by Julie Miller
A healer at heart, Jane dropped her hand to his thigh and dug her fingers into the knotted muscle there. She heard an audible grunt at his initial jolt of pain and he jerked from her touch. But Jane refused to stop when he was so clearly hurting, and gradually his breathing eased as the spasms eased and the cord of muscle relaxed. This was the kind of thing a woman would do for her man—it was a private help, an intimate connection two people who understood each other’s secrets shared. And she realized that was the bond she shared with Thomas. Workplace propriety and WITSEC rules couldn’t change that. “I couldn’t reach my phone to call him. I couldn’t even think. I was just reacting. I needed to feel safe.”
“I make you feel safe?” He put his hand over hers, stopping the massage, waiting for her answer.
That’s why her instincts had driven her here. To Thomas. She tilted her gaze to his and nodded.
Thomas wound his arms around her, pulling her onto her toes as he hugged her tightly against him. “I’ll go with you to talk to Wildman. I’ll tell him we’ve expanded your protection detail.” She felt him nuzzling the crown of her head before he pressed a kiss there. “I told you I protect my family. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re not safe again.”
Chapter Six
“Yes. I understand.”
Listening in on this end of the phone call while he drove Jane across town to the house she still maintained as a meeting site with her WITSEC handler, Thomas gathered that whatever Marshal Wildman was telling her wasn’t making her happy. Although that blank look in her eyes and the pallor of her skin had improved since she’d walked into the back of the conference room that morning, the tone of her voice sounded tired, resigned even. She’d picked at the chef’s salad Millie had prepared for their lunch after taking Seamus home to rest. Maybe he should have insisted she stay home and nap, too, while he handled this conversation with Conor Wildman and his supervisor alone.
“No, I don’t want to put it off.”
But whether she slept or ate or flashed back to a nightmare that had sent her straight into the arms of a man who was closer to sixty than she probably realized, the woman was stubborn. And strong. And determined to take an active part in tracking down Badge Man, even if it put her own life at risk.
“Of course I remember him. I didn’t realize he was working on the investigation.”
Two thoughts were eating away at Thomas’s insides as he checked his mirrors and the road ahead of him once again, looking for a white van or signs of anyone else who might be following them. One, he couldn’t believe Badge Man was the killer she’d identified as her late husband’s murderer. The man had been preying on law enforcement officials for eight years now, yet had gone to ground after each kill and eluded capture. There were few wanted men in the whole country more dangerous than the calculating killer who carved a message in every victim’s chest.
And two, what was he supposed to make of Jane’s confession that he was the man who made her feel safe? He was almost twenty years older than her. Maybe it was a paternal thing—she said she didn’t have any family. A father figure was probably reassuring to her. Only, that woman did not make him feel like her daddy one bit. Not when she put her hands on him and clung to him and kissed him like that. Not when he could get stiff just by accidentally rubbing against her curves and smelling her sweet, fresh scent. He knew he had that whole life experience thing going for him—he knew a lot about a lot of things, he knew how to pull rank and take charge of a situation. And he was in good shape for a man his age—he had to be to wear the badge. But he also needed reading glasses to go over a crime report and had a leg that could cramp up and fail him if he pushed its endurance too far.
Testosterone and good old-fashioned male pride had pumped through his system when he realized she’d come to him before any other man on the planet to help her through that PTSD episode and ease her fears. She’d needed him. And hell, he hadn’t had a woman need him for anything other than his badge or an escort to some boring charity banquet for a long, long time. Thomas wanted to protect Jane more than anything. He wanted to be the man she needed. But that kind of need scared the crap out of him, too.
What if his eyes or his leg failed him? What if he was too slow? What if he found out she wanted a daddy or a Dutch uncle, when he wanted her to call him darling?
Well, one thing wisdom and experience had taught him was that it was smart to think five or six steps ahead in any situation—but it was also vitally important to stay in the moment, to deal with the task at hand. All that planning for possible scenarios, good or bad, wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good if he didn’t survive the present.
