The Innocent Witness (12 page)

A whimper filled the room and Viv realized it came from her. Relief blasted over her, making her breath stall.
Her son was alive!
A hysterical burst of happy relief threatened to escape.

But for how long?

Anthony's eyes closed and his head hung forward for
a second. When he lifted his head and opened his eyes, hard determination shone bright. “Fine.” He hung up.

Rushing to his side, Viv asked, “What? What do they want?”

His arm slid around her, offering her comfort she desperately needed. She clung to him. His support, his caring filled all the damaged places inside. He would make this right.
Please, dear God, let him make it right.

“They want the file folder,” Anthony said. “You and I are to meet them at the northwest corner of the Washington Monument at sunrise.”

One glance at the clock said they had less than a half hour. Viv tried to picture the area, but her mind was too freaked, her guilt too strong, to make any coherent images. All she wanted was to have Mikey back in her arms.

All business now, Anthony gestured to the scattered papers on the floor. “Viv, can you gather those up? Ms. Jetton, do you have a fax machine?”

Barb gestured to her computer station in the corner of the living room. “Yes. Over there.”

Thankful for something to distract her, Viv scooped up the papers and arranged them back in the file folder. Her gaze scanned the pages. All the numbers, so much money changing hands. All those initials. Was one of these people behind Steven's death? Did one of these people have Mikey now? White-hot anger crawled over her fear. She wanted to make the person responsible hurt in the worst way.

“Where do you want to send them?” she asked Anthony.

“To Trent.” Anthony fished a business card out of his pocket. “The fax number is on there. They'll know what to do with this information.”

Viv followed Barb to the computer. Within a few seconds they had the pages feeding through the copier and transmitting through the wireless cable to Trent Associates.

“We're going to need help, Tony,” Joe stated.

Viv glanced over to see Anthony's reaction.

His expression was grim as he ran a hand through his hair. “I know. Trent will provide backup.”

“No time, bro. We need to reach out to your pals in the Secret Service.”

Anthony flinched liked he'd been hit. He shook his head. “No can do. I'm not sure whoever is orchestrating this operation hasn't compromised the Service the way they have the FBI.”

Viv nodded her agreement. She still had trouble believing how deep and wide this thing went. And they didn't even know who was behind Steven's death, the straw donor scam or Mikey's kidnapping.

Joe made a derisive face. “You're going to have to take the risk. We need to set a perimeter around the monument and take these guys down. And we need to make sure if this turns ugly, innocent bystanders aren't caught in the crossfire.”

Anthony blew out a breath. “I'll make the call.”

He took out his cell phone and moved a couple of steps away. Viv could appreciate his ability to concede to the wisdom of others. Unfortunately, conceding to her wisdom regarding coming to D.C. had been a mis
take. Had he made a similar mistake that had cost his last assignment his life?

The thought rocked her confidence in her bodyguard. And he'd become so much more… She pushed that knowledge away.

The few facts she knew about the event that had changed his life didn't lead her to think he'd made some kind of mistake, yet he'd been let go from the Secret Service. That had to mean something.

Barb wrapped her arm around Viv's waist. “We'll get him back,” she said.

Viv leaned into her. “I pray so.”

“Ms. Jetton, do you have a car we can use?” Joe asked.

“I do. I'll get my keys. They're in my purse in the bedroom.” She hurried away, disappearing down the hall.

Viv wrapped her arms around her middle in an attempt to keep herself together. Giving in to the myriad emotions ricocheting through her wouldn't do her son any good. Her gaze moved to Anthony. He had his back to them. She could hear the low rumble of his voice as he talked. She loved the soothing tones.

“We'll get your son back.”

She turned to stare at Joe. His dark eyes, so similar in expression and shape to his brother's, regarded her with compassion and intelligence. Though Joe's eyes were dark, they were more chocolate than Anthony's, and the angles and planes of his face weren't nearly as finely etched. But there was the same determined jut to Joe's chin as Anthony's.

