Beholden (8 page)

He didn’t like deceiving people. It wasn’t his nature or his vocation. But he could see the necessity. Father O’Malley nodded.
“Absolutely.”

“Good.” Bob turned back to Terry. “Most especially since Sergeant McCarthy’s involved somehow, we need to let your family
believe as they already do. You’re our only hope at this time of putting these men behind bars, where they belong.”

Terry’s head was aching mightily by now. “How long will all this take?”

Jones raised a shoulder. “I wish I could tell you. A couple of weeks, a couple of months, maybe longer. Or it could go more
quickly. Cases take time to build, evidence has to be collected, court time assigned.”

Terry sank back. “What you’re saying is that I have to put my whole life on hold for God-knows-how-long.”

“Terry,” Andy stepped in, “Chief Jones has already stuck his neck out for you. Everybody who goes into the Witness Security
Program has to be authorized for placement by the Office of Enforcement Operations. He’s not empowered to act until he receives
notice that you’re approved for inclusion in the program. He’s rushing this along to keep you safe.”

“What if they don’t approve me?”

Jones touched her arm. “They will, Terry. After talking with Andy, I wasn’t willing to risk your life by waiting. I know this
will be difficult. It’s a damn shame you stumbled into such a heinous crime. But think of all the good you’ll do eventually
by removing these scumbags from society. Think of the kids who might not become addicted to drugs because of your testimony.”

He had her and he knew it. Besides, she was too weary to argue any longer. “All right, but… can’t I at least talk to my father?
To let him know I’m okay? He’s got a heart condition and….”

“I wish I could say yes, Terry,” Bob told her. “We can’t risk his life, or yours.”

“But won’t these men know something’s up when I disappear from the hospital? I mean, I know they think I’m Lynn, but aren’t
they watching, waiting for the person in this bed to either recover or die?”

Jones wished she hadn’t asked this particular question right now, but he had to tell her. “They will learn that Lynn Hartley
died of internal injuries.”

A horrified gasp escaped from Terry. “What about Aunt Julia? Will she be told the truth?”

“Terry,” Andy interrupted, “her daughter’s already dead. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Oh, God, this is brutal. It’s all so damn unfair. Innocent people are going through hell because…”

“Because men like Sam Russo have no morals, no ethics, no compassion. Life isn’t fair, Terry.” Bob stood and looked down at
her. “But you can put these particular men away where they won’t be able to do this to anyone else ever again.”

Her hand with only two fingers unbandaged moved up to press against her puffy lips. “All right, you’ve convinced me.”

Andy leaned down to kiss her bruised cheek. “You’re doing the right thing, Terry. I wish I could go with you.”

“Me, too,” she told him, her eyes damp again. She’d be with strangers, for months, with no contacts. Dear God, how was she
going to manage? To whom could she turn?

“Andy, how is it you can’t be involved?”

“Because once we call in federal agents, their authority supersedes the local police. Don’t worry, Terry. You’re in good hands.”

“Chief Jones,” Terry said as he picked up his briefcase, “who is the agent who’ll be assigned to me?”

Bob narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. It would take some fast talking, but he knew exactly who he wanted on her case. “I can’t
say right now, but you’ll know soon enough.”

Luke Tanner paused with his hammer in midair, the nail only halfway in the fence board he was attaching to the post. His cabin
was some distance from the road, the sounds of traffic usually muted by acres of tall pines, squatty evergreens, older cottonwoods,
and pale green palo verdes. The noise from an approaching engine was rare enough to cause him to stop working, his eyes going
to the winding dirt path, the only passageway to the main highway. Yuma had heard the car first and was already racing to
meet the new arrival.

Luke wasn’t expecting a delivery since whatever he purchased in town he hauled home in his truck himself. He wasn’t expecting
a friend or neighbor since he’d met none since arriving two months ago. The last vehicle that had wandered in a couple of
weeks ago had been a Jeep full of tourists who’d gotten lost. Checking to make sure his .38 was tucked into the small of his
back at his waist, he let his hands hang loosely at his sides as he walked toward the front porch he’d finished reinforcing
last week.

