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Equally distressing was the wave of desire that had swept through her the moment they shook hands. Her immediate attraction to this mysterious stranger was confusing yet undeniable. But with the strange feelings and odd incidents that had been happening to her lately she knew she needed to be very cautious around strangers. Should she trust her fears or her desires? She shook her head. There was nothing that dictated that she had to make a decision between the two. It was a onetime accidental meeting – nothing more.
She couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on the thought any longer. She had to get her life straightened out, not complicate it. Whether Brad Harrison was nothing more than a man who simply worked in the same neighborhood she did or a mysterious stranger with an ulterior motive who had been following her, she had to keep her wits about her and maintain a distance from him.
“Are you okay?”
“What?” A startled Tara jumped at the sound of Judy’s voice. “Oh…yes, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You looked like you were a million miles away.”
“It’s nothing, just a few things that I was trying to sort out in my mind. Nothing important.”
A teasing grin came to Judy’s lips. “I don’t suppose it had anything to do with that Brad Harrison person who bumped into your chair at lunch. The sexual magnetism practically oozed from his pores and he was obviously interested in you.”
“I…uh…hadn’t noticed.” A twinge of apprehension poked at Tara’s consciousness. Brad Harrison had been dominating her thoughts all afternoon, and regardless of her level of anxiety she had to admit Judy was right…the man oozed a lot of magnetic sex appeal.
“It’s way past quitting time. Do you have any plans for tonight?”
Tara forced a laugh, an upbeat attitude she didn’t really feel. “My only plans are to go home and do some laundry, otherwise I won’t have any clean clothes to wear tomorrow.”
Judy emitted a soft chuckle. “That sure sounds like an exciting evening. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night, Judy.” Tara cleaned off her desk, then left the building. She walked the half block to the company parking lot.
“Miss Ford…Tara…wait a moment.” Brad stepped out from behind his car and approached her.
Total panic gripped her the second she saw Brad and heard him call to her. She stopped in her tracks, a nearly uncontrollable urge to run tempered with a curiosity about what he wanted. She took a step back, trying to put some distance between them without showing the fear that pumped through her body. Was this the culmination of her feelings that someone had been watching her? Was this man really a deranged stalker who meant to do her harm? She tried to swallow the lump in her throat without much success.
“How did you know my name?” Tara barely got the words out as her throat tightened and her mouth went dry.
Brad extended a friendly smile. “We met at the deli, remember? I introduced myself and you told me your name.”
“I never told you my last name.” She took another step back while desperately scanning the area for anyone who could help her. She fumbled with her keys, but was all thumbs as she tried to set off her car alarm and use the automatic car starter, ending up by dropping the remote on the ground. To her dismay, they seemed to be the only two people in the parking lot. She had never felt so alone, as if the entire world had deserted her. She mustered as much courage as she could find and stuck her hand inside her purse.
“Don’t come any closer. I…I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.” Her fingers touched everything she could find, but the only item that even remotely resembled a weapon was a nail file. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. Her stomach churned to the point where she feared she would become physically ill.
Brad held up his hands, showing her they were empty. “I’m not here to hurt you, Miss Ford.” He took another step toward her.
Total blind panic gripped her insides and twisted them into knots. She wrapped the shoulder strap of her purse around her hand and swung it at him. Her improvised weapon made solid contact with the side of his head. He staggered backward a couple of steps. She turned to run, but not in time. His strong grip caught her arm, then his hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream.
Chapter Two
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.” He shouldn’t have waited so long to make contact with her. He had wanted to wait until he had more information, could present a more reliable scenario to her, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. “Listen to me. I’m a deputy U.S. marshal. I believe you’re in danger and I’m here to help you. We need to talk.”
She felt her eyes widen in shock as she stared at him in stunned disbelief. Her adrenaline surge began to subside and she stopped struggling. He finally removed his hand.
“You’re what?” She had trouble making sense of what he’d said, but then so many things didn’t make sense of late.
He released her arm, then slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew his identification. “I’m a deputy U.S. marshal. I believe your life is in danger. Can we go someplace where we can talk in private, rather than stand out in the open in the middle of this parking lot?”
“I…uh…” She wasn’t sure what to think or say. A deputy U.S. marshal – it was the last thing she expected to hear. But could she believe him? Anyone could flash a badge and claim to be a deputy marshal. She took a step back, enough to remove herself from his immediate reach. “I think I should call my attorney.”
He took a step toward her but the panic that immediately blanketed her features stopped him. “That’s your privilege, but there really isn’t any need to do that. You aren’t being accused of any wrongdoing. I’d prefer that you didn’t call your lawyer, at least not until you’ve heard me out. You don’t need to say anything, all you need to do is listen.”
