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Joe would have been so excited to hear her talk. He’d been longing for the day when she would say more than Dada, Momma and the few other words she’d perfected in the months before he was killed. Now she could, and he was gone, undone by his gambling addiction, murdered by men he’d owed money to.
Her throat tightened at the thought, the tears she’d decided not to shed burning the backs of her eyes.
“A new house,” she responded, her voice thick and watery.
The elevator doors opened, and Hunter took her elbow, leading her into a wide corridor. His fingers seemed to burn through her long-sleeved T-shirt, the feeling so surprising, she shrugged away.
Hunter let Annie go. There was no need to be overly protective. The five apartments on this floor were empty, each one secretly rented by the U.S. Marshals. It was easier that way. No danger of tenants seeing a high-profile witness and leaking the news to the press. No need to do background checks on people who rented the apartments.
Serena used her key to open the door at the end of the hall. The place hadn’t been used in over a year. There’d be a layer of dust on everything and an air of neglect that couldn’t be helped. He knew Annie wouldn’t complain. She never did. He still wished they’d had time to make the apartment a little more kid-friendly. Some toys. Safety covers on outlets. A crib.
He frowned.
They’d need to improvise for the night. Tomorrow, he’d buy one of those portable cribs his sister used for her son.
“Here we are,” Serena announced as she flicked on a light. “Home sweet home until the trial.”
It didn’t really look like a home. Just a couch and a coffee table. No throw rug on the wood floor. No pictures on the wall. A small galley kitchen connected to the living area, the appliances stainless steel, the cupboards white. It was fancier than the little house Annie had lived in before entering witness protection. Hunter knew that for a fact. He’d seen pictures of the crime scene. The kitchen with its mustard-colored appliances and peeling linoleum floor. Thanks to her husband, Annie hadn’t had much to brag about.
Hunter didn’t think she was the kind of person who cared. Still, if he ever got married, he’d want to do a lot better for his family than a run-down house in a questionable neighborhood. He knew that wasn’t possible for some people, but Joe Delacorte had made enough money to provide for his family. He’d just preferred to spend it gambling.
“The place could use a little cleaning,” Serena said, running her finger through a layer of dust on the granite counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. “Sorry, Annie. I didn’t have enough notice to get it done.”
“It’s okay.” Annie set Sophia down, smiling a little as her daughter toddled across the room. “But, unless this place is outfitted for a toddler, I’m going to need a couple of things before morning.”
“Like?” Serena pulled out a small notebook. Obviously, she was ready to make a list and head out to find whatever was needed. He could have told her exactly what Annie would ask for. Diapers, baby wipes, apple juice and some sort of toasted oat cereal for Sophia to snack on. Nothing for herself.
Hunter walked down a narrow hall and opened the first door to the left. A master bedroom with an attached bathroom, it had a wide window that looked out over an alley. A queen-size bed sat against one wall. A dresser stood in front of another. He flicked on the light in the bathroom, ran the water in the sink and tub just to make sure everything was in working order.
There were towels in a small linen closet. Soap. Shampoo. None of it for babies.
“Hey, Hunter!” Serena called. “I’m going to see if I can round up some supplies. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“It might be difficult to find a place open, but don’t go back to the other location. We don’t want to clutter the scene,” he responded as he walked back into the living room.
Annie had settled onto the floor, Sophia spinning in circles beside her. The little girl’s giggles made him smile. He’d always loved kids, but his life was too busy, his job too demanding to think about having a family of his own.
“The local Walmart will probably be open. If it’s not, I’ll stop at a convenience store. I can at least get—” Serena consulted her list, stabbing at one of the items. “Diapers, wet wipes and Cheerios. The rest I can pick up tomorrow.”
“I’ll radio you any information that comes in.” He glanced at his watch. So far, there’d been little to go on. The bomb squad had arrived at the safe house within minutes and converged on a gift-wrapped package that had been found in the yard. No explosives, but the team wasn’t taking any chances. They’d bagged the package and transported it to their forensic lab. It would be opened there, everything handled in a sterile environment so there’d be no risk of contaminating evidence.
