Reluctant Witness (14 page)

“Marigold, you have to trust me on this. It’s
going to be okay. You will be fine. You can handle this,” Lincoln
promised me. He took my hand in his and gave it a little squeeze as
those brown eyes gazed into mine, steady and sure. I wanted to
believe him. As our hands parted, he crossed the room and went to
the door, listening, looking through the peep hole. Stealthily
opening it, he peered out, checking in both directions before he
stepped out and vanished, as the door closed behind him.

An unexpected attack of hopeless came over
me. What if I never saw Lincoln again? What if Tom and Jojo didn’t
understand just how dangerous all of this really was? Maybe Lincoln
should have just driven me to the FBI office and left me there.

“Well, there’s never a dull moment with that
boy,” Tom announced, shaking his head and smiling, leaning back on
the sofa. “I guess I’m not supposed to ask you for your personal
information, Marigold. But I can see you’re rather nervous. Would
it help you to know I was Linc’s boss at the FBI? I actually
trained him on counterterrorism operations. This is just my way of
letting you know I can and will protect you.”

“Oh,” I was finding it hard
to breathe. My palms were growing clammy. Pain seemed to be
wrapping like a tight band across my chest, squeezing the air out.
Was I about to have a panic attack?
Breathe, Marigold. Hold it for a count of three and then let
it out slowly.

“Are you okay?” Jojo was studying me, her
big, blue eyes serious. She was old enough to be my mother, and for
a moment, I wished she was. I wanted people to tell me all the
running was over, that I didn’t have to worry anymore. As if he
could read my mind, Tom took his turn reassuring me.

“Linc dropped you off here because he’s going
to go out and make a big spectacle of himself, to get some
attention. He wants the people who are after you to keep an eye on
him. Once he’s got them convinced you’re not with him, he’ll be
able to reconnect with us. Does that make sense to you?”

His voice was kind and I wanted to trust him,
but was that realistic? As I looked over at him, he met my gaze
without blinking and I turned away, uncomfortable under his strong
scrutiny. That’s when I realized he might be amiable at the moment,
but if someone came after me, he’d fight hard and dirty.

“Jojo is going to give you a little makeover
tomorrow, and get you some new clothes to wear. By the time she’s
done, you’ll look like a million bucks.”

“It’s my job to make you unrecognizable,
Marigold. When I put you on a plane to Atlanta, I need people to
believe you are who I say you are,” Jojo insisted. “The more I can
make you feel the part, the easier it will be for you to stay in
character, and that will help you stay safe.”

“What does that mean?”

“You and your dog will be traveling together.
I’ll have someone shadow you,” Tom interjected.

“But I don’t have a dog.”

Chapter
Thirteen

“You do now, dear,” said Jojo, bending down
to pick up the Shih Tzu. “Kary is going to help me give you
cover.”

“It’s late. Why don’t we worry about all that
tomorrow? In the meantime, we’ll show you to the guest room and get
you settled for the night.” Tom picked up the dog crate and my bag
before pointing to the stairs. “Right this way.”

Twenty minutes later, teeth brushed and lying
in a plush guest bed, covers pulled up to my chin, I stared at the
ceiling in the darkened room, watching the moonlight creep in
through the window, when I heard a small whimper from beside the
bed. Reaching a hand out, I spread my fingers, trying to locate the
furry head.

“What’s the matter, boy? You miss Lincoln?”
That little bit of sympathy was exactly what the dog was hoping to
hear. A moment later, I saw the silhouette of Kary standing on the
chair next to the bed. To my horror, I realized he was about to
jump. “No, no! Wait!”

Leaping up, I turned on the bedside lamp and
dragged the chair closer. As soon as it was within hopping
distance, Kary was on the bed, rolling around on the down comforter
and having the time of his life.

“Fine. You can stay, but behave yourself,” I
cautioned him.

I finally fell asleep a short time later, the
small dog at my side, and when I woke up seven hours later, Kary
was stretched out on the pillow , his nose inches from mine.
Seconds after my eyelids fluttered, the fur ball was licking my
cheek.

“Good morning to you, too,” I laughed,
pulling him close for a hug. We lingered like that for another ten
minutes, and then it was time to get up and get dressed.

