The Deep End

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  Security was tighter than CJ had ever seen it, a wall of federal officers waiting for her just outside the courtroom. They moved to shield her as they led her through the hallway, down the stairs, and out a side door. The air was thick with humidity as they stepped out into the late-afternoon heat. In the distance, CJ could see the Washington Monument against the gray sky.

  She slid into the waiting car and looked around nervously. Was that really it? Except for being face-to-face with Rush, the trial had not been much different from the others she had testified in. Somehow she had thought she would feel a great sense of relief and freedom when it was over, but she felt neither. Of course, the possibility still remained that Rush could be acquitted, but she wasn’t going to think about that. Certainly after the overwhelming evidence the prosecution had presented, the jurors would see the truth, and the evidence would hold up to the standard “beyond a reasonable doubt.”

  Glancing outside, CJ watched pedestrians along the sidewalks. Her nerves buzzed as she remembered what it was like to walk outside without the protection of the government.

  As though reading her mind, Tara spoke. “Are you ready to be rid of us?”

  “I can’t even remember what it’s like to not have you guys around.”

  “Well, we’ll still be around at least through the Olympic trials, and probably through the Olympics.” Tara checked the vehicles on her side of the car as they started their circuitous route back to the hotel. Without looking over at CJ, Tara added, “I am counting on a free trip to the Olympics, so you had better not let me down.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” CJ said wryly. She glanced back as the courthouse disappeared from view. “How much longer do you think the trial will last?”

  “It’s hard to say. A week, maybe two.”

  “I hope it’s over soon.”

  “I know.”

  * * *

  Doug tapped his pen anxiously on the pad of paper in front of him. He had been waiting for this call from Interpol for weeks.

  “We think Malloy’s hiding out in Bonaire,” the Interpol agent informed him.

  “How long do you think it will take to track him down?” Doug asked, afraid to get his hopes up.

  “That’s hard to say. We already have the airport staked out, and the island authorities have a couple of boats strategically placed to check out anyone who is island hopping or heading for Venezuela. The island only has about ten thousand residents, so he won’t be able to hide for long, especially since we now have the entrance visas from the day Malloy arrived. We’ll check out all of the addresses for those that entered that day. Eventually we’ll find him.”

  “The sooner the better,” Doug declared, wishing there was something more he could do to move things along.

  “I’ll check in with you in a couple of days unless something develops sooner.”

  “I appreciate it.” Doug hung up the phone. Now that CJ had finished testifying, Malloy was the last credible threat to her. Doug didn’t know if Malloy was operating under Rush’s orders or if Malloy was worried that someday CJ might testify against him. Regardless, the Olympic trials were going to be a logistical nightmare if Malloy was still at large by then.

  Logically, Doug knew that he should try to prevent CJ from swimming in the Olympic trials if Malloy was still out there. Emotionally, however, Doug worried that if he pushed the issue, CJ would simply choose to leave protective custody. She might just be willing to take the chance once Rush was convicted, especially since she was so anxious to be with Matt again.

  Matt had already moved to Florida, or more accurately, his belongings had been relocated to Florida. He had joined up with the Marlins in time to play just two home games before they had left on a long road trip. Doug hoped that by the time Matt returned the next evening, the final verdict for Rush’s trial would be in. Maybe then they could all relax a little.

  * * *

  Jimmy Malloy took one last look around his house by the ocean. He hated to lose it, but sometimes one had to sacrifice the things one held most dear. Malloy glanced over at Miguel lying on the couch. The drugs Malloy had put into Miguel’s drink earlier that evening had taken full effect and would not wear off until it was too late. Miguel had been a loyal employee for nearly three years. Malloy regretted that their friendship had to end this way, but what else could he do? The police needed to find a body or his plan wouldn’t work.

  He knew the cops might order an autopsy, but Malloy had already taken care of that potential problem. He had paid off a local dentist so that the dental records used for identification would reveal that Jimmy Malloy had died in the fire, rather than Miguel Artez. It was amazing what some people would do for money.

