Lone Rider (28 page)

Grey’s hand stopped. “What?”

She told him about the note. “Now do you see why I can’t testify?”

Grey’s blood pressure raised. He had received a similar threat, which wasn’t unusual in his line of work. Tess receiving one was another matter. He knew how to take care of himself. She didn’t. And Bogen had a lot of friends in subterranean places
who
owed him favors.

“When did the letter arrive? Did you keep the envelope?”

She nodded. Grey caught her chin, held her eyes. “This is serious, Tess. I have to tell Barry.”

“Why? What can he do? It was anonymous.”

“For starters, he’ll arrange protective custody.”

             
“No!”  The last thing she wanted was to have her freedom curtailed again. She looked pleadingly at Grey. “If I agree to testify
,
will you forget I told you about the letter?”

“I can’t look the other way. The risk these men pose is real. You can’t imagine what they’re capable of, Tess. They’re dangerous and desperate. A lethal combination. And they don’t make idle threats.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Grey sighed. This was exactly why a cop wasn’t supposed to get personally involved with a case. Objectivity.

He looked away, torn between his personal feelings for her and his professional instincts. Why did it seem that all the right choices put him at odds with her?

Like it or not
,
he had to do what was right, even if it ran counter to her wishes. Damn, he didn’t want to be cast in that position again.

“I’m sorry, Tess...”

*     *     *

             
Grey made contact with Barry Neilson, who started the arrangements for Tess to enter protective custody.

Within the hour two more FBI agents arrived
at the Marsh Manhattan
,
and she was taken to another hotel, checked in under an assumed name. A temporary move.

She noticed that Grey hadn’t left her side since calling Barry. Was his increased attentiveness due to guilt? Or a misplaced sense of responsibility?

He struck her as the responsible type, which reinforced her decision to keep the news of her pregnancy secret. She didn’t want to add to his sense of obligation, didn’t want her baby to be a burden to anyone.

He remained close while she gave a statement regarding the threat she’d received. Someone was dispatched to retrieve the actual letter though no one expected it to yield clues.

             
“What happens now?” she asked when
she and Grey
were finally alone.

             
“You’ll be taken to a safe house until the trial.” 
Maybe longer,
Grey thought, knowing they would reassess the threat after she testified. “You’ll be kept under guard twenty-four, seven.”

             
Tess shut her eyes, thinking back to her plans of that morning, her intention to spend a few days in the city.

The trial wasn’t even scheduled for another couple weeks. She was once more a hostage. Of the system. “It feels like I’m a prisoner. Like I’m being punished when I’ve done nothing wrong.”

             
He took her hand. It was an awful truth
,
and platitudes wouldn’t help. But he found himself offering them just the same. “Try not to look at it that way. Granted, you won’t be able to come and go as you please, but you’ll have access to movies, books, TV. Maybe the Internet. And they’ll make arrangements to collect a few of your personal belongings from your house.”

             
Tess looked around the hotel room. It reminded her that she hadn’t been
home
-- her home
in
Boston
-- since before her abduction. As much as she’d felt stifled at the
Hamptons
, at least it had been familiar. The thought of going somewhere unfamiliar and being surrounded by more strangers was unsettling.

             
She looked at Grey. “Will you be close by?”

             
The disconsolation in her eyes tore at him. “No. But I’ll keep in touch this time, I promise. Once you’re settled you’ll be able to make and receive certain calls. You’ll be briefed on security protocols.” 

             
A knock sounded on the door. Grey and the other agents had their guns drawn before the echo faded. Once again Tess noticed that Grey positioned himself between her and the door. Shielding her.

             
Shielding their child
.

             
Grey huddled with the others near the door, before coming back to where she sat. She knew by the look on his face that her time with him had ended.

“The U.
S. Marshal’s
S
ervice will take over from here, Tess. I know these men. They’ll protect you.”

A lump lodged in her throat at the thought of leaving Grey yet again, reminding her anew of how secure she felt with him. How badly she wished things were different between them.

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded and stood.

“Come here.”  He tugged her into his arms, squeezing her as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I know this is hard, but it’ll work out,” he whispered. “I promise.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tess was flown to a private airstrip near
Washington
,
D.C.
,
before being moved to a nondescript safe house outside of
Baltimore
.

