Beholden (7 page)

“That’s basically what he told me, yes,” Terry answered.

“And he didn’t tell you the name of the cop he was to meet that night?”

“No, only that he, too, was in on the scheme and hoping for immunity in exchange for his testimony.”

Andy leaned forward, his mind racing. It all tied in with some things he’d heard. The rumor mill between precincts was semireliable.
Terry, unfortunately, had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. “And you say your family knows Sergeant McCarthy quite
well?”

“Very well. Father O’Malley knows Mac, too.”

“He’s one of my parishioners,” Father Tim added. “I’ve seen him at the Ryans’ at family gatherings.” Not all that often in
church, however, he thought.

In his eleven years on the force, Andy’d seen many an atheist who was honest and many a devout man as crooked as a hairpin
turn. “What about the others? Did you recognize either of them?”

Wearily, Terry shook her head. “I’m sure I’ve never seen them before.”

She was tired, he knew. He would have to handle this carefully, for Terry’s safety, and so as not to tip off the wrong people.
But first, he’d have to convince her of the seriousness of her situation. Leaning closer, Andy touched her hand. “Terry, I
need to tell you something upsetting, and I’m not sure I should.”

She gave a small, bitter laugh. “Look at me. How much more upset can I get? Just tell me.”

“After getting that phone message from you and then hearing about the accident, I got suspicious. I went nosing
around and finally got a copy of the police report of your accident. The conclusion was that the witnesses noticed excessive
speed, so drinking is always suspected. Your blood level tested zero for alcohol content. Despite her burned condition, apparently
they were able to check the driver and the report indicated alcohol was involved.”

“Alcohol?” Terry was furious. “That’s impossible. We hadn’t been drinking. After the way my sister died, you know I’d never
drink and drive, or get in a car with someone who had. Certainly Lynn hadn’t had a drop, either. I’m telling you, Andy, something
happened to my car. Suddenly, the brakes wouldn’t hold and…”

He held up a hand. “I know. I know because I checked it out myself. At the time, I thought you’d been the driver and I know
you’re too responsible a person to get behind the wheel after drinking. I just told you what the report indicated.”

“Then someone altered the police report.”

“That’s possible, but there’s more. I went to the police garage and got to talking with the mechanic who’d checked over your
Volkswagen. Sure enough, he’d found a hole in the brake line and another in the steering column. A small hole allows the fluid
to leak out slowly, so the victim drives for a while, not suspecting a thing. Then, suddenly, there’s a loss of control.”

“But when could someone have tampered with my car?” She tried to think. “It had to be those few minutes I was in our apartment
trying to call Lynn. But I didn’t see anyone around.”

“These guys are pros, Terry,” Andy told her.

The truth, what she’d been suspecting, sank in and Terry’s eyes grew wide with fear. “That means that someone… tried to kill
me, right?”

“That would be my guess.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment before questions came whirling to prod her. “Did the mechanic put all that in his report?”

“That’s what he said, that he sent it over to Central. So I went over there and found that Sergeant McCarthy personally had
initialed receiving the accident report. It took me awhile, but I got a copy. No mention of the mechanic’s report, only that
the accident was consistent with a drunk driver losing control of her vehicle.”

“Two fudged reports.” Terry was scarcely aware of her fingers gripping the sheet in frustration. “So my parents think I’d
been drinking, lost control, and caused the crash?”

“Basically, that’s what Mac told them, yes.”

“This is so unfair. Can you get that mechanic to dispute the report and include his findings?”

Andy sat back thoughtfully. “I can try, but I don’t know how much help that’ll be. If what you say is true, that Sergeant
McCarthy was in that parking garage alongside the man with the gun, he’s got good reason to cover up the cause of your Volkswagen
going out of control. But more importantly, I don’t think we want the sergeant to suspect that you’re alive. He’s probably
feeling safe again, thinking you’re gone and Lynn’s the one in the coma.”

Rising, Andy paced the room, wondering which of several possible directions to go. Finally, he returned to her bedside. “Can
you describe the other two men you saw?”

