Im sorry. Micahs words were pitifully inadequate. Im so sorry for your loss.
Guilt gnawed at him. Hed been relieved that Jades tearful breakdown at the news of her sisters death enabled him to get her safely away without any further delays.
She shook her head, sobs twisting her body. He clamped his teeth together, hands tight on the wheel. The sensible thing to do was to keep driving, get her home as swiftly as possible.
But he couldnt bear to watch her grieve without trying to comfort her. Maybe that wasnt the professional response, but it certainly was the human one.
Its going to be all right, he whispered. Neither of them really believed that, but she needed to hear it right now.
A complicated mix of tenderness and protectiveness flowed through him. He shouldnt be doing thisshouldnt be caring about her.
But he didnt regret it for an instant.
Protecting the Witnesses:
New identities, looming danger and forever love in the Witness Protection Program.
MILLS & BOON
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MARTA PERRY
has written everything from Sunday School curricula to travel articles to magazine stories in more than twenty years of writing, but she feels shes found her writing home in the stories she writes for the Love Inspired lines.
Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When shes not writing, shes probably visiting her children and her six beautiful grandchildren, traveling, gardening or relaxing with a good book.
Marta loves hearing from readers, and shell write back with a signed bookmark and/or her brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.
Twin Targets
Marta Perry
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Marta Perry for her contribution to the Protecting the Witnesses miniseries.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou are with me, Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.
Psalms 23:4
This story is dedicated to my Love Inspired Suspense sisters who worked with me on this project. And, as always, to Brian, with much love.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
PROLOGUE
MEMO: TOP SECRET
To: FBI Organized Crime Division; U.S. Marshals Office
From: Jackson McGraw, Special Agent, Chicago Field Office, Federal Bureau of Investigation
Date: January 3, 2010
Re: Martino Chicago crime family
An informant has come forward since the recent announcement that Salvatore Martino, notorious former head of the Martino crime family, is near death. The woman refuses to give her name or connection to the Martino family, but to this point her information has been extremely accurate.
The informant has thus far consented to speak only to Special Agent McGraw and is carefully concealing her identity. She is apparently between fifty and sixty, about five feet five inches tall, approximately 150 lbs. Her speech is educated and unaccented. Her motives and identity are unknown.
In her most recent conversation, she passed on a vague rumor that Vincent Martino, currently the acting head of the Martino family and his fathers heir apparent, is planning an unknown, but probably bloody, tribute to his dying father. Please contact Agent McGraw with any information as to the womans identity or the possible intent of this supposed tribute.
ONE
The womans body lay on the cold, dirty concrete floor of the garage, a few feet from her car. Shed probably been trying to run to it when the murderer caught up with her. Her hands reached toward it, the right one smeared with dirt, in a silent, futile plea for help.
Deputy U.S. Marshal Micah McGraw forced down the sick feeling in his gut. A law enforcement professional couldnt get emotional about crime victims. He could imagine his police chief father saying the words. Or his big brother, the FBI agent. They wouldnt let anything as soft as emotion interfere with doing the job.
Pity. The local police chief grunted the word, but it sounded perfunctory.
Natural enough. The chief hadnt known Ruby Maxwell, aka Ruby Summers. He hadnt been the agent charged with relocating her to this small, supposedly safe environment in a small village in western Montana. He didnt have to feel responsible for her death.
Bless her, Lord. Speed her souls journey straight to Your hands.
The brief prayer helped to center him. Shoving aside all distracting thoughts, Micah leaned over the body, studying the wounds. One shot to the chest, a second to the head. Her killer wanted to be sure Ruby was dead.
Her apartment was tossed, too. Might have been a robbery, but nothings missing that we can tell.
Ill have a look before I leave. Hed been in Rubys apartment a couple of times when hed come to check on her.
This looks more like a professional hit than a robbery gone bad. Chief Burrows made it sound like a question.
Yeah.
He knew only too well what was in the mans mind. What would a professional hit man be doing in the remote reaches of western Montana on a cold January night? Why would anyone want to kill this seemingly inoffensive woman whod been waiting tables at the Village Café for the past year?
And most of all, what did the U.S. Marshals Service have to do with it?
All good questions. Unfortunately he couldnt answer any of them. Secrecy was the crucial element that made the Federal Witness Protection Program so successful. Breach that, and everything that had been gained in the battle against organized crime would be lost.
He straightened, brushing his hands together even though he hadnt touched anything. My office will have a team here in a couple of hours. Until then
Yeah, yeah, I know. Chief Burrows let annoyance show. Cordon the scene, dont touch anything, dont say anything to anyone.
Thats about it. Sorry, he added.
He was sorry, though Burrows probably didnt believe it. Brownsville was the chiefs town, and he was responsible for keeping the people in it safe. Burrows probably hadnt had a murder in this sleepy place in years, and now that there was one, the feds were brushing him aside.
Micahs father, a police chief in a Chicago suburb before his death, would have felt the same way about a crime on his turf.
His cell buzzed, and he turned away from the disgruntled chief to answer it. McGraw.
The crime scene team is on its way. The voice was that of Mac Sellers, a fellow marshal sidelined to desk duty after an injury. Should be there in about an hour.
Good. Make sure they know to check out the apartment, as well as the garage.
Will do. You wanted the address for the womans next of kin?
