Safe by the Marshal's Side
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“It’s food, and you need it. You didn’t eat breakfast or dinner yesterday.”
“Did you have cameras set up in the safe house?” She sounded as horrified as she felt.
“No,” he said. “I checked in a couple of times yesterday, remember? One bowl in the sink after breakfast. Two plates at lunch. Sophia’s little pink plate in the sink after dinner.”
“I snacked. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Sure it is. Like I said, I have to—”
“Keep me healthy and safe until the trial. I know,” she sighed. “Let’s change the subject, okay?”
He raised one dark brow. “Why?”
“Because I’d rather talk about the doll.” And because thinking about Hunter noticing all the things about her that he’d noticed made her uncomfortable. Even if he had just noticed because it was his job.
His dark eyes speared into hers, and, for a moment, she thought that he was going to press for more.
Finally, he stood. “I printed out a photograph. I’ll get it.”
She didn’t follow him from the room. She needed a couple of minutes to gather her thoughts. She wanted to see the photo, but she didn’t. If it was Sophia’s doll, the men who’d murdered Joe had picked it up. She didn’t remember seeing it in either of their hands, but then, she’d only caught a glimpse of John Fiske. He’d already been heading out the back door as she’d walked into the kitchen. He’d glanced over his shoulder to say something to his partner and had seen her.
Annie had been within seconds of dying that day. If the gun Luke Saunders had been carrying hadn’t malfunctioned, she’d be dead. If Sophia had been home, she’d have been dead, too.
She shuddered, washing Hunter’s empty plate and her own. Anything to keep the memories at bay. They were a heavy burden. One she didn’t think she’d ever be able to lay down. She’d wanted so badly to save Joe. She’d pressed dishcloths to the wound in his chest, trying to sop up the blood. She’d held his hand and touched his cheek and told him he was going to be all right. She hadn’t believed it. He hadn’t, either.
Don’t let anything happen to the baby.
His last words to her, and she’d promised that she wouldn’t.
“Please, Lord, help me keep that promise. For him and for me,” she whispered as she dried the plates and put them away.
The apartment floor creaked, and she knew Hunter was returning. She settled back into a chair, the eggs sitting like lead in the pit of her stomach.
Hunter took the seat across from her, sliding a folder across the table. “Are you sure you want to do this tonight?”
“It’s morning, and I’m sure.”
She might be sure, but her hands were trembling. Hunter noticed that and her pallor. She was ashen, her eyes bright blue in her pale face.
Any other time, any other witness, and Hunter would have been impatient for her to do what needed to be done. He was impatient. He needed her to look at the picture. If the doll had been taken from the Delacorte house, it would be a lot easier to connect the guy who’d used it to intimidate Annie to Saunders and Fiske. One more nail in the guys’ coffins.
Once they found the person responsible.
Yeah. He was impatient, but this was Annie, and she had a softer heart than other witnesses he’d protected. So many of the people Hunter had ushered into witness protection had been criminals hiding from criminals. He hadn’t felt sorry for their troubles because they’d brought them on themselves. Annie was different. Her husband had brought trouble into her life. Her only crime had been in loving a guy who’d borrowed money from the wrong people to feed his gambling addiction.
“It can wait,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, it can’t.”
She flipped open the folder and lifted the photo.
As crime-scene photos went, it was pretty innocuous. Hunter had seen a whole lot worse than the headless doll wearing the pink dress.
Annie dropped the photo as if it was a venomous snake.
“Is it—?” Hunter started to ask.
“I need some water.” She cut him off, pushing away from the table. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it at the sink, her hands shaking so hard water sloshed onto the floor.
She set the glass on the counter and grabbed the dish towel. There were tears in her eyes. He should have ignored them, kept his distance, let her clean up the water and get her emotions in check.
But she looked vulnerable and young, her shoulders slumped as she halfheartedly swiped at the drops of water. She’d given up her family to testify. Given up the friends and support system she’d had before her husband’s murder.
She’d been cautioned against making too many friends in Milwaukee. Until the trial, they wanted her disconnected, free from the temptation to say too much, the danger of slipping and revealing her identity.
