Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #2 (42 page)

“I wasn't raised by people of faith. My dad was never in the picture, and my mom didn't see any point in going to church. But when I found God, my life changed forever.” She put down her cup and smiled at him. “Don't worry. I'm not going to try to convince you to change your mind. I believe we each find our way in our own time. But I do believe with all my heart that God is watching over us right now. Both of us.”

“If that makes you feel better, then I'm all for it.”

She shook her head. “It's not just about making me feel better. I realize you don't think this, but God is not imaginary. Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it doesn't exist.”

He shrugged his shoulders. His phone rang, and he was glad to have an out from the awkward conversation. The last thing he needed was a lecture on faith. He knew better. He'd lived through a childhood with parents who acted one way on Sunday morning and a totally different way the rest of the week.

“Deputy Preston,” he answered.

“It's Elena. We have a problem.”

“What?” Immediately his pulse started to thump.

“I just got off a conference call with local police and the FBI. Kevin Diaz has violated the terms of his bail. He's not in Atlanta, and no one on his staff or his legal team knows exactly where he is. Or if they do know, they aren't saying.”

“What? You can't be serious. How in the world did that happen?”

“His lawyers are trying to say there has been some sort of miscommunication about his schedule. They're pushing back hard that there's nothing wrong here, and that Kevin will be located promptly. But the judge has been informed and is not happy. The FBI will start to look for him along with the police,” Elena said.

He didn't need to hear any more. “I'm implementing the alternate strategy we discussed yesterday.”

“Yes. That's the best thing to do given the circumstances,” she said.

“Roger that.”

“You should move soon. I'll keep you posted on any developments on Diaz.” She paused. “And watch your back, Max.”

He hung up and looked over at Sydney. Her eyes were focused on him like a laser beam.

“What's going on? And don't sugarcoat it. I need to know the truth. I deserve to know the truth.”

He agreed. It was better to just say it. “Kevin Diaz has violated his bail. No one seems to know exactly where he is.”

Her eyes widened as she sat for a moment in silence.

“I'm sorry. But this means we've got to get out of here as soon as you can get ready,” he said.

“What's the plan you were talking about implementing?”

“We're leaving Atlanta.”

“Whoa.” She stood up and walked over to him. “Are you talking about witness protection?”

“Not yet. Just protective custody for now, but we are going to leave the city. It will be safer that way. And the location is not attached to you in our electronic system, so we have that angle covered just in case there's any risk of a security breach.”

“But I can't just abandon my life.”

“I realize your apprehension. This is only a temporary solution until we figure out exactly what's going on and the level of all the threats against you.”

“Temporary? How can you be so sure?”

He sighed. “I can't. But for now we've got to start mobilizing. Go get ready and gather up what little stuff you have. Then we'll get out of here.”

She nodded and walked away, and he resisted the urge to go to her. He needed to stay alert. Focused and determined to protect Sydney Berry at all cost. Her words about God watching over them were nagging at him, though. It wasn't God, but hard work by the US Marshals that was keeping her safe.

And where had God been when he had needed Him in the dark days of his youth? When his dad had been gone for days on end doing who knew what and his mom hadn't been able to put together a coherent sentence because she had been so strung out on prescription meds?

Abandoning that line of thought, he gathered up his stuff, and within half an hour they were on the road. The rain had gotten worse and lightning streaked through the sky. He had to drive much slower than he would've preferred given the circumstances.

“Where are we headed?” Sydney asked him when they had been on the road a while.

“We aren't going to stay in one spot too long. We're going to use the small Georgia towns to our advantage. First stop is a town called Pikeville in south Georgia.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I hadn't, either, until this case. It's a rural area, though. I know that much.”

“And what will we do there?” she asked.

“Lie low.”

“Doing what?”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions.”

She shrugged. “I think I have the right to do so. And small towns can be difficult. Everyone knows everyone. We'll stick out.”

“That's why we'll have our cover story and never stay long enough for anyone to start asking the really tough questions.”

She sighed. “When are you planning to share the cover story with me?”

