Pieces of the Past (Witness Security Book 1)

by Jamie Hill

  The hidden cell phone was his only lifeline to the outside world, and lately, no one seemed too interested in speaking with him. The man he’d put in charge of the family’s surveillance hadn’t called in days, which meant he’d either lost them or been apprehended himself. Imbecile.

  Thank God the trial was slated to begin soon. He wasn’t confident of the outcome, but at least it meant he’d be out in the world again, if even for a few weeks. And if things didn’t go his way, he had a ‘Plan B’ up his sleeve. It was risky, and it involved several elements falling into place at once, but he thought it was doable. The worst thing that would happen if it failed was that he’d be back in the slammer. But if the plan succeeded, and he somehow made it to the bus station locker which held his passport, some clothes and a disguise, he’d be shuffling off to Buffalo before the stupid cops and feds knew what hit them. In Buffalo, another locker, another disguise, and his overseas bank account information. His final stop would be Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and a life on easy street.

  If everything falls into place.

  It was a big if, but the payout would be worth it.

  He stretched his legs out on the bed, weaved his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes.

  The familiar clanking sound of the door startled his eyes open. He’d already had lunch and it wasn’t his exercise day. Shakedowns usually happened later at night.

  One of the friendlier guards, Jones, gazed in the small window of his solid door. “What’d you go and do now? Somebody wants to see you.”

  He waited to see what face appeared in the window next, but there wasn’t one. Instead, more clanking as his door opened.

  Jones held out a pair of handcuff. “Let’s have ‘em.”

  He extended his arms so the guard could snap the cuffs around his wrists.

  “I won’t use the ankle shackles if you promise to behave yourself. We have a long way to walk and it’ll take forever with you shuffling.”

  His heart thumped. “Where we going?” It couldn’t be too exciting. He’d tried to bribe all the guards early on, but none of them had taken the bait. Still, Jones was more decent to him than some of the sadistic sons-of-bitches.

  “I told you, you have a visitor. Let’s go.” Jones nudged him out the door, billy club wedged against his ribs.

  “Is it my lawyer?”

  Jones didn’t reply, and they walked on.

  “Just asking, because I don’t get many visitors.”

  “I don’t know who it is. I can tell you, she doesn’t look like no lawyer.” His chuckle reverberated in the empty hallway.

  She? His mind raced, and apparently he slowed his gait.

  The club poked his side. “Damn it, Stewart, get a move on. I ain’t got all day.”

  “Sorry.” Larry quickened his pace. I can only think of one ‘she’. He smiled.

  * * * *

  Chicago, Illinois

  Christine slid into the back seat of the shiny black SUV. Doug climbed in next to her and closed the door. Even though it was just the two of them, she gravitated toward the middle so their legs touched.

  He nudged this thigh against hers in understanding.

  When McGuire suggested she ride with him to be briefed on the way to the prison, and that Doug could ride with Gilford, she’d panicked. She hadn’t meant to clutch Doug’s hand, but did so without thinking.

  The prosecutor and the FBI agent had looked at her like she was crazy.

  Doug, her champion, had squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Ms. Scott is my responsibility. We’ll stay together. You can brief her whenever you like, but I’m not leaving her.”

  No one argued.

  The ride to the prison was short. Christine glanced up at the tall, formidable building. Larry had been at a different facility, the one time she spoke to him in prison. She didn’t like the looks of this intimidating place.

  “This is it,” McGuire said from the front seat. “The Metropolitan Correctional Center.”

  “It’s big,” was all she could think of to say.

  “Twenty-eight stories, with a roof-top exercise facility. Opened in 1975, it’s a unique design in the shape of a right triangle. The only way you can really tell that is to look down on it from the Willis Tower.”

  Doug glanced at her and whispered, “What’chu talkin’ about, Willis?”

  McGuire continued, “Used to be the Sears Tower. Built in that same decade, from 1973 to 1998 it was the tallest building in the world. Do you know what the tallest building is now?”