She had no one.
Except for him.
For some reason, that mattered to Hunter more than he wanted it to. He told himself it was because he had a younger sister, and that he’d have wanted someone to take care of her emotionally if she’d been in the same situation. He thought the reason might be a lot more complicated than that. Annie was a beautiful woman with a beautiful spirit. That was a difficult combination to resist.
He knelt beside her, took the cloth from her hand. “I’ll clean it up.”
“You’re a U.S. marshal. Not a maid,” she replied, but she scooted away and sat on the floor, her back resting against the cupboards, her arms around her knees.
“I’m whatever I need to be.” He finished wiping up the water and dropped the cloth into the sink.
When she didn’t move, he sat beside her. “Right now, I think you need more than a U.S. marshal. I think you need a friend.”
“Don’t be nice to me, okay?” Her voice broke, and she dropped her head to her knees.
“Aren’t I always nice?” he responded, knowing he wasn’t. Hoping the comment would make her smile.
Or at least keep her from crying.
“Nice?” She turned her head, eyeing him dispassionately. “I suppose some people would call you that.”
“What would you call me?” he asked, more curious than he should be. She was a witness, and her opinion of him shouldn’t matter. Right at that moment, though, it did.
“Efficient.”
“Not hard-nosed or cold, huh?” He’d been called both on a number of occasions. He’d thought the descriptions apt and had taken them as compliments. They wouldn’t be compliments coming from someone like Annie.
“No.”
“That’s your problem, then, Annie. You’re too nice. Instead of getting mad at people who treat you badly—”
“You’ve never treated me badly,” she cut in, and for some reason her continued kindness annoyed him. He’d rather she be like everyone else he’d protected. Convinced that he was as cold as he pretended to be.
“I’ve never treated you kindly, either,” he pointed out. “I’ve done my job. That’s what I get paid for, but you continue to act like I’m doing you a huge favor.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” She stood, and she didn’t look vulnerable or young anymore. She looked angry. “Acting?”
“That wasn’t what I was saying.”
“Then what were you saying, Hunter? That I’m too foolish to know that you’re just here doing what you’ve been paid for? That I’m too stupid to realize that the only reason you’re talking to me right now is because you want answers about the doll and you’re afraid I’m going to have some kind of mental breakdown before I give them to you?” Her voice was soft, her tone light, but there was heat in her gaze.
“That’s not why—”
“You want to know the truth? A year ago, I might have been a fool and I might have been stupid. I trusted people because I wanted to think the best of everyone. After what I learned about Joe, I’m not that naive. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be kind.” She grabbed the folder and thrust it at him. “Yes, it’s Sophia’s doll. That’s the dress I made for it. Check the stitching. I didn’t have any pink thread so I used robin’s-egg blue.”
She spun on her heels and ran from the room.
She didn’t slam the bedroom door, but he heard the quiet snap of the lock.
He could have followed her. It would have been easy enough to unlock the door.
But he had the answer he needed. There was no need for further conversation.
He looked down at the photo of the headless doll. The dress was intricate and well made with puffy sleeves and some sort of gathers on the front. He’d call Joshua, ask him if the thread used on the dress was blue. Just to be sure.
If it was, then the doll had been taken the night of Joe Delacorte’s murder. Once they found the guy who’d tossed it into the safe-house yard, they should be able to connect him to Saunders and Fiske. Neither man would have a chance of escaping justice.
That should have excited Hunter. It was what he lived for. Seeing justice done, knowing he had done his part to make it happen.
It had always been enough before.
Right then, though, it felt empty. The thrill of the hunt, the excitement of the chase, victory in sight—none of it seemed nearly as important as making sure that Annie was okay. He hesitated, tempted to unlock Annie’s door and make sure she was. He wouldn’t, though. That would be crossing a line and walking into dangerous territory.
Cold detachment. It had served him well before. It would serve him well again.
He pulled out his cell phone and called Josh again.
