The Innocent Witness (10 page)

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you know how to shoot?”

She lifted her shoulder in a half shrug. “Point and squeeze.”

“Right. No, I don't. But you have your Taser, correct?”

“Good point.” She dug the small black weapon from her bag and then slipped the strap over her shoulder. She was ready to go.

Despite nerves stretched taut, she and Anthony strolled down the street toward her neighbor's house at a leisurely pace. Hand in hand. Just a young couple out for an evening walk. If only life were that simple. Holding his hand played havoc with her senses, heightening the intensity of the situation.

When they reached Mary and Len's front yard, Anthony pulled her into the inky corner of the Freni property and around the side of the house toward the fenced backyard. After tossing her bag over the fence, he gave her a boost. Heart hammering in her chest, she dropped down on the other side. Thankfully there was no one in sight. She grabbed up her black hobo bag and settled the long strap across her chest and shifted the bag behind her hip so the thing wouldn't restrict her movement or get in her way. A moment later Anthony joined her.

The Freni yard was immaculate, with clipped hedges, potted exotic plants, a lush lawn with a circular patio filled with wood furniture. Interior lights blazed from the bank of windows dominating the back of the house, casting the patio in a soft glow.

In unison they dashed across the large stretch of lawn, just out of reach of the light. Reaching the fence on the opposite side of the yard, Viv almost dropped to her knees with relief. They hadn't been spotted. Again,
Anthony helped her up and over the fence, quickly following her into Vivian's backyard.

“No problem.” Anthony's voice oozed confidence.

Maybe not for him. She, however, was shaking. “You may be an adrenaline junkie but I'm having a heart attack here.”

He touched her shoulder. When he'd held her hand or helped her over the fence, his touch had been all business. Now he was soothing, warm, gentle, reassuring. Tempting.

“Deep breaths.”

Easy for him to say. She did as instructed. In—one, two, three. Out—one, two, three. Anthony checked his watch.

“You have an appointment?” she asked.

“Yeah, actually we do.”

From her peripheral, she saw a man drop down from the fence next to them. He carried a big, nasty-looking rifle. The strap to a large bag hung across his chest. Her hand holding the Taser rose in a protective gesture. Her startled yelp was cut short by Anthony's hand clamped over her mouth.

“Shh. It's okay,” he said.

She peeled his hand away and sucked in air. Stepping closer to Anthony she tried to make out the man's features, but where they stood was too dark.

“Hey, bro, right on time,” Anthony whispered to the man shrouded in inky blackness.

“Did you expect anything less?” the man quipped as he withdrew a flashlight from his bag and handed it to Anthony.

Surprise arched through Viv. “Real bro, or ‘I'm too cool to use English properly' bro?”

“Vivian Grant, meet Joe Carlucci. My real little brother.”

Not so little. Joe stood nearly as tall at Anthony. The darkness hid his face so she couldn't tell if they resembled each other or not. She remembered Anthony mentioning both of his siblings were in law enforcement. “Are you Secret Service too?”

“Nope, ATF,” Joe responded, his deep baritone voice similar to his brother's.

“Okay, let's get this party started,” Anthony said as he took her by the elbow and led her to the back patio door.

Crime scene tape barred the access to the door.

Dread gripped her. She didn't want to walk back inside the room where Steven had died. But going through the front was out of the question, so she bolstered her courage. The blinking light of the security system caught her attention. “The alarm's on.”

“You do know the de-arm code, right?” Joe asked.

“Yes. I'll have about twenty seconds to enter the code on the keypad before the alarm goes off.”

Anthony used the van's key to cut through the yellow tape.

“You know how much trouble we're in right now?” Joe stated in a flat voice.

“Hey, you're a federal agent. She's the owner. How much trouble could we get in? If you're worried, you can arrest me when this over,” Anthony shot back.

“Naw. I'll just tell Mom.”

Anthony snorted and popped the lock on the slider. The door slid soundlessly open. “Here you go.”