  She glanced at Doug and he shrugged, a small smile creasing his lips.

  Christine looked at McGuire. “I don’t know, since the World Trade Center is being rebuilt.”

  “That’s fourth. First is The Burj Kahlifa in Dubai, officially since 2010. Of course that’s subject to change as the world continues to build upward.”

  Doug whispered, “Talk about your useless knowledge.”

  Her eyes bulged as she made a motion to shush him.

  McGuire didn’t seem to notice. “So here’s the run down. When we go in, you’ll be lightly frisked for weapons by a woman guard. We won’t, because we’ll remain outside of the interrogation room.”

  Panic raced through her again. “I’ll be alone with him?”

  “Not really. There’s a large two-way mirror, and we’ll observe the whole exchange. Stewart will be handcuffed to the table. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “Handcuffed,” she murmured. She couldn’t help thinking how humiliating that would be for Larry.

  Doug seemed to read her mind. “He did this to himself, Christi. He’s in here because of his own actions.”

  Tears filled her eyes and she blinked to hold them back. “I know, but it’s all so mixed up. When this started, they were mainly interested in his testimony against Martin Newsome.”

  McGuire shook his head. “Not totally. If that was the extent of his involvement, he would have entered Witsec with you and the rest of his family. We knew he was a player, that’s why he wasn’t offered total immunity.”

  “A player.” Her mind raced as she turned her attention to a squirrel playing outside her window. “He was my husband. I never thought of him as ‘a player’.”

  Doug knocked his knee against hers. “Speaking of which, when you go in those doors you’re Christine Stewart again. No mention of your new name or where you’ve been living. Got it?”

  She glanced at him. “Yes. What if he asks?”

  “Say ‘I can’t tell you that’. Don’t let him trip you up with questions. He’ll ask about the kids, and might try to slip something in on you.”

  The prosecutor shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about that. When you leave you’ll be getting new identities. Focus on the reason we’re here.”

  His attempt at reassurance didn’t ease her mind. She’d been thinking in terms of staying in Topeka or moving back to Chicago. Changing identities again and going someplace totally new seemed out of the question.

  Doug shook his head. “His opinion doesn’t necessarily jibe with Witsec’s. I don’t want Stewart to know where you’ve been living, or under what name. Are we clear?”

  “Of course.” The more time that passed, the more she realized Doug truly had her best interests at heart. “So,” she looked at McGuire. “The reason we’re here?”

  He nodded. “We’d like you to find out where the money is, but you can’t jump right into that. You’ll need to make a little small talk first. Don’t mention Ethan right away, and don’t mention Lillian at all. Let’s leave that information out for now. Be friendly with Larry. Get him comfortable talking to you, like he used to be.”

  Comfortable? Yeah, right.

  “Any crime you can get Stewart to admit to is icing on the cake. Our main focus is the money. When it feels right, get around to it. Tell him someone has taken Ethan for ransom, and suggested he’d know how to get the money. Ask him why they’d think that. Lay it all on him. To get Ethan back, he needs to disclose the whereab
outs of his stash, if he will.”

  She blinked. “Of course he will. Ethan’s the most important thing in the world to him.”

  Rubbing his chin, Doug made a face. “Didn’t he put the money ahead of his family when he got involved with this mess?”

  “He said he did it for us.”

  “You still believe everything he said to you? The love, honor and cherish business didn’t quite work out, either, did it?”

  Christine turned away. “No, it sure didn’t,” she said bitterly.

  His hand brushed her knee but he didn’t leave it there. She wished he would have.

  McGuire opened his door. “Let’s get going and see what happens. They say not to underestimate the power of a parent’s love. Stewart may surprise us.”

  She glanced at Doug once more. “I’m not sure he can surprise me any more than he already has.”

  He smiled sadly before reaching for the door handle. “Let’s find out.”

  She allowed Doug and McGuire to flank her as they entered the building. The FBI agent, Gilford, and another suited man waited for them inside. No one bothered with introductions, the men just joined their group and they all pressed forward.