“Well…” She shoved down her anxiety, making a bold attempt to regain control of her galloping pulse rate and pounding heartbeat.
He indicated his car and opened the passenger door for her. “Shall we go?”
“Uh…no…I’d rather drive my own car, maybe meet you in a public place…a restaurant perhaps.”
“Okay. Any particular one?”
She gave him the name of a restaurant she frequented. They each took their respective cars and left the parking lot.
THE ANGRY WORDS traveled over the phone line. “I thought you told me you’d have everything handled by now. Why the delay? I don’t like surprises. Is there some problem you haven’t told me about?”
“No…no problems. I’ve already contacted Pat and said I wanted the job finished tonight. Winthrope has already been taken care of and I was assured that things would be wrapped up very quickly.”
“You waited too long. I think there may be a deputy marshal involved now.”
“You mean she’s been put under the protection of the Marshals Service?” The quaver in his voice conveyed his apprehension at the unexpected news.
“No, I don’t think so. I think it’s just one man who has made contact with her. He seems to be working on his own.”
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You’d better be right.”
BRAD ARRIVED at the restaurant first, made arrangements for a table, then waited just inside the door. A few minutes passed and still no Tara Ford. She had been right behind him when they had left the parking lot. A moment of alarm pushed at him. Had she changed her mind? Was she out there alone and vulnerable, not knowing that someone wanted her dead? Again he mentally kicked himself for not contacting her sooner, even though he still didn’t have anything more to go on than strong suspicions and too much coincidence without any solid proof.
He wondered if she had decided to skip out on him. A hint of panic pushed at him as he reached for the door, but it opened before he touched it and she entered the restaurant. He quickly pulled her aside. “I have a table for us in a nice quiet corner.”
Her anxiety level increased as soon as they were seated. She had started to turn around and go home rather than drive to the restaurant. But then her common sense told her that he knew where she lived, so she might as well meet him. “You claim to be a deputy U.S. marshal. I don’t recall seeing you before or during the Vincent trial when I seemed to be surrounded by deputy marshals.”
“I have Special Operations Group training and I’m occasionally assigned to them for specific jobs. I was on a fugitive-apprehension mission out of state at the time deputies were assigned to protect the witnesses, so I never became involved with the John Vincent case.”
She frowned in confusion as she studied him for a moment. “Then why are you involved with it now, rather than one of the deputies who protected us during the trial?”
“Well…that’s kind of a convoluted story. I was wounded during my last mission with the Special Operations Group and was placed on recuperative leave then came back to work on light restricted duty until the doctor releases me for active duty again. Part of that light duty has been updating case files. One of those files is the John Vincent case.”
She looked at him questioningly. “There’s something new with the case since the trial ended?”
“Yes. Two weeks after John Vincent started serving his prison term, he died of a heart attack. I’ve been notifying the witnesses and others involved in the case of his death.”
“Uh…do you mind if I see your credentials again? You flashed them rather quickly and I’d like a better look.”
Certainly a reasonable request along with her valid questions, but one that only confirmed his assessment of the situation. Tara Ford was afraid of something and being very cautious. Perhaps it was that caution that had protected her from harm so far. Brad took his identification from his pocket and handed it to her. He watched as she studied the identification card, the badge, then glanced several times back and forth between his photograph and him.
He tried to make light of the situation. “I should look more like that picture in a few days when this gash on my chin and my cuts and scrapes finish healing. I was on courthouse duty last week and got into a little scuffle with a very large man who took exception to the judge’s ruling.”
She handed his identification back to him without responding to his comment.
“Good evening.” The waiter handed them menus. “It’s nice to see you again, Tara.”
“Thank you, George.”
“May I bring you something to drink?”
Brad noted that the waiter addressed the question to him, but gave an appreciative glance in Tara’s direction. An inner smile of approval confirmed his assessment of her being very resourceful. Not only had she chosen a restaurant she knew, she had chosen one where they knew her by name and would take more notice of the person she was with. But on the downside, if someone was stalking her they would also know this was a place she apparently frequented.
They placed their dinner order and as soon as the waiter left, Brad turned to the problem at hand.
“A week and a half ago, while doing follow-up on the Vincent case, I discovered that over the past six months four of the six witnesses who testified against John Vincent have met with strange accidental deaths.
“I found the coincidence of this having happened four times over just a few months to be too great to accept it so casually. After I started checking into these accidents they seemed to me to be more and more like connected crimes. Then four days ago the fifth witness met with a similar type of strange accidental death. The five deaths occurred in five different parts of the country under the jurisdiction of five different law enforcement agencies.”