Serena walked out of the apartment, and Hunter slid the bolt home. The apartment’s second bedroom was set up with a computer that was hooked into the building’s security system. He could monitor the exterior of the building from there. They hadn’t been followed. He was sure of that, but it didn’t give him any peace.
Annie had been found once. There was no reason to think she wouldn’t be found again.
“I’ve got some work to do. If you need anything, let me know,” he said. He sounded cold and uncaring. He knew it. It wasn’t the way he meant to come off, but years of following the rules, of shoving his emotions down so that he could do his job effectively had taken their toll.
Another good reason to not pursue the kind of relationship that led to love and marriage. A few dates a year with nice women who were as career-driven as he was had been enough for so many years he’d lost track.
Somehow, though, every year when Christmas and the New Year rolled around, he started thinking about having more, about what his life would be like if he’d made different decisions and chosen a different path.
Too much time with his sister Carrie and her family, that was the problem. She and her husband, Mitch, were happy, their four children thriving. During the holidays, their house was filled with the kind of joy that washed over everyone who entered.
Yeah. It made him want more than the house he shared with coworker Burke Trier, but that didn’t mean he could have it. God would have to drop a very special woman into his life for things to change. He knew that from watching his parents. His father had been a trauma surgeon, his life devoted to his career. His mother had been sad, then frustrated, then, ultimately, resentful. No way did Hunter want to hurt a woman the way his father had unwittingly hurt his mother.
He shrugged off the thought and walked down the hall. He could hear Sophia’s giggles and Annie’s low murmur as he logged in to the security system. They were more distracting than he wanted them to be. As a matter of fact, if he’d let himself, he could have happily gone back into the living room and spent a little time with the young widow and her child. The two had been through a lot, and they deserved to feel secure and cared for.
His cell phone rang, and he answered.
“Davis speaking.”
“It’s Josh. I’m at the evidence lab. The technicians are finished with the box.”
“What was in it?” He tensed, anxious to hear what had been discovered.
“A doll.”
“A doll?” He glanced at the doorway and saw that Annie was hovering there, Sophia in her arms.
“One without a head. There was a note included. It was addressed to Sophia Delacorte. It said, ‘Don’t tell.’”
“So, our safe house was compromised,” he muttered. He’d known it the moment he’d seen the shadow rise above the fence, but this proved it absolutely.
“Looks that way. We brought in a dog to track the perpetrator but the K-9 team lost the trail a half mile from the safe house.”
“He had a ride.” Had probably spent hours planning things. If he couldn’t get to Annie, he could try to scare her enough to get her to change her mind about testifying.
Hunter gestured for Annie to enter the room as he said goodbye to Josh.
“It’s bad news, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Just someone trying to scare you, Annie. But you don’t need to be afraid.”
“Because you’re going to keep us safe?” She kissed her daughter’s forehead, but her eyes were sharp, her expression harder than he’d ever seen it.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“The same way I have been. Keeping you in the safe house until the trial.”
“It didn’t work that well the last time. What makes you think this time will be any different?”
“It did work. You and Sophia were never in danger,” he tried to reassure her.
“Then why did it feel like we were?” She sounded exasperated and scared.
“This is all routine, Annie. My team is handling it.”
She shrugged, and he could see the doubt in her eyes. She let it drop, though. “You said something about a doll. What were you talking about?”
He explained briefly, watching as she paled. She had a few freckles on her cheeks and nose, and her eyes were deep sapphire-blue. The first time he’d seen her, he’d thought she was about sixteen, she’d looked so young.
She was older than that by a decade, but she still gave off a young and innocent vibe, a naïveté that made him worry more than he probably should about what she would do and where she would go after she finished testifying.
“Sophia’s doll was missing,” she said, her voice tight.
Her comment chased every other thought away. “What doll? When did it go missing?”
“Right after Joe died. I looked everywhere for it when I was packing things to take to Milwaukee. I thought maybe Joe had put it somewhere the night he was...” She shook her head.
“What did the doll look like?”
“It was a rag doll. Nothing expensive. Just all cloth with dark hair and dark eyes. Joe bought it for Sophia’s first birthday. I made a pink dress for it.”