  Doug and the others were asked to show their badges and weapons before entering the next room.

  Christine’s heart thumped loudly in her chest. She’d never imagined this scenario in a million years. Of course, over the last twelve months or so, she’d found herself in many situations she’d never envisioned.

  Once the men had been cleared, they were all led into a small, sterile room with no furniture, and a large window on one wall. Christine peered through it and spotted the next room, containing one table and two chairs. She shivered.

  A uniformed brunette joined them. “Mrs. Stewart? I’ll need to check you for weapons.”

  She didn’t bother to correct the woman, just nodded.

  The frisking was similar to what was done in an airport security line, and was over as quickly as it started. Painless. She hoped the next part would be.

  A door in the next room opened, and a guard led a man in an orange jumpsuit in.

  Larry? Christine was shocked. He’d lost at least twenty pounds, a lot for a man who didn’t need to lose any to begin with. His light brown hair looked thinner and more straggly than she remembered it. He was definitely overdue for a trim. The mustache and beard surprised her the most. In their nearly twenty years together, he’d never worn facial hair. He’d never been to prison, either, she thought wryly.

  He was handcuffed, and once seated, the guard attached the cuffs to something under the table.

  “He won’t be able to touch you,” McGuire said.

  “Physically,” she countered, trying to decide if she was going to be sick.

  Doug circled an arm around her shoulders. “You can do this. You’re stronger than you realize.”

  She swiped at an errant tear. “I don’t feel that strong.”

  He leaned in so only she could hear. “If I had my way you wouldn’t go in there at all. I’d slip in and punch him in the teeth. I think I could take him with those handcuffs in place.”

  It was hard not to smile. “Thank you,” she whispered back, and wanted to say much more. Hopefully, there’d be time for that later.

  “You ready?” McGuire asked.

  She nodded.

  The prosecutor steered her by the elbow. “One more thing. If we want you to stop talking we’ll knock on the window, then someone will come and get you.”

  “Okay.” She made eye contact with Doug once more before the man led her out.

  Doug smiled and nodded encouragingly. “For Ethan.”

  It was just the boost she needed. She could do anything for the sake of her children.

  The guard led her into the interrogation room. Face to face with Larry for the first time in ten months, Christine couldn’t fathom where to begin.

  His hungry gaze took in her appearance, roving from head to toe before settling on her eyes. His face lit up. “Who do we have here? Hello Chris. You look great.” He smiled at the guard. “This is my wife.”

  The air of pride in his voice sickened her. He had nothing to be smug about. She wanted to say ‘ex-wife’ but didn’t correct him, unwilling to take a chance on angering Larry before they talked about the money—and Ethan. Sitting across from him, she said simply, “Hello Larry.”

  Backing out of the room, the guard closed the door.

  Larry directed his smile at her. “Alone at last. Well, as alone as we’re going to be.” His gaze flickered to the large mirror then back.

  He knows we’re being observed. She was comforted having Doug and the others watching, but could guess how Larry felt about it. He was observed every minute of every day.

  “You really do look good, Chris. Tan and fit. You’re living someplace warm now? Florida? Arizona?”

  Before she could speak he went on, “Never mind, I know you can’t answer that.” Another glance toward the mirror, then his gaze settled back on her. “Did they mention I wrote to you? Every week. When I first got here it was more often than that.”

  Stunned, she shook her head. “I never received any letters.”

  “I know. They’re probably sitting in some Witsec bin, somewhere. Or the district attorney’s office. He probably opened them to see if I spilled anything juicy to you.”

  Christine shrugged. “No idea, but I never got them. What would you have to ‘spill’, Larry? The last time we talked, you told me this was all a big misunderstanding. And that if you confided everything you knew about Martin Newsome, you’d probably be released when his trial was over.”

  He smiled again. “That’s the plan. One more week, give or take a few days for the trial. Isn’t that amazing?”