FOUR
Annie knew she shouldn’t have gotten so upset, but Hunter’s attitude infuriated her. She was a grown woman with a child. Not some naive little girl. She knew he was doing his job. She didn’t have to be reminded of the fact over and over again.
She was doing her job, too. Staying inside, meeting with the prosecuting attorney, sticking by her agreement to testify against Saunders and Fiske even though she couldn’t help wondering if it was the right thing to do. After all, what did she really owe Joe?
In the years they’d been married, he’d apparently lied to her and stolen. He’d taken money that should have gone to their family and spent it on gambling.
She did owe Sophia, though.
A good life free of the shadows of her father’s mistakes.
She touched Sophia’s soft curls. Hunter had been right about one thing: Annie did need a friend. If she could have, she’d have picked up the phone and called her college roommate. Tabitha had always known the right thing to say and the right way to say it. She’d even tried to tell Annie that Joe wasn’t good enough for her.
Love was blind. Annie hadn’t seen anything but the good in Joe. She didn’t want to call that a mistake. They’d had plenty of good times together, and they’d gotten Sophia from their relationship. Annie would do it all again to have her daughter.
She just wished she’d known. She wished she hadn’t been so blind. Maybe then Joe would still be alive.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and paced across the room. She felt antsy and trapped. No jogs in the park like she’d been able to do in Milwaukee. No trips to playgrounds. No playdates. Nothing to take her mind off the looming trial or the danger that she was in.
It was no wonder she felt irritable and unhappy.
“Annie,” Hunter called, his voice soft.
Go away, she wanted to say, but she’d been raised with better manners than that. Besides, she wanted to prove that she wasn’t the immature little girl he seemed to think she was.
She opened the door and stepped into the hall. “What?”
“I called Joshua. He confirmed that the thread on the doll’s dress was blue.”
“Okay,” she said, because she’d known it would be. She had spent hours making that little dress. She’d wanted Sophia’s first doll to be something prettier than the dollar-store find Joe had brought home.
She felt guilty for thinking that.
He’d tried, and he really had loved Sophia. No matter how much Annie doubted everything else about her husband, she didn’t doubt that.
“The crime lab is going to process the doll,” Hunter continued. “Maybe we’ll get some evidence that will help us find the guy who tossed it into the yard. Once we find him, we should be able to connect him to Fiske and Saunders. There’s no other way he could have gotten the doll aside from one of them.”
“You think that will help at trial?”
“It will be one more mark against them, and when it comes to trial, more is better.”
“I hope you’re right, Hunter. If they aren’t convicted—”
“They will be,” he assured her.
“One thing I’ve learned the past year, Hunter, is that there aren’t any guarantees. So, I’m not going to celebrate until both men are locked away.”
He nodded and leaned his shoulder against the wall. It looked as though he had more to say, but he just watched her silently.
“If that’s all you wanted to say, I’m going back to bed.” She put her hand on the door, not really ready to go pace the room again, but not willing to stand in the hall having a stare-down with Hunter, either.
“I owe you an apology,” he said before she could close the door. “There’s nothing wrong with being kind. As a matter of fact, I could use a little more practice at it.”
“You’ve been perfectly kind,” she conceded, oddly touched by his apology. For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed absolutely sincere and absolutely himself.
“For the sake of my work, sure. But I need to spend a little more time being kind for the sake of kindness.” He flashed a quick smile, reached around her to push the door open. “If you’re going to try to get some more sleep, you’d better do it now. Sophia is usually up at the crack of dawn.”
He walked down the hall and disappeared into the kitchen.
She almost followed him. Hunter was a paradox. By the book and cold as ice, but there was something warm in him. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now that she had, she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it.
Maybe that was what happened to young widows. They inevitably started noticing the men in their lives. Eventually, noticing led to falling for someone and they married again. That was what Annie’s mother had said a few days after Joe’s funeral.
“One day, the pain will fade. You’ll find someone else. You’ll fall in love again. You’ll get married and have a dozen children,” Sandy had murmured as she’d hugged Annie.
Annie hadn’t believed her then, and she didn’t want to believe her now. She’d learned too much about the lie her first marriage had been.
