Читать книгу In His Safekeeping - Shawna Delacorte - Страница 9

Brad headed south from Seattle, exiting the interstate at Tacoma. He stopped at a discount store so Tara could buy the items she would need to stay overnight. They drove to a nearby motel. He checked into the room using the same fictitious name he had given the police officer, and paid cash in advance for two nights.

He unlocked the door. “It’s not fancy, but it’s clean and will be safe for the time being. I’ll check with you in the morning.”

She stood in the middle of the room, her gaze nervously darting from the bed to the television perched on the dresser, then to the small table and two chairs and finally the large stuffed chair in the corner without lingering on any one spot for more than a couple of seconds. Her words were soft and filled with the anxiety coursing through her body.

“It never occurred to me that testifying against John Vincent would continue to control my life after the trial was over.”

She finally looked up at Brad, capturing his gaze and holding it. She attempted to put on a brave front. “I’m not the type of person who is accustomed to taking chances. I knew it was my duty to testify at John’s trial—” a lump formed in her throat “—but I never dreamed my life would be turned upside down like this.”

The words were difficult for her. Digging into her inner fears and expressing them did not come easily. “I thought when the trial was over everything would go back to normal with the only change being superficial…a new job and a different place to live. I had assumed my daily routine would return to what it had been before all this started.” She forced the words while trying to keep her anxieties from creeping into her voice. “But that’s not the way it turned out.”

Tara glanced around the small room again. “I guess I’d better get settled in—” she focused her attention on the floor “—although all I have to unpack is the sack from the discount store.” She looked up at him, her voice falling off to a frightened whisper. “Will I be here for very long?”

It had been quite a while since anything latched on to Brad and turned him inside out the way he was at that moment. Tara was obviously frightened and trying her best not to show it. He marshaled his composure. If nothing else, he needed to maintain a calm and in-control outer presence in order to instill a confidence in her that said he knew what he was doing. “Just tonight, maybe two nights at the most while I work out a plan to keep you safe until I gather enough new information to be able to convince my boss of the danger and get you some official protection.”

“But doesn’t someone’s planting a bomb in my car qualify as proof?”

“It’s proof that you, Tara Ford, are personally in danger, but it doesn’t tie anything in with the John Vincent case or the deaths of the other witnesses. The culprit could be a disgruntled lover, a co-worker or even a relative. There’s nothing there that takes this out of the realm of a local police investigation, or that makes it the concern of the U.S. Marshals Service. There’s no evidence to connect the bombing with the protection of witnesses in the John Vincent case.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at the floor, the disappointment ringing loud and clear in her voice. “I see. I didn’t realize what the difference was.”

He placed his fingertips beneath her chin and lifted until he could see her eyes. The physical contact sent a tingle of excitement through him that he tried to ignore.

It was much easier when someone was officially under the protection of the U.S. Marshals Service. She would have been allowed to pack a suitcase, then been taken to a known safe house or nice hotel room with deputy marshals on duty to protect her around the clock. All he had offered her was a sack of bare essentials from a discount store, an out-of-the-way motel and his promise that he would protect her even though he would be leaving her there alone. Again, his failure to protect his wife came back to haunt him. It was the day he had closed off his heart.

He quickly shook away the disturbing memories and returned his attention to the problem at hand. He wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish the task he had set for himself, but right now he had to do something to help her over the first of what he suspected would be many rough spots.

“I need to go back to my office for a little while. I have a few things to do that can’t be done during normal hours.” He saw the trepidation come into her eyes and it pulled at his senses. “I’ll check back with you in a couple of hours. But first, there are a few things I need to go over with you before I leave. Come on…let’s sit down.”

He placed his hand at the small of her back and escorted her across the room to the large chair. He grabbed a straight-back chair and sat down facing her. He took the cell phone from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

“Here…this is one of my personal cell phones. Keep this with you at all times. No one knows you’re here. I registered at the front desk using the same name I gave the officer at the restaurant – Don McMillan. I’ve paid for two nights in advance. There’s no reason for anyone to be calling you here, so I don’t want you answering the motel phone. If I need to get in touch with you I’ll call you on my cell phone. Don’t answer it right away. I’ll let it ring twice, hang up then call right back. Don’t answer unless it’s that signal.”