  Picking up Miguel’s passport and the last of his things, Malloy placed his own wallet and passport into Miguel’s jacket pocket. He then picked up the book of matches from the coffee table. Striking one, he let it fall into the wooden bin filled with discarded newspapers. The flames grew immediately, rapidly eating through the paper and then flickering as the wood caught on fire.

  Jimmy moved toward the front door, looking back at the fire as it licked at the curtains. With one last look around, he walked out of the house and got into Miguel’s car. He started down the hill, checking his watch. He stopped as he left the neighborhood, looking out over the ocean. Ten minutes later, he could see the smoke pluming from his home. Malloy started once again toward the airport, refusing to look back.

  He knew that Interpol had people at the airport, but he doubted they would remain for long once they determined that he was dead. Relying on his patience, Malloy stopped at a restaurant and forced himself to linger over lunch. After finishing his meal, he browsed the souvenir shops and bought himself a few Bonaire T-shirts and two pairs of incredibly boring khaki shorts. He took his new clothes and finally headed for the hotel where he had checked in the day before.

  Airport security would be high for the next day or so until dental records confirmed that Jimmy Malloy—not Miguel Artez—had died in the mysterious fire. Malloy knew he could afford to wait for a while longer.

  Chapter 23

  Doug stared at the report for a full five minutes before reality sank in. Malloy was dead. Interpol was still waiting on the full autopsy report, but the dental records had matched. After years of running from the FBI and other agencies, Malloy had been killed by a competing drug lord. At least that was the theory. No one in Interpol seemed to be buying the possibility that it was an accidental fire, and so far their investigation suggested that one of Malloy’s competitors would have the most to gain from his death.

  How he was killed didn’t really matter to Doug. He was just relieved that this case was nearly closed. In a matter of hours or days, Rush would be found guilty, and CJ and Matt could finally get on with their lives. The DNA testing that would complete the identification of Jimmy Malloy would take a few more weeks, but the initial findings appeared pretty solid. Remnants of Malloy’s credit cards had even been found on the body.

  Doug’s first instinct was to call CJ and tell her the good news, but instead he pushed aside another file he had been working on and began outlining security options. Now that Malloy was no longer a threat, things would need to be adjusted. Doug was just getting ready to walk out the office door on Monday evening when he got the call he had been waiting for. The verdict was in.

  * * *

  Tuesday morning CJ pulled two bags of groceries out of the trunk and followed Lacey into the house. She was a bit surprised that he had let her go grocery shopping with him after her early-morning practice. She hoped it was a sign of confidence that Rush would be found guilty. Though she was trying not to think about it, the verdict was always in the back of her mind. She only took two steps into the kitchen before she stopped cold.

  Several moving boxes were stacked on the kitchen counters, and Pete and another man were in the backyard working on the security system. Tara walked into the kitchen carrying yet another box. She took one look at
Lacey and glared. “Next time, I get to go with CJ and you can do all of the lifting.”

  CJ spoke before Lacey could respond. “What’s going on?”

  Tara set down the box, opened it, and pulled out CJ’s wheat grinder. “What’s going on is I need to know where you want to put all of your stuff.”

  “What?” CJ looked from Tara to Lacey, unable to fathom why the government would move her things to a safehouse. When Doug walked around the corner, CJ’s chest tightened. Could the verdict have come back “not guilty”? Was this to become her permanent hiding place? Her future with Matt, her dreams for the Olympics . . . CJ couldn’t even finish the thought.

  “Did you tell her?” Doug asked, moving to give CJ a hug.

  CJ braced for the news. “Tell me what?”

  “The verdict is in.” Doug grinned down at her, his arm still draped loosely around her shoulders. “He’s guilty.”

