Reluctant Witness (20 page)

“Lincoln’s an emotional mess, thanks to
Deirdre. But Jeff? He’s even worse off.”

“How so?”

“He’s got physical problems.”

“What kind of physical problems, Rocky?” I
admit I wanted to know, given the fact that Lincoln had sent me to
stay with his older brother. Was I about to get into the middle of
an ugly situation?

“After he graduated from college, Jeff broke
his back when he fell down a mountain. He’s had five surgeries now
and he still walks with a limp.”

“That sounds tragic,” I replied, “but what
does that have to do with me?”

“
If you only knew what he
went through to get back on his feet,” he sighed. “The doctors said
he would be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, but he
wouldn’t accept that diagnosis. The guy is tenacious beyond belief.
He’s got women crawling all over him, thanks to his status as one
of Atlanta’s most eligible bachelors. That’s spoiled him
rotten.”

“Well, as long as I don’t throw myself at
him, it sounds like I’ll be safe, Rocky.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he told me.

“I don’t understand.”

“Jeff did the impossible through sheer
willpower and hard work. He’s a very driven guy. Once he makes up
his mind to do something, you don’t want to get in his way.”

“So?”

“Can I be frank with you?” He waited until I
nodded before continuing. “You’re exactly the kind of woman Jeff
will pursue relentlessly, just for the challenge. I’m guessing that
your status as a person of interest for law enforcement makes you
unable to put down real roots, at least at the moment.”

“Pretty much. I have no idea what’s going to
happen or where I’ll wind up.”

“A woman who’s off limits? That’s
irresistible to a guy who can’t take no for an answer.”

“Yes, well....”

Rocky’s phone chimed in the console cup
holder. He picked up his Bluetooth headset and put it on, inserting
the earpiece.

“Yeah? I’m talking to her now,” he said to
his caller. “Right. I understand. Got it. I’ll tell her.” He tapped
his ear piece with a fingertip and then extracted it, replacing it
in the cup holder. “Good news. Atlanta P. D. picked up the guy from
the dog park, one Marvin Smith, a petty criminal from Pennsylvania,
who just happens to have an outstanding warrant for burglary.
They’re going to sit down for a chat with him, while they’re
waiting to find out if Pennsylvania wants him back.”

“Wow. Was it really that easy? We didn’t even
get to Jeff’s place yet.” I gazed at the passing sign for Peachtree
Road. “Amazing.”

“Sometimes the good guys actually win one,”
he grinned.

I looked down at Kary, sleeping soundly on my
lap, and thought back to the moment I saw the woman who surrendered
him on the step of her row house, back in Philadelphia. She had
made me uneasy that day. There was something about the way she
looked at me.

“Did Lincoln tell you that someone broke into
his home in Virginia while I was there?” I asked. Rocky cocked his
head to one side, interested in hearing more. “Some guy let himself
in when Lincoln took the dog out for a quick run. He was looking
for me.”

“So?”

“I assumed it was because of the FBI case,
but now I’m not so sure. Could Deirdre have arranged that,
too?”

“Interesting question,” Rocky decided. “I
guess the only way to know is to find out the truth without
compromising your safety.”

“Think you can do it?”

“I do, with a little help from Tom.”

“If Deirdre knows I’m in Atlanta with Jeff,
doesn’t that make me more vulnerable? What if her little game to
ensnare Lincoln gets dangerous? Shouldn’t I be moved to another
location?”

“I’d rather shut her down. Lincoln’s an FBI
agent, and if his ex-wife is trading favors with clients and
they’re committing crimes on her behalf, it could put him and other
FBI agents at risk.” Rocky’s lips curled into a smile. “Let me ask
you something. Are you currently a witness for an active
prosecution?”

“No,” I admitted. “For some reason, the FBI
has decided they don’t have a case to prosecute.”

“Which means they shoved you out of the
witness protection program?”

“Well, kind of...yes. But I think that’s
because my WitSec team was attacked.”

“Oh boy!” Rocky sounded alarmed. “Tell me
more.”

I gave him the short version of what happened
at the Gilded Nest, leaving out the part about my grandfather and
father, and even Jared. “The marshal handling me showed up at the
place I was working and someone shot him. That’s when the hit woman
kidnapped me and I wound up in Windham, where I met Jack and
Philomena.”