He dreaded this explanation because he knew she wouldn't like it. “I need to explain something to you. This cover is just temporary and specific to our current strategy. If the situation changes and you are formally placed in the Witness Security Program—otherwise known as witness protection—your cover would be entirely different. In fact, it wouldn't be a cover but a new life. A new name, a new past, a new everything.”

“I don't want a new life. I already told you that. I've worked so hard to have the life I have now.”

Loud thunder boomed, and he saw her flinch. Something deeper than what he had tapped into so far was going on with her. It wasn't just the Diaz case that had her edgy. “I get that. I just didn't want there to be any confusion between what's happening now and what could possibly happen in the future.”

“Now that you've gotten that off your chest, let's get back to my original question. Our cover.”

“Right.” He glanced over at her. She sure was feisty this morning. “We're working on a special story on Southern towns for a national magazine. If anyone asks, we'll just say that we can't reveal the identity of the magazine because the feature is a surprise. The less we have to say to anyone the better.”

“Where will we stay?”

“Mostly hotels or inns. We're just traveling through. Getting what we need for our story and then moving on.”

“So we're coworkers?”

“Exactly. And just to make it simple, I'll call you Syd instead of Sydney, and we'll switch last names. So you're Syd Preston and I'm Max Berry. Once again, if you were to go into the program, you'd have a completely different name. These names are only temporary to get us through the first town.”

She let out a breath. “I'd rather not even think about that right now.”

His phone rang, and he put it on speaker as he drove. “Deputy Preston,” he answered.

“It's Elena.”

“Hey, you're on speaker with Sydney.”

“Great. How are you holding up, Sydney?”

“Given the circumstances, I guess I'm all right.”

“Hang in there. You've got a team of people around you protecting and supporting you. Don't forget that.”

“Thank you,” Sydney said.

“Any more word on Kevin Diaz?” Max asked.

“They're still searching for him. His people are busy with the PR spin. One of his staffers claims he had to attend a board meeting for one of the nonprofit corporations he works with. But that just may be an excuse to try to buy Diaz time. Regardless, the terms of his bail were clear. He violated those terms, and I imagine once he's located his bail will be revoked.”

Max huffed out a breath. “What a piece of work that guy is. He thinks he's so powerful that he's above the law, and the normal rules don't apply to him. Any further intel on ballistics from the courthouse shooting?”

“Still waiting. At this point there's no evidence tying Kevin to the shooting. If I had to speculate I'd say it's more likely that it was East River acting on Kevin's behalf. Regardless, neither threat is neutralized, so we stay the course with Sydney.”

“Give me a call with any developments.”

“Will do. Stay safe. I just looked at the weather radar and there are severe storms all around the area. It's making the drive around here treacherous, and it looks even worse in your direction.”

“Understood.” He disconnected the call and looked over at Sydney. She sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, a hard-to-read expression on her face. “What's on your mind?”

“How quickly this whole thing has spiraled out of control. I can't say I'm surprised that Diaz thought he didn't have to abide by the conditions of his bail. But with all his resources I'm sure he'll wiggle out of it somehow.”

They drove for a long time in silence while lightning lit up the sky that was growing ever darker with storms.

“If Diaz's exact location is unknown, do you think it's possible that he could come after me personally?” she asked.

“No, that's far too risky, especially given the latest events. But I do think he may send some hired guns after you. Or, if I'm right about the connection between the cousins, the East River gang may just do the dirty work. Eliminate the threat you pose forever.”

“And by eliminate you mean kill.”

“Yes, but as I've said I'm not going to let that happen.”

She forced a laugh. “Getting your first witness killed probably wouldn't bode so well for your career as a marshal.”

“Don't even talk like that.”

“Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood a bit with an ill-timed joke.”

“Why don't you tell me about why you became a sketch artist? You told me how you did, but why?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“I felt like it was a way to use my gift for something positive. I knew I was a talented artist, but drawing pretty things didn't quite feel like enough. Then I felt even more determined once I found faith. God gave me a special talent, and I want to be able to use it.”

Back to God again
, he thought. But he couldn't blame her. He'd been the one to ask the question. “Your faith is commendable even if I don't adhere to it.”

“Why are you so hostile?”

“I'm not hostile,” he quickly added.

“You're on the defensive.”