He recognized the car the moment it came in sight, and the man who got out as soon as he’d parked the blue Buick behind Luke’s
white pickup. A standard government issue vehicle driven by Bob Jones, who removed his suitcoat and
tossed it onto the seat before striding forward, Yuma sniffing at his heels.

“Seems as if you’re having a hot spell, same as we are down in Phoenix.” Bob rolled his shoulders after the two-hour drive,
noting Luke’s inscrutable expression. The man definitely wasn’t glad to see him, but he was too disciplined to show it.

He didn’t want to be unfriendly to his old friend, for Luke respected Jones as he respected very few. But he knew exactly
why Bob had come. To get a rundown on how he was coming along, the unasked but implied question being how soon before he’d
be returning, cutting short his leave of absence. It had happened before. The service was always shorthanded.

Luke wished he knew the answer himself.

“What brings you up my way?” Luke asked as they shook hands. Squinting at his commanding officer, he almost smiled. “As if
I didn’t know.”

Bob ignored the comment and strolled toward the back. “You’ve done wonders with this place.” He’d been up only once before,
and then briefly, when Luke had purchased the ranch, surprising Bob. Luke had never indicated an interest in establishing
roots. On the patio, he crouched to examine the flagstone inlays. “You have hidden talents.”

“Glad you think so. How’s the family?” Jones had a wife and two young sons.

“Fine.”

Luke flipped open a folding chair, then went to the kitchen and brought back two long-necked bottles of beer. Without asking,
he held one toward Jones before straddling the only other chair. Bending his head back, he drank thirstily, then eyed his
boss. “All right, let’s have it.”

Jones took his time looking the younger man over. A bit on the scruffy side, but Senior Agent Tanner looked tan and lean and
strong, the restless energy more contained, the
fatigue absent from his gray eyes. Those eyes that had had many a subject squirming under their intensity.

Bob took a drink before answering. “Three months is a long time, Luke. I thought you might be itching to get back in harness
by now.” Actually he’d thought no such thing, but it was a start.

This time Luke did smile, his teeth very white against the leathery look of his face. “Sure you did.” He drank again, then
crossed his arms over the chairback and waited. “I asked for six months off, remember?”

“I remember.” Luke wasn’t a man to beat around the bush with, Bob knew. He hated dancing around a subject himself. He leaned
forward, elbows on his knees, the beer bottle dangling in his hands. “There’s this new case. A special one.”

Right on cue, Luke thought, his mind already searching for feasible reasons to decline. “They’re all special, Bob.” A dedicated
chief deputy, Jones had a strong affinity with the silent victims, as he called the people forced into the protection program.
Most had few choices as their very lives were uprooted and forever changed over a chance sighting or fateful happening.

“This one really is. A young woman who witnessed a brutal shooting, almost getting killed herself in an arranged accident,
her face scarred by flying glass, perhaps permanently.” Bob shook his head. “Poor kid.”

Luke glanced at the twilight sky above the redrock mountain in the near distance, a brilliant sunset just beginning. What
the hell. He’d been about to quit for the day anyhow. He drained his beer and stood. “Why don’t I throw a couple of steaks
on the grill while you tell me about this poor, special kid.”

Bob crossed his legs. “If you really want to hear.”

Luke’s lips twitched. “Oh, yeah. I’m dying to hear your story.”

***

The minute the sun dropped out of sight, the air turned much cooler. Luke served the steaks and a big salad at the kitchen
table with a second beer, listening to Bob as he ate.

“Before we moved her out of the hospital last week, we brought in a steno and took down her statement, which she’s signed.”

“You think that’s enough to arrest this Sergeant McCarthy?” Luke asked, mildly interested despite his desire to stay uninvolved.

