Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“And the judge she saw murdered,” I said. “He was the second?”
“Yes. The FBI informant that Markovic’s son tried to sell to has gone missing. The Bureau won’t tell me if his whereabouts are known or not, citing security reasons. But seeing as the case hinges on the informant’s testimony, I’m betting he’s still alive. Otherwise, there’d be no reason to go after another judge.”
“The laptop?” I asked. “What about the second date?”
“We’re still working on that. It’d be nice to have him in custody before then.”
It was clear what my mentor was saying. We had nothing. If this second date was another hit, we didn’t know the target or the location. We’d have to wait for a break in the case or hope for a mistake on Frey’s part.
He’d already made a colossal one by letting Laurel live. I doubted he’d make another so soon.
When she’d identified him, there’d been a brief moment of validation for me, proving Frey was a killer as I’d always suspected. Relief eased some weight off my shoulders—only to have it stacked back on top of me and heavier this time, with the worry for Laurel’s life.
Shit, what would happen if he found her?
The thought made me clench my fists.
15
LAUREL
I knew Jason’s focus was on me, but I pretended not to care. It would be best if I kept my distance.
The endless parade of agents through my room made me uncomfortable, but I could understand why Jason respected his boss. Bill had a disarming quality, and his soft, kind eyes helped set me at ease.
Well, somewhat. Two men had tried to kill me earlier, and it wasn’t like I could forget that.
Beth from the OEO had materialized at one point with an enormous stack of papers. Guidelines for entering WITSEC, I was told. I politely accepted them, deposited the bunch on the dresser, and successfully fought back the irrational idea to push the whole heap into the trash.
All I wanted was to be back on stage with pins jammed in my hair, dancing the choreography I'd labored for a month to learn.
“We’d like to keep you here a few days,” Bill said, “and then move to another location. You might notice a few more marshals around until then, to assist Jason and Derrick.”
“Looks like you’re stuck with us a little longer,” Derrick quipped.
I hoped no one could tell that the prospect of spending a few more days with Jason made my stomach do a flip-flop.
My gaze slid toward the dangerous marshal I’d climbed on top of and kissed this morning. His face mimicked what I was feeling inside. Surprise. Panic.
Relief.
“Is there anything you need? Something you’re missing or we can get you?” Bill asked. “I imagine you’re feeling overwhelmed, and that’s completely understandable.” When I didn’t have a response, he nodded toward his marshals. “You let them know if there’s anything we can do to make the next few days easier.”
His expression shifted as if a thought had just occurred to him. He dug a business card and a pen out of his open briefcase and quickly scrawled something on the back of it.
“Better yet,” he said, “you can let me know. That’s my personal number.” He set his business card on top of my WITSEC guidelines paperwork, a raised U.S. Marshals Service logo in the corner.
The thought fired in my brain and was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Hard floors.”
It was like the orchestra had abruptly stopped mid-song. Every head in the room turned to me in question.
“If it’s possible,” I asked quietly, “can the next place have space with a large, hard surface? Concrete, or hardwood, or even linoleum. It doesn’t matter that much, but it’s hard and less safe to practice on carpet.”
It was an absurd request, but Bill was polite enough not to show it. He nodded and made a note on his phone. “I’ll see what I can do.”
When the discussion was over, he motioned to Jason, hinting he wanted his marshal to follow him outside so they could talk. Was this to go over details I didn’t need to know? Either way, I felt both relief and annoying disappointment when he was gone.
The rest of the agents filed out, and it left me with little to do but start reading the paperwork about how my life was over. Every turn of a page made me increasingly bitter.
But I had no choice now.
Jason’s point that they’d come after me had been made with the bullets lodged in the side of the SUV I’d been sitting in. They had to catch Frey; that was all there was to it. They had to catch him so I could testify.
I had no control, and I couldn’t stand it. I hated feeling powerless.
Later, Bill brought dinner, and these cheeseburgers were much better. We ate in Derrick’s room, and I did my best not to seem shell-shocked.