“I want to believe so.” Her lower lip quivered as doubts assaulted her.

“My brother is the best at what he does,” Joe said with obvious pride in his voice.

“Then why'd the Secret Service let him go?”

Creases formed between Joe's brows. “They didn't let him go. He quit.”

That news set her back on her heels. “Oh. I assumed after the assassination he'd been fired.”

Joe let out a snort. “No. In fact, they'd take him back in a heartbeat. He's the only one who thinks he failed. He did his job. There's only so much a person can do in some situations. Even if they do have a hero complex.”

“Your brother doesn't have a hero complex.” At least she hadn't seen it. He'd been gracious and unassuming this whole time, never showing any sign of arrogance that would lead her to believe he carried such a lofty view of himself.

Joe's mouth quirked. “Yeah, well, to me and my sis, he's everything we want to be.”

The apparent love and pride in Joe's voice touched Viv, reminding her of all the reasons she'd come to trust Anthony. His compassion toward her son, his ability to react quickly under pressure and his strength of character. She felt a little ashamed to have let any doubts in.

Barb returned from her room with car keys in hand. She'd changed clothes, putting on dark slacks, a green shirt that accentuated her red hair, and tennis shoes. She'd washed the blood away from her oval-shaped face and her brown eyes were clear with determination. She held out the keys to Joe.

As his hand wrapped around the small, fuzzy rabbit-foot keychain, she held on. “I'm coming with you.”

Joe frowned. “No way. Too dangerous. You'll just be a liability.”

Barb hiked up an eyebrow. “Excuse me. I can help.”

His lip curled. “I beg to differ.”

“Beg all you want. But I'm coming.” She yanked the keys back and held on to them.

Joe narrowed his gaze. “You're one stubborn woman.”

Barb lifted her chin. “I work with more difficult children than you. I have to be stubborn.”

Viv watched the exchange with interest, grateful for the distraction. When Joe's sudden grin brought a blush to Barb's cheeks, Viv couldn't stop a slight smile from forming. She doubted either of the two was aware of the sparks they were setting off, like sparklers on the Fourth of July.

Anthony clicked off from his phone call and strode to her side. “A detail will meet us at the site in ten. We've got to roll. Viv, you stay with Barb.”

“No!” she protested. “No way am I staying behind. The kidnappers said I was to come with you.”

He frowned. “This might get messy. I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Too late for that. Every second Mikey is out there I hurt. You're going to need me and Barb when you find Mikey.”

Indecision crossed his features. “Viv.”

“I know you know what you're doing. I'll do exactly what you tell me to.”

Acceptance softened the tight line of his mouth. He touched her cheek. “Okay.”

With a smirk directed at Joe, Barb flounced out the apartment door ahead of him.

Joe gave his brother a tortured look as they followed Barb to the stairwell. “Really? You just had to agree to her coming, didn't you?”

“Can the complaints, bro,” Anthony said. “Viv and Mikey will need her.”

Viv gripped the file folder tightly to her chest. She sent up a silent prayer that the exchange would go off without gunfire or bloodshed. That her son would be unhurt.

 

The first of the sun's soft rays pinkened the distant horizon. The sound of fifty American flags flapping in the wind echoed the chaos going on inside of Anthony. Fear and anger at himself warred for dominance in his psyche. Huge floodlights chased away the remnants of night as he walked a short path on the concrete platform surrounding the monolithic Washington Monument's northwest corner. He held the file folder in one hand and the cell phone in the other as instructed.

A forensic examiner had dusted the cell phone for fingerprints as soon as Anthony had arrived on scene. Unfortunately, there were none. The phone was a prepaid, bought at a convenience store that made tracing the purchaser next to impossible. Given time they could find the store and view the security video footage and hope to get an ID—that is if the store had working security cameras. But there was no time.

The incoming call from the kidnapper had also been
from a prepaid phone that was now out of service. Whoever was behind this knew what they were doing. Most likely professionals.

