Читать книгу Family In Hiding - Valerie Hansen - Страница 12

THREE

The wail of multiple sirens settled Grace’s nerves considerably. Nevertheless she waited until she spotted a man in a police uniform before she stepped out to show herself and the children.

“You the lady who called this in?” the crew-cut officer asked.

“Yes.” Grace pointed at the gazebo. “We were right over there when we were shot at.”

“You and these kids?” He sounded incredulous.

“No. Me and my estranged husband. He’s around here somewhere.”

“You sure it wasn’t him who took a potshot at you?”

“It couldn’t have been. We were together when it happened.”

“What does your husband look like? How was he dressed?”

“He’s taller than you by a couple of inches,” she reported, failing to add that Dylan also looked far more masculine and mature. “He was wearing a red baseball jacket and cap.”

“You’d better come with me, ma’am.” Taking one last assessing look at their surroundings, he was apparently satisfied enough to holster his sidearm. “This way.”

“Have you seen him? His name is Dylan McIntyre. I’m Grace.”

“Yes, ma’am. I believe he’s in the parking lot with some of my team.”

“Is he all right?”

When she got no answer, she grabbed the officer’s sleeve. “Tell me? Was he shot?”

“I really can’t say.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“We’re almost there, Mrs. McIntyre. He can tell you himself.”

Breath whooshed out of Grace’s lungs. If Dylan could talk, then he was at least alive. At that moment she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hug him for surviving or to smack him for exposing his family to such danger. Actually, doing both sounded best.

She and the slim officer cleared the exit gates together. Three patrol cars, one black van and an ambulance were parked at intervals, with the police situated closest to the gates.

Grace’s rapid scan of all the vehicles led her attention to the open rear doors of the ambulance where Dylan was being treated. He had removed the silky jacket and rolled up the right sleeve of his white dress shirt. The closer she got, the better she could tell that there was blood staining the cuff.

She stopped and turned to the closest person, a young woman wearing a tailored suit and mirrored glasses. Her dark hair was pulled back severely and Grace could see part of a holster peeking out from beneath her jacket.

“Excuse me,” Grace began, waiting for a smile she didn’t get, then continuing despite its lack. “That’s my husband over there and I don’t want to scare the kids. Could you watch them for just a few minutes so I can go punch him in the nose?”

That candid comment brought a twitch of mirth to the other woman’s face. “Only if you leave some of him for me and my partner.” She offered her hand. “U.S. Marshal Serena Summers. The guy over there hovering behind the paramedics is my partner, Marshal Josh McCall.”

“Dylan’s in a lot of trouble, isn’t he?”

The marshal nodded. “How much do you know already?”

“Only that he helped arrange some adoptions that weren’t strictly legal.” Grace lowered her voice to speak more privately, hoping the children couldn’t overhear. “He just told me some of the babies they placed were stolen. Can that be true?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the case. Maybe we can talk later, after Mr. McIntyre finishes giving us an official statement.” She motioned to a nearby uniformed officer. “Put these kids in the van and show them all our whistles and bells. Keep them entertained and see that they stay put until I finish up out here.”

Grace frowned at her. “Hold on a second. I just wanted you to watch them while I talked to my husband, not take them into custody.”

“It’s for their own good. You want them to be safe, don’t you?”

“Of course, but...”

“Then bear with me, Mrs. McIntyre. May I call you Grace?”

“You know my first name?”

Marshal Summers nodded sagely. “Actually, I probably know more about you and your family than you do.”

“Why does that not make me feel all warm and fuzzy?”

Giving a subdued chuckle, the marshal glanced at her and smiled. “I like your attitude. Reminds me of myself.”

Grace mirrored the smile, partly in reply and partly because she wanted to put her children at ease. “It’s okay,” she told them, primarily concentrating on Kyle. “You can be in charge until I’m done checking on your father.”

“Is—is he okay?”

“You can see for yourself. He’s sitting right over there talking to the ambulance attendants. Now go with this policeman and be good for him, hear?”

The child’s nod was reluctant, yet sufficed.

“He’s a stubborn one, isn’t he?” Marshal Summers asked as they walked away.

“Kyle’s hardheaded, all right. Just like his daddy.”

“What about you, Grace?”

