stretched his body, like an athlete trying to work all the muscle groups, and then padded toward the front door.
“I think Kary wants to go out,” I announced. The dog gave a confirming bark, but Lincoln didn’t stir. I finished what I was doing and grabbed the harness and leash from the hook by the front door. Once he was buckled in, I tried again.
“Do you want me to take him out?” I called to him. Those brown eyes stared at me for a few seconds without registering, and then, as my hand touched the door handle, he came to his senses and hopped up.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. I’ll take him out.” Lincoln slipped his jacket on and zipped it up. “We won’t be long.”
There was a commercial on TV, so I took advantage of it and used the bathroom. After washing up, I checked my ear in the mirror, turning this way and that to see for myself what the injury looked like. It was still quite red, reminding me to take my medications. I grabbed my bag from the closet and popped the lids on the plastic bottles, counting out the requisite doses before replacing them in the bag and the bag in the closet. With pills in hand, I made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. That’s when something odd happened. I heard a strange little scratching at the door. For a brief second, I thought it might be Kary pawing the door, but then I ruled that possibility out as the door handle jiggled. A cold shiver passed through me. There was danger on the other side of that door -- of this, I had no doubt.
Tiptoeing across the wooden floor in my stocking feet, I pressed my eye to the peep hole. Sure enough, there was a dark-haired man trying to work the lock.
Some women might have screamed or bolted the door and thrown on the chain lock. Others might have reached for the phone and dialed 911. But I’m not an ordinary woman. I’ve been on the run, off and on, for nearly twenty years. For me, survival is the name of the game and decisions have to be made quickly. I did the only thing that came to mind. I bolted up those carpeted steps to the loft and made a beeline for the only place I thought would give me cover. Backing into the narrow space under the antique roll top desk, I pulled a couple of cartons towards me, making sure they were tall enough to hide me, and just in time, too, for I heard that front door latch click into place as the intruder let himself into Lincoln’s condo.
I could feel the thump-thump-thump of my heart against my chest. Biting my upper lip, I forced myself to keep still. This is not a good time to hyperventilate, I reminded myself. Steady breathing was in order. I was fairly confident that the intruder wouldn’t think to look under the desk. But what would happen when Lincoln and Kary returned? Would the FBI agent and his little dog come face-to-face with the man who broke in? What if it ended the way it did for Tovar, with my protector being shot? I would never be able to forgive myself.
As I huddled in my tiny rabbit hole, terrified, I could hear sounds downstairs. Doors opened and shut. Was the stranger searching for me? Time seemed to slow to a crawl as my knees cramped up on me. How long had Lincoln and the little dog been gone? Surely Kary had time to mark every single bush in the courtyard by now.
Even as I tried to envision my options, my mind raced forward to the worst case scenarios, and I cringed as I mentally flipped through the possible results. I wasn’t sure Lincoln was wearing his weapon, but it was likely his potential opponent was armed and dangerous. If only I had a phone. If only I had Lincoln’s number.
A soft footfall interrupted my musing. Was that stranger creeping up the stairs? Without moving a muscle, I strained to look through the narrow gap between plastic container and desk. I could see the top of a dark-haired head. I was about to get a glimpse of the eyes when a tiny buzzing sound startled the furtive figure and he dropped down onto the step.
“Yeah?” The voice was raspy. “Okay. No. Nothing. No sign of her. Maybe he dropped her off somewhere before he got home. Right. I’m leaving now. I’ll meet you out front.”
Abandoning all pretense of being quiet, the man rose and hurried down the stairs, threw open the front door, and let it slam as he ran away.
Thirty seconds later, Lincoln came busting in with a barking dog. There was panic in his voice.
“Marigold! Marigold, it’s me! Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m up here,” I called out, moving my makeshift barricade away from the roll top desk. The lean, long-legged FBI agent took the stairs two at a time and was by my side in time to help me stand up.
“Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine. How did you know?” I wondered.
“He came to the window just as I was looking up.”
“You saw him?”
“I did. He didn’t see me.”
“I heard him on the phone, Lincoln. He was looking for me.” I briefed him on the details. His dark eyes reflected his concern.
“Hmm, not good. We have to get you out of here, just in case these guys decide to come back. Come on,” he urged me. He hurried to the master bedroom, threw open the closet door, and grabbed my bag. On the way through the living room, he stopped at the closet and pulled out Kary’s crate and my jacket. “Hurry up. I don’t know how much time we’ll have.”
