It proves she had motive to kill him, dammit! I said it before: she had motive and opportunity. She was the last person to see my son alive-
That we know of, said Roan.
-and she knows how to shoot a gun, the senator forged on as if Roan hadnt spoken, stabbing the air like a stump speaker at a political rally. You said she told you shes a good shot, and if she has one gun she could just as well have had two. You didnt find it because she got rid of it, obviously-hell, shed have to be a dang fool to hang on to it after shed shot somebody with it! Shes not who she claims to be, so that already makes her a liar. And shes for damn sure a flight risk, given what little history you have for her. You let her walk out of here now, and what makes you think shes gonna still be around when that evidence youre looking for does turn up? Dammit, Roan, if you wont arrest that woman, Ill find somebody who will. Hell, Ill get those state guys to do it. If I have to.
Roan closed his eyes and rubbed the lids with the fingers and thumb of one hand, and it occurred to him to wonder if Cliff Holbrooks red-rimmed eyes felt as tired and sore as his did; he imagined neither one of them had gotten much sleep last night. And exhausted though they both might have been, he had to admit the senator was right about one thing: The woman calling herself Mary Owen was one hell of a flight risk.
Projected against the backs of his eyelids he saw an image of her as hed seen her last, sitting unnaturally still and upright in a straight-backed chair in the center of his interrogation room. And neither the ugly dark-rimmed glasses veiling her dull gray eyes nor the strings of dirt-brown hair drooping into the collar of her pink nylon smock could disguise the elegance of bone structure, the symmetry of features, the translucence of skin she tried so hard to hide. Now that he knew it was there he wondered how he ever could have missed it.
Another image took the place of that one: a man he knew well, lying on his back with his arms flung wide, sightless eyes staring up at the sky and an ugly dark hole squarely in the center of his forehead. And try as he would, Roan could not make those two images come together in his mind.
It just didnt jell. Not that he had a whole lot of experience to judge by, but it didnt feel right.
On the other hand, there was no getting around the fact that the woman had been living under a false identity for the past ten years. And she was definitely a flight risk. And if there was one thing Roan was certain of right now, it was that he didnt want Mary Owen-or whoever she was-to slip away from him before he got some answers to his questions.
He let out a breath and the words he didnt want to say came with it. All right, dammit, Ill arrest her. But he still didnt think it was going to solve his case. It just seemed like the only course open to him right then. His belly knotted and burned as he snatched his phone from its cradle, and it occurred to him that the way things were going, this case, the senator, that woman, were going to give him ulcers.
What are you doing now? Holbrook demanded as Roan stabbed at the numbers on the phone.
Roan shot him a look, wishing he had the gumption to say the words that had popped into his mind. None of your damn business, Senator. Instead, he calmly explained, with only a slight touch of sarcasm, Im calling a lawyer. I doubt the woman knows anybody in town to call, and since shes choosing to exercise her Constitutional rights, we cant deal with her without one.
Do you understand these rights as Ive explained them to you?
Mary focused her eyes on the pair of hands that were loosely clasped together on the wooden tabletop just across from her. She nodded.
Would you mind answering out loud for the recorder, please?
That voice. Why had she ever thought it warm-sounding and pleasant? It reminded her now of the purr of a tiger.
Oh, she said, Im sorry. She cleared her throat lightly. Yes. Of course I understand. No, I dont understand. Dear God, why is this happening to me?
All right, thats it then, until your attorney gets here. The sheriff turned off the recorder.
Marys eyes followed him as he picked it up and rose from his chair. May I- She paused to take a breath; the rapid tapping of her heartbeat against her breastbone made it hard to speak, harder to keep her voice steady. May I make a phone call? The sheriff looked down at her, frowning in a rather remote, distracted way, and she felt her temper kindle. I do get one phone call, dont I?
He snorted softly. You can have more than one, far as Im concerned. But like I told you, your lawyers already on his way. You might even know him-hes a neighbor of yours. Harry Klein-Andrews & Klein? Theyre right next door to your shop.
She waved that aside with a gesture. Thats not-Id like to call someone else. If Im allowed.
There was a long pause while the keen blue eyes studied her, their gaze no longer remote. Then, Sure. Fine. Ill have Lori bring you a phone. Do you need a phone book?
