Protected Secrets

Safeguarding the witness...

And his adopted little girl

US Marshal Delaney Patton’s assignment: protect murder witness Bruce Walker and his daughter—a little girl Delaney suspects is the child she gave up for adoption years ago. But before she can explore a possible reunion, Delaney must outsmart the deadly criminal organization tracking their every move. Can she shield them long enough to find the truth...and possibly become part of the family she’s falling for?

HEATHER WOODHAVEN earned her pilot’s license, rode a hot-air balloon over the safari lands of Kenya, parasailed over Caribbean seas, lived through an accidental detour onto a black-diamond ski trail in Aspen and snorkeled among stingrays before becoming a mother of three and wife of one. She channels her love for adventure into writing characters who find themselves in extraordinary circumstances.

Also by Heather Woodhaven

Calculated Risk

Surviving the Storm

Code of Silence

Countdown

Texas Takedown

Tracking Secrets

Credible Threat

Protected Secrets

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Protected Secrets

Heather Woodhaven

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08560-1

PROTECTED SECRETS

© 2018 Heather Humrichouse

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“We’re driving around until they’re finished with the first witness.” Delaney looked over her shoulder at Bruce for a split second.

His heart sped up as the mail truck sped down the parking ramps. Let this time be different.

A shot rang out. People screamed on the courthouse steps and uniformed men ran out, looking up, weapons in hand. A metal crunching sound reverberated through the vehicle. Bruce reeled forward as the truck spun backward. Someone honked.

“Have we been hit?”

“Everyone okay?” Delaney shouted at the same time.

So the truck had been shot at, but he didn’t see where the bullet had landed. Bruce launched himself out of his seat and sat next to Winnie, both shielding her and frantically checking for any injuries.

Delaney picked up her radio and spoke rapidly. “Shots fired. Two down.”

Bruce groaned, hung his head and kissed Winnie’s forehead.

Someone had been waiting for them.

Dear Reader,

This was probably the hardest story for me to write thus far, though perhaps I think that of every book I’ve just finished.

During the writing of this book, my son’s recovery from a routine surgery became a nightmare. For a brief moment, I thought we’d lost him. I’ll never forget that night, and I’m abundantly thankful for the doctor who wasn’t even supposed to still be there and the on call surgery team that arrived impossibly fast during rush hour. After two weeks of little sleep, my son fully recovered and is doing better than ever.

Toward the end of writing, my sweet dog, and the inspiration for Tracking Secrets, collapsed in the living room and took her last breath. She’d been by my side for the past eleven years, usually trying to put her head on top of the laptop while I typed or flopping on my feet so I had no choice but to keep writing. I’m thankful I have nothing but fond and hilarious memories of her. She was the ideal dog for our family.

So my emotional rollercoaster may have seeped through the pages of the book. It served as a reminder that if you haven’t experienced some things yourself, you might not understand. Even with research. My apologies if I portrayed any aspect of the adoption journey incorrectly as I haven’t been part of an adoption personally.

Delaney’s journey compelled me. She could accept God’s forgiveness but had a harder time forgiving herself. I think everyone battles the tendency to some extent. Winnie has similar traits to my youngest and a certain precocious niece. She was a delight to write. And finally, Iowa is an amazing place to grow up. I’m glad I was able to set the story there. I hope to visit again soon.

Blessings,

Heather Woodhaven

Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to think any thing as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is of God.

—2 Corinthians 3:5

For my children and nieces and nephews. Thanks for all the laughs and stories and imaginative playtime throughout the years. You guys rock.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

Bruce Walker recognized his assistant as the only other person in the parking lot. Her silver curls and thick glasses reflected the sun cresting over the tall trees in the distance. “I owe you big, Nancy.” He approached, holding two to-go cups. “I know Saturday mornings are precious.”

“Just missing my cartoons.” She paused. “You see, it used to be Saturday mornings when the cartoons—”

“I’m not that young, Nancy.”

She accepted the coffee with a wink. “Where’s your little darling? I thought you might bring her with you.”

Aside from Nancy King’s attention for detail and unmatched work ethic, she acted as an honorary grandmother to his two-year-old daughter. It was a much-needed connection that he appreciated as a single dad. “She’s at a friend’s house this morning, which is why I’m taking advantage of your time. I feel like we’re not quite ready for the big sales pitch Monday.”