Terry frowned. “I’ll try.” She closed her eyes, concentrating. “One was quite tall and younger than the second one. They were
both dark, not fair. The tall one had a mustache like Mac’s, quite full, and he was wearing a suit. The shorter one had on
a white shirt with suspenders and he had something in his mouth.”

“A cigarette or cigar?”

“I don’t think so. More like a toothpick.” She shook her head. “I can’t remember exactly.”

“If I brought in some pictures, could you identify them?”

“I think so. Do you think you recognize them from what I’ve said?”

Andy sat down again. “I’m not sure, but if they’re the
ones I suspect, they’re involved in drug smuggling. From Colombia, through Mexico and across the border into Arizona, Texas,
California. Big business. Lots of money to be made, and they need to sanitize it, to have some dummy companies or legit businesses
they can filter the profits through. That’s a lot easier to do if the cops look the other way, and the way you get them to
do that is to grease their palms.”

“You think that’s what Mac is into?”

“Yeah, I do. And Don Simon was about to pull the plug on their cozy little operation, so they had to shut him up. Did you
know that that same night, a cop was found killed in a downtown Phoenix alley? Two .38 bullets, just like with Simon.”

Terry sucked in a breath. “Oh, God. He was probably the man Don said he was meeting. Andy, you’ve got to help me. You’ve got
to tell someone you trust so they can send someone to guard my room or whatever. I… I’ll never be able to go to sleep, even
here, thinking that they could find out I’m alive and try again.”

He touched her arm. “I’m going to do better than that. Money laundering across state lines is a federal crime, so the best
thing to do is call in the feds. No one can protect you like they can.” He got to his feet and turned to the priest. “Stay
with her, Father, while I go make a couple of calls. But first, I have to talk with your doctor. I don’t want
anyone
outside this room except your doctor to know you’re awake or your true identity.”

Terry’s eyes held his. “Are you sure this will work?”

“Don’t worry, please. I’ll be just down the hall at the phones where I can see your door. I won’t let anything happen to you,
Terry. Just hang in there, okay?”

Wearily, she closed her eyes.

The man who entered her room, awakening her from a light doze, had light brown hair cropped so close to his head
that he reminded Terry of a soldier in the first week of basic training at boot camp. He was around six feet tall, quite slim,
and wore a brown suit with a buttoned vest, an incredibly white shirt, and a conservatively striped tie. Intelligence and
a sort of resigned patience commingled in his brown eyes.

Protectively, Father O’Malley rose from the bedside chair.

Following the newcomer in, Andy closed the door and walked over to introduce everyone. “Father, Terry, this is Chief Deputy
Bob Jones from the Phoenix office of the U.S. Marshals Office, Criminal Division, Department of Justice. Bob, Terry Ryan and
Father Tim O’Malley.”

Jones smiled at Terry, then shook hands with the priest. “Please, sit down, Father.”

O’Malley checked his watch. “Almost midnight.” He’d been at the hospital a full twelve hours. “Actually, if I can be assured
that Terry’s in good hands, I should run along.”

“Father, I’m sure you’ve had a long day, from what Andy tells me, but I think it best that you stay while we go through this.”
Jones had dropped everything after talking with the young detective, made numerous phone calls before meeting with him, and
been briefed further as they’d driven over. “Terry’s situation must remain strictly confidential and you’re a vital connection
to her family. I’d like you to hear what we have to say.”

“Well, of course, if I’m needed.” Father Tim sat back down.

Jones pulled a chair over and again smiled at Terry. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, hurting, frightened out of my mind. That about covers it.” She couldn’t believe that a government agent was here at
this unlikely hour. The fact that he was indicated that the situation was possibly even more serious than she’d suspected.

“We’ll let you rest in a short time, and I hope the things I’m going to tell you will take away most of your fears. As
to the healing, that will take time. I’ve spoken with your doctor, as has Andy, and he updated us on your condition. He was
in earlier to check you over, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“He gave us your complete records.” Jones indicated a briefcase Andy had set down against the wall. “All your X-rays, test
results, charts, list of medications, everything.”

Terry frowned, wondering if she’d missed something. “Why?”