“Me? Why?”

“Do you see yourself as resilient and flexible?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never pictured myself exactly that way but I guess the description fits.”

“Good.”

Grace was concentrating so hard on Dylan as they approached the ambulance, she almost failed to notice that her companion and the other marshal both circled behind her as if making themselves into human shields.

Her eyes narrowed. She stared at her almost-ex-husband, willing him deliver an honest answer when she demanded, “What in the world have you gotten us into?”

Although Dylan looked pale, he managed a contrite smile. Now that the medics had removed his glasses she could see the weariness in his eyes, not to mention the odd way they glistened. “I had to do it,” he said with evident remorse.

“To deserve all those big bonuses. I know. You told me about it often enough.”

Dylan was shaking his head. “No, honey. I don’t mean before. I mean now. I can’t walk away from this. I have to work with the police to try to stop the kidnappings.”

“Of course you do.”

His gaze left her and settled on the marshals. “You haven’t told her what’s up, have you?”

“Not yet. Nothing will be settled until we get a look at the files you just gave us.”

Grace clenched her fists and almost stomped a foot. “Will somebody please explain before I go ballistic?”

“It looks like I’ll be going into witness protection,” Dylan said. “I’m sorry. They say it can’t be helped.”

“But, if they have your files, why do they need you?”

“Because I can swear to their authenticity, among other things,” he said. “Hopefully, I won’t be gone too long.”

“What about the kids? Kyle is already beside himself over the divorce. If you drop totally out of his life, I don’t know how he’ll handle it.”

“I’ll try to call him often.”

Marshal Summers spoke up, shaking her head. “No, you won’t. There will be no outside contact. None. That’s how the program works.”

Frustrated, Grace threw up her hands and made a throaty, angry sound. “Well, at least you won’t be able to harass me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Dylan looked so puzzled it gave her pause.

“The daily phone calls. I know it was you. It had to be.”

“Well, it wasn’t.” He looked to McCall. “Did you have our phones tapped? If so, you can vouch for me.”

“Sorry. Those odd, incoming calls were from a burner phone, the kind you can buy almost anywhere, use once, then throw away.”

“But there were multiple calls? Grace isn’t exaggerating?”

“These past few days there were,” the marshal said. “The caller didn’t speak until this morning when your son answered.”

Dylan frowned at Grace. “What happened?”

“Kyle was embarrassed to repeat what he heard,” she said. “The guy apparently cursed. A lot.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it to me?”

“Why should I? I thought it was either you or a friend of yours, trying to unnerve me.”

Sighing, he slowly shook his head, then bowed it. “How did we get to this point, Gracie? What did I do to give you such a low opinion of me?”

“Try consorting with criminals, for starters,” she snapped back. “I don’t know you at all anymore. Maybe I never did. For the kids’ sake I’m sorry that you have to disappear, but I can’t say I’m going to miss finding out more about your misguided career choices.”

A light touch on her arm from Marshal Summers diverted her attention. “Mrs. McIntyre—Grace. I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is. The divorce will be final soon and the kids will get over missing their daddy eventually. If I had any doubts that I was doing the right thing, they vanished when I found out what Dylan has been involved in.”

“I’m not talking about your divorce. I was referring to the need for you and the children to enter witness protection, too.”

“Us? Why? I didn’t even suspect any of this until the police interviewed me a week ago. I told them then that I wasn’t involved. I’ve had nothing to do with Dylan for months. And before that he kept his business practices to himself. Now, I know why.”

“Nevertheless, you met with him today and were present when he was shot. Whoever is responsible for this attack has no way of knowing you aren’t culpable, too. If you’re not worried about your own safety, think of your children.”

Shock was too mild a word to describe Grace’s feelings at that moment. This whole scenario was the stuff of nightmares. She knew what the other woman was saying, yet her mind refused to accept it. There was no way she was going to leave everything behind and just up and vanish. What about her friends? Her mother and ailing father? Her church family? The kids were relatively happy and doing well in school. Kyle played soccer after school Thursdays and Beth was just getting interested in team sports.

Squaring her shoulders, Grace faced the marshals and said, “No. I’m sorry. We won’t go.”

McCall spoke aside into a radio.

Several uniformed police joined them.