He took one of his business cards from his pocket and jotted a couple of phone numbers on the back, then handed it to her. “Here’s my phone number at the office and my Marshals Service cell phone number. I’ve written my home phone on the back and also the number of my other personal cell phone. If you need to get in touch with me, try my personal cell phone first, my home second, my Marshals cell phone third and the office as the last choice. Don’t leave your name, just say you’re my cousin from Los Angeles and I’ll call you back.”

“Okay.” She took the card, looked at it for a moment, then put it in her purse.

“I’ll see you in a little while.” He offered her a confident smile, reached out and squeezed her hand. “In the meantime, try to get some rest.”

The last thing he wanted to do was leave her and it was as much personal as it was business. The feel of her hand in his sent a ripple of excitement through his body. He reluctantly let loose of her hand. He had to keep focused on business. He could not allow his newly awakened emotions to get the upper hand.

BRAD LEFT the motel and headed back toward Seattle. If nothing else, the bombing of Tara’s car told him he was on the right track with his theory. What wasn’t immediately obvious was what to do about it.

He arrived at his office, unlocked the door and let himself in. It was after hours and he looked forward to having the place to himself. As he made his way down the hallway, a sound from the file room brought him to an abrupt halt. Someone else was there. He quickly detoured toward the coffee room, plunked some coins into the slot and took the cup of coffee from the machine.

He rounded the door toward his cubicle and literally ran into the office’s computer expert, Shirley Bennett. The hot coffee splashed over the top of the cup. He jerked his hand back, dropping the full cup to the floor in the process. Shirley tried to maintain a grasp on her purse and the two department-store sacks she held in her arms without any success. Everything fell to the floor.

“Damn…” Brad shook his hand, then pulled his wet shirt away from his body where the coffee had soaked through to his skin. “That’s hot!”

“Are you all right?” Shirley’s formal, all-business voice gave no hint of any irritation at the collision.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He glanced down at the contents that had spilled from her purse and the items of clothing that had tumbled from the shopping bags, what appeared to be gym workout clothes.

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realize you were there. Let me help you with this.” He kneeled down and began picking up the items – her wallet, a day planner, a comb, a small makeup pouch, a bottle of eyedrops and the case for her glasses. He stared at the eyeglass case for a moment, noting the name of the optometrist before handing everything to her.

“It seems we go to the same eye doctor. How do you like Dr. Keeson?” A slight grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. The bold pattern and bright colors of the case didn’t go with the style of her glasses or fit in with her plain appearance.

“He’s very nice.” Shirley took the items from him and shoved them in her purse. “You’re here late. I thought you were on light duty until your shoulder wound healed completely. And to that we can add your most recent abrasions.” She gestured toward his face.

He chose to ignore her comments about his split lip, the gash on his chin and the scrapes across his cheek. “I’m feeling fine. The doctor thinks I should give this shoulder another week or so to heal from the bullet wound before he releases me to field duty.”

“Is there a problem of some sort that brings you back to the office after hours?”

“I’m catching up on a little paperwork. I thought I could get a lot of it done tonight when no one was around. I want all of it cleaned up so I can get back to field duty.”

“Well, if there’s nothing you need me for, I think I’ll call it a day.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Shirley.”

Brad watched as she walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner. She had only been in the Seattle office of the U.S. Marshals Service for a couple of months. He didn’t know her very well as she seemed to keep mostly to herself. She had been transferred from another district to fill the vacancy created when their computer expert retired.

She seemed very efficient at her job of being their software expert and maintaining the computer system. No matter what the problem, she had it fixed immediately. Any difficulty accessing files or finding information on the Internet and she was a whiz at handling it. In fact, she exactly fit his concept of a computer-nerd stereotype…straight brown hair worn short with bangs, medium-brown eyes, horn-rimmed glasses, about twenty pounds overweight, most of which seemed to be on her hips and around her waist probably due to lack of exercise, very little makeup, quiet and kept to herself. She was short compared to his six-one height. He guessed she topped out at five foot three.