“I'm not. It's just that I've seen supposed faith in action, and I have a hard time accepting it.”

“Since it obviously makes you uncomfortable, we can talk about something else.”

He wasn't uncomfortable, was he? Sydney had a way of reading him, and he was beginning to dislike it. He'd grown to be a man of thought and action, not one of feeling and faith. The only thing he had faith in was himself. Hadn't everyone else in his life failed him in one way or another?

His family life may have looked wonderful on the outside. Two supposedly loving parents, both doctors who were highly respected in their fields. But Max had been just a fashion piece to them. Neither his mother nor his father had really cared about him, and the only time they had had any opinion of him it had been negative.

When he'd chosen to go into law enforcement instead of medical school after college, they had practically disowned him. But he didn't need them or anyone else, for that matter. He'd learned long ago to rely only on himself.

By the time the two of them drove into Pikeville, it was early evening. After they settled into their adjoining hotel rooms at the Pikeville Inn, Max went to Sydney's room to discuss their next steps. He found her pacing back and forth.

“I should tell you something,” Sydney said.

“What?” Max asked. He looked over at her. Her lips were pursed and her eyebrows narrowed. He had no idea what she was going to say.

“I didn't bring this up right away because it didn't really seem relevant,” Sydney said. “But I've had some time to think it over, and now listening to everything you've said about the FBI and the lack of connection between Kevin and his cousin Lucas, I just need to put it out there.”

“What is it?”

Sydney started pacing back and forth again. “Maybe the FBI is right. Maybe this doesn't have anything to do with Lucas trying to protect Kevin.”

“Why do you say that?” Max asked.

Sydney glanced away and then made eye contact with him. “Because there's another reason the East River gang could be after me.”

THREE

S
ydney looked directly at Max. It was time to talk about something she really didn't want to discuss. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you this earlier, but it didn't really occur to me. I was so focused on Kevin and the trial.” That wasn't the only reason. She was afraid and ashamed to talk about it. But now she saw she had no choice.

She was about to share a big part of herself with this man. Would he understand? Could she trust him with her painful past?

“What is it?” Max asked.

“It's a long story, but I need to explain it all for it to make sense.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

Still she hesitated. “It's not something I normally talk about with anyone, but I feel like you need to know.”

“Take your time.”

She sat down in one of the hotel chairs, and he took a seat next to her. Hoping she had the strength to reveal her darkest secret to a man she barely knew, she began her story. “I started self-defense training five years ago.”

“What happened to make you start?”

She paused and took a deep breath before she answered. “I was dating this guy. Things were going well. But then he began to question my work and become very controlling. He put me down and called what I did a
hobby
that shouldn't interfere with what he expected me to do for him around his apartment. Then when I'd get home late from work, he'd become irate.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back. “And that led to worse things happening, right?”

She nodded, fighting off the emotion that came flooding back over her. “One night he'd gone out with his friends. He'd had a few drinks, and when I questioned him about whether he should've driven home he got really angry. I knew he had a temper, but this was the first time I was actually afraid of him.”

“I'm worried about what you're going to say next.”

“It's exactly what you would expect. He got violent. I had absolutely no way of defending myself.” She let out a shaky breath. “But he apologized and I gave him another chance. I chalked it up to a one-time thing.”

“And it wasn't,” he said softly.

“Definitely not. I lived in fear for months. Some days were fine and perfectly normal. But there were times that were just like the first. Except that each incident got progressively worse. He was verbally and physically abusive.” She fought to keep her composure as tears stung her eyes.

He patted her hand. “It's okay, Sydney. Take your time.”

“What really changed things for me was not just that he was so awful to me. I thought I could handle that. Really I did. But it all came crashing down on me when he hurt my cat.”

“What?”

“I had adopted a stray cat. The cutest little black furry cat you'd ever seen. I named him Bach because I love classical music. He knew how much Bach meant to me. And one day he kicked him so hard, I knew he had to have injured him, and then he put Bach outside the apartment. I literally searched all night until I found him. I was able to get him into a special animal rescue that I worked with. They gave him medical care and thankfully he recovered. But I was devastated that he'd hurt such an innocent animal. That one act of violence against the cat I loved so much was actually what it took to convince me to leave. It was one thing for me to take his abuse, but when he hurt Bach, I knew I'd never be the same.”