I expected him to lead me to the elevator and down to the parking garage, but instead, we took a left and followed the seemingly endless hallway almost all the way around the entire building. We passed more than forty doors on our journey. I know, because I eventually stopped counting.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked, breathless as I struggled to keep up with the long stride of the FBI agent.
“No conversation. I need to concentrate,” was all he said.
Little Kary was as confused as I was as he was jostled along in his master’s arms. We were both relieved when Lincoln finally slowed long enough to knock on a door. A moment later, it was opened by a middle-aged woman with a cane. I could see she had a black surgical boot on her left foot.
“Emergency,” the FBI agent told her. She stepped aside long enough to let us in. Seconds later, she shut the door and bolted it.
“Tom!” She crossed through the living room and hollered up the stairs. “Company! It’s Linc!”
“Be right down!”
“Make yourselves at home,” she suggested, waving us over to the sofa. “Kary, have you come to stay?”
“Not the way you think,” Lincoln acknowledged. “I’ve got a serious situation and I need some cover.”
“Ah,” she nodded. “So, this isn’t the dog-sitting we talked about on the phone.”
“No. Marigold,” he said, turning to me, “this is Joanne, better known as Jojo. She’s one of the best support services coordinators I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with at the FBI. She helps coordinate our surveillance teams.”
“Hi.” I put out my hand and shook hers; I was still not sure what was going on or why we were here.
“Nice to meet you, Mari....” the tall, handsome woman greeted me. She was on the other side of fifty, slightly plump, with round, cornflower blue eyes and a mellifluous voice that made me think of spring, of butterflies and buttercups and picnics on a blanket in a verdant meadow.
“Marigold, as in the flower,” I smiled. I caught her glancing at Lincoln as I said that. A barely perceptible nod confirmed that Marigold was indeed my name, at least this time around.
I caught the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs and a moment later a man appeared. He was grizzly bear-large, at least six-foot-six, with wide shoulders. He looked like he was carrying an extra twenty pounds in anticipation of his winter hibernation, but he had a pleasant-looking face and a rich baritone voice.
“Cornwall, what’s up? How was the skiing in the Catskills? You find yourself a new ski partner?” He looked from Lincoln to me, put out his hand, and greeted me like I was joining the family. “Hi, I’m Tom Erikson. How are you?”
Even as I reached up to shake his hand, Lincoln got between us. “No time. I got tracked back here by a couple of professionals and one of them just broke into my place while I was out with the dog. They’re looking to snatch Marigold, and we’re still trying to tie loose ends of a case together, which means she’s not yet in Witness Protection. I need some temporary shelter for her and I need to make transportation arrangements to get her out of here, sight unseen.”
“No problem,” Tom replied, sinking down onto the sofa beside Jojo. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need you to watch her for a couple of days and then put her on a plane with Kary down to Atlanta, where I’ll have Jeff arrange to pick her up. Think you can handle that for me?”
“Not a problem,” the other man agreed.
“Okay. I’ve got to go lay down some tracks, in case they’re watching me. Jojo, do whatever you have to do to transform her; no ifs, ands, or buts.”
“Will do. And don’t worry, we’ll look after them both,” she promised.
Lincoln stood up, kissed the cheek offered by the lady in the black boot, and then shook hands with Tom. “I appreciate this.”
A wave of panic swept over me as he stepped towards me. Was he really going to abandon me that easily? Who were these people and who was Jeff?
“You take good care of my little dog, Marigold. I expect to see him in one piece when he returns to me.”
“Oh,” I sighed, fighting back the unexpected tears. “I will.”
“Now, you do everything Jojo tells you to do, okay? She’s the best of the best. By the time she’s done with you, no one will recognize the old Marigold. And Tom’s a crackerjack shot. He’ll make sure no one harms you.”
“Okay.” Why was I so reluctant to see him go out that door? He’s the only one here who knows anything about me. He’s the only one here who knows my WitSec team was attacked.
“Marigold, you have to trust me on this. It’s going to be okay. You will be fine. You can handle this,” Lincoln promised me. He took my hand in his and gave it a little squeeze as those brown eyes gazed into mine, steady and sure. I wanted to believe him. As our hands parted, he crossed the room and went to the door, listening, looking through the peep hole. Stealthily opening it, he peered out, checking in both directions before he stepped out and vanished, as the door closed behind him.
An unexpected attack of hopeless came over me. What if I never saw Lincoln again? What if Tom and Jojo didn’t understand just how dangerous all of this really was? Maybe Lincoln should have just driven me to the FBI office and left me there.
