A Christmas Kiss (24 page)

And Cori suspected that he was not a friend of Joey's.

"I don't have to do a damn thing." She put a foot in the ambulance and started in.

Applewhite's hand jerked her backward and spun her so that she was facing the side of the ambulance, his hand on the back of her neck.

"Sorry it has to be this way, Ms. St. John, but you've caused enough trouble." He clicked the cuffs into place. "Now, we have a patrol car waiting for you. You're going to get in the back seat, and you're going to ride back to New Orleans without making trouble, is that understood?"

She gritted her teeth. "You had better take your hand off me."

"You forget, Ms. St. John, you're not in the business of giving orders here."

"I am a protected witness."

"Not anymore. You are a witness in protective custody. That puts you about one rung higher than an arrested criminal." He pulled her away from the ambulance and twisted her so that she faced him. His teeth were clenched together and his green eyes were hard as unpolished stone. "You've caused enough trouble. People are getting hurt because of you, and I for one have had enough of handling you with kid gloves. You're about to see the other side of law enforcement."

"Believe me, I've seen it." Cori felt a tidal wave of fury, but she knew she had to keep her cool.

"Can I simply ride to the hospital with Laurette?"

"No."

"Then let me tell her goodbye."

Applewhite led her to the back of the ambulance. "Make it fast."

With her hands cuffed behind her, Cori couldn't climb into the ambulance. "Laurette, I've got to go back to New Orleans. Joey will be here soon. And your husband is on the way."

"I'll be okay." Laurette's voice was weak, but she managed to lift her head. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Cori reassured her. "I'll be fine."

"That's it," Applewhite said. "We've got to head out."

Cori forced herself not to resist as the marshal led her to the waiting patrol car.

Most OF the way back to New Orleans, Cori dozed in the back seat. Applewhite had released her hands when she'd offered no resistance. There were a million questions to ask, but she knew there was no point in asking him. She'd wait until Joey got back.

As they made their way into the busy city, Cori watched the familiar landmarks pass and wondered where they would take her. City jail? If she was in custody, that seemed the obvious answer. The thought was scary, but she was determined not to show that she was afraid.

As they pulled into the building that housed the federal officers, she tried to compose herself. At least there would be word of Joey. And Kit. They would have found him by now.

"Let's go." Applewhite opened the door and helped her out. "Clayton Bascombe wants to see you."

She didn't bother to ask why. She knew. She'd violated the agreement she'd made and now she was in big trouble. Clayton Bascombe had been the marshal who'd worked with her when she'd first entered the WP program.

She followed Applewhite inside and took a seat in a waiting room. Another officer stood at the door. Making sure she didn't make a run for it, she supposed.

Her wait was short. The door opened, and she was ushered into the room she remembered from two years before. Clayton Bascombe was a balding man with a patient smile.

"You're not injured are you, Ms. Wells?"

For a split second, Cori had forgotten that he'd known her as Brently Gleason Wells. "I've adapted to Cori St. John," she told him, "and I'm not hurt. I'm just very tired."

"Ken has given me an update." Bascombe frowned. "The question now is what to do with you. You realize that you can be called to testify against your will. As a material witness, you don't have a choice."

"I know that."

"Ben DeCarlo's retrial is only weeks way. We can hold you in protective custody until that time."

"I'm aware of that." Cori felt Bascombe took no pleasure in wielding his authority over her. He was stating the facts, and she was already aware of her limited range of choice now.

"We can detain you in jail, which I am loathe to do."

She waited. She'd never been in the city lockup, but she'd heard about the crowded conditions, the violence.

"Or we can put you in a safe house. It's up to you. One requires your cooperation. The other..." He didn't finish.

"Right now, I'd like a bath or shower and some clean clothes."

"That can be arranged." He picked up a folder. "What is your attitude about testifying?"

"I came to New Orleans to find my husband. I suppose you've been told that Kit was alive, and that he found me."