“We’ll be there in about five minutes.” Jane was ending her phone call from Wildman. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
She dropped her phone back into her purse on the front seat of the truck. Even with a dent from a bullet in the tailgate and a new set of tires on the back, he trusted the horsepower and solid steel construction of his pickup more than any rental or borrowed vehicle. The fact was, his truck had stopped those bullets, and from here on out, Thomas planned to do whatever was necessary to ensure Jane’s safety.
Her sigh was audible as she leaned back against the headrest. “It won’t just be Conor’s supervisor there with him. Apparently, that state trooper’s murder has galvanized the Bureau’s investigation. There’s an FBI agent there from Washington, DC, too, to interview me.”
“Can you tell him anything new?”
“No. I didn’t get a look at the shooter on Friday or the driver this morning. All I saw was a gun or a finger pointed at me. I certainly didn’t get close enough to tell if he had two different-colored eyes or a tattoo on his neck.”
“KCPD has a BOLO out for the van. Thanks to the partial Dad gave us Friday night, we could trace it back to a delivery company that went out of business last year. The owner claims a lot of his assets were stolen before he declared bankruptcy.”
“Sounds like an insurance scam.”
“Or his lax security was the reason he went out of business. Hud and Keir will follow up on it.”
She’d changed into blue jeans and a cotton turtleneck, and Thomas idly realized that this was the first time they’d ever spent any time together when she wasn’t dressed in one of her nursing uniforms...or her pajamas. He liked the way these clothes gently hugged her curves. Probably liked it a little too much. “I should probably tell you that I know the agent who’ll be there. He and Freddie worked together in the violent crimes unit. They were friends.”
“Maybe he volunteered to come to KC to conduct the interview so he could check on you, make sure you’re in one piece. I used to check on my partner Al’s wives—one at a time, I promise—and he’d look after my Mary any time one of us pulled stakeout duty or an undercover assignment.” He and Mary had shared a lot of good times and family events with Al and wives one and two before Mary had died. Wife three had come after Mary’s death, and the marriage had barely lasted a year. But Thomas had still looked in on Brenda Junkert for those thirteen months of marriage if Al had asked him to. In fact, even though Al was more businessman than cop these days, it would be worth a phone call to him, as well as his sons and daughter whom he’d already alerted to Jane’s situation, to get his help keeping an eye on her until Badge Man was apprehended or Jane was moved into a safe house. “When you work together in a dangerous job, you get close. Not just with your partner or team, but with their families. But you probably already know that. I’m guessing he wants to see with his own eyes that you’re okay.”
“I guess. But I thought that Levi—Agent Hunt—and the people Freddie used to work with didn’t know where I’d been relocated. I haven’t seen him in three years. I was surprised to hear from him.”
“You still want to do this?”
“Will you be with me?” Her fingers inched across the seat.
; Thomas reached out to meet her halfway and squeezed her hand. “Every step of the way.”
Her grip was strong when she squeezed back. “Then yes. I want to do whatever I can to help catch this guy.”
A few minutes later, he pulled up behind a big black government-issue SUV and a sporty Cadillac with rental plates in front of the unassuming brick ranch house that Jane called home. When she reached for her door handle, Thomas patted her arm. “Hold on a sec.”
He climbed out of the truck and scanned the surrounding houses, making sure there was nobody hanging around who didn’t fit the suburban atmosphere or who seemed extra curious about the parade of vehicles parked on their block in the middle of the afternoon. Then he went to both vehicles. The Cadillac was locked and empty, and he showed his badge to the driver sitting in the FBI car, asking him to identify himself with his FBI badge in return. Once he was certain the area was secure, he went back to the truck and escorted Jane into the house.
Conor Wildman greeted them with handshakes and an apology to Jane. “Sorry to gang up on you like this,” he whispered before bolting the door behind them and walking them into the living room.