“Sorry, Mom. No marriage. No dozen children,” she muttered. “Ever.”
The door next to hers opened, and Serena Summers peered out, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, a few strands escaping and falling across her cheeks. “Everything okay out here?”
“Yes. Fine. I was just going back to bed.”
“At...” Serena glanced at her watch. “Four in the morning? Shouldn’t you already be in bed?”
“I was. I couldn’t sleep. I probably still won’t be able to, but I’m going to give it a try.”
“I’ve been trying for three hours and haven’t had any luck. Maybe we should both give in to the inevitable, drink some coffee and play a game of checkers.”
“Checkers?”
Annie wasn’t really in the mood for a rousing game of checkers. She wasn’t really in the mood for coffee, but she couldn’t not notice the sadness in Serena’s eyes.
She saw it in her own eyes every time she looked in the mirror.
“Sounds like fun,” she said and couldn’t quite hide the note of sarcasm in her voice.
Serena smiled and shook her head. “Honestly, it’s not my idea of fun, either. I’d rather be out on the gun range, but we’re stuck here for the time being so we may as well make the best of it. Come on. I’ll make the coffee.”
Annie followed Serena into the small living room. Hunter was in the kitchen, so she didn’t follow Serena there. Instead, she sat on the couch and waited. She wanted to ignore Hunter’s presence, pretend that she hadn’t noticed just how masculine he was, just how handsome. Now that she’d noticed, though, she couldn’t not notice. She glanced his way, saw that he was watching her.
She should probably say something, but her mouth was dry, her throat tight.
“You want cream in your coffee?” Serena called, her question breaking the spell that held Annie’s tongue.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Great, because that’s the way I made it.” Serena walked into the living room, two coffee cups balanced on a boxed checkers set. She set it on the coffee table. “Ready?”
“Sure,” Annie responded, settling onto the floor with her back to Hunter.
Hunter watched as Annie and Serena started their game. They both looked relaxed and at ease, but he didn’t think either was. Annie had spoken of nightmares. Serena had struggled during the past year, too. Losing her brother had been difficult; knowing that he’d been murdered in the line of duty and that his murderer was still on the loose was even harder.
He frowned, pouring himself a cup of coffee. His third of the night. Caffeine overload, but he had a long day to get through. A meeting at headquarters at nine, and then a trip to Steven Antonio’s office in the afternoon. The prosecuting attorney was determined to win his case against Saunders and Fiske. He’d been asking for weekly meetings with Annie since her return to St. Louis. Hunter might have to curtail the frequency. She was as prepared for trial as a witness could be, and her safety was paramount.
Hunter glanced at the computer monitor that had been set up on the kitchen counter. The split screen offered views from six security cameras. No sign of trouble outside the apartment building and no sign of it inside. He hadn’t expected that there would be. The safe house had been used dozens of times, and it had never been compromised. There was no reason to believe it would be now.
Then again, the little house that they’d been using had never been compromised before, either.
He sipped lukewarm coffee and tried to think of a way that could have happened without someone from the unit being involved. He trusted the men and women he worked with. He depended on them to do their jobs. He’d have trusted any one of them with his life. But someone had leaked Annie’s location.
He had to find out who, and he had to do it quickly.
Since Daniel Summers’s death, there’d been some tension within the unit. Daniel’s murder had left a hole in the team. Josh McCall and Serena felt the loss the most. Serena because Daniel was her brother. Josh because they’d been partners and best friends. There hadn’t been much Hunter could do but encourage the team to keep working, keep seeking justice and keep doing exactly what Daniel had always loved. But the newest development in the Delacorte case wasn’t going to sit well with anyone. Accusations could be tossed around. That could cause more tension.
No one needed that.
Hunter clenched his fists and walked out of the kitchen. He wasn’t used to feeling helpless, but he’d felt helpless when he’d heard about Daniel’s murder. He’d promised Serena and himself that he’d find the person responsible, and that he’d make sure that person paid. Over a year later, he still had no leads, no suspects, no clues.
He felt as if he was failing himself and his team.