Jojo was sitting at the table, hunched over
the Washington Post with her mug of coffee in hand, when we arrived
in the dining room. She looked up as the dog and I sauntered in.
“How did you sleep?”

“Surprisingly well,” I acknowledged. It was
true. For the first time in several days, I felt refreshed. I
chalked that up to Kary’s companionship. Life was definitely better
with the dog than without.

“Good. You look better,” she decided. She was
wearing a blue sweater and tan slacks. Her booted left foot stuck
out from the table. Her right foot, sporting a brown buckled
loafer, was tucked behind the chair leg.

“Do I? It’s been a couple tough days.” I
stopped and reminded myself that I couldn’t tell Jojo anything, no
matter how much she seemed to know about the events that had
unfolded back in Windham, New York. She might guess what I had been
through, but I knew it wasn’t right for me to admit she was right
on the mark.

“Don’t worry, Marigold. I’m not pumping you
for information. Linc was here for breakfast. He briefed us on your
situation.”

“He did?”

“He did.” Tom entered the living room,
tightening his red-striped tie. Kary ran to him, tail wagging, and
the retired FBI agent picked him up. “It’s complicated by the fact
that the FBI hasn’t yet figured out how to proceed with this case.
We’ll get you to Atlanta, and Jeff will take it from there. But I
want you to know that if anything happens to you along the way, you
can reach out to us for help.”

“Thanks.”

“And now, Kary and I have an appointment with
a fire hydrant. Don’t we, boy?”

“How about some breakfast?” Jojo inquired as
Tom and the dog got ready to go out. She led me into the kitchen
and offered me a choice of oatmeal, blueberry muffins, frozen
waffles, and coffee. Five minutes later, I carried my plate of
waffles and a glass of orange juice to the table.

“Let me just get a handle on what your
strengths and weaknesses are, and then we’ll get started on your
hair.”

“My hair?”

“We have to change it, Marigold, just in case
the bad guys are using a photo of you.” She pulled on a lock of my
long, auburn hair. “Normally, I’d dye it a different color and give
you a haircut, but your ear is still healing, so we’ll have to
think outside the box on this one.

The morning went quickly. The support
services coordinator led me to the master bathroom and took a
closer look at my ear. Removing the bandage, Jojo decided it needed
to be examined by a medical professional. Rather than take me to a
clinic, she called a friend who worked locally as a visiting nurse;
Kitty promised to stop by on her way to call on a bedridden
patient.

“Come on in,” Jojo greeted her half an hour
later at the door. “Meet my brother-in-law’s niece, Laura. She’s in
town, waiting to catch her flight to London. Laura, this is Kitty
Pelcher.”

“Hi, Laura.” The cheerful smile the
fifty-something nurse with the short gray hair flashed at me was
comforting. I felt myself relax a little, even as I felt guilty
posing as the fictional niece.

“Thanks for checking me over,” I replied.

“Oh, we can’t have you jetting to jolly, old
England with an infected ear.” She was half a head shorter than me,
with a wiry build. “I’ll need more light to examine her, Jo.”

The FBI coordinator limped into the kitchen
and turned on the overhead light, giving the nurse a chance to see
the wound. Kitty scrubbed up at the kitchen sink, carefully drying
her hands on paper towels, and then she got to work. I could feel
her probing fingers applying light pressure to the skin, and at one
point, I flinched, as unexpected pain hit me.

“Were you wearing a hat?” she wanted to
know.

“I was,” I admitted, “because of the
cold.”

I didn’t add that I needed
to wear a hat to disguise myself.
Maybe I
should go back to the turban.

“It doesn’t look infected, just irritated.
Sometime the weight of a hat can create problems. There’s friction
when the bandage rubs against the stitches. Make sure you don’t
scratch the ear while you’re sleeping. Do you have a prescription
for antibiotics?” the nurse wanted to know. Before I had a chance
to answer, Jojo was interrupting her friend.

“Good heavens, Laura’s got so many pills to
swallow; it’s enough to make your head spin. And who’s that
physician you’ve got that appointment to see at London Bridge
Hospital?” As she turned to me, giving me a look that suggested I
think fast and spit out something that made sense, I uttered the
only thing I could think of to say.