Ever since Trevor, his stepbrother, quit the company six months ago, Bruce had yet to fill the gaping hole Trevor had left as his former partner. Nancy crossed the parking lot with him. He entered the code to momentarily disarm the security system and unlocked the door.

On weekends, there was usually only one security guard on duty. At that moment, Max rounded the corner, hair freshly buzzed in a military cut he’d likely been wearing for over forty years. Aside from his uniform of an ironed white shirt and navy pants, he wore a holster with a gun and Taser. It seemed like overkill to Bruce, but he relied on the expertise of the security firm to make those decisions. “How’s it going this morning, Max?”

“Before you came, it was quiet on all fronts, just how I like it.” Max whistled as he strode past them. For good measure, Max checked the locks on the door they’d entered before he rounded the next corner.

Bruce’s phone dinged with an alert: Network Down. He groaned. There was no explanation for that, but it didn’t necessarily mean the problem was on their end. “Slight change of plans, Nancy. I’m going to need to make a quick stop in the server room to make sure everything is okay.”

She matched his stride. “Can I do anything?”

“I’ll need to talk with someone in the IT department first. I think Doug is on call today. Could you text him? He should’ve received the same alert I did.” He shoved the stairwell door open since the elevator worked at a snail’s pace.

Nancy didn’t complain. He heard her steps behind him until he reached the basement level when her phone dinged. “Doug says it’s just come back online, but he doesn’t know why the blip occurred in the first place.”

So it could’ve been a connectivity glitch. “Tell him that since I’m here I’m going to take a look and call him back in a minute.” He stepped out into the open area filled with cubicles. “Nancy, you can wait for me in my office if you want.”

In his peripheral vision, he caught sight of someone disappearing behind a cubicle wall. He froze for half a second, caught off guard. It was possible his eyes were playing tricks on him. Glad Nancy hadn’t left yet, he turned his head and said in low tones, “Send Max a text and tell him to make his rounds down here now.”

Her eyebrows rose, but she didn’t argue. Her thumbs flew over her phone’s keypad.

A blip of light flashed from the cubicle to his left. Bruce strained his neck and saw a computer monitor on with a script shooting lines of code out faster than he could read. So he wasn’t imagining things. Someone else was down here. “Hello?” he called out.

No one spoke, but his neck tingled. If someone had come in through the front doors, Max would’ve noticed. The man always double-checked doors were locked after someone entered, and the security key code would’ve alerted him to their presence. So who was here? How had they gotten in?

And what had they come here to do?

Bruce took a step toward the computer screen and tried to read the script.

“What’s going on?” Nancy stood to his right and looked down.

His stomach turned to lead. An unsanctioned update was uploading to all the bank systems that subscribed to their risk-analysis software. Bruce set down his coffee, leaned over and entered the administrator commands necessary to quit the process.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A voice reverberated through the room.

Bruce straightened. Nancy’s face blanched and coffee ran down her wrist and dripped onto the blue carpet. A man—short in stature, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans—held a gun in his shaking hand.

Once Bruce managed to move his focus from the gun to the man’s face, he recognized Andy Williamson, one of his data analysts. Andy narrowed his eyes and steadied his aim on Bruce. “Move away from the computer.”

He did, using the opportunity to slide in front of Nancy. “Andy, what are you doing? Put the gun down.” Bruce put one hand behind him and gestured for Nancy to get down. Instead, he felt her shaking fingers grip the back of his shirt. She tugged him backward. No doubt she felt some maternal instinct toward him, but there was no time to argue about who should save whom.

“Don’t take another step,” Andy barked.

The tugging on the back of his shirt stopped. Bruce didn’t know Andy as well as he did some of the other employees, but he’d seemed friendly. Maybe there was some sort of stress in his life that had made him snap. If he was a reasonable man, there was hope he could be talked down. “Andy, I can help you. Just put—”

“You weren’t supposed to be here. If you’d just stayed away you never would’ve known.”

“Known what?” Bruce asked. “What are you trying to do?”