“Gee, kid, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

“Story of my life,” I replied with a shrug. I
looked out the window, averting my eyes. I didn’t want Rocky to see
the pity party.

“Well, you’re in luck. You’re going to have
round-the-clock protection. We’ll get to the bottom of all this.
Jeff’s more than capable of picking up the tab.”

“But why would he be willing to pay for my
protection?”

“Are you kidding? A real-life damsel in
distress? Someone who’s lived in witness protection? You’re catnip
for the tiger, woman! You’ll be the inspiration for his next book.
He’ll probably even figure out a way to write off the cost of
looking after you at the end of the year.”

By the time we pulled onto Route 9, Rocky had
lined up a meeting with Jeff and Tom. They were on their way to
meet us at Jeff’s condo in Park Place on Peachtree.

“We’re cooking with gas now,” he exclaimed,
hanging up. The head of Roaring Kill security was so excited by the
prospect of catching Deirdre in the act, he didn’t bother trying to
hide his enthusiasm.

“It’s a good thing you’re not holding back. I
wouldn’t want you to stifle your emotions, Rocky.” He took my
teasing in stride.

“You don’t understand, kid. I’ve waited a
long time to see those two guys reunited. I think this might just
get the job done. That conniving, two-timing, manipulative,
lipstick-wearing barracuda is going down for the count!”

“You’re that confident? What changed?”
Half-turning in my seat, I could see the gleam in his eye.

“You. You’re a gift from heaven, an angel
sent to knock some sense into those two idiots. You see, as long as
you’re in danger, it doesn’t matter what Deirdre wants. Those
Cornwall boys will put your interests first. That’s the way they
were trained to do things. And we’re going to keep them focused on
the prize, keeping you alive. That means they have to cooperate,
because if they don’t, they might just help a killer succeed. Oh,
this is going to be great!”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “It sounds like
trouble to me.”

“Naw, this is going to work,” he laughed.
“And do you want to know why?”

“Sure, I’ll bite.”

He flipped his blinker on and turned into a
long driveway up to a high rise building. Pulling around to the
back, he parked in the SUV in a space by a tall cement wall and
turned off the engine.

“You need the Cornwall boys to help you
because the FBI cut you loose and the Marshals Service cut you
loose. They’re your last hope.”

I sighed at the unfortunate update on my
status. “Gee, thanks for reminding me. That makes me feel all warm
and fuzzy inside.”

“Somebody had to do something to cause those
federal agencies to drop you like a hot potato. The well was
poisoned and we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”

“I don’t know...why do you say someone did me
wrong?”

“Your whole WitSec team got knocked out of
commission? That’s bizarre. What’s even more bizarre is that
neither the Marshals Service nor the FBI are pulling you in for
questioning. Not only did someone grab the ball out from under you,
you’ve been sidelined. Why? More importantly, hired killers didn’t
murder you. How does that even make any sense?”

“Are you suggesting that the government wants
me dead and that’s the reason I got pulled out of WitSec?” I
demanded, growing more agitated by the second.

“No. I’m suggesting someone did you wrong and
got you cut loose, probably by conning the feds. We need to figure
out why you’re so important. Come on.” Rocky handed me my pink
briefcase and then grabbed my suitcase and the dog carrier. I set
Kary on the ground, figuring he needed to stretch his legs. We
walked through the parking lot, making our way to the front of the
building and into the very grand foyer.

“Welcome to Park Place on Peachtree, your
temporary home, sweet home. Jeff recently bought his place here,”
my bodyguard informed me. “He’s barely had time to move in.”

Greeted by a friendly young man in uniform at
the concierge desk, Rocky announced that we were visiting Jeff.

“Yes, of course. Mr. Cornwall called a little
while ago and said you have a key to let yourselves in. He should
be arriving shortly.”

“Thanks.” Rocky took my elbow, leading me
down the long hallway on the ground floor, past the elevators.

“We’re not going up in the elevator?” Given
the stature of the high rise building, I just assumed Jeff’s unit
was on one of the upper floors, with a panoramic view. My bodyguard
smiled.

“You were expecting the penthouse?”