“What did you do?”

“I got out. Right after I took Bach to the rescue, I ran away the first chance I got. I didn't have anywhere to go, so I ended up driving to a town in the North Georgia mountains. I found a church, and they were able to help me start a new life.”

He looked over at her. “Sydney, I don't even know what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything.” She took a moment to steady herself. “That's when I found faith. I also decided that I would never be a victim again. I started with basic self-defense courses, but that wasn't enough. I saved up my money and got one-on-one training from a former marine who owned a gym. I also started working out to gain more strength. It was one of the best investments I ever made. I stayed in that town for about a year. I volunteered at the animal shelter because I missed Bach so much. But I still couldn't adopt another cat at that point. I had to focus on myself and getting stronger. Make a safe place for myself before becoming responsible for another.”

“That makes sense to me.”

“I've never let another man into my life after that.” And she never would again. She'd made that promise to herself after she got away from the monster. Loneliness was a much better alternative.

Max reached out and gently touched her arm. “You can't let one awful man ruin the rest of your life.”

“As you can imagine, the stress of this situation has brought back a lot of those memories, so you have to forgive me if I...can't deal.”

“Yes, I understand completely. What you're probably experiencing is a form of post-traumatic stress that has been aggravated. I'm so sorry you're having to go through this, Sydney. If there was anything I could do to make it go away, believe me, I would.”

She leaned forward and looked him in the eyes. “I don't want you to think I can't handle myself. Because I can.”

“You've already more than proven that to me.”

“Thanks, but unfortunately that's not even the real reason I'm telling you this painful story.”

His eyes narrowed. “What else is there?”

“My ex.” She took a breath, steadied herself. “He had close friends in the East River gang, and after I left I think he got more involved with them. Last I heard he was doing time, but I haven't kept close tabs on him. I just want to make sure that I never see him again.”

“What's his name?”

“Rick Ward.” She hated even speaking those words.

“I'll need to run a check on him ASAP. Maybe he saw you in all of the local trial publicity,” Max said quietly. “Do you think he is actually a member of the gang?”

“I don't know for sure, but's it's definitely possible. He didn't tell me everything. He was pretty secretive about what he was doing and about his friends. I overheard a conversation one day when a friend of his came to the apartment. They were in the living room watching TV while I was making dinner in the kitchen. They were talking about some other members of East River. At the time I knew it was bad news, but I didn't understand it was actually a violent gang. Although it makes sense now, because it wasn't long after he started hanging around with those friends that he got so violent.”

“You did the right thing by telling me all of this, Sydney. But we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves. Let me do some digging and find out if he's still in prison, and whether the FBI has any current intel on his connections to the East River gang.”

She swiped at a tear that threatened to fall. She never talked about this to anyone—except to God in her prayers. The only reason she had opened up to this man was because he'd proven that he was willing to put his life on the line for hers. And he deserved to know all of the facts even if it made her uncomfortable to relive the past.

“He'd have to be a big enough player in the gang for East River to take action on his behalf,” Max explained. “We can't discount that as a possibility. But either way, East River is involved in the attacks against you. That much I'm sure of.”

“I agree, and I felt like I had to say something.”

“I'm glad you told me.” He knelt down beside her. “You're looking a little pale. Why don't you rest for a few minutes? Then we'll go and get something to eat. Meanwhile, I'll make the phone call to get the ball rolling on the FBI's end.”

* * *

Max sat across from Sydney in a large booth at the Pikeville Diner, located right next to the inn. It killed Max to see Sydney look so worried. But with each passing minute she impressed him more. Her story of abuse broke his heart, but he had a tremendous amount of respect for her. Max thought men who abused women were the lowest of the low. He wondered how a woman like Sydney could've even met a man like Ward. But it wasn't his business to pry into those types of facts. He had all the relevant information he needed to work his case.

He knew it had taken a lot of courage for her to speak up. Ever since he'd seen her wrestle the gun from the guy at the car, he'd had a feeling that something had caused her to get that self-defense training, but he'd had no idea that it had been something so bad.

