thing. But why?”
“There was a case a few years back—before your time—when D’Arcy was working for the US Marshals Service. They were infiltrated by a domestic terrorist organization, and a witness D’Arcy was responsible for was almost killed. Later, your sister discovered the FBI had been infiltrated at the same time, by the same group. A group with ties to the Russian Mafia.”
“Holy crap.”
“Yeah. Information was leaked, and three people died when the terrorist organization tried to torture the whereabouts of the witness—a former cop who’d gone undercover for the FBI—out of his partner. The partner would have given the witness up if he’d known where he was—one of those killed was the man’s own baby son, and the other was his wife—but he honestly didn’t know where the witness was, so he was killed too, to send a message. That’s why D’Arcy doesn’t want to take any chances. He doesn’t want the FBI or the US Marshals Service to know where our witness is...at least for now.”
“He’s dead wrong, at least where those marshals are concerned,” Liam said hotly. “I saw them. They were covering her like a blanket, taking the bullets meant for her. If either of those men betrayed—”
Cody cut him off. “It wouldn’t necessarily have been one of them. It could have been anyone who knew where she would be, all the way up the line. In the US Marshals Service or the FBI. Hell, it could have been the US Attorney’s Office for all we know. But someone smuggled those guns into the courthouse. And until we know who, D’Arcy wants the agency to play it close to the vest. So are you in?”
“Sure, but for how long? I’ve only got three weeks.”
“Hopefully not that long, but the agency will clear things with the DSS either way—you’d better believe D’Arcy has that kind of pull. That’s one of the reasons I wanted him involved. He’ll call in a favor if that’s what it takes—and just about every federal agency owes him one...or a dozen.”
“Okay. Then I’m in.” He almost disconnected then, but Cody stopped him.
“One more thing.” Liam could sense Cody’s hesitation before he said, “Do what you need to do to keep Caterina Mateja safe.” Liam glanced at Cate, but again her expression conveyed nothing that gave him a clue to her inner thoughts. “We had another witness in her case,” Cody continued, “one who could corroborate much of her testimony, but she’s dead. It happened over the weekend. Caterina doesn’t know it yet—the prosecutors didn’t want to frighten her, but I got the report last night. It was made to look like a traffic accident, but—and keep this to yourself—she was murdered. Despite the fact she was being guarded by US Marshals, too, same as Caterina.”
Liam carefully schooled his face so Cate—who was watching him intently—wouldn’t be able to read anything from his expression, and Cody continued with barely a pause. “The FBI is still trying to piece together exactly where the protection on the other witness broke down. The agency was politely told to butt out. But they did confirm it was murder. Just like whoever killed her tried to murder Caterina this morning. Only with Caterina, they weren’t trying to hide anything—and they were willing to take out anyone to get to her.”
Liam swore under his breath. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse...they did. “I get it,” he told his brother-in-law. Alec knew the other witness was dead—he had to, Liam thought. “After it all went down Alec said, ‘She dies, this case dies, too.’ That’s pretty much it, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. In a nutshell. We’ve got other evidence against Vishenko and the conspirators, but nothing like what Caterina has to say. And some of the physical evidence needs Caterina to validate where it came from—it’s useless without her.
“D’Arcy told me the death of the other witness was the main reason the trial was delayed a day. The prosecution made a motion first thing this morning to use this other witness’s grand jury testimony and her deposition, since she’s no longer alive to testify in person. The defense, of course, fought that tooth and nail, citing the defendants’ rights under the Sixth Amendment to confront the witnesses against them. No one knows how the judge will rule—the motion is still pending—but I wouldn’t make book on the ruling going our way unless the prosecution can prove the defendants are the ones who killed the witness. Of course, everything’s on hold for now, with one prosecutor dead and another in intensive care. The judge granted the prosecution a one-month continuance.”
“What about the marshals who were wounded?” Liam asked. “Alec said he thought they’d make it. Do you know anything more?”
“Holding their own, that’s the last I heard.”
“Better than nothing. Thanks for checking. Keep me posted if you hear anything.”
“Sure thing. And, Liam...be careful, okay? I don’t want to be the one to tell my wife her brother’s dead and I knew it might happen.”
Liam smiled to himself. “Don’t worry. I’m a big boy. And you should talk. You and Keira both. There’s no bullet out there with my name on it.”
After Cody hung up Liam sat staring into space for a few seconds. Thinking about what Cody had said...and what he hadn’t. Then he glanced over at Cate, who was watching him with blue eyes so pale they looked gray inside the SUV’s shadowed interior. Who was sitting still as a statue in the seat next to him—he’d never known a woman who could be as still and silent as she. And he wondered exactly what—out of all the things Cody had said—he was going to tell her.
But that wasn’t all he was wondering. Be honest, he told himself. You’re wondering what the hell Alec knows that she doesn’t want you to know. You’re wondering how a woman like her—good background, intelligent, obviously educated—ever ended up as a prostitute. And knowing that about her, you’re wondering why she acts as if she can’t bear being touched by a man. By you.
The last one hurt. He didn’t know why, but it did. Badly.
A nondescript SUV was waiting for them in the church parking lot Cody had directed Liam to, and it took only a few minutes to make the swap. “So what will you do with my SUV?” he asked the agent as he moved his GPS and emergency overnight case into the agency’s vehicle and they exchanged keys.
“We’ll take good care of it, don’t worry,” the man assured Liam. “It’ll be ready and waiting for you the minute you need it. And we’ll deliver it to your doorstep, no charge.”
Liam eyed the replacement SUV dubiously, wondering about its roadworthiness given the exterior, and the man said, “It looks a little worse for wear on purpose. The agency doesn’t like its vehicles to attract attention. But it’s got brand-new tires and everything under the hood is new, too, so don’t worry about that. And the plates are untraceable.”
“Good deal,” Liam said. He handed over his cell phone and took the replacement offered. After he’d tucked it in his pocket, the agent handed him something else—a zippered case. “What’s this?”
“Maintenance kit and ammo clips. Fully loaded. SIG SAUER P229R, right?”
Liam hadn’t been expecting it—but maybe I should have, he thought. The agency was damned efficient, and he might need the additional firepower—he was