Ignoring the musty odor wafting from within the closed-up room, Viv hustled inside and entered the code on the alarm system keypad mounted on the wall. A moment later the red light turned green and the pad chimed indicating the system was disarmed.

Anthony and Joe flipped on the flashlights they carried.

“This way,” she said, anxious to find what they came for and get out.

Anthony held her back with a firm grip. He moved in front of her. “You stay between us.”

Keeping her gaze straight and not on the chair where she'd last seen Steven's body, she directed the two men out of the study, through the entryway toward the dining room.

“Whoa!” Joe's exclamation brought her up short.

Anthony swung the flashlight in an arc over the formal living room to their right. The place had been ransacked. Her beautiful Queen Anne–style furniture had been destroyed, the cushions ripped apart, the bookcases demolished and the accessories that made the room once so elegant now lay littered on the floor.

Viv's insides clenched. Such a waste. She hated to think what her and Mikey's bedrooms looked like. Those rooms had been their sanctuaries.

“Do you think they found what they were looking for?” Joe asked.

“I doubt it.” Viv moved toward the dining room. The intricately carved formal dining set was intact, but
the cushions of the chairs had slashes in their seats. Mindless destruction.

She opened the door to a wardrobe. The clothes that had once hung from the rod were lumped on the floor, but thankfully it didn't look like they'd found the rear hidden opening that led to the wall. She felt along the rear wall for the mechanism that would open the back of the wardrobe to reveal the hidden doorway and stairs leading downward.

“Clever,” Anthony said.

“This house was built in the twenties during prohibition. At one time there was an illegal distillery down there. Then during the cold war it was refitted to be a fallout shelter. When we bought the house we remodeled and fitted it with a wine rack.”

“Cool,” Joe said.

“Who knew about this room?” Anthony shined his light down the inky staircase.

Knowing he was thinking about the Wanderer Alert, she said, “Only the contractor, his men and us. We bought this house eight years ago. I don't believe Steven ever brought anyone down here. I sure didn't. Not even the housekeeper.”

Anthony found the light switch on the wall inside the opening. “Let me go first.”

“Watch your step,” she cautioned as she allowed him to enter the passageway. “You'll have to duck. The ceiling's not very high.”

They descended the stairs. A bare bulb burned overhead, giving light to the square room. Full, wooden wine racks lined one wall. In the corner was a cold-storage unit filled with champagne and white wine.

“Steven was a wine connoisseur,” Viv said, feeling embarrassed by the glut of his collection. She hadn't been down here in years and hadn't realized how much he'd accumulated.

“The safe,” Anthony said.

She stepped toward a covered table. “Over here.”

Joe helped her remove the many wine goblets sitting on top. She smiled her thanks and got her first real look at him. He did resemble his brother, only Joe's dark hair was longer and more unruly. He had the same strong jaw. His eyes were a lighter shade of brown than Anthony's. He was also armed. A rifle hung over his back and a handgun was stuck in the waistband of his black cargo pants. She didn't want to know what weighted down the pockets.

The show of force unnerved her.

Anthony helped her slide the table aside. She drew back the round area rug to reveal a safe set into the concrete flooring.

“Tell me you can open this,” Anthony said, his voice sliding over her as she straightened.

She hadn't realized he'd moved so close. His nearness kindled a warmth deep inside. She wanted to turn into his broad chest and bury her head, pretend none of this was happening. She didn't.

No amount of wishing would release her from this nightmare. Only the information held inside the safe offered freedom. Not able to find her voice, she nodded.

Reluctantly, she stepped away, pulled off her bag and knelt before the safe. Dredging up the combination from the recesses of her memory, she twisted the dial. The
contractor had given her the numbers by mistake. He hadn't known Steven had wanted to keep the safe a secret. But since he wasn't at home that day, she'd been the one to oversee the installation.

Within a moment, she heard the distinct click as the lock tumbled into place. She turned the metal handle and swung the safe's door open.

