The Innocent Witness (15 page)

But Kent paid Wendell well for his organizational skills. And his willingness to keep his boss's unpleasant secrets.

Secrets that could put them all in jail for a very long time.

If it weren't for the money and the debts piling up, Wendell would walk away.

He shivered. There it was again. That strange, frightening sense of observation.

Not good. Best get back to the office where he'd be safe inside the secure building with the armed guards who weren't on Kent's payroll, and Wendell would know since he handled all the books for Kent. With shaky hands, he gathered the remnants of his treats and threw them in the trash. Pushing through the glass door leading to the street, Wendell was struck once again with the disagreeable feeling of having his every move kept track of.

A mixture of tourists and businesspeople crowded the sidewalk. But none were
looking
at him. Jockeying his way through the throng, he reached the far corner of NW G Street and waited for the light to turn green. When the light changed, he stepped out into the road.

A shudder shimmered over his flesh. Something wasn't right. He glanced behind him with a sense of dread. A hulking bald man with bulging muscles beneath a black T-shirt dogged Wendell's steps.

One of Kent's hired thugs.

Fear rocketed through Wendell's heart.

He increased his pace, eager to reach the sanctuary of their office with its state-of-the-art security system and armed guards. Dodging an older couple holding hands, he hurried for the sidewalk.

Wendell glanced back again. The Hulk closed in. Something shiny glinted in his beefy hand. A knife. A tight fist of terror closed around Wendell's throat.

Panicked, he broke out in a run.

Feet pounded on the sidewalk behind him.

Up ahead a tall, dark-haired man blocked the
entryway to the building. He stared at Wendell with a strange look on his face as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. A grown man in a panic.

As Wendell slowed, he realized the man's gaze went past Wendell's shoulder to his pursuer.

“Hey!” the guy in the doorway roared. “Stop!”

He pushed past Wendell as Wendell pushed to get into the building. Another man, similar in looks to the taller one, raced to get by, too.

Wendell spun around to see Mr. Muscles turn and flee down the street. He hopped into a waiting sedan and roared away, weaving through the southbound traffic, leaving his pursuers in the dust.

Blowing out a breath of relief, Wendell straightened his tie and tried to calm the frantic beat of his heart. He was safe. But deep down he knew this was only a momentary reprieve.

The game had changed.

Obviously Kent had sent one of his minions to do away with him. Anger stirred beneath the pervading fear. After everything he'd done for Kent. The risks he'd taken…. Wendell seethed.

If Kent thought he'd be so easily disposed of, he had another thing coming.

“Wendell Brooks?” a deep voice spoke near his ear.

Startled, Wendell whipped his attention to a stocky man with graying hair and an off-the-rack brown suit. He flashed a badge. “Agent Gorman, Secret Service. May we have a word?”

For a second Wendell contemplated running again.
But then he noticed the agent wasn't alone. And the two men and two women looked ready to eat him alive. No way would he manage to evade them all.

Putting on his most practiced smile, he said, “Agent Gorman, what can I do for you?”

A hand grabbed him powerfully by the neck. A surprised cry escaped as he was spun around to find himself staring into the feral gaze of the tall, dark-haired man.

“Where's Kent taken her?”

T
rapped in the SUV speeding along U.S. 29 away from the city, Viv waved and gestured to passing cars trying to gain someone's, anyone's attention. But no one noticed. She wanted to scream with frustration. The dark-tinted windows kept her hidden from vehicles sharing the road.

She yanked on the door handle. Locked. With frantic fingers, she worked the lock mechanism. No help there. The driver must have engaged the child-safety locks.

Despair threatened to rob her of what little strength remained. She tried to stay positive. Anthony would come after her.

But for all she knew Anthony was dead.

Grief welled up, filling her eyes with tears.

She and Mikey could be next.

No!
She couldn't go there.

She pressed a hand to her forehead.
Stop it!
she commanded herself.
You can't give up hope.

Her faith wouldn't let her lose hope. God was on her side.

Shaking with icy terror, Viv clutched an agitated Mikey to her as the SUV turned off the highway and
entered the Rocky Gorge Reservoir area and bounced along an unpaved rural road. The wooded areas along the Patuxent River were perfect for dumping a body. Two bodies. They wouldn't be found for a very long time. She shuddered with dread.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she chanted in a soft voice, “I will not be afraid. I will trust in the Lord.”

Lord, if it is our time to go to heaven, please let it be quick.

She didn't want Mikey to suffer.

The vehicle hit a hole. The SUV jolted, sending a painful recoil through her. She cried out. Mikey's high-pitched wail reverberated through the interior.

“Shut that kid up!” the passenger in the front seat shouted.

Viv sent the stranger hidden behind the tinted partition a caustic glare.

Soothing a hand down Mikey's back, she whispered, “Shh now, baby. We'll get through this, baby.”

The SUV slid to a halt in a clearing, the sound of loose rocks and dirt beneath the tires as ominous as a scream. All around them were woods thick with trees and underbrush. All around them were possible grave sites. Her breathing turned shallow with fright.