Grace’s arm was grabbed and cold metal encircled her wrist with a click. She stared in disbelief. They were arresting her!

* * *

“There is one other way we can handle this,” Marshal Summers said, looking pointedly at Grace after the entire group was settled inside the van. “Participation in WitSec is voluntary for adults.”

Dylan knew where this conversation was going and waited for the explosion of his wife’s temper. There would surely be one. When their children were involved, Grace was as protective as a mother tiger. He saw her brows arch, felt so much tension emanating from her it was almost palpable.

Her eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, you can refuse to be relocated. However...”

“Why am I getting the feeling you’re about to add something I’m not going to like?” Grace asked.

Serena Summers gave a slight shrug. “We do have some room to maneuver when it comes to juveniles. A judge can rule that said juveniles be made wards of the court for their own good and be forced into witness protection.”

“You can’t be serious. You’re threatening to take my children away from me?”

“Not exactly. You’re welcome to stay with them wherever they go. But rest assured, Mrs. McIntyre, they are going.”

Observing Grace’s face, Dylan saw myriad fleeting expressions come and go, ending with resolve. She raised her chin and stared at the marshals. “Then so am I.”

“I’m glad you’ve decided to see things our way, ma’am,” Marshal McCall said, sounding relieved. “It will make our task much easier.”

“I’m not doing this for anybody but my children,” Grace insisted. She glared over at Dylan. “Naturally, we won’t be housed together, particularly once the final divorce decree comes through. And the quality of the schools will have to be at least as high as the one Kyle and Beth attend here.”

“Of course.”

It occurred to Dylan to wonder how many witnesses tried to dictate terms to the U.S. marshals in charge of their relocation. His guess would be very few. Nor did he think it likely that the authorities would comply with Grace’s demands, particularly since she was simply collateral damage rather than an actual eyewitness to the crimes against children that they’d uncovered.

He wisely kept his opinions to himself. The time would come when Grace would have to take whatever accommodations were offered and be thankful, no matter what. It didn’t take much imagination to figure that her ire would then be directed toward him.

Dylan didn’t care. All he could hope for at this point was that his loved ones would remain unharmed. Enough innocent victims had already suffered for his mistakes.

He had no secret death wish, yet he’d made a solemn decision when he’d realized he’d been shot. If he had to pay with his life for his sins, then so be it. Anything, as long as his family was safe.

“I’ll need to pack, of course,” Grace said, organizing her thoughts and making mental lists of all the things she’d have to do before she’d be ready to leave St. Louis. “I suppose we can have the kids’ school transcripts forwarded later.”

Marshal McCall cleared his throat. “I’m afraid you can’t go home again, Mrs. McIntyre.”

“What? But I have to. There are a hundred things I need to see to—canceling the newspaper delivery, stopping the mail, calling my friends to say goodbye. Everybody at church will want to pray for us, and I’ll need to touch base with my mother, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her jaw dropped. She looked into each of their faces, finally settling on Dylan’s. “You knew all this, didn’t you? That’s why you came to see us. You wanted to fix it so we’d have to run off with you.”

It made no difference that her husband was shaking his head. She didn’t believe him.

“Well, it’s not going to work,” Grace declared. “I don’t care how much trouble you’re in or how many government agencies interfere in my life, I am never going to change my mind about you or about the divorce. It’s too late for us, Dylan. Way, way too late.”

Added to that declaration was her intense disappointment in his character. While they’d been married, she had mistakenly put her trust in him. Had accepted his excuses and explanations without question, over and over again, until she’d become numb to his lies.

Well, that kind of naïveté was in the past. She was wise to Dylan’s tricks. He was never going to be able to fool her again.

Leaving her friends and former life was going to be hard, yes, but not nearly as difficult as it had been to accept the truth about the husband she had once idolized, then take the necessary steps to sever their relationship.

It had nearly killed her spirit when she’d finally given up and filed for divorce. Now, in spite of the ongoing heartache, she was glad she had done so. The more distance she could put between Dylan and their children, the less his warped sense of right and wrong would exert a negative influence upon them.

The kids had to come first. As their only respectable, upstanding parent, she owed it to them—no matter how great her personal sacrifice.

One fleeting glance at Dylan told her it was going to be huge.