Right. Ruby had a twin sister, he knew. Shed have to be notified. Since she lived back east, at least he wouldnt be the one to do that.
Jade Summers. Mac was probably reading from a computer screen. Librarian. Current address is 45 Rock Lane, White Rock, Montana.
For an instant Micah froze, the cell phone pressed against his ear. Are you sure of that? He barked the words.
Course Im sure. Mac sounded offended. I can look things up, as well as anyone.
Uttering an apology that probably didnt placate the man, Micah hung up, his mind buzzing with questions.
He turned to stare once more at the empty shell that had been Ruby Summers. Shed made mistakes in her life, plenty of them, but shed done the right thing in the end when shed testified against the Mob. She hadnt deserved to end up lifeless on a cold concrete floor.
As for her sister
What exactly was an Easterner like Jade Summers doing in a small town in Montana? If there was an innocent reason, he couldnt think of it. That stretched the long arm of coincidence a bit too far.
Ruby must have tipped her twin sister off to her location. That was the only explanation, and the deed violated one of the major principles of witness protection.
Ruby had known the rules. Immediate family could be relocated with her. If they chose not to be, no contact was permittedever.
Rubys twin had moved to Montana. He frowned. White Rock was probably forty miles or so east of Billings. Not exactly around the corner from her sister.
But the fact that she was in Montana had to mean that theyd been in contact. And that contact just might have led to Rubys death.
He glanced at his watch. Hed have to wait until the team arrived and all the routine that followed a violent death rolled into motion. Then hed get back on the road toward Billings and beyond, to White Rock. To find Jade Summers and get some answers.
Jade pulled a warm sweater over her head. After nearly a year in Montana, shed learned to love the Big Sky Country, with its spectacular scenery, clean air and friendly, independent people.
But if she stayed her whole life, shed probably never get used to the cold winters. Her indoor-outdoor thermometer declared that it was two below zero now, and the weather forecaster had cheerfully announced that it felt like sixteen below. The thought made her shiver even in her warm bedroom.
Still, the good things about the move far outweighed the bad. She had her own little house, neat and clean and everything she had once dreamed of. She could run the small county library to suit her ideas of what a library should be. Shed made friends here. She was settled.
Had Ruby adapted yet to life in Montana? Her twin had loved warmthwarmth, comfort, luxury. All the things their early life had denied them. Was she happy now with the way things had turned out?
Or was she pestering the Witness Protection Program to relocate her someplace warm? Jade had to smile at the thought of her sharp-tongued twin taking on some hapless U.S. Marshal.
The sound of a vehicle coming down her narrow lane caught her attention. That probably wasnt Herb or Ellen Trask, her landlords. Herb had been over at first light to plow her lane for her after last nights snow, and Ellen knew that Jade would be headed for work soon. Jade moved to the bedroom window and raised the shade.
A black-and-silver 4x4 stopped at the front porch. She was already learning to identify her neighbors by their trucks, but she didnt recognize this one. It was old but looked well-cared-for, like most of the trucks she saw out here. People knew that in bad weather their lives might depend on the reliability of their vehicles.
A man got out on the drivers side. He paused for a moment, staring at the house, and she looked down at him, her hand pressed against the cold pane. He was tall, she could tell that even from this angle. Beyond that, his jeans, boots, heavy parka and Stetson could belong to anyone.
He moved toward the front door, his stride that of someone fairly young and agile. Definitely not Herb, whose paunch was visible even when he wore a down parka.
The stranger turned slightly, and the sunlight struck the object pinned to his jacket, making the metal glitter. A badge.
Jades heart stopped for a second. Then it started thudding against her chest.
Rubyit must be something to do with Ruby.
She raced down the stairs, feet keeping time to the violent beating of her heart. She hurried to the door and yanked it open while the mans hand was still raised to knock.
That faint shock in his brown eyeswas it because of her precipitous approach, or because he was looking at an identical replica of Ruby?
Are you Jade Summers? His voice was a deep, mellow baritone, roughened by some emotion.
She nodded, taking a step back, motioning him in. He stepped across the threshold, the movement bringing a wave of cold air into her cozy room.
He was even taller than shed thought, with an air of authority that seemed to suck all the air out of the space around him. He removed his hat, holding it in one hand, revealing thick, glossy brown hair cut in a vaguely military manner.
He had a slash of straight dark brows, a lean, tanned face and a jaw that might have been carved from teak. A faint hint of sympathy in his brown eyes softened the harsh impression.
Sympathy? Or pity? Her eyes focused on the badge. U.S. Marshal. The U.S. Marshals ran the Witness Protection Program.
Nausea hit like a blow to her stomach. Something had happened to Ruby.
Im Deputy Marshal Micah McGraw. He held out some sort of identification.
She shook her head in denial of the news he undoubtedly carried. Ruby Her voice failed.
Im sorry. His baritone deepened even more. Im afraid I have bad news.
She couldnt stand dancing around it. Tell me. Just say it.
His eyes hardened at her tone. Your sister, Ruby Maxwell, died last night.
Maxwell. That had been the name shed taken when theyd relocated her out here after shed testified. It didnt sound right.
Died. She repeated the word. It was odd that no tears sprang to her eyes. Maybe because she couldnt picture Rubyvital, eager, annoying Rubyas anything so final as dead. She took a harsh breath. You mean, killed, dont you? Murdered.