“Along with what I’ve got in the car it is.” It took Bob only a few minutes to get the manila envelope from his front seat,
then sit back down across from Luke. “I asked Terry Ryan to look at some pictures to see if she could recognize either of
the other two men she saw that night. She picked out one, but we didn’t have a photo of the other man.”

“Well, at least you’ve got two IDs.”

“Oh, I’ve got all three. The detective I was telling you about, Andy Russell, reminded me that Terry’s an artist with the
Phoenix Gazette
. Her hands had been cut, but they’re healing pretty well. She did a sketch for us of the third man.” Bob pulled the drawing
from the envelope and handed it to Luke. “She’s quite good. Artists apparently make note of more visual details than most
of us. Look at these.”

“I’ll be damned. Ozzie Swain, complete with toothpick in his mouth and pockmarks on his face. Mob muscle. He works for the
Russo brothers.”

“That’s right.” Bob removed the photo of Sam Russo Terry had identified. “According to Terry, the man she sketched did the
shooting while Sam and Mac stood by and watched There was a fourth person who never got out of the car, but she only caught
a glimpse of him from the knees down in the backseat.”

Involuntarily, Luke’s hand reached to touch a six-inch scar on his right side, a souvenir of his own encounter with Sam’s
brother, Nick, some years ago. Both Russos were vicious SOBs.

Jones noticed Luke’s reaction and thought he knew what he was remembering. “Are you thinking that maybe the guy in the car
was Nick Russo?”

“I doubt it. He’s more of a participant than a spectator. If Nick had been there, he’d have been holding the gun.”

“You’re probably right.”

“So this is how you figured on getting me back, knowing how badly I’d like to even the score with the Russos?”

Bob shrugged. “The thought crossed my mind.”

Luke studied the man across from him as he sipped his beer. The chief wouldn’t push; it wasn’t his style. Yet Luke knew that
they really needed his help on this one or Bob would never have come in person to ask. The other thing that Bob would never
mention aloud was that Luke owed him. Out in the field when they’d both been fairly new agents, Bob Jones had taken a bullet
meant for him. It wasn’t the sort of thing a man like Luke Tanner ever forgot.

Luke cleared their plates, poured two coffees, then sat back down and gazed out the window at his spread. He felt an affection
for the place that he’d put his mark on and a genuine reluctance to leave right now, when there was so much yet to do before
the snow fell. But a man who hates to flinch when he looks into his shaving mirror knows there are some debts that have to
be paid whether the timing is wrong or not.

Besides, when push came to shove, he was aching to put the Russos out of commission for good.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he said quietly. “You got Washington’s approval, I take it?”

“Not yet, but it’ll be here any day. I had to get her out of that hospital. When Terry drew that sketch, Andy Russell looked
at it and thought he’d passed a man who looked like Ozzie in the halls of Phoenix General a couple of times. You remember
that Swain always wears bright-colored suspenders, and with that pockmarked face he’s not hard to spot. Visiting hours are
all day long. Security at most hospitals
isn’t what it should be. The place is like Grand Central most of the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sam sent Ozzie to keep
an eye on the girl until they determined her condition and identity for sure. With McCarthy getting the police reports, Russo
knows that one girl was burned beyond recognition. In their line of work, it pays to eliminate all loose ends.”

“So where’d you take her?”

“To that private hospital outside San Diego that we’ve used before. She underwent plastic surgery on her face yesterday. Temporarily,
I’ve got George Everly with her and Sara Baines. Remember them?”

“Yeah, sure.” Luke had worked with Sara before. She’d been an RN for ten years before going into law enforcement. She was
good, a big motherly woman who knew how to follow orders even if she didn’t like them. George was another story. The man was
methodical enough to drive you crazy, someone he could never partner with. Privately Luke thought that Everly should have
taken voluntary retirement some time ago, or requested a desk job. They really had to be shorthanded for Bob to pull George
out and put him on a case.