What made matters worse was that if the threat to Sydney was purely from her ex-boyfriend, and if there was no connection to Kevin Diaz, then he was worried they might pull the marshals off her. That was one reason he was pushing the Diaz angle. He refused to leave her alone in harm's way. His fallback position with Elena was going to be that regardless of the exact connection, she was a current target because of her testimony. If more than one person had a beef with her, then so be it. In his mind, all roads led back to East River. It was the common thread.

And now he was going to have to break some additional bad news to Sydney. She deserved to know the truth. “I got word back from the FBI.”

“And?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Rick Ward was released early from prison for good behavior last month.”

Fear flicked through her dark eyes. Then she looked down and back up at him. “It could still be a coincidence.”

“Or he could be working on behalf of East River. He gets revenge against you, and it solves the problem of your damaging testimony against Kevin Diaz.”

“Assuming he kills me.”

“I'm not going to let that happen.”

She pushed her plate away, leaving a half-eaten burger.

“If the gang figured out his connection to you, then they could exert pressure on him to go after you. Or vice versa. He uses East River resources to exact his revenge.”

“That's true. I didn't see the faces of the shooters at the courthouse. And we didn't see anyone at the first safe house.”

“Can you give me his description?”

She gave a weak smile. “I can do better than that.” She pulled a small sketchpad out of her bag and went to work.

He watched as her pencil swept with ease over the paper creating a sketch within minutes. She was in her element, but he also wanted to use this as an opportunity to talk more about her work—and his concerns about it.

“This is his face,” she said as she turned the drawing toward Max. “He's approximately six feet tall, two hundred pounds. Dark hair with light blue eyes. You can see his other features here. A strong jawline, dimple on the left cheek, a few freckles.”

He stared at the face. At first glance, the subject didn't look like a violent man, but Max knew better than to make a judgment based on appearances. Sometimes the people you least suspected were the most violent.

He took a moment more to examine the drawing, but he couldn't deny his inherent skepticism. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure that this sketch is accurate? That any sketch you do is accurate?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you questioning my abilities as a sketch artist?”

He shook his head. “Not you specifically. It's just that when I was a rookie in the FBI, I got burned badly by a sketch artist. Turns out we got the wrong guy. The guy who actually committed the crime was able to murder another innocent person. I lost many a night's sleep over that.”

She leaned back from the table. “It's an art not a science.”

“Exactly. So there's bound to be human error.”

“But even from a scientific approach you wouldn't throw out all drawings just because some are flawed. Remember, the sketch artist is only as good as the eyewitness account. And we all know the high rate of error in witness accounts.”

“But this sketch.” He pointed down to the paper. “This drawing is accurate because you're drawing based on your personal knowledge of him over time. Not just a single account like a witness in a lawsuit for example.”

“Yes, that's true. The error rate on a sketch like this is much lower given how well I knew this man—assuming the person drawing has the requisite artistic ability. You can't really compare what I did just now to what would happen normally where I would meet with a witness and then draw based on their factual description.”

“That's precisely my point though. I'm sorry if I offended you. It's just something that was on my mind.”

“Don't let one bad experience with a sketch artist impact your view of what I do. I take my work and its accuracy very seriously.”

He'd obviously hit a nerve. “Like I said, I wasn't trying to question you specifically.”

She crossed her arms. “Regardless of what your intent was, you're basically questioning my career. At a time when I'm a key witness in a high-profile case.”

She was right. He never should've opened his mouth. “I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about that.”

“It's like you're trying to ice the kicker. Don't forget I still have to testify.” She laughed even though he could tell that she wasn't exactly filled with humor.

“Forget I even brought it up. Let's talk about something else.” He knew he'd offended her and didn't know if she was going to let it drop.

“How long are we staying in Pikeville?”

“We'll have to play it by ear. I want to see what intel the FBI has on Ward.”

The petite waitress with bleached blond hair walked over and pulled their bill out of her notepad. Then she quirked a curious eyebrow. “You two here visiting the town?”

He jumped in, not wanting to put any extra pressure on an already stressed Sydney. “Just passing through for work.”

“Ah, well, I hope you enjoyed the food here.” She frowned when she saw Sydney's half-eaten burger.