The men climbed out from the front seats. The lock popped on the side door. Sheer black terror crashed through her like an angry bear disturbed from its sleep. She lunged for the door handle, wanting, needing to keep the door closed and the evil men away from her son. But her grip was no match for the strength of the driver.

The door was wrenched out of her grasp. Viv scooted
back and flung her arms around Mikey, shielding him. He squirmed to be free.

Rough hands pulled Viv and Mikey from the SUV. They landed in a heap on the hard ground. Mikey immediately jumped to his feet and began flapping his hands near his ears. His wails filled the sky. Viv stared at the man who'd driven her here. He'd removed his mask, revealing a scarred face and closely shaved scalp.

“Bring them,” Steven's killer said from around the front of the SUV.

The driver yanked her to her feet. “Get up!”

No. She wouldn't make this easy for them. She went limp.

With an oath, the man's fingers bit into her flesh. His big hand squeezed her arm in a painful vise. Dragging her behind him with one hand, he easily lifted Mikey up by the waist and carried him.

“Please, don't do this!” Viv pleaded.

The man ignored her and continued on. A handgun was tucked into the waistband of his pants over his kidney. Viv twisted and turned, trying to reach it. Her attempts fell short. Frustrated, she screamed. Maybe someone would hear. Startled birds flew from the tops of massive oak and hickory trees.

“Shut up!” her captor snapped.

Viv screamed louder, giving voice to the fear and anger and despair welling up inside. Mikey, obviously upset by his mother's cries, released his own wild screech.

There was a barely-discernible path through the underbrush. Viv dug in her heels. Mikey wiggled and squirmed. But they were no match for the man who held
them. He stopped at a small wooden lean-to. The door stood wide open.

Viv grabbed the doorjamb and hung on. Mikey was thrown inside. The man lifted Viv off her feet and unceremoniously dumped her on the floor.

He gave her a vicious kick in the side. “That's for being so difficult.”

Pain exploded throughout her torso. She doubled up with a moan.

From the shadowy corner, Steven's killer tsked. “Really, Carl. That wasn't necessary.”

Carl grunted, slammed the door shut and leaned against the wall.

Viv roused enough from the blow to her side to jerk her gaze across the one-room shack.

A man dressed in a gray three-piece suit sat at a small table. Close at hand lay a large-caliber handgun. Astonishment drained the blood from her head. For a moment the room tilted. Black spots burst through her vision. She blinked until they cleared. “Marshal?”

His lips spread in a semblance of a smile.

Viv trembled at the coldness in the blue eyes staring at her.

“You've made things very difficult, Vivian.”

Her mind reeled.

Marshal Kent was Steven's killer!

But the Kents were nice people. Family friends. Marshal had been a mentor of sorts to Steven over the years, always quick to bolster Steven's ego with encouraging words and wisdom.

And Millie, Marshal's wife, had often sought Viv out
at social functions. She'd recently asked Viv to serve on a charity's board, raising money for unwed teenage mothers. Viv had had to decline because of the time commitment. Millie had understood.

Which explained how the men hunting them had known about Mikey's Wanderer Alert system.

Viv struggled to an upright position. Mikey had quieted and stood in the opposite corner, rocking slightly as he twisted his finger.

“Why?” she asked, her voice revealing her astonishment. “Why did you kill Steven?”

Kent blew out a breath. “Believe me, Viv, he didn't have to die. He was one stubborn man. I tried to talk some sense into that boy, but he wouldn't listen.” He gave a mournful shake of his head. “I taught him so much. Poured myself into him and his career. And then he turned on me. I couldn't allow that.”

Somewhere between her curiosity and her fear was the thought,
keep him talking.
As long as he wanted to talk, he wouldn't kill them. “You were part of his straw donor scam. He was blackmailing you.”

“Clever girl. Only he wasn't the brainchild behind our own personal little hedge fund. I was,” he boasted with pride. “I needed him to win the upcoming election. There are plans that need to be fulfilled. Steven was the golden ticket to making everything possible.” His face twisted in a dark rage. “Now I'll have to start over. Groom some other schmuck. It isn't as easy as it used to be. Too many watchdogs now.”

“So Millie was a part of this scam?” Viv said. “Her kindness toward Mikey and me was all a pretense?”

“No, no. Dear, sweet Millie has her head so high
in the clouds she doesn't know which way is up.” He pushed to his feet.

Panicked, Viv stalled. “Why Steven? How did you pick him?”

Marshal raised an imperious eyebrow. “I didn't pick him. Your father did.”

Shock clutched at her chest. “My father?”

“Didn't know we were acquaintances, did you? Yes, your father had a vested interest in wanting a political figure in his back pocket. He discovered Steven. Even financed Steven's first campaign. But then Steven turned on him.” Again, Marshal shook his head. “I should have anticipated Steven's betrayal.”

Mind reeling, Viv said, “I don't understand. What do you mean Steven turned on my father?”

There had always been an undercurrent of tension between her father and Steven. But she had dismissed the unease as her imagination. After all, her father had advocated the strongest for a marriage between his only child and Steven. Her mother had run a close second. Her mind grappled with the revelation that her own father had used her for his own gain. What kind of parent did that?