Viv stood a little distance away, quiet and obviously scared. She twisted her finger much the way her son did when upset. A learned behavior or an inherited one?

Every time Anthony caught a glimpse of her, his heart contracted. He didn't want to fail her.

You already did,
a voice inside his head mocked.

The knowledge soured his stomach. Blame raised its ugly head. Anthony was tempted to accuse God of failing Viv, of not answering her prayers. But the accusation wouldn't come.

Because the responsibility for Viv and Mikey's safety lay on his shoulders. He'd been charged with their protection. Everyone expected him to keep them from harm.

He vowed to do anything and everything he could to get Mikey back.

Unseen agents encircled the area both to protect and to apprehend, and intermingled with the early-morning crowd of tourists visiting the national attraction. There hadn't been time for more sophisticated surveillance. A microphone was hidden in the lapel of Anthony's jacket and an earbud let him communicate with the special agent in charge of this quickly-put-together undertaking.

His brother was close; he and the feisty Barb Jetton were pretending to be tourists. Knowing Joe had his back made Anthony feel better since he wasn't sure that he could completely trust the government agents. He hated doubting the men and women he'd once served
with. Hated thinking that anyone of them could be dirty.

But to be on the safe side, he and Joe had agreed it would be better if the agents did not know of Joe's presence or that a copy of the file had been faxed to Trent Associates. The backup set of documents kept Anthony's tension from becoming overwhelming. Even if the handoff went bust, they still had their evidence.

The cell in his hand vibrated.
Here we go.
Gut clenching, Anthony pressed the talk button. “Yes?”

“Listen carefully,” said the same altered voice that had called earlier. “Take out the earbud and ditch the microphone.”

Anger fisted in his chest. He'd been right. The bad guys had infiltrated the Secret Service. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

The man scoffed. “Don't underestimate me. I know every move you make. Cooperate or you'll never see the boy alive again.”

Frustration pounded at Anthony's temple. In his other ear, Special Agent Gorman said, “We heard. I'll take care of it on this end. You follow the plan.”

The man on the phone said, “Are you really going to let this boy die?”

Every fiber of Anthony's being said to stick with the plan, to trust the men and women he'd served with. But someone had compromised the situation. He had to go against all his training and do what needed to be done to save Mikey. He took the earbud out, dropping it on the ground. Next he removed the microphone and tossed it aside.

“I did as you asked. Now what?”

“You and the widow Grant need to make your way to the castle on the National Mall. Make sure you're not followed or this boy's death is on your head.”

The line went dead.

A boulder-size knot lodged itself in Anthony's throat. Nearly choking on fear and adrenaline, he slipped the phone into his jacket pocket before closing the distance between him and Viv. He snagged her by the elbow and drew her to his side. “We've got a problem.”

“What happened? What did the kidnapper say?” she asked.

“They know the agents are here.”

“How?” Her eyes widened when understanding hit. “They have someone in the agency, don't they? Just like with the FBI. Now what?” The color drained from her face. Her short-cropped dark hair fluttered in the breeze. “How do we get Mikey back now?” she asked in a strangled voice.

“They want us to walk to the Smithsonian Castle. But first we have to ditch the service detail.” He glanced around, looking for the best possible escape route. He saw a cluster of tourists gathering near the walkway. A tour guide held up a flag. Anthony spun Viv around so she was facing the walkway. “See the tour group over there?”

“Yes.”

Though it went against every tenant of protection service, they had to separate. “When I give you the word, you're going to hustle over and join them. Worm your way to the middle and stay with them. Make your way to the Mall. I'll meet you in front of the castle.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to take a hike around the monument, let Joe know what's up and hopefully confuse the agents.”

Turning to face him, she said, “I don't think we should separate.”

Cupping her cheek, he bent close, stopping a breath from her lips. “Trust me?”

She blinked. Swallowed. Nodded. Her hand clutched the front of his shirt and tugged him all the way. Their lips met. The contact was full of fear, hope and something else. Something he had no intention of examining. He drew back. “We'll get him back and get through this alive.”