He listened until he heard the front door close, then grabbed the John Vincent folder from the file room. He made copies of everything to take with him – something very definitely against the rules. Then he went to his cubicle to do some computer research. He needed information that he couldn’t access from his computer at home, and during office hours there was too much of a chance that someone would see what he was doing. He worked quickly, finding and printing out what he wanted.

As soon as he finished he drove back to the motel to check on Tara. He knocked on the door, at the same time calling to her. “Tara…it’s me.”

She looked through the peephole in the door, then opened it to let Brad in. “Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”

“Yes, I think so. How are you doing? Is everything okay? Is there anything you need?”

She glanced around the small room. A little sigh escaped her throat. “I can’t think of anything specific that I need.”

He heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes…the anxiety, the apprehension and the loneliness. Her despair tugged at his senses and pulled at his emotions. She was obviously scared and trying to put up a brave front. He was responsible for her being stuck away in a small motel room, but if he hadn’t taken action when he did she would probably be dead by now. The thought helped lessen his guilt but didn’t calm his own anxieties. He desperately wanted to do something to try to comfort her and ease her mind.

“There’s a special on television tonight that I wanted to see, but it comes on in ten minutes and I can’t be home by then. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here for a while. I can watch the special and keep you company for a bit…” He offered his best confidence-inducing smile. “If that’s okay with you.” He took off his jacket and tossed it across the foot of the bed.

Her attention flew to the holster clipped to his belt, becoming fixated on the handgun. A shiver darted up her spine and anxiety churned in the pit of her stomach, confirming what she already knew – she was in serious danger. She closed her eyes. The sound of the explosion and the vivid image of the burning car assaulted her senses. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the disturbing vision.

“Tara? Are you all right?”

His voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes, her attention again riveted on the weapon, her thoughts telling her of the danger it represented. “Do you…uh…always carry a gun?”

“Yes. We’re issued a.357 magnum, but I prefer this 9mm semiautomatic. I find it more comfortable to carry and to use.”

“To use?” A knot of anxiety pulled tight in her stomach. “Do you have to use it often?”

“Occasionally.” A twinge in his shoulder gave a sharp reminder of the last time he’d needed to use it.

She pulled her attention away from the weapon, glancing around the room as she composed herself and tried to project a positive manner. “I didn’t mean to get off the subject. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you minded my staying to watch a program on television. Maybe keep you company for a little while until you’re feeling more comfortable?”

“Uh…no, I don’t mind if you want to watch something on television. Go ahead.”

Tara retreated to the corner of the room, curling her legs under her as she sank into the large chair. Try as she might, she simply couldn’t concentrate on his conversation. She kept hearing the explosion over and over, the horror of pieces of metal flying through the air. The churning in her stomach drove a sick feeling up her throat. She knew it was a memory that would continue to haunt her the rest of her life however long – or short – that life might be.

She watched Brad as he sat on the end of the bed staring at the television, although he didn’t seem to really be watching the program. He appeared casual enough, as if he didn’t have any concerns, but the tight set of his jaw belied that. She could almost feel the tension pulling his muscles into knots. But in spite of that he radiated a sense of confidence that surpassed his take-charge attitude. A quick dash of irritation flitted through her. Confidence or not, his was still a take-charge attitude in which he gave orders and expected to have them obeyed without question. Although it was something quite different from the way Danny Vincent had tried to control her life.

A little shiver darted across her skin. Things were too confusing…too many strange things had happened in the past few weeks, and her totally unexpected phone call from Danny after all this time was definitely one of them. Again the image of her bombed car popped into her mind followed by the way Brad had taken control without hesitation. He had taken charge, but it was not a domineering type of thing. He had known exactly what to do and how to properly handle the situation.