Viv glanced at Mikey, longing to take him into the shelter of her arms. The more Marshal spoke the more withdrawn Mikey became. He had sunk to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest. She ached for her child.

“Your rascal of a husband threatened to expose your father's less-than-ethical land deals. All LeMar had to do was persuade you to become Steven's bride. Which I could appreciate. A smart move on the boy's part. Steven wanted the validity your family name and money
brought with you. Plus having a former beauty queen on his arm didn't hurt any.”

She'd always known she was nothing more than a trophy wife to Steven.

Marshal gestured to Carl with his hand. “Take care of them. There's a shovel behind the hut. Bury them deep.”

Carl straightened and moved toward the corner where Mikey stood.

Terror jackknifed Viv's heart. She bolted to her feet and rushed to her son. Pushing him behind her, she implored Marshal to reconsider. “Please. Please, don't do this. I can keep your secret. Mikey can't even tell us what he saw that night. There's no reason to kill us.”

Marshal's expression showed a flicker of regret. “Sorry, dear. Too many loose ends.”

Desperation clawed at her throat. Beyond Marshal's right shoulder, movement outside the window momentarily snagged her attention. She had to be hallucinating. She thought she saw Anthony peek over the window-sill. Everything inside her stilled for a heartbeat. Hope zoomed through her bloodstream. Her faith in God, in Anthony, hadn't been in vain.

Frantically she sought to give Anthony and herself more time. Holding Mikey tightly in place behind her, she pleaded, “Wait. Please tell me why my father picked Steven. What was so special about him?”

Marshal cocked his head to the side and studied her. She forced herself to return his gaze while keeping her face as neutral as possible.

Finally he said, “Steven could move a crowd to tears or to laughter easily. He made people trust him, believe
in him without any concrete reason for doing so. All the best traits of a good politician. He caught your father's attention when he ran for the Boise City Council. The rest, as they say, is history.” He gestured to Carl. “And so are you.”

Carl raised his weapon.

Viv screamed, “No!” She flinched expectantly, then pulled Mikey down into a crouch. His terrified screams bounced off the wall.

The door burst open. Two successive gunshots rang out, reverberating within the confines of the shack. Carl hit the floor with a cry and a clatter, his gun sliding from his slackened fingers. He grasped his thigh with one hand where blood flowed from a gunshot wound. He held his other arm to his chest. Viv could see another bullet wound in his forearm.

Standing in the doorway, Anthony lowered his weapon. His ragged gaze locked with Viv's. Her heart leapt. She nearly collapsed with relief as love for this man, her hero, swamped her. In two long strides he was at her side, reaching to help her and Mikey stand. Mikey's cries quieted at Anthony's touch, solidifying how much the boy had come to love Anthony as well. Viv couldn't think of anyone she would want her son to love more than Anthony.

Other men filed in. Joe and three others she didn't recognize. Marshal backed up until he was standing beside the table.

“It's over,” an older man said as he moved toward Marshal. “You're under arrest, Kent.”

Viv caught Marshal's slight movement as he reached for the weapon lying unnoticed on the table.

“Gun!” she yelled.

Anthony shoved Viv and Mikey behind him and whipped around, his own weapon already coming up.

Viv held her breath.

Marshal froze, then raised his hands as several other weapons were aimed at his chest.

Relief bowed Viv's head. Once again Anthony was willing to risk his life for her. He was a man who would always risk his life for others. She knew it and accepted it. And loved him all the more for it.

Viv watched with satisfaction as Marshal was cuffed and escorted from the shack, a man on either side of him. Joe and a blond-haired guy carried Carl out the door.

Anthony heaved a sigh and tucked his weapon into his holster.

Needing to reassure herself he was real, Viv reached up to caress his face. Tears of relief and joy rolled down her cheeks. “You're here. How did you find us?”

“I'm here.” He turned his face to press a kiss to her palm. “Kent's assistant told us about this parcel of land and the shack. It seemed the most likely place he'd bring you.” Residual grief etched lines on his face. “I'm just so glad we arrived in time.”

“Me, too.”

With a look of tenderness and pain, he bent his head and captured her lips.

She clung to him, the heady sensation of being kissed like she'd never been kissed before making all her nerve endings sing.

A small body forcibly wedged itself between them,
breaking the kiss. Mikey threw his arms around Anthony's waist. Viv's heart melted with love for this man.

Anthony gave her a crooked smile. “Come on, let's blow this dive.”

Happy to put this nightmare behind her, she smiled. “Gladly.”

Viv took a step toward the door and halted. She had to know. “What now?”

“Kent goes to jail. You and Mikey are free to live your lives.”

“No, that's not what I mean.” Unsure how to ask the question burning in her heart, she bit her lip. The moment stretched as their gazes held.

“They're waiting for us,” he finally prompted.

He wasn't going to make this easy for her, was he? Swallowing back her trepidation, she forged ahead because once they walked out the door there probably wouldn't be time for them to have a private moment for a while. And she couldn't wait. “I mean, what about us?”

A pained expression crossed his dear, handsome face. “Viv.”