He took a sip of his water, then continued. “On the surface there didn’t seem to be any connection between the victims. There wasn’t any reason for the local authorities in the individual cases to be suspicious of what appeared to be an unfortunate accident or think that it would have any connection with anything else. Each one seemed to be an isolated incident – just an unfortunate accident. What makes it particularly compelling is that two of those witnesses were in the Witness Security Program and had been given new identities and relocated. The fifth accident happened in Portland, Oregon, and was the only one thoroughly investigated beyond what appeared obvious.”
“The fifth one? What happened to make that the exception that it would be handled differently?”
“I have a friend on the Portland police force. He’s a homicide detective. I contacted him unofficially just two days after the death happened and asked him to go over everything very carefully, to not be too anxious to write it off as an accident. I heard back from him this afternoon. It was a carefully and expertly disguised murder.”
Tara’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “The way you describe this…I have a friend on the Portland police force…contacted him unofficially…makes it sound as if you’re doing this investigation on your own rather than it being an official position of the Marshals Service.”
Tara Ford was definitely a smart and perceptive woman. Brad drew in a deep breath and slowly expelled it while trying to determine how best to express himself. “I won’t lie to you. Yes, I’m doing this investigation on my own. I took the information I had to the head of the Seattle office after I discovered the fourth death and he said it was speculation on my part that the victims hadn’t died as the result of accidents and without anything more there wasn’t a case. It was a couple of days later that the fifth…accident occurred. I’ve kept that information to myself for the time being because I don’t have any evidence showing that this murder had any connection to the other deaths, even though it was another of the witnesses in the Vincent case who had been murdered.”
He paused for a moment before continuing. “From what I’ve observed about you the past few days, I think you’re the type of person who would rather have the information straight out rather than have half truths. So—”
“The past few days?” Her eyes widened in shock. “You haven’t been watching me for a few weeks rather than a few days?”
He saw the fear return to her eyes and the wariness that blanketed her features. “No, only a few days. It was only a little over a week that I started pulling information together about the first four deaths and formulated a theory about someone systematically killing off the witnesses from the John Vincent trial – a theory reinforced when the fifth death occurred.”
Tara stared down at the table. The anxiety twisted her insides into knots. If he was telling her the truth, then things were worse than she thought. But was he telling her the truth? What reason would he have to lie to her? She was no longer sure of anything or anyone. She didn’t know what else to do, but she had to do something. She couldn’t just sit here staring at her water glass. She decided to go along with what he told her, at least for the time being.
She recaptured his gaze. Again, as in the deli when he bumped her chair, his eyes held concern rather than hardness or danger. “For the past several weeks I’ve had the feeling that I was being watched. Nothing I could put my finger on, just a bothersome sensation. Then suddenly a few days ago there you were every time I went anywhere. At first I thought you worked in the same neighborhood where I do, then I wondered if you were the person who had been watching me.”
Brad glanced around, making sure their conversation was private. “Did you have any impressions about who it would have been?” He allowed a soft chuckle. “Other than me, of course.”
“No. I never really saw anyone. It was just an uncomfortable sensation…you know, like when someone is staring at you and you can feel their gaze on the back of your neck even though you don’t see who it is.”
They both stopped talking when the waiter approached with their food. As soon as he left, they resumed their discussion.
Apprehension filled her voice. “Do you…do you know who killed the other witnesses? Who would be watching me?”
“No, unfortunately I don’t have any idea. As I said, I just recently got involved with this case. My first thought was that the deaths had to do with Vincent’s organized-crime connections, since the first four witnesses who were killed had testified specifically about his criminal activities. The two who were in the Witness Security Program testified to his organized-crime connections, helping to convict John Vincent under the federal Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations statute. RICO has been used with great success in obtaining organized-crime convictions. But neither you nor the man in Portland were involved in that aspect of the testimony. Both of you testified to his company pension fund and income manipulations.”
Her words came out as a mere whisper. “And with the man in Portland dead that leaves only me?”
“I can’t officially offer you the protection of the U.S. Marshals Service at this point. My theory has already been shot down by the head of the Seattle office. I can’t take it over his head or go directly to the FBI without proof to back up my speculations.”
“Wouldn’t the Portland death being declared a murder be enough to start an investigation?”
“There’s nothing that links his death with the others. He could have had enemies of his own with no connection to John Vincent or the trial. There’s not a scrap of proof at this time that shows any connection between his murder and the other deaths or that the other deaths were really murder. What I can do is work personally to protect you, but I need your help if I’m going to find out who’s behind this and gather evidence to warrant an official investigation.”