“Well, there’s never a dull moment with that boy,” Tom announced, shaking his head and smiling, leaning back on the sofa. “I guess I’m not supposed to ask you for your personal information, Marigold. But I can see you’re rather nervous. Would it help you to know I was Linc’s boss at the FBI? I actually trained him on counterterrorism operations. This is just my way of letting you know I can and will protect you.”
“Oh,” I was finding it hard to breathe. My palms were growing clammy. Pain seemed to be wrapping like a tight band across my chest, squeezing the air out. Was I about to have a panic attack? Breathe, Marigold. Hold it for a count of three and then let it out slowly.
“Are you okay?” Jojo was studying me, her big, blue eyes serious. She was old enough to be my mother, and for a moment, I wished she was. I wanted people to tell me all the running was over, that I didn’t have to worry anymore. As if he could read my mind, Tom took his turn reassuring me.
“Linc dropped you off here because he’s going to go out and make a big spectacle of himself, to get some attention. He wants the people who are after you to keep an eye on him. Once he’s got them convinced you’re not with him, he’ll be able to reconnect with us. Does that make sense to you?”
His voice was kind and I wanted to trust him, but was that realistic? As I looked over at him, he met my gaze without blinking and I turned away, uncomfortable under his strong scrutiny. That’s when I realized he might be amiable at the moment, but if someone came after me, he’d fight hard and dirty.
“Jojo is going to give you a little makeover tomorrow, and get you some new clothes to wear. By the time she’s done, you’ll look like a million bucks.”
“It’s my job to make you unrecognizable, Marigold. When I put you on a plane to Atlanta, I need people to believe you are who I say you are,” Jojo insisted. “The more I can make you feel the part, the easier it will be for you to stay in character, and that will help you stay safe.”
“What does that mean?”
“You and your dog will be traveling together. I’ll have someone shadow you,” Tom interjected.
“But I don’t have a dog.”
Chapter Thirteen
“You do now, dear,” said Jojo, bending down to pick up the Shih Tzu. “Kary is going to help me give you cover.”
“It’s late. Why don’t we worry about all that tomorrow? In the meantime, we’ll show you to the guest room and get you settled for the night.” Tom picked up the dog crate and my bag before pointing to the stairs. “Right this way.”
Twenty minutes later, teeth brushed and lying in a plush guest bed, covers pulled up to my chin, I stared at the ceiling in the darkened room, watching the moonlight creep in through the window, when I heard a small w
himper from beside the bed. Reaching a hand out, I spread my fingers, trying to locate the furry head.
“What’s the matter, boy? You miss Lincoln?” That little bit of sympathy was exactly what the dog was hoping to hear. A moment later, I saw the silhouette of Kary standing on the chair next to the bed. To my horror, I realized he was about to jump. “No, no! Wait!”
Leaping up, I turned on the bedside lamp and dragged the chair closer. As soon as it was within hopping distance, Kary was on the bed, rolling around on the down comforter and having the time of his life.
“Fine. You can stay, but behave yourself,” I cautioned him.
I finally fell asleep a short time later, the small dog at my side, and when I woke up seven hours later, Kary was stretched out on the pillow , his nose inches from mine. Seconds after my eyelids fluttered, the fur ball was licking my cheek.
“Good morning to you, too,” I laughed, pulling him close for a hug. We lingered like that for another ten minutes, and then it was time to get up and get dressed.
Jojo was sitting at the table, hunched over the Washington Post with her mug of coffee in hand, when we arrived in the dining room. She looked up as the dog and I sauntered in. “How did you sleep?”
“Surprisingly well,” I acknowledged. It was true. For the first time in several days, I felt refreshed. I chalked that up to Kary’s companionship. Life was definitely better with the dog than without.
“Good. You look better,” she decided. She was wearing a blue sweater and tan slacks. Her booted left foot stuck out from the table. Her right foot, sporting a brown buckled loafer, was tucked behind the chair leg.
“Do I? It’s been a couple tough days.” I stopped and reminded myself that I couldn’t tell Jojo anything, no matter how much she seemed to know about the events that had unfolded back in Windham, New York. She might guess what I had been through, but I knew it wasn’t right for me to admit she was right on the mark.
“Don’t worry, Marigold. I’m not pumping you for information. Linc was here for breakfast. He briefed us on your situation.”
Reluctant Witness Page 10