Bascombe nodded. "We were led to believe that he was dead, Ms___St. John. Needless to say, we would have notified you if we'd had the slightest inkling that Detective Wells was still alive." A puzzled look crossed his face. "I expect Mr. Tio will be able to clarify some of these issues when he comes in."

"Have you captured Kit?"

Bascombe tapped the file against his palm. "I hesitate to tell you, but I think you have a right to know. No, he was not taken. We have two men in custody. Kit Wells and another of the men escaped."

Cori didn't believe it for a moment. They'd lied to her before, knowingly or not. Information that was supposed to be secret—such as her identity and location in Houston—had been somehow leaked. She had no reason to trust the man who stood before her.

"I don't believe you," she said, rising. "There was no way for Kit to escape. If you didn't capture him, then he's dead. And you wouldn't tell me the truth if he were dead. The entire time I've been involved in this mess I've been lied to by someone. Don't take it personally, but I don't trust anyone.

Now, if I could go to that house you were talking about."

Bascombe rose, too. "I assure you, Ms. St. John, Kit Wells was not killed by the marshals or any of the other law enforcement officials on the scene. Two men were taken into custody. Neither of them was Kit Wells."

Cori felt bone weary.

"We'll keep a twenty-four-hour guard on you. No one should be able to find the house. And the time before the trial will pass quickly. Someone from the prosecutor's office will be in touch with you in a couple of days."

"Of course."

"Ms. St. John." He came around the desk. "I know you feel betrayed. Please don't let that color the truth when you take the witness stand. Keep in mind that Ben DeCarlo is a very dangerous man. He committed an atrocious act. He deserves to be punished.''

"And I was deliberately set up as a witness to that act." Cori couldn't help her anger. "You're damn right I feel betrayed. By everyone involved in this. What happens to me after the trial?"

"Another identity. Another location. You'll be placed back in the program, as long as you cooperate."

"Will you send Joey out to the house?"

"I think it would be best if Mr. Tio backed away from this case. You'll be assigned a new handler."

Panic was the first emotion she felt, and she fought it back. "I need to speak with Joey."

"That wouldn't be wise for him. His career is already at stake. He's too involved in this case. He's lost his professional judgment. He'll be moved to other cases. Very likely another assignment post. As hard as it may be to believe, I'm taking his best interests into consideration. And yours."

The car that waited for her was unmarked. The man driving it was someone she didn't know. He opened the front door and put her inside. "I'm to stop somewhere and get you some clothes. I'll need a list of your sizes and preferences."

"Okay." She didn't care if she wore a flour sack. She would never see Joey again. He, too, would disappear from her life as if some hideous black magic had spirited him away.

They turned out of the parking lot and into the line of motorists. Cori glanced out the window, not interested, not really seeing anything at all.

Except the man with the thin face who had stepped out of the shadows near the federal building.

"Hey!" She pointed at the man.

"What is it?" The driver's hand went automatically to the gun concealed beneath his jacket. He brought it out at the same time he braked. "What is it?" he repeated, searching the area where she'd pointed.

"It was Danny Dupray. What's he doing hanging around the marshals?" Cori's weariness fled and a sick feeling of dread replaced it. What was Dupray doing there? Selling information? Or buying it?

"I didn't see anyone." The marshal surveyed the area while cars behind him honked and revved their engines.

Cori glanced at him, suddenly alert and completely distrustful. It was possible he hadn't seen Dupray. And then again he might have. She settled back in the seat. "Never mind. It was just someone who reminded me of.. .someone from my past."

He stepped on the gas and headed away.

"There's a shop in the Riverwalk. Could we stop there and get some clothes? I know exactly what to get. I won't have to try anything on." She didn't give a hoot in hell about clothes. She had to figure out some way to get him to stop the car and let her out. Some place where he wouldn't be able to watch every move she made. Shopping was the only excuse she could muster.

"I'm to take you straight to the house." He didn't look at her. "Just write down what you want, the correct sizes, where you want it purchased, and I'll make sure you get it."

"I'd really rather get the things myself."

"I'm sorry."