             
It was roomier than she’d expected; three bedrooms, a living room
,
and a kitchen. At first she felt extremely self-conscious with the marshals, but after a few days she developed a rapport, got used to their schedules. And recognized that this type of detail was as boring for them as it was for her.

Security, however, was tight. Tess couldn’t leave the house without
an
escort. The blinds were kept drawn
,
and she was instructed to stay away from the windows.

             
A box with her personal belongings arrived the second day. Inside was a card from Grey.

THINKIN
G OF YOU
.
I’LL BE IN TOUCH SOON.

             
She reread the card, recalling his promise to maintain contact. It made her acutely aware that once more she had no easy way to get in touch with him. Any contact was totally up to him.

             
It also triggered an avalanche of indecision over whether keeping her pregnancy to herself was indeed the right choice.

             
Besides the perpetual loop of should-she-or-shouldn’t-she  tell Grey, she worried about the question coming up in court. The prosecutor had warned her that the
cross-
examination regarding her sexual liaison with Grey would be riddled with thinly veiled accusations, designed in part to embarrass her -- to tempt her to prevaricate and thereby damage her credibility with the jury. As much as she wanted it over, she dreaded the trial’s approach.

             
By the end of the first week, the computer in her room was hooked up to the Internet. She was assigned a bland, numeric screen
name.

             
“This puppy is encrypted with all the latest security, but you’ve still got to be cautious. No e
-
mail to family or friends, no shopping with credit cards.”  The marshal showed her how to log on. “Double click here and
voila
. Welcome to the
W
orld
W
ide
W
eb.”

             
Glad for a new diversion, Tess spent most of the
afternoon checking out jewelry-
design web
site
s. Just as she got ready to log
off, a small message flashed on the screen.

Mail waiting
.

             
Curious, she clicked the icon.

             
The sender’s name was as nondescript as hers. Tess’ first thought was spam. Then she spotted the subject line.

From G.T.

Grey Thomas? She clicked READ.

The note was short.
HOPE YOU’RE FEELING OKAY. ARE THEY TREATING YOU WELL? YOURS, G.

             
Tess traced a finger across the screen.
Hope you’re feeling okay
. Such an innocuous statement. Would he have written that if he knew about the baby? Would he have even written at all?

             
She scanned Grey’s e
-
mail again, wishing she could read something between the lines. All two of them.

             
She eyed the REPLY icon, recalling the marshal’s warning against e
-
mail.
To family and friends
. Grey definitely wasn’t family. Technically, he wasn’t a friend. The term
sperm
donor
popped into mind, leaving her scowling.

She tapped out a short, equally cryptic, reply.

FEELING FINE. WISH YOU WERE HERE. T.

She frowned at the screen again. Did
wish you were here
sound too...personal?

             
She went to hit DELETE, intent on rewording the entire message. Instead she hit SEND. The screen went blank, then a little box appeared, confirming her mail had been sent.

“Guess that problem resolved itself,” she muttered.

             
A knock sounded at her door. She snapped off the computer. It was one of the marshals, reminding her of an outside meeting scheduled with the federal prosecutor.

             
Tess gathered her stuff and glanced at the computer one last time. At least now she had something to look forward to.

             
At the meeting she learned the threatening note had been mailed from
Canada
but yielded no tangible clues to identify the sender. Hence no charges could be filed.

*     *     *

             
When
Tess
returned to the safe house, there were no new e
-
mail messages. Masking her disappointment, she ate a light meal and retired early.

             
But sleep eluded her
,
and a book failed to hold her interest.

At a little after ten, one of the marshals rapped at her door. He looked hesitant when she answered.

“Uh, sorry to wake you, but Special Agent Thomas is on the phone. Said he had a few questions if you were still awake.”

Tess’ heart flittered as she picked up the phone beside her bed. “Grey? Where are you?”

“I’m at a conference in L.A. Hope I’m not calling too late. Were you in bed?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t sleep.” 

He grunted. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in months. “I got your e
-
mail.”

Silence swelled.

Then Grey spoke again. “Did you mean it?”

Wish you were here
.

She sighed, curling and uncurling the cord around her finger, tired of weighing every little nuance of every word and action. “Yes.”

The tightness in his chest eased. “I’m glad.”

Grey checked the time. He had a dinner meeting scheduled in twenty minutes. The time difference meant it was nearly ten-thirty on the East Coast. It would be too late to call again when he got