“Kind of,” I admitted sheepishly. “I heard
all about how Jefferson Cornwall made a fortune with his
thrillers.”

“Then this will probably come as a real shock
for you,” he chuckled, stopping in front of the last door.
Inserting a key, he gave the door handle a twist and I heard the
click; pushing open the door, he stepped aside to let me in.

“Welcome to Jeff’s castle,” he announced.

“Whoa!” I exclaimed, as I crossed the
threshold. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what I
saw. Stepping into the elegant, unfurnished foyer, my eye was
immediately drawn to the light coming through the floor-to-ceiling
windows at the end of the very long hallway. Above me, the coffered
ceilings were easily fourteen or fifteen feet high, accented by
elaborate moldings that only served to make me even more aware of
the architectural grandeur. Rocky set down the nylon cases on the
honed white Carrara marble floor and tucked his hand in his pocket,
groping for his phone.

“I’ve got to take a call. Go look around,
make yourself at home,” Rocky told me. “I’ll be with you as soon as
I can.”

Chapter
Nineteen

I made my way down the corridor, with Kary in
my arms, taking in all the ornate details. There was gilding
everywhere -- on the crystal sconces and chandeliers, on the carved
plaster reliefs above doorways, and even on the stenciled trefoils
of the walls. I felt like I had stumbled into a condo version of
Versailles.

The hallway led me past several closed doors
into an enormous living room, carpeted in ivory wall-to-wall
broadloom. The two sets of oversized sliding glass windows were
flanked by magnificent carved columns capped by embellished
capitals and corbels. Pilasters rose up from the floor to greet the
two-story ceiling and ornately framed wall panels sat above the
wainscoting. These had been decorated with intricate plaster
reliefs of acanthus leaves, fleurs de lis, floral bouquets, and
ribbons, distributed by a heavy hand that obviously didn’t know
when to say no. Tiny cherubs with chubby cheeks, their faces
wreathed in laurel boughs, sat centered above each plaster panel.
There was nary a piece of plaster decoration that was not
gilded.

Two massive chandeliers hung suspended from
chains, dripping with gold detailing and crystals, each with three
tiers of electric candles. I could well imagine the blinding light
from these at night.

But it was the ceiling that jolted me
unexpectedly. Every square inch of it was painted with colorful
images of lords and ladies cavorting alongside naked wrestlers and
flying angels in various states of undress. All of the trim had
been gold-leafed, including the many domes.

Much to my surprise, there wasn’t a stick of
furniture anywhere, not a chair or a table to be seen. What
remained, however, was the imprint of the furniture that had
recently graced this living room. I could see the impressions in
the thick, ivory carpeting.

All of the overblown adornment of the condo
ended at the glass doors. Just outside the living room was an empty
courtyard that ran the length of the building, a wide open space of
nothing but gray brick pavers. I stood at the glass door, staring
out. Three small garden planters, looking rather forlorn in such a
large, sterile space, were lined up by one set of glass doors,
barren of greenery. No small shrubs or bushes poked out of the
soil, no topiary trees stood tall. The concrete walls were tall
enough to keep out curious garden peepers and offer some privacy,
but they reminded me of a correctional institute. The only thing
missing was the barbed wire. A dark gate, the only touch of color,
broke up the long stretch of hard, unyielding wall. At a glance,
the patio seemed like a desolate afterthought, void of any
architectural interest.

“What do you think?” said a strange voice
just a few feet behind me. “Do you approve?”

I jumped at the unexpected sound. Whirling
around, I came face to face with a tall, lean man with the look of
a rugged outdoorsman. He wore a blue-striped Oxford cloth shirt
that was open at the collar and a pair of faded jeans. His hair was
tousled, as if he had just rolled out of bed. On his face was a
two-day growth of beard. Staring at him, I could see there was no
mistaking the Cornwall genes. They were definitely there, but there
was something more, something that I was unable to resist the
moment our eyes met, a powerful force that drew me in like a
magnet. I was mesmerized.

“Hi,” I said, suddenly unsure of myself. “Are
you Jefferson?”

He took a step forward and extended his hand
to me. I noticed he leaned his body to one side as he moved. “Most
folks just call me Jeff. You must be Marigold, also known as
Susan.”