She couldn’t just sit here staring at her water glass. She decided to go along with what he told her, at least for the time being.
She recaptured his gaze. Again, as in the deli when he bumped her chair, his eyes held concern rather than hardness or danger. “For the past several weeks I’ve had the feeling that I was being watched. Nothing I could put my finger on, just a bothersome sensation. Then suddenly a few days ago there you were every time I went anywhere. At first I thought you worked in the same neighborhood where I do, then I wondered if you were the person who had been watching me.”
Brad glanced around, making sure their conversation was private. “Did you have any impressions about who it would have been?” He allowed a soft chuckle. “Other than me, of course.”
“No. I never really saw anyone. It was just an uncomfortable sensation…you know, like when someone is staring at you and you can feel their gaze on the back of your neck even though you don’t see who it is.”
They both stopped talking when the waiter approached with their food. As soon as he left, they resumed their discussion.
Apprehension filled her voice. “Do you…do you know who killed the other witnesses? Who would be watching me?”
“No, unfortunately I don’t have any idea. As I said, I just recently got involved with this case. My first thought was that the deaths had to do with Vincent’s organized-crime connections, since the first four witnesses who were killed had testified specifically about his criminal activities. The two who were in the Witness Security Program testified to his organized-crime connections, helping to convict John Vincent under the federal Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations statute. RICO has been used with great success in obtaining organized-crime convictions. But neither you nor the man in Portland were involved in that aspect of the testimony. Both of you testified to his company pension fund and income manipulations.”
Her words came out as a mere whisper. “And with the man in Portland dead that leaves only me?”
“I can’t officially offer you the protection of the U.S. Marshals Service at this point. My theory has already been shot down by the head of the Seattle office. I can’t take it over his head or go directly to the FBI without proof to back up my speculations.”
“Wouldn’t the Portland death being declared a murder be enough to start an investigation?”
“There’s nothing that links his death with the others. He could have had enemies of his own with no connection to John Vincent or the trial. There’s not a scrap of proof at this time that shows any connection between his murder and the other deaths or that the other deaths were really murder. What I can do is work personally to protect you, but I need your help if I’m going to find out who’s behind this and gather evidence to warrant an official investigation.”
What he didn’t tell her was his suspicion that there was a leak within the Marshals Service, something possibly originating from the Seattle office, concerning the protected witnesses. There shouldn’t have been any way for someone to have found the two people in the Witness Security Program – one of the facts thrown up to him by his boss as reason for him to forget his crazy theory. It was also the reason he knew he couldn’t trust anyone else until he had some solid facts to work with. Any information he put into an official report could easily be accessed by whoever was responsible for the leak.
Tara noted the hint of apprehension that crossed his face. Her concerns about who she could and could not trust, what was true and what wasn’t, kept her at a cautious distance from him. She nervously cleared her throat. “I need to think about this, consider the pros and cons, go over all my options.”
He leveled a purposeful look at her, his voice adding emphasis to his words. “I don’t want to frighten you unnecessarily, but please don’t take too long to think about it.”
Her anxieties jumped into high gear. His words of warning said it all. They silently ate their food. He seemed as absorbed in his own thoughts as she was in hers. Following dinner they left the restaurant.
Brad walked her across the restaurant parking lot toward her car. “You’ve had some time to think about what I’ve said. I’m afraid I need an answer from you now. This is a very serious matter.”
As they approached her vehicle, she took the lock and ignition remote from her purse. She pressed the button to unlock the doors and start the engine.
The sound of a horrendous explosion ripped through the air. Tara’s entire body jerked around, then she stood frozen to the spot. She stared in the direction of the conflagration with her eyes wide and her features contorted into a mask of shock and fear. She heard a loud scream, then realized it came from her. A moment later strong hands grabbed her shoulders and shoved her to the ground behind a van. The next thing she knew Brad had protectively covered her body with his.
A few seconds later, Brad stood up. He raked his gaze efficiently across the scene, taking everything in.
Tara struggled to her feet and started toward the charred mangle of metal that just seconds earlier had been her brand-new car. Waves of fear washed through her, something nearly akin to stark terror. Her body shook uncontrollably. Her legs turned wobbly. She tried to run but was brought up short when someone grabbed her arm and held it in a strong grip.
“Stay put!” Brad’s no-nonsense voice barked out an order as he took control of the situation. “Don’t you dare move from this spot.”
“Let go of me!” She tried to jerk her arm free. Her heart pounded in her chest. She heard the blood rushing in her ears along with the echoing sound of the explosion playing over and over in her head. She had to do something even though she wasn’t sure what. She started toward her car, but was again brought to an abrupt halt when Brad took hold of her arm.
“I told you to stay here!” He left her no room for argument.
“But…” She heard the quaver in her voice, the uncertainty that matched the panic building inside her.
“No buts! There’s nothing you can do over there.”
“My car—”
“Your car is history. There’s nothing over there except twisted metal.” The hard edge to his voice softened a bit. “There’s nothing there that you need to see.”
She went numb inside as she fought off the need to run in the opposite direction as fast and as far as she could. Everything Brad told her about the danger had come back to hit her in the face. She felt light-headed. Her knees started to buckle.
“Tara…Tara, answer me. Are you all right?”
“I…yes, I’m okay.”
He held on to her, providing support while keeping her from walking off. A crowd gathered, any one of whom might have been the person who had planted the bomb. Brad scanned the faces, but no one jumped out at him as being suspicious or familiar. One thing was crystal clear. Someone had followed Tara, watched her park and go into the restaurant. There was no way anyone could have known she would be going there since it was a decision that had only been made moments before she left the parking lot at work.
And whoever saw her had most likely seen the two of them talking before that. Perhaps it was the presence of a deputy marshal that pushed the killer to abandon the use of accidental means and go the more direct route. But that only prompted another question. How would the perpetrator know he was a deputy marshal, since he wasn’t connected with the original case? If that was what had happened.
Then another thought occurred to him, one he didn’t like. What did he really know about Tara Ford? Out of the six witnesses at the John Vincent trial she was the only one who still lived in the Seattle area and, therefore, the easiest to locate. Yet she was the only one still alive. All the other murders had been very clever, but the attempt on her life had been clumsy and had failed. The perpetrator had made no attempt to have it appear to be an accident.
Could his having shown up and saying she was in danger have alerted her that someone was suspicious of the accidental deaths? Could she have rigged this herself to throw him off track? Maybe she had stopped to call someone while