A warm feeling replaced the shiver as she thought of his arm around her shoulder while they talked to the policeman. She had felt safe, at least for that moment. She studied his handsome features. A ripple of excitement invaded her senses, a sensation that started with a tingle deep inside and quickly spread through her body. Her life was in danger and her world had been thrown into turmoil. The last thing she should be thinking about was an attraction to a very desirable man.

She straightened in her chair in an effort to pull herself together. She didn’t want to show the depth of her fears to this very together – and extremely handsome – man. She certainly didn’t want him thinking she was some silly little twit who fell apart at the first sign of an unpleasant situation. With everything she’d been through since agreeing to testify, she should be able to take this in stride without any problem.

Another sigh of despair tried to work its way into the open. Testifying at a trial was not the same thing as having someone try to kill you. Her brave intentions did nothing to calm her fears. She knew she was only lying to herself.

Brad seemed to be alert to everything going on. Every time the sound of a car engine or car door invaded the room he was on his feet. He’d pretend he needed to stretch and would make his way to the window and peek out around the edge of the drapes. But in spite of his casual outer manner, it was obvious he was far from relaxed.

Then another memory flooded her consciousness – Brad’s body protectively covering hers when he had shoved her down behind the van in the restaurant parking lot. And then the tender kiss he had placed on her forehead. It was more than his having put his life on the line for her. A totally unexpected sensual rush had hit her like a ton of bricks. Brad Harrison was a very desirable man – handsome, confident and extremely sexy. He exuded the strong presence of someone who knew what he was doing and could be depended on in a crisis. There was something very reassuring about a man who had the ability to take control of a precarious situation.

Then another dark thought clouded her perception. Was his take-charge manner just one small step away from the controlling efforts of Danny and the domineering manipulations of her mother?

“I guess I’m a little too restless to stay with the television program.” Brad’s words drew her attention back to what he was doing. She watched as he stood and stretched his arms above his head, then behind his back.

He cocked his head and raised a questioning eyebrow. “How about you? You look comfortable enough, but your expression seems more worried than at ease…although I can certainly understand why.” He glanced down at the floor for a moment as if trying to collect his thoughts. “I know it’s of little use for me to tell you not to worry, but I’ll try it anyway. Please think positive, we’ll get through this and everything will turn out okay.”

Before she could respond, he grabbed the ice bucket from the table. “I noticed an ice maker and a vending machine a couple of doors down. I’ll get us some ice and a couple of soft drinks. Be right back. I’ll take the key so I can let myself in. Don’t answer the door if anyone knocks.” He opened the door and quickly scanned the parking lot before stepping outside.

The image of Tara curled up in the large chair had truly gotten to him. She looked too desirable. He wanted to pull her into his arms and move the few steps over to the bed. The urge needed to be dealt with, and walking out the door into the cool night air seemed to be the most expedient way of doing it. He took in a deep breath, then another. It helped clear his head a bit, but did not chase away the feelings. He filled the ice bucket, bought two soft drinks from the machine and quickly returned to the room.

When he stepped inside, he found her exactly where he had left her. “I hope this is okay. I didn’t think to ask you what kind you preferred.” He set two cans on the table, put ice in two glasses and opened one of the cans for himself.

“This is fine. Thank you.” Tara took the other can, poured the contents into the glass, but left it on the table without taking a drink.

He seated himself at the small table, maintaining a view of the door and window. “Tell me, Tara Ford—” he ran his fingertip around the rim of his glass, trying to project an easygoing manner that he hoped would calm her nerves “—how did you get mixed up in all this?”

“Don’t you have all that in your files?”

“We have some information, but not that much.” He wanted to hear it from her, get an impression of what she was thinking and how she felt about things rather than go by some cold facts on a piece of paper in a file folder.

“Well…I, uh…” She swallowed the discomfort that welled inside her. His intentions were obvious, the uneasiness in his eyes saying far more than his words. “You really don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?” A hint of surprise darted through his eyes, followed by curiosity.

“You don’t need to sit here with me to ease my discomfort. I’m sure you have other things you’d prefer to be doing than this.”