Andy raked his free hand down the side of his face but his weapon stayed trained on Bruce. “You need to turn around and walk away now. Don’t interfere and forget you ever saw a thing, for your own good. You don’t mess with the—”

The stairwell door at the opposite end of the floor opened. Max was coming. Bruce couldn’t let him walk into an ambush. “Gun!”

As Andy spun around, Bruce clutched Nancy’s wrist and pulled her downward into a crouch as he ran the two of them past the cubicles.

A trio of gunshots rang out.

He felt Nancy flinch at each ping of the bullets. Bruce looked over his shoulder just in time to see Max crumple to the ground.

“No!” A sob escaped Nancy’s lips.

Bruce pulled her around the corner to a darkened hallway. “Follow me.”

He ran to the nearest door and placed his hand on the biometric scanner. Two beeps sounded, followed by a click. He wrenched open the door as Andy rounded the hallway corner.

Bruce gave Nancy a gentle push so she’d step inside the server room first. Then he met Andy’s anguished but determined gaze as Andy raised the handgun. Bruce ducked behind the fireproof door and the bullets hit the steel in front of him. He pulled on the handle of the hydraulic door so it would close before Andy reached them. “Come on, come on, come on.” The lock clicked, but he had a hard time letting go of the handle.

“Won’t he be able to get in, too?”

“No.”

“But we’re trapped.” Nancy’s voice shook. She didn’t wait for him to answer and held the phone to her ear. “Gunman shooting at us.” She rattled the address to what had to be police dispatch and stepped into the small space between the servers and the wall before sinking down to the ground.

Bruce forced his fingers to relax and let go of the handle. He took one step back and watched the door. He stood inside the most secure room in the building, designed to withstand most hackers and thieves, but he didn’t remember “bulletproof” as being one of the selling points. The steel seemed to be holding up for now.

At least Andy, as an analyst, didn’t have credentials to enter the server room. Bruce pulled out a keyboard from one of the racks and typed in the commands to shut down the outgoing update in midstream. He then turned off the network completely so Andy couldn’t try again.

Their company provided risk-analysis software to 30 percent of the banks in the country. If Andy had been able to sneak malware in with an update, it was impossible to guess just how much damage he could’ve done both to the banks and to his company’s reputation.

Another gunshot sounded. Bruce recoiled, remembering Max’s crumpled body out there. He couldn’t afford to think about him right now because Andy wasn’t giving up. Unless Nancy had a gun in her purse, he had no options for weapons. The room only contained racks of servers. Nancy’s hand reached up in the air. “We need to pray,” she whispered.

He stared at her hand for a moment before realizing she was right. There was nothing else left for him to do. Bruce accepted her shaking fingers and sank to the floor. Nancy murmured pleas for protection and help so fast his brain couldn’t register everything she said. I agree, Lord. It was the only prayer he could manage. At a moment like this, all he could think about was his daughter. Would she lose the only parent who wanted her?

The police couldn’t come fast enough.

* * *

Delaney Patton had joined the US Marshals almost three years ago to run from her mistakes. She didn’t think she’d be sent right back to face the past.

The rental car idled while she stared at the nondescript blue house she’d once called home in Ames, Iowa. Later, it was the place where she’d gotten the news that her boyfriend, and fellow police officer, had died. The police chief had told her while she’d fought to keep a brave face. She hadn’t been strong enough. She’d broken down, and then her water had broken.

Most days, the memories didn’t feel real, more like recalling a bad dream. Early labor had followed the tragic news, and in her grief and despair, she’d decided to give the baby up for adoption. Her little girl deserved better than a single mom who couldn’t cope.

Delaney sucked in a sharp breath. Her appearance still looked relatively the same—long brunette hair always pulled back in a ponytail—but she was a different person now. If given the opportunity to do it all over again, she wouldn’t make the same choices. But life didn’t offer do-overs.

It did no good to wallow. The Marshals had transferred her back to the Southern District of Iowa because Delaney knew it like the back of her hand. And while the base of operations was located in Des Moines, it was possible she’d be sent to Ames occasionally.

Delaney shifted the car into Drive. She’d found out what she needed to know. She could handle being in Ames, even on this street, without breaking down. Now she just had to work up the courage to let her parents know she was back in the state.

Her phone rang. “US Marshals. Deputy Marshal Patton.”