What he didn’t tell her was his suspicion that there was a leak within the Marshals Service, something possibly originating from the Seattle office, concerning the protected witnesses. There shouldn’t have been any way for someone to have found the two people in the Witness Security Program – one of the facts thrown up to him by his boss as reason for him to forget his crazy theory. It was also the reason he knew he couldn’t trust anyone else until he had some solid facts to work with. Any information he put into an official report could easily be accessed by whoever was responsible for the leak.
Tara noted the hint of apprehension that crossed his face. Her concerns about who she could and could not trust, what was true and what wasn’t, kept her at a cautious distance from him. She nervously cleared her throat. “I need to think about this, consider the pros and cons, go over all my options.”
He leveled a purposeful look at her, his voice adding emphasis to his words. “I don’t want to frighten you unnecessarily, but please don’t take too long to think about it.”
Her anxieties jumped into high gear. His words of warning said it all. They silently ate their food. He seemed as absorbed in his own thoughts as she was in hers. Following dinner they left the restaurant.
Brad walked her across the restaurant parking lot toward her car. “You’ve had some time to think about what I’ve said. I’m afraid I need an answer from you now. This is a very serious matter.”
As they approached her vehicle, she took the lock and ignition remote from her purse. She pressed the button to unlock the doors and start the engine.
The sound of a horrendous explosion ripped through the air. Tara’s entire body jerked around, then she stood frozen to the spot. She stared in the direction of the conflagration with her eyes wide and her features contorted into a mask of shock and fear. She heard a loud scream, then realized it came from her. A moment later strong hands grabbed her shoulders and shoved her to the ground behind a van. The next thing she knew Brad had protectively covered her body with his.
A few seconds later, Brad stood up. He raked his gaze efficiently across the scene, taking everything in.
Tara struggled to her feet and started toward the charred mangle of metal that just seconds earlier had been her brand-new car. Waves of fear washed through her, something nearly akin to stark terror. Her body shook uncontrollably. Her legs turned wobbly. She tried to run but was brought up short when someone grabbed her arm and held it in a strong grip.
“Stay put!” Brad’s no-nonsense voice barked out an order as he took control of the situation. “Don’t you dare move from this spot.”
“Let go of me!” She tried to jerk her arm free. Her heart pounded in her chest. She heard the blood rushing in her ears along with the echoing sound of the explosion playing over and over in her head. She had to do something even though she wasn’t sure what. She started toward her car, but was again brought to an abrupt halt when Brad took hold of her arm.
“I told you to stay here!” He left her no room for argument.
“But…” She heard the quaver in her voice, the uncertainty that matched the panic building inside her.
“No buts! There’s nothing you can do over there.”
“My car—”
“Your car is history. There’s nothing over there except twisted metal.” The hard edge to his voice softened a bit. “There’s nothing there that you need to see.”
She went numb inside as she fought off the need to run in the opposite direction as fast and as far as she could. Everything Brad told her about the danger had come back to hit her in the face. She felt light-headed. Her knees started to buckle.
“Tara…Tara, answer me. Are you all right?”
“I…yes, I’m okay.”
He held on to her, providing support while keeping her from walking off. A crowd gathered, any one of whom might have been the person who had planted the bomb. Brad scanned the faces, but no one jumped out at him as being suspicious or familiar. One thing was crystal clear. Someone had followed Tara, watched her park and go into the restaurant. There was no way anyone could have known she would be going there since it was a decision that had only been made moments before she left the parking lot at work.
And whoever saw her had most likely seen the two of them talking before that. Perhaps it was the presence of a deputy marshal that pushed the killer to abandon the use of accidental means and go the more direct route. But that only prompted another question. How would the perpetrator know he was a deputy marshal, since he wasn’t connected with the original case? If that was what had happened.
Then another thought occurred to him, one he didn’t like. What did he really know about Tara Ford? Out of the six witnesses at the John Vincent trial she was the only one who still lived in the Seattle area and, therefore, the easiest to locate. Yet she was the only one still alive. All the other murders had been very clever, but the attempt on her life had been clumsy and had failed. The perpetrator had made no attempt to have it appear to be an accident.
Could his having shown up and saying she was in danger have alerted her that someone was suspicious of the accidental deaths? Could she have rigged this herself to throw him off track? Maybe she had stopped to call someone while en route. It would explain her arriving at the restaurant several minutes later than he had when they’d both started out at the same time. If that was the case, then she must have a motive for the murders, and on the surface he didn’t see what that motive would be. But one thing experience had taught him was not to ignore small details and not to dismiss seemingly insignificant events too quickly.