A dark-haired man about Thomas’s height, but with the build of a distance runner beneath his black suit and tie, rose from the sofa where he’d been chatting with another man and strode across the room to swallow Jane up in a big hug. “Hey, pretty lady. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. The marshals office isn’t exactly keen on giving up where they stash their witnesses. But I made a pretty good case to see you again.” He pulled back to sweep his gaze over her from head to toe. “You’re not a blonde anymore. And you’ve lost weight. But you’re looking great. How are you?”
Thomas might have bristled at the way the agent kept his hands on Jane’s shoulders, but she was smiling. “The blond wasn’t natural, so this is a lot easier to take care of. How are you, Levi?”
“I’m good. Miss your stuffed jalapeño bites at our backyard barbecues, but I’m good.”
“And Dorie?”
He rolled his dark eyes. “Pregnant again.”
“What is that, your fourth?”
“Fifth.” At last he lowered his hands. “You missed one since you’ve been gone. Another boy. Dorie’s still hoping for a girl.”
“Tell her I wish her luck.”
The other man from the couch got up, buttoning his gray suit jacket as he joined them. “You won’t be telling her anything. Emily Davis is dead, remember?” He thrust a hand at Jane. “Oscar Broz, area supervisor, US Marshals Office. Ms. Boyle.”
Thomas’s hand was at the small of Jane’s back the moment she jumped at Broz’s abrupt interruption. She shook the black-haired man’s hand. “Marshal Broz.”
Thomas thrust his hand into the mix, too, reminding them all that Jane wasn’t alone here. “Detective Lieutenant Thomas Watson, KCPD.”
Marshal Broz’s skin was unnaturally sallow for a man with such black curly hair. Thomas imagined his unhealthy pallor had a lot to do with job stress or smoking the cigars whose scent clung to his clothes, or both. Although he shook Thomas’s hand, he was quickly dismissed as the senior marshal chided Jane. “You do remember the WITSEC agreement, don’t you? I wasn’t pleased to hear that you told a civilian about being a protected witness. One small leak and the whole dam can break.”
Jane’s chin came up and she defended him before Thomas could say a word. “Lieutenant Watson is hardly a civilian. He’s a decorated police officer and air force veteran with more years of defending people than you’ve had. I trust him.”
Broz’s nostrils flared and he turned away to call someone on his cell phone, muttering something about spoiled women not following the rules. Thomas was about to point out to Broz that if his office had done a better job following the rules, then Jane wouldn’t have been in the middle of two possible attempts on her life.
But Jane slipped her arm behind his waist and pulled him forward to meet her friend. “Levi, this is Thomas Watson. Agent Levi Hunt.”
“Glad to know you, Lieutenant.”
“Agent Hunt.”
“Levi. Please.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Oscar Broz was intent on the man he was chewing out on his phone before he leaned in and whispered. “Frankly, I’m glad to know Emily’s got backup of her own.”
“You mean Jane,” Thomas corrected, reminding him to protect her identity.
“Right. If she was in DC, all of us who worked with Freddie would be stepping up to help. I mean, the marshals program is solid, but this Badge Man is clever. He doesn’t leave prints or DNA. He’s functional enough to go for months at a time without anyone being suspicious of him. And he knows police procedure. Identify a target. Learn his routine. Know when the target is going to be vulnerable to attack. Alone. Asleep.”
“Freddie was asleep in the house by himself that night. I was supposed to be at work until seven a.m., but I got sick.” Jane’s fingers fisted at the small of his back. The details weren’t new to her, but reliving the timeline of her husband’s last hours had to be difficult. A quick glance down showed her hazel eyes were clear, even glittering with a bit of angry gold. Good. She wasn’t going into another flashback. Still, unless she protested, he was sliding his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t, and Thomas pulled her to his side.
“Doesn’t sound like the kind of guy to try to run somebody off the road on a busy highway,” Thomas pointed out.