“Sophia was at a sitter’s house the night your husband was killed, wasn’t she?” he asked. He knew the facts, but sometimes revisiting them helped witnesses recall details that they hadn’t before. This was the first he’d heard about a doll, and he wanted to hear more.
“Yes.”
“Could the doll have been left there?”
“The sitter said Sophia didn’t have it with her. I think Joe rushed while he was packing her bag and forgot it. Usually, I was the one...” She pressed her lips together. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
“How about you let me decide if that’s the case? You usually did what?”
“Packed Sophia’s diaper bag. Joe wasn’t very good at remembering what she needed, but since she wasn’t supposed to be at the sitter’s that night, I didn’t bother.”
“That’s right. You thought she was going to be at home, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She frowned. “I’m glad she wasn’t, though. Things could have turned out even worse.”
True. But was she glad she’d been lied to?
Was she glad her husband, who was supposed to be caring for their child, had probably been planning to do a little gambling while his wife was away?
A little?
The guy had been knee-deep in debt with no way of getting out of it.
Hunter didn’t mention that.
It would have been like rubbing salt in an open wound.
Besides, Annie was right—if Sophia had been home, she might have been hurt. Or worse. “You’re sure the doll didn’t go with her to the sitter? Maybe with all the trauma—”
“Sophia was crying for it.” She cut him off, her eyes flashing with irritation. “The sitter left a message for Joe asking him to bring it. I didn’t know about the message until months later since the police confiscated our answering machine. There’s a transcript if you’re interested.”
“You’re angry,” he pointed out, and she frowned.
“No, I’m upset. I’m frustrated. I want my life back. I am not angry.”
“Okay,” he agreed.
He’d have been angry. He’d have wanted a little justice, too.
“Sophia is tired.” She touched her daughter’s dark curls. “I’m going to tuck her in for the night.”
She pivoted and walked away, her hair swaying, her body hidden by a layer of faded denim and an oversize Rams sweatshirt. Was it her husband’s?
Not something that concerned Hunter, but he didn’t want to think that Annie was still mourning the man who’d lied to her, stolen from their family and caused her heartache on top of heartache.
“Not your business,” he muttered as he turned back to the security monitor, grabbed his cell phone and dialed Joshua’s number.
THREE
Annie woke with a start, her heart racing, a scream dying in her throat.
Darkness shadowed the furniture and lay deep and thick in the corners of the room. She sat up, her feet touching cool hardwood.
It took a moment to know where she was.
The safe house.
Safe apartment.
Not the kitchen of the little St. Louis rental she and Joe had chosen after their wedding. Not standing with a gun pointed at her head while Joe moaned on the floor, blood seeping from his chest. Night after night, she dreamed of that moment. The split second when the gun had misfired and the man who’d been pointing it at her had run.
Annie shuddered.
The sun would rise in a couple of hours. She’d feel better then, the nightmare fading, her fear fading with it.
She eased off the bed, trying not to disturb Sophia. She could hear her deep, even breathing, knew she was soundly asleep. Not hungry or scared or cold. She was a blessed little girl. Even under the circumstances. Even without a father’s love. Even with the moves and the disruptions, she had more than so many children did.
Annie had tried to keep that in mind during the past year.
She paced to the window, the old wood floor creaking under her feet. Icy rain splattered against the brick facade of the building, cold air drifting in through the single pane glass. She shivered, rubbing her arms, her stomach growling. She hadn’t eaten much the night before.
She thought about going to the kitchen to search for something to eat, but she didn’t want to face Hunter. He’d brought her the baby supplies Serena had managed to buy, asked if she needed anything. She’d told him no, but she had needed something. She’d needed someone to talk to, someone who could take her mind off the nightmare she seemed to be living in.
She hadn’t told him that, of course. She’d just said good-night and closed the door. Otherwise, she might have burst into tears and made a total fool of herself.
Someone knocked on the door, the soft tap barely sounding above the splattering rain.
She opened the door and found herself looking at Hunter’s chest. His very muscular chest.
She blushed, looking up and meeting his dark eyes.
“Did you get the photo of the doll?” She couldn’t think of any other reason for him to knock on her door at three in the morning.