He would fail them even more if he didn’t find the leak and stop it.
Serena and Annie looked up as he entered the room.
“She’s beating my socks off,” Serena said with a dramatic sigh. “How about you take the next round, Hunter?”
Not likely. Playing games while he was on duty wasn’t something he’d ever done, and he didn’t plan to start now. “You’re the checker champ, Serena. I’m sure you can take her down if you put your mind to it. I’ve got to make a couple of calls.”
“Are you checking in with the evidence team?” Serena asked.
“Josh was going to do that. I’m going to call him and see if there have been any updates.”
Her expression hardened the way it seemed to every time Josh was mentioned. She’d obviously had a problem with him since her brother’s murder, and Hunter suspected that she blamed him for Daniel’s death.
“Right. I’m sure Josh will know what’s going on. Your move, Annie.” She turned her attention back to the game.
He could have asked her if she had a problem working with Josh. He didn’t because she did her job well. Whatever she might be feeling, she never let it affect her work. That was what mattered.
He walked down the hall and pulled out his cell phone. Joshua’s phone rang twice before it jumped to voice mail. He left a brief message asking for information and reminding Josh of their meeting. Hopefully, there would be more information by then.
A quiet sound drifted from Annie’s room. Sophia? She was one of the most well-behaved kids he’d ever met. Quiet and cute, she spent her days toddling around the house and smiling. If he’d had time to be a parent, getting to know Sophia would have convinced him that it was a good idea.
He didn’t have time. Not for a wife. Not for kids. Unless he did, he’d never take that step. His siblings had said the same until they’d fallen in love. Now they insisted that he’d change his mind when the right woman came along.
He wasn’t sure that would ever happen, because love was never enough to hold a relationship together. There needed to be time, attention, companionship. There needed to be more than a half-hour dinner once a month or a quick phone call between cases.
There needed to be as much commitment to the relationship as there was to work, and Hunter didn’t think he’d ever be able to give that. He certainly hadn’t had a good example of how to make it work, that was for sure.
He frowned, not sure why he was letting his mind wander in that direction.
Another soft sound drifted from Annie’s room. He peeked in the door. The bed was empty. His heart jumped in surprise, but he wasn’t worried. No way could Sophia have gone far. Then again, he didn’t know how far a toddler would have to go to find trouble in an apartment that wasn’t baby-proofed.
“Sophia?” he called as he walked into the room.
No answer.
He rounded the bed and found her lying beside it, a blanket clutched in one arm. Still sound asleep by the look of things.
He scooped her up, planning to put her back in bed, but her little arms wrapped round his neck, and she held on tight.
“Time to get back in bed, Sophia,” he said.
“Where’s Mommy?” She popped her thumb in her mouth and eyed him suspiciously.
“In the living room. She’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“I want Mommy,” she somehow managed to say without taking her thumb out of her mouth.
For such a young kid, she was very articulate, every word she spoke crystal clear. He had good reason to know it. She was speaking more and more lately, her voice high-pitched and sweet. “All right. I’ll get her for you.”
He tried to put her down again, but she tightened her grip on his neck.
“Hey,” he said, easing one of her little arms from his neck before she cut off circulation. “You’ve got quite a grip, kid.”
“I not kid. I Sophia.”
The comment surprised a laugh out of him. “Sorry. Sophia.”
“Good boy, Hunter,” she said solemnly, patting his cheek.
He was more amused than he probably should be. He was working, after all. Protecting Sophia and Annie. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted.
“Come on,” he said, carrying her from the room. “Let’s get your mom.”
“And a cookie?”
He almost laughed again. “That’s up to your mom.”
“What’s up to me?” Annie hurried into the hall. Obviously, she’d heard him talking to Sophia. She took the toddler from his arms and eyed him with the same suspicion he’d seen in her daughter’s eyes.
They looked a lot alike. Both with dark hair and big blue eyes. Both with smooth skin and delicate features. Hunter had seen pictures of Joe. His hair had been light brown, his eyes gray. Whatever he’d passed on to his daughter didn’t show in her face.