  “Incredible.” She forced a smile, but it felt plastic, even to her. Does he really think he’ll be released, or is that a story for my benefit?

  Even though McGuire had told her not to jump right to Ethan, the stress was agonizing. She had to bring him up. “Larry, there’s something more that you’re not telling.”

  “What more could there possibly be?” His eyes glazed with lust and he licked his lips. “Oh, my beautiful Chris. I sure wish this was one of those conjugal visits I’ve heard about. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen your beautiful body, and touched your soft skin. If they’d give me just one hour—aw, hell, who am I kidding?” He chuckled. “It wouldn’t take an hour. Like I said, it’s been waaay too long.”

  Her stomach rolled. Prison had changed him, if he could speak to her that way when he knew federal agents and marshals were watching. It’d changed him in other ways, too. He was delusional if he thought they could ever get back together. Maybe she was the one who’d changed. Perhaps he’d always been delusional.

  “This is important, Larry.” Her tone was sharper than she’d intended. “It’s about Ethan.”

  His grin widened. “How is that littler scamp? Still rooting for the Cubbies? They’re doing okay this year. I guess he’s not allowed to do that. What team does he cheer for these days, Chris? The Florida Marlins? St. Louis Cardinals?”

  The last one cut a little too close for comfort, but she didn’t let him see that. “Of course not. He’ll always love the Cubs, thanks to his daddy. Thanks to you.” She leaned forward. “He loves you so much, Larry. Both kids do. They miss you every day.”

  His face showed no emotion. “What about you? Miss me, baby?”

  He never called me baby. It occurred to her that his show of bravado was probably for the people watching, and not really for her. She swallowed the unpleasant taste in her mouth and tried to smile. “Of course. We were together a long time.”

  “We were good together, too. You gotta admit that.” He licked his upper lip.

  Christine’s stomach rolled, but she kept Ethan foremost in her mind. “Sure.” She tried to soften her forced smile. “But honey, listen. We have a problem. Someone’s taken Ethan.”

  His jaw slackened
. “What?”

  “Kidnapped. For ransom. The note said you’d know where to get the money.”

  His shock quickly turned to anger and he lunged forward, rattling his cuffs and shaking the table.

  Christine jumped back, startled. Relieved to see the table was secured to the floor and that his handcuffs were tight, she forced herself to relax. “What are they talking about, Larry? Where would you get the money?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” he roared, enraged. “You come in here all friendly and lovey dovey, then drop the bomb that someone’s kidnapped my son?”

  “I couldn’t—I didn’t want to—upset you by just laying it on you. I was trying to break the news gently.”

  He froze and stared at her. “You didn’t want to upset me? Are you fucking crazy?” He took some deep breaths and tried to regain composure. When he spoke again, his voice was steely. “Or maybe you’re working with the cops to get information. Why don’t you seem very upset Chris? You’re much too calm. The woman I knew would fucking lose it if her son had really been taken.”

  Fear and anger bubbled up from inside her. She slammed her palm on the table as tears rushed out. “Don’t even tell me how I should be feeling. My son was snatched from our so-called safe house by a man who was supposed to be a United States Marshal. You think I don’t feel like shit about that? I had one job when all this started—one job. To protect my children.”

  “You screwed that up royally, didn’t you? Peyton ran off and E got snatched. You’re a stupid bitch and a lousy mother. When I get out of here, I should sue you for custody.”

  She thought her head might explode. “Excuse me? Five minutes ago you wanted to make love with me, now you’re calling me a stupid bitch? I’m smart enough to know that orange isn’t an attractive color.”

  He lunged for her again and she back pedaled. A loud knock sounded on the window then the door opened. The female guard had returned. “Mrs. Stewart, would you step out please?”

  Shaking, she rose and headed for the door.

  “Come back here!” Larry yelled. “God damn it, come back here you crazy bitch!”

  Christine kept walking. The door closed behind her, and she was in the room with all the men. She sought out Doug and looked up at him. “Oh my God!”