He leveled a steady gaze at her as if trying to read her mind. “Actually, I don’t have anything else I’d rather be doing right now.” He creased his forehead in a moment of concentration, then flashed a mischievous grin. “Other than maybe sailing in the South Pacific or skiing in Switzerland.”

“You do those things? Sail and ski?”

“Yes, two of my favorite passions.”

“I’ve never participated in either of them.” She added somewhat tentatively, “although they look like they’d be a lot of fun.” Sailing, skiing…both were activities that she had wanted to try. She’d even had an opportunity to go on a school ski trip when she was a senior in high school, but her mother had refused to sign the permission slip, saying it was a foolish waste of money. It was but one of a long list of disappointments and regrets that had been part of her life, most of them caused by her mother. Then there was the time her mother had refused to allow her to go to the senior prom in high school and… She shoved the memories aside. She knew they would only make her angry and would serve no purpose.

“Never? I have a small sailboat, large enough to be sea-worthy but not so large that I can’t handle it by myself—” He abruptly jumped to his feet, staring at her for a long moment without saying anything.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got it!”

“You’ve got what?” She looked around, but everything was just as it had been when he started talking. She didn’t hear any noises coming from outside.

“Damn…it’s nothing.” The optimistic expression that had been on his face just a moment before had disappeared. He dejectedly slumped back into the chair. “I thought I had a solution to where you could stay for a couple of days, but it was a bad idea – an impractical notion that wouldn’t work.”

“Stay where? What idea?”

“Well, I thought I could hide you on my boat for a day or two.” He shook his head and took a swallow from his glass. “It wouldn’t work. It was a stupid idea.”

“I don’t understand. Why is that impractical?”

“No one lives on my boat, so having somebody suddenly staying there would attract unwanted attention at the marina. And it certainly wouldn’t be a secure location.” He didn’t want to upset Tara any more than she already was, but he knew that whoever was involved in this could easily have seen him with her at the restaurant and traced his car license to discover his identity, if they hadn’t already. He was fully conversant with how simple it was to gather information on someone. Anyone with a computer, a modem and decent computer skills could find out that he owned a sailboat and where he kept it.

“Oh.” She looked as dejected as he felt.

He moved to the bed, seating himself on the edge next to her chair. The tone of his voice provided a comforting level of intimacy. “You understand how important it is for you to stay out of sight and avoid all contact with everyone, don’t you? It’s the same concept as when you were under the marshals’ protection before and during the trial…only for the time being it’s just you and me until I straighten out a few things.”

A few things, such as who killed five out of six witnesses, with two of those witnesses having been in the Witness Security Program. A few things, such as figuring out how someone had obtained the new identities of protected and relocated witnesses…whether there was someone inside the Marshals Service selling those identities. A few things, such as a motive for the killings. He reached out, took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Her muscles tensed beneath his touch, telling him just how distraught she really was despite the brave facade she had been trying to display.

A few things—such as who this woman hiding inside the beautiful package labeled Tara Ford was and how she got mixed up in this mess. He continued to hold on to her hand. Warning bells sounded off inside his head telling him he had overstepped the line, but he chose to ignore them. He liked the way her hand felt in his.

“Weren’t you starting to answer my question about how you became involved in this situation when I interrupted you?” He had to have information, but didn’t want her to feel as if she was being subjected to an interrogation.

“It’s not a very interesting story.” The warmth of his touch produced a sensual flow of energy that started with her hand, ran up her arm, then quickly spread through her body. The sensation did more than excite her. It also provided an odd feeling of security that she hadn’t known before. Even during the trial when she was under the direct protection on the U.S. Marshals Service she never really felt safe. For the first time since agreeing to testify against John Vincent she felt that something positive was finally being done to ease her anxieties. Did she dare to trust those feelings?

“I’d like to hear it. I need to know everything I can. Some little bit of information might not seem important to you, but it could mean a great deal to me. So, if you could start at the beginning…”

Tara shifted her weight in the chair, but allowed the comforting sensation of his hand to remain on hers. She didn’t like talking about herself, certainly not to a stranger and especially not to someone like this very disconcerting man who made her heart beat a little faster and her pulse race.