  CJ sighed heavily, tears springing into her eyes. She took a deep breath and then another before she looked around once more. “If he’s guilty, why is my stuff here? And why are they working on the security system?”

  “Matt and I both thought that we should upgrade the system with more visual capabilities since you won’t have the marshals living with you anymore.”

  “When did you talk to Matt?”

  Just then Matt entered from the hallway. He grinned at CJ, his eyes full of mischief as he spoke. “Doug, you can let go of my wife now.”

  “Matt!” CJ rushed forward and jumped into his arms. She held on tight for a moment before thinking to ask the most obvious question. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here.” Matt grinned. “You’re right. It is a great house.”

  “I don’t understand.” CJ looked from Matt to Doug.

  “Matt bought this house from the government this morning,” Doug informed her. “I guess the Marlins are paying him pretty well.”

  Warily, CJ asked, “But what about Malloy?”

  “He’s dead. The coroner in Bonaire tentatively confirmed that yesterday, saying that Malloy’s dental records matched the teeth of the deceased. However, because the death was suspicious, they’re doing some DNA testing, and it will be a few weeks before we get the final confirmation. But it looks like Malloy won’t have the chance to bother you again.”

  CJ gasped, her eyes questioning. Was it really over? Was she finally free? “Are you telling me that I can come out of protective custody?”

  “Kind of.” Doug motioned to the living room. “Let’s sit down and we can talk about our options.”

  CJ followed Matt to the couch and curled up next to him as Doug gave them the basic details of what had happened to Malloy. He went on to explain that most of Rush’s funds had been seized at the time he was arrested, but they were still tracking down the money transfers that had paid for the last set of assassins, the ones that had shot CJ’s double at the LA swim meet.

  Once the government discovered where that money had come from, the belief was that Rush would be incapable of retaliation even if he wanted it. Now that he had been found guilty, CJ’s death served no useful purpose except to exact revenge. Since Rush was in prison for the rest of his life, once the last of his money was seized, his ability to harm her would be significantly reduced. She supposed her life might never be quite normal, but finally she at least had the possibility of something close to normal.

  “So that’s it?” CJ asked. “All of a sudden I am just like everyone else again?”

  “Not exactly,” Doug replied. “We already have someone working on consolidating your meet results so that they will all be under one name for the Olympic trials. You can continue to use an alias, or you can use your name. It’s up to you.” Doug didn’t give her a chance to voice her preference before he continued on. “Either way, Tara and Lacey will provide security for you at the trials and at the Olympics. If I have my way, I’ll be tagging along too.”

  CJ looked hopefully at Tara and Lacey. “Does that mean you’re going to stay here until after the Olympics?”

  Lacey shook his head. “Just Tara. I’ll be heading out to do the advance work for the trials.”

  “I’ll stick around until they seize the rest of Rush’s funds and until we confirm that Malloy is dead,” Tara explained. “Then I’ll fly out with you and Pete to Long Beach, where we’ll meet up with Lacey.”

  As though he had heard his name, Pete opened the back door, his eyes sweeping the room until they landed on Lacey. “It’s one thing to get roped into helping, and another to be the only one working while you all lollygag around.”

  “I guess that means we’d better get back to work.” Tara laughed and pushed up from her chair, eyeing Lacey. “I’ll help CJ put away her kitchen stuff. You guys can go finish unloading the boxes.”

  “The women have spoken,” Doug muttered, nodding his head toward the front door.

  Tara waited until the men had left the room. “Well, that was easy.” She looked over at the stacks of boxes. “Now let’s get this stuff put away so you can start enjoying your new kitchen.”

  “I like the way you think,” CJ said, grinning.

  She wanted to go see what Matt was doing, but she forced herself to concentrate on the kitchen. Still, in between tasks, her mind raced over the news of the past half hour. Just when she thought she might never regain control of her life, almost everything she had dreamed of was handed to her all at once. In just another week, she would be at the Olympic trials trying to make the rest of her dreams come true.