“Because we’re going to have to move you out of here.”

She glanced at the needle still taped to her arm, the monitors blinking away. “Move me? Can I go like this?”

“Your doctor has given us permission to take you to another facility.” Not without protesting mightily, but after Jones had
shown his credentials and reassured Dr. Renfree just how they planned to handle the move, he’d reluctantly agreed. Renfree
had also agreed to thoroughly examine Terry Ryan once again, then release her to Jones’s custody. Even doctors caved in to
federal authority.

“I don’t know,” Terry said, her voice sounding weak and skeptical.

Bob unbuttoned his jacket and leaned forward, keeping his voice low, though he’d positioned Detective Russell at the door
in the unlikely event they were interrupted. “As you’ve undoubtedly figured out by now, you’re in danger if you remain here,
especially if your true identity is learned.”

Terry’s gaze slid to the door as if half-expecting the three men from the garage to come charging in, guns blazing. “Yes,
and it worries me.”

“From now on, let me do the worrying.” Jones gave her a reassuring look. “Do you have the strength to recite what happened
that night, exactly as you remember it?”

She didn’t want to, but she knew she had to. Her eyelids felt so heavy, her limbs impossibly weighty. Again, she went through
it all and when she was finished, Jones had just a couple of questions.

“I don’t suppose you caught a glimpse of the license plates on the gray sedan?”

“It was always behind me and had no front plates.”

“Would you look at a couple of pictures we’ve brought along?” When she nodded, he signaled Andy, who handed him a packet.
One by one, he showed her the five-by-seven black-and-whites.

She took her time, squinting despite the bright light. Finally, she settled on one. “I’m pretty sure this is the tall one,
although he stood to the side. The man in the suspenders who did the shooting isn’t in this group.”

Andy stepped closer. “The man you identified is Sam Russo, the Arizona front man for the mob. He’s been arrested half a dozen
times, but we’ve never been able to put him away. I believe he’s on probation right now. He works with his brother, Nick,
who’s another slick operator.”

Terry drifted a moment, then brought herself back by sheer force of will. “So what are you going to do? When will you move
me?”

Bob took over. “Tonight, to a private hospital. Then, when you’re well enough to be released from there, we’ll need to get
you to a safe place, Terry, so you can recover without fear.” He didn’t think that right now she could handle knowing that
Dr. Renfree had said she’d need plastic surgery on her face soon so she wouldn’t wind up with permanent scarring. “Meanwhile,
we’ll build our case and when the time comes, we’ll need you to testify as to what you saw.”

“A safe place. Where would that be? My father’s a retired policeman, but I’m afraid to involve my family.”

“And you should be. No one is to know where you are. Once we relocate you, you must stay out of sight until you testify.”

“Out of sight. You mean, away from Phoenix? But my family’s here, my friends, my job.”

“I’m aware of that. Do you want to jeopardize them? You
witnessed a cold-blooded killing and then these same people tampered with your car in an effort to silence you. Do you think
they would hesitate to harm others to keep from getting caught?”

Her hands were trembling and a frisson of fear raced up her spine. “No, I don’t think they would.”

“We’re going to move you out of here tonight. Only one other person, a female agent who’s also a nurse, and I will know where
you are for now. Later, a senior agent will be assigned to you and will remain with you until the trial. He’ll help you every
step of the way, even help you build a new identity.”

Surprise had Terry trying to sit up. “A new identity? But I don’t want a new identity. I want to be me.”

This was always the hardest part, Jones knew. “You will be, on the inside. But outside, we’ve got to change your appearance
on the off chance that someone Sam Russo knows spots you. He has connections in several states.”

“But they think I’m dead.”

“Yes, they do, and we’re going to do everything we can at this end to keep them convinced you are. But nothing works all the
time and we don’t take chances. We’ll do our best to keep them in the dark as long as possible.” He turned toward the priest.
“That means, Father O’Malley, that we
must not
inform the Ryans or the rest of her family that Terry’s alive and Lynn Hartley died. For their protection, they need to believe
it was the other way around. Can we trust you, sir?”