“Well…I guess it started when I answered a help wanted ad in the newspaper. Green Valley Construction was looking for a secretary. I had just graduated from college with a degree in something practical that would guarantee me a secure future…something my mother had insisted on.”

She knew that bitterness had crept into her voice, but she had not been able to control it. It was an old wound and at the same time a fresh one that still hurt. From the time her father had deserted her until the time she’d made the decision to testify against John Vincent, her mother had made every attempt to control her life. All during her school years her mother had denied her permission to participate in extracurricular activities.

Her mother’s excuses fell into two categories – either it was a waste of money or else her mother suddenly developed an illness and Tara had to stay home to take care of her. She knew her mother wasn’t really sick, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Things had gotten better when she had been able to get her own apartment after graduating from college and getting a full-time job, but she hadn’t been able to escape her mother’s continuous attempts to dominate her and the constant meddling.

“I got the job and eventually was promoted to the position of John Vincent’s administrative assistant and finally the company office manager. As his assistant I had access to more company information than when I was a secretary. As the office manager I had access to all the company records including the books. That’s when I came across the irregularities in his accounting.”

“What did you do then?” Her tone of voice told him as much as her facial expression when she mentioned her mother’s connection with her choice of educational pursuits and career. Part of his job was to read people quickly and make judgments based on that assessment. She obviously had a very strained relationship with the woman. How deep did the problem go and how much of her life had been affected by it? Questions he would have to put aside until some other time.

“I wasn’t sure if I was interpreting the information correctly, so I finally went to the company’s outside CPA with what I’d found. Phil Winthrope and I—”

“Phil Winthrope was the fifth witness killed. I didn’t realize you knew him before the trial. Did you know any of the others?”

She glanced at the floor, then back at Brad. A sadness covered her face as she spoke. “I didn’t know Phil well, we only had the occasional business contact. He seemed like a nice man. Did he…uh…leave any family? A wife or children?”

“No, no immediate family.”

“I didn’t know any of the other witnesses before the trial.” She shifted her weight as if trying to find a more comfortable position before continuing. “Phil looked over what I brought him and agreed with my conclusions. John Vincent had been systematically looting the pension fund and was also keeping a double set of books as far as taxes were concerned.”

“Did the two of you ever discuss what to do about this discovery or did you both just sort of ignore it?”

A quick flash of anger darted across her face. “Ignore it? Are you accusing me of condoning John’s actions?”

He remained calm despite her outburst. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to get a clear picture of the sequence of events.”

She took a deep breath, held it a moment, then expelled it. “I…I guess I’m just a little on edge.”

“That’s certainly understandable.” He extended a comforting smile and waited for her to continue.

“Neither Phil nor I had an opportunity to do anything about it. The very next day I was approached by the D.A.’s office. They said they were conducting an investigation into John’s activities and questioned me about what I knew. I didn’t know what to do or say. I knew the books had been manipulated, but I really didn’t know for a fact that it was John who had done it. They had me served with a subpoena to testify before a grand jury along with several other potential witnesses. I gave them the information about the books. The grand jury findings were presented and John Vincent was arrested on numerous charges. I was called on to testify at the trial, and the rest, as they say, is history. At that moment my life became chaos. I thought everything would have returned to normal by now.” A look of sadness darted across her features and her voice dropped to a mere whisper. “But I was wrong.”

Brad studied her for a moment. She had already been through so much. In some ways she seemed so in need of protection and so vulnerable. Yet there was an inner strength that radiated from her, something he felt even though he couldn’t clearly define it. Each passing minute proved to be added fuel to a flame of desire that had started as nothing more than a sensual spark. He rose to his feet under the guise of taking another peek around the corner of the drapes, all the while telling himself this is business…this is business. It was a refrain that continued to repeat in his mind as he stared at the parking lot.

A quick jolt of adrenaline shot through Brad’s body. He stared at the car with the headlights off slowly making its way along the row of motel rooms. A flashlight beam came from the car window, shining on each of the cars parked in front of the rooms.