She sighed. "It's okay." With her past behavior, it wasn't going to be easy to escape. What was Danny Dupray doing hanging out with the federal marshals? Certainly no one was going to give her any answers, and she couldn't afford to wait around and find out. She might be on a ride to her own execution.

The car slowed and stopped at a red light. Canal Street, one of the major arteries of the downtown area, was swarming with pedestrians, cars, buses. Cori felt her body tense. They weren't too far from the Quarter, and Cori knew that was her best bet. She'd lived there. She knew many of the alleys and small private patios behind houses. If she could only get out of the car, she might stand a chance of getting away. And then what? She'd have to find someplace safe to go. Someplace where no one could find her until she figured out how to get out of town.

Her car was in the Riverwalk parking lot, unless they'd towed it away. There was no guarantee they hadn't done that, but she had to hope it was there. She'd kept her small handbag with her, with credit cards she could no longer afford to use because they were so easily traceable, and her keys. She had less than a hundred dollars in cash. Her mind spun onward with the tiny details that her survival now depended upon.

"Damn." The driver tried to edge into another lane of traffic because the right lane was stalled as a carload of six women began to unload in front of a shoe store. Without hesitation, Cori grabbed the door, pushed it open and jumped out into the street.

"Hey!" He reached for her and caught her sweater.

Cori tugged. Hard. And she was free, running as fast as she could through the crowd of pedestrians that choked the corner and waited for the light to walk. She ran with speed she never knew she had, making her way toward the old part of town where the brick streets were familiar and her only hope of hiding lay.

"Stop her!" She heard the marshal behind her call out. His panic produced some worried glances, but no one reached out to stop her. Before the marshal could get out of the car and pursue her, she was free.

Joey stood at the edge of the swamp looking into the distance. The two airboats that had been brought from the parish sheriff's office had combed the swamp. Deputies had swarmed the small spit of swampland, but it had been Aaron who found the gun with the silencer, dropped in the mud, empty. Kit Wells was alive, and somehow he'd managed to escape with the assistance of the man called Bailey.

Joey thought of Cori and wanted to break something. She
had
seen Kit. He had doubted her, which was understandable. Kit had haunted them both—to the point that Joey was almost ready to believe in voodoo. What was unforgivable was that he had doubted her because he'd felt betrayed. When he'd seen her, bedraggled, terrified, blindly going after a man who'd tried to kill her, his good sense had fled and his defenses had gone up. He'd protected his heart instead of Cori.

He waved to the men on the airboat. He'd combed every inch of land, and they'd searched every foot of the areas covered by water. At last they found the muddy tracks disappearing into the marsh grass. Kit Wells had once again pulled his disappearing act.

"Let's go." Aaron walked up to him, covered in mud and wet from the knees down. "Laurette is fine.

They got the bullet out and Cliff is with her. They radioed from the hospital. They've got the two men you hog-tied in Lafayette." Aaron's tone darkened. "Maybe you should go question them. I mean really question them. Since their pal left them for bait, they may be willing to talk."

"Don't worry, I'll have a few words with them."

"Where the other one went, who knows." Aaron looked out over the swamp. "Maybe Mr. Gator finally got his breakfast."

"Two, Aaron. The other two." Kit Wells and the man named Bailey. Bailey had abandoned the other two hit men, but he'd picked up Kit. "Aaron, did you call my office before you let those men abduct you?"

"You said not to, Joey. I did it the way you said. I hung around the fishing camp and waited for them to find your fancy car. Then I said I knew the swamps, and when they pulled the gun on me I let them convince me to take them, just like you said."

"Someone had to have called the office and given directions or else these guys would never have found us. Someone who knew how to get here."

"It's a good thing, whoever did it. We'd still be sitting here wondering how to get back." Aaron took his friend's arm. "Don't be angry, but I'm pretty sure it was Laurette who called. She was worried about you. She thought you were going to lose your job."

Joey nodded. Aaron was right. It was Laurette, doing her best to cover his posterior. And Aaron was right about another thing, too. It was good that someone had called or they would still be stranded there, with Laurette's wound building up more and more infection.