“Welcome home!” The deep boisterous voice could only belong to her previous police chief, Stephen Bradford, now the newly appointed US marshal for the Southern District of Idaho.

“Thank you, sir.” She tried to sound enthusiastic, but it fell flat. It was hard to shake the feeling that her new boss knew too much about her. He had, after all, been the one to hold her as she’d cried all the way to the hospital.

“Listen, I know you just flew in last night. I wanted to give you the weekend to get settled but—”

“Urgent case?” Hope blossomed. Going after a fugitive case that would take her across the state sounded like the perfect transition to the district.

“It’s an expedited protection custody assignment. The Bureau pushed it through to the US Attorney’s Office this afternoon.”

Delaney felt her eyebrows rise. Normal procedure took at least ten business days to get witness protection from the Marshals. To have it scheduled within one day meant something big had happened. “Any details?”

“They’re coming to me piecemeal. Two witnesses stopped a hacker from planting a back door that would provide access to bank credentials. The hacker allegedly murdered the security guard and escaped before law enforcement arrived on the scene. Security cameras and access logs had been disabled. No murder weapon has been found.”

“The hacker?” Delaney tried to make sense of what she was hearing. The situation was certainly serious, but so far she didn’t see the reason for expedited protection.

“Arrested an hour ago. Feds think he’s the key to bringing down the CryptTakers.”

That particular criminal organization had been wreaking havoc across the country for the past three years. Last year, they’d taken insurance claims for ransom as well as hospital records. Unlike other “hacktivism” groups that insisted their cybercrimes were for good, the CryptTakers had suspected ties to terrorist groups.

“Preliminary background check shows your witness, a Bruce Walker, has no priors. Owner of the software company that provides banks with analysis software, divorced over a year ago, sole custody of his adopted daughter. No other family in town.”

A mental image formed of a workaholic man in his early fifties with a teenage daughter. She knew the type. “So are we talking WITSEC or trial protection?”

“Assistant US Attorney thinks the moment the witnesses show up to testify, the guy will be ready to turn informant.”

“So there must be a reason the hacker doesn’t turn informant now.”

“Exactly. The suspect implied he didn’t think the witnesses would be able to make it to trial.”

“A veiled threat, then. Matches the reputation of the CryptTakers.”

“The other witness, Nancy King, commutes from Story City. We already have a team on the way. Your witness is located in Ames. I want you taking the lead on his detail.”

Delaney nodded silently. She knew the Ames area best, likely better than the other marshals based out of Des Moines, but it still seemed like a big step to be appointed lead.

“Police are with your witness now. I’ll tell them to expect you in an hour.”

She hesitated to answer. “I’m actually in Ames now.” She kept her gear packed and with her at all times. She never knew when a fugitive alert would come her way.

An uncomfortable silence followed. “That’s good. Face those memories head-on.”

Delaney cringed. Bradford didn’t even have to be in the same room to see right through her. How was she supposed to impress a man who already knew all her faults?

“I’ll send a car,” he said. He rattled off the witness’s address. “Since this is my stomping ground, feel free to consult me as well as the chief deputy with any questions. We’re working tandem on this one. Two deputies will meet you there in an hour for transport to the safe house. I’ll send the vetting information and case briefing as soon as I have them.”

It would be the first time she’d ever served as lead on anything in the Marshals, which meant she couldn’t let Marshal Bradford down. And being responsible for someone as important as a witness who could take down the CryptTakers caused a sudden craving for chocolate. Was there still a chocolate shop on Main Street? She shook off the thought and made a U-turn.

Bruce Walker lived in an older neighborhood near Squaw Creek, where the streets were lined with mature maple trees. She gawked at the house as she slowed to a stop. Unlike the typical farmhouse architecture on the street, his was a Tudor, a gorgeous piece of architecture the likes of which she’d only dreamed of ever owning. The steeply pitched gable roof, the curved wooden door, the decorative brick on the lower half and the chimney all hinted at simpler, more elegant times.

Given the age of the house, it wasn’t a surprise the garage was unattached. A police cruiser was parked in the paved space between the garage and the house. A block away, an officer sat inside another cruiser strategically positioned at the curve, behind a twisted oak tree that jutted into the road.