Anthony knelt beside her, crowding her space, making her acutely aware of him. He aimed the beam of the flashlight on the contents of the safe's two shelves. Several jewelry boxes lay on the top shelf. All the glittery pieces Steven had demanded she wear during public appearances. A diamond-studded tiara from her last pageant win twinkled in the light. She'd wondered where they were, not that she missed them. In fact, seeing the items from her pageant days made her glad she was past that part of her life.

Ignoring the gaudy display, her gaze fell on the stack of file folders. Amid the insurance information, house and tax papers was a file folder labeled
Campaign.

She opened the file on her lap so Anthony and Joe could see it. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Joe, take a look,” Anthony said.

Joe leaned over their shoulders and whistled between his teeth. “What you have here is a ledger of campaign donations.”

He pointed to the first column that listed initials next to dollar amounts and then to a second column showing dates and the same dollar amount. “And here is where the donation is reimbursed. Question is, who's doing the reimbursing and who do all the initials belong to?”

Viv's mind reeled. She had no doubt who was doing the reimbursing. One look at the date and the amount and memories shifted, falling into place. She'd noticed several strange withdrawals the one time she'd dared to peek at their bank statement. When she'd questioned Steven, he'd grown angry and demanded she leave the finances to him. He'd threatened to cut her monthly stipend otherwise.

Obviously, Steven had been involved in a straw donor scam. With the news filled lately with the courts revisiting the case against an ex-presidential candidate for this very thing, Viv was familiar with how the scam worked—the illegal practice of using someone else's money to make political contributions in their name and then reimbursing them.

So in essence Steven was funding his own presidential campaign, yet he'd boasted of large backing from both private and corporate funding making it seem that he had a large constituency.

A faint noise raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She grabbed Anthony's arm. “Someone's in the house.”

He flipped off the flashlight and searched her face. “You sure?”

“Yes.” She'd lived in this house long enough to know every sound, every creak and shift. What she'd heard was someone walking across the dining room. She pointed upward. “The boards squeak.”

Joe turned out his flashlight and unscrewed the overhead lightbulb. They hadn't closed the wardrobe door or the door to the staircase behind them. The beam of a
flashlight bounced off the wall, giving credence to her words.

Adrenaline jolted Viv to her feet. “This way,” she whispered and tugged at Anthony's arm.

“Joe,” Anthony called softly.

“Right behind you,” he replied.

Viv maneuvered to the wine rack. Feeling along the edge, she found the lip where the rack separated from the wall. “Help me pull this back,” she whispered frantically.

In the dark, Anthony's hand slid down her arm to cover her hands. Behind them the flashlights moved down the stairs, bringing danger with the light.

Working together, they tugged on the rack. With a groan of protest the big piece of wood slid away from the wall. Damp air washed over her but didn't cool her panic. The sound of a bottle falling and breaking on the stone floor shattered through the darkness.

Angry shouts of men filled Viv's ears as she slipped through the opening in the wall behind the wine rack. The file folder threatened to slide out of her sweating hand. Behind her, Anthony and Joe pulled the wine rack closed; the sound of wood scraping on concrete echoed off the tunnel walls.

“This way.” She ran down the short earthen tunnel supported by thick wooden beam to a metal door. Anthony and Joe were quick on her heels.

Shoving the file into Anthony's hands, she felt along the top of the door until her hand closed over the skeleton key.

At the other end of the tunnel, the wine rack groaned a protest as their pursuers found their escape route.
Lights glinted off the metal door as whoever was behind them tugged the heavy rack open and entered the tunnel. The sharp rap of gunfire exploded around Viv. A man screamed, the sound absorbed by the dirt walls of the tunnel.

Ears ringing, Viv glanced over her shoulder to assure herself Anthony and his brother weren't the one's who'd been hit. They were unharmed and using their bodies as a shield for her. With a renewed sense of urgency, she concentrated on getting the key in the lock. A quick twist and a push sent the metal door swinging wide. A hard body pushed her through the opening and up the short set of steps to the outside patio behind the detached garage.