She shook her head, then added self-consciously, No. Thank you.
He nodded and went out. Mary sat still, refusing to look toward the mirror she knew wasnt really a mirror, listening to the relentless thumping of her heart, trying to summon enough moisture in her mouth to relieve her papery throat. I should have asked for a glass of water. Or he should have offered me one, she thought with a flash of resentment. But then Id probably have to ask to use the restroom. And she felt a cold quivering deep in her stomach as the realization hit her: This is what its like to be arrested. You have to ask permission to do everything.
A young deputy with dark hair and a suggestion of Native American heritage in her cheekbones came in carrying a cordless phone. She placed it on the table and turned to go, then paused, looked back and asked, Want anything? A soda? Glass of water?
The unsolicited kindness caught Mary unawares, and she found herself fighting an unexpected urge to cry. And once again memory came, not déjà vu, just the past overtaking the present.
Oh God-I hate these memories! But the room was so much like this one, although I hadnt been arrested then, only placed in protective custody. I felt numb though, like I do now. It seemed like a bad dream, and I was too exhausted to make myself wake up.
I can still hear the FBI agents voice. You do realize that you must not contact anyone from your past life, ever? His faceso grave it scared me. If you do, we wont be able to protect you. I need you to understand that. He waited for my nod. Do you have immediate family members youd like included in the program with you?
I thoughtbut there was nobody. Justmy friend, Joy, I said, and shes not There was an aching tightness in my throat. I whispered, Will I have a chance to say good-bye?
He shook his head and leaned toward me. His eyes seemed to bore into mine. Im sorry. Theres a U.S. Marshal waiting outside that door right now. His names Stillwell. Hell explain in more detail, but basically hes going to take you to a safe house tonight, and youll stay there until we get everything squared away. Once we have all the red tape taken care of, marshals will escort you to a remote location where youll stay until its time for you to testify, at which time youll be brought back to Jacksonville under the tightest security for the duration of the trial. When its all over, youll be taken to your final destination and set up with your new identity. Okay? Do you understand everything so far?
Do I understand? I wanted to shout at the man, scream at him, No! No, I dont understand! How did this happen? All I wanted was to meet a handsome prince and live happily ever after, and now you tell me my life is over! How could this have happened to me?
But I only whispered-I think I whispered, Yes.
The FBI agent said brusquely, Its a lot to take in, I know. I remember that he reached over and placed his hand on mine and gave it a squeeze. Then he stood up and as he did he looked back at me and I saw that his eyes were kind. Can I get you something to drink? he asked me. Coffee? Some water?
That terrible aching tightness gripped my throat, just as its doing now, and just as I am now, I was fighting to hold back tears. How strange, I thought then, after everything Id been through, the horrors Id seen, the fear and disillusionment and despair Id felt, to be undone by a small unexpected kindness
Yes, thank you. Id love some water, Mary murmured, and the young female deputy nodded and went out.
Mary counted slow deep breaths until the deputy came back in with a bottle of water. She thanked her and unscrewed the top of the bottle and drank thirstily while the deputy went away again. Only then, left alone and feeling much more in control, did Mary pick up the phone the deputy had left on the table. She shifted her chair around so that her back was turned toward the wall mirror and the unseen watchers behind it, then closed her eyes, huffed out one more breath, and with cold stiff fingers punched in a number she was surprised she still remembered.
Mary counted slow deep breaths until the deputy came back in with a bottle of water. She thanked her and unscrewed the top of the bottle and drank thirstily while the deputy went away again. Only then, left alone and feeling much more in control, did Mary pick up the phone the deputy had left on the table. She shifted her chair around so that her back was turned toward the wall mirror and the unseen watchers behind it, then closed her eyes, huffed out one more breath, and with cold stiff fingers punched in a number she was surprised she still remembered.
After only one ring an androgynous voice droned, U.S. Marshals Office, Special Services.
Deputy Marshal Stillwell, please. Thats in Witness Protection. Oh, how her heart was pounding! She pressed her hand against her chest, which didnt help at all. The hand that was holding the phone began to tremble, and she couldnt stop that, either.
After what seemed like a very long pause, but was probably no more than a minute, the voice was back. Marshal Stillwell is no longer with the service, maam. Would you like to speak with someone else?