Levi stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and shrugged. “True. But our guess is that he’s spiraling out of control. Killing that state trooper was already a deviation from his routine—impromptu isn’t this guy’s way.” He frowned when he looked down at Jane again. “And if he’s heading west to find the one person who can identify him...”
“Then he’s already broken his pattern.” Thomas understood profiling, too. “All his victims have been men in law enforcement. Coming after Jane is new territory for him, so his methodology could be changing.”
“That’s why the Bureau wants to move on this. The odds of him making a mistake are a hundred percent more likely when he doesn’t stick to what he knows. Our chances of catching him now are stronger than ever.”
Jane might be reliving some bad memories, but she tamped them down to be a part of the conversation. He was proud to see that resilient strength in her. “Has your investigation into Freddie’s murder, and the other murders, stalled out?”
The dark-haired agent shrugged. “Let’s just say they’ve cooled. Sad to say, but we’re hoping that him killing that trooper in Indiana will give us some new intel.”
“And you want to interview me again to compare my testimony to anything you might find there?”
“Exactly. We could use the help. If you’re up to it.”
Jane took a deep breath and nodded. “Anything to help catch this guy. Freddie would want me to.”
Conor stuck his head around the corner from the kitchen. “I made coffee. I had a feeling this could take a while.”
After they all poured some coffee and doctored it to their tastes, Agent Hunt took Jane into the back bedroom to conduct his interview while Thomas got to hang out with Marshals Broz and Wildman in the living room.
Although these men were professionals, trained to watch what they said and revealed to others, Thomas had conducted enough interrogations and observed enough suspects to pick up on subtle behavior cues.
Levi Hunt might be buddy-buddy with Jane, but there was something eating at him. Maybe it was the guilt and frustration of not being able to solve his friend’s murder.
Conor Wildman seemed to be a laid-back guy at first glance. In a way, although their physical looks were different, he reminded Thomas of his youngest son, Keir. He could be charming and friendly on the surface, but underneath, he was serious about his job, determined to do right by the witness entrusted
to his care. Maybe the only reason he hadn’t voiced the objections he was clearly stewing about was because he was deferring to his supervisor’s authority.
As for Oscar Broz, if that guy interrupted another conversation to make or take a call with someone named Jackson, he was going to smack that phone out of his hand. A couple of the calls he’d overheard had been about stocking and prepping a new safe house in the KC area. Others had been about transferring funds to take care of whatever Jackson kept pressing him on. What the man lacked in manners he made up for in condescending rudeness. He only hoped Broz was better at the job of managing his projects and backing up his marshals on the front line than he was at public relations.
“I’m aware of the profile.” Thomas didn’t ruffle when Broz pointed out that his being a cop made him a potential target if Badge Man decided to come to Kansas City. “Every man here is wearing a badge, and your guy doesn’t discriminate between agencies. You’re as much a target as I am, Marshal. That doesn’t mean we stop doing our jobs.”
A snickering expression from Wildman earned a snort from Broz and another call to the mysterious Jackson.
When the boss left the room, Conor set his cold mug on the coffee table and leaned forward on the sofa to rest his elbows on his knees and finally talk some useful business with Thomas. “I’ve read everything I can find on this guy, and the FBI doesn’t have much more than a profile to go on. How are we supposed to protect Jane when we don’t know who we’re watching out for?”
The young man definitely reminded him of Keir. Conor Wildman wanted to learn, and he wanted to be good. Thomas sat in the chair to Conor’s right and matched his posture. “I think there are tells we can look for.” He’d been giving this some thought since listening to Jane’s story and reading up on the case himself. “I’m sure the FBI has looked into Badge Man’s motives. He’s either been the victim of police—the child of a cop or agent who abused him, a criminal who got roughed up more than he liked or set up by a crooked cop—or he’s a cop wannabe who washed out of academy training or was relieved of duty somewhere. He’s showing us he’s better than we are.”