“I can’t remember the doctor’s name, but I
have it written down on my paperwork.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Kitty told us, attaching a
new gauze pad to my ear with paper tape. “Sounds like you’re all
set for your trip.”

“I am.”

“In that case, I’ve got to run. Mrs. Quigley
is expecting me.”

Once our goodbyes were said and the door shut
behind Kitty, Jojo and I breathed a collective sigh of relief. She
shook her head and chuckled. “That was close.”

Half an hour later, six inches of auburn hair
was on the floor of the master bathroom and I had bangs to go with
my new shoulder-length hairdo.

“Do you wear glasses?” Jojo wanted to
know.

“Just for reading,” I replied, “or computer
work.”

“Any chance you have your glasses with
you?”

“No. They were lost when I had to run. But
they’re just drug store ‘cheaters’, if that helps.”

“Believe it or not, it does,” she nodded.

At ten, right after Kary went out for another
loop around the courtyard with the limping Jojo, she and I took the
elevator down to the parking garage; I followed as she hobbled down
the long row of empty parking spaces. Pointing her remote fob at a
silver sedan, I heard the whoop-whoop of the car unlocking and saw
the tail lights flash twice as we approached.

“Climb in,” she encouraged me. Jojo
maneuvered her way into the driver’s seat, wriggling this way and
that, grunting and groaning. I wasn’t even sure she’d be able to
pull her booted left leg into the Dodge Dart, but she managed at
last. “One of the drawbacks of being five-foot ten with a boot on
your foot. Okay. Here’s what happens next. We’ve got to go
shopping. You’ll need a briefcase and a dog crate that fits under
the seat, because Kary is going with you, and a new wardrobe.”

Starting at Ann Taylor, we spent the next few
hours moving through clothing stores in Tysons Corner, picking out
business attire Jojo decided would suit my cover as a
pharmaceutical rep for Pfizer.

“How about a lunch break?” she suggested just
after one. We grabbed a couple of salads and ice teas at Cafe
Deluxe in the mall while she talked me through the ins and outs of
maintaining an alias while traveling.

Shoes and a purse were the last items on the
list. Right after lunch, we managed to find a rainbow snakeskin
clutch and a pair of purple suede pumps at Nine West, and a pink
laptop bag at Levenger. By the time we got back to the Savoy, it
was close to three.

“How handy are you in the kitchen?” Jojo
wanted to know.

“Not bad. Why?”

“I’ve got to get to work on putting together
all your documents and booking your flight. Think you can manage to
make us something to eat? Tom’s usually home by six.”

“Sure.”

She left me to putter about in the kitchen,
taking stock of what she had in her pantry. With potatoes, eggs,
cheese, onion, and bacon in plentiful supply, I decided to make a
Spanish omelet. When I had the basic ingredients measured, my
vegetables cooked, and my eggs beaten, I put the mixture in the
fridge and got busy on a salad, steaming a bag of frozen broccoli
and tossing it with chopped onion, red pepper and mandarin orange
slices. I made a tangy citrus vinaigrette and poured it liberally
over the vegetables.

Jojo made her way to the kitchen as I was
cleaning the pots and pans. She poured herself a cup of coffee from
the thermal carafe on the counter.

“Help yourself,” she encouraged me. “How’s
the dinner prep going?”

“I’m done. Everything’s ready to go when Tom
gets home,” I replied, grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

“In that case, I’d like you to sit down and
search for some medical articles on Pfizer pharmaceuticals. I want
you to be able to hold an intelligent conversation, should anyone
ask you about your job. Print some of these up, so we can put them
in your briefcase.”

“Sure.” I followed her to the sofa, my coffee
mug in hand. Kary was sprawled out, napping. “Does it matter what
the articles are about?”

“Find something that captures your attention,
because if you’re intrigued, you’re more likely to retain and
recall the information.”

“That makes sense.”

She handed me a notebook and a pen. “Take
notes, so that you have something in your own handwriting to show
your area of interest. The laptop is hooked up to the printer in
the study. Print the articles you think will help you with your
cover.”

It wasn’t hard for me to find articles that
captured my attention. Pfizer had recently released studies on a
new drug for breast cancer that was showing real promise.
Palbociclib, also known as PD-0332991, was considered a
breakthrough therapy drug that offered significant improvement for
patients.