  CJ and Tara were just putting away the last of the dishes when Pete walked into the kitchen.

  “You had better eat something and get ready for practice,” Pete ordered, looking at CJ.

  CJ glanced at her watch, surprised to see that it was already after eleven. “I’m just going to make a sandwich.” She looked from Pete to Tara. “Do either of you want one?”

  Pete stared at her for a moment, apparently considering her offer. “Tell you what. If you make me lunch, I might consider letting you practice here this afternoon.”

  “Go for the chicken salad,” Tara suggested, already pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator.

  CJ looked over at her and motioned at the groceries Tara had lined up on the counter. “Are you going to help, or do you want to go see who else is hungry?”

  “I’ll check on the guys.”

  CJ laughed as Tara quickly deserted the kitchen. She turned to Pete and asked, “Are you serious? Can I practice here today?”

  “It won’t hurt you for one practice.” Pete slid onto a stool by the breakfast bar. “That should give you a little more time to get unpacked before we go back over to the University tonight.”

  “Thanks, Pete.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re still short.”

  * * *

  Matt rolled over in bed, his stomach grumbling from neglect. The blackout blinds he had installed the day before kept the room dark and hid any evidence of whether it was day or night. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he rubbed his hands over his face and wondered what day it was. He debated briefly whether he should grab a shower or breakfast first. Breakfast won. Still in his pajamas, he stumbled down the hallway toward the light. He was halfway down the stairs when he smelled something good . . . something baking.

  Assuming CJ’s habits hadn’t changed much over the past few months, he figured it must be the weekend. CJ almost always spent her Saturdays experimenting in the kitchen. He breathed deeply and lengthened his stride. She was baking something blueberry.

  The kitchen counters were cluttered with cooking ingredients and mixing bowls. One bowl rested near the stove, a towel covering it. Something simmered on the stove, scenting the air with cinnamon, but Matt honed in on the cooling rack laden with blueberry scones.

  CJ stepped out from behind the refrigerator door, a milk jug in one hand. She reached into the cabinet next to it and pulled out a glass. Spotting Matt, she pulled out a second glass. “Hungry?”
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  “Mmmm.” Matt gave her a quick kiss and plucked a scone from the rack. He took another look around, remembering that CJ was leaving tonight for the Olympic trials. “Why are you cooking? Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

  “I’m too nervous,” CJ explained. “I thought this morning’s practice would help me work out the nerves, but I just can’t stop thinking about what might happen the next few days.”

  “You’ll be great,” Matt assured her. “I just wish my manager would let me take a few days off so I could be there the whole time.”

  “You’ve only been with your team a few weeks. I think it’s a bit early to be asking for favors.”

  Matt shrugged, taking a bite of his scone. Furrowing his brow, he turned to his wife and held up the half-eaten scone. “You know, I’m not sure these taste quite right.”

  “Oh, really?” CJ raised an eyebrow suspiciously as Matt popped the rest of his scone into his mouth.

  Matt nodded, struggling to keep a serious face as he used his long reach to snatch another scone from the rack. Playfully, he added, “I’d better test another one, just to be sure.”

  “I see.” CJ fought back a grin. She took a sip of her milk and handed the other glass to Matt.

  Matt gulped down a half glass of milk before he noticed that CJ was also drinking milk. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink milk before.”

  “The nutritionist Pete consulted decided that I’m not getting enough calcium.” CJ took another sip, wrinkled her nose, and set her glass on the counter. “I think I’ll stick with yogurt.”

  “What does he think about blueberry scones for breakfast?”

  “I could tell you that they’re a lot more nutritious than you think they are, but that might ruin it for you.” CJ smiled.

  “I wouldn’t believe you anyway.” Matt glanced at his watch and stood up. “I’d better go grab a shower. What time do you fly out tonight?”

  “Seven.” CJ closed the distance between them and reached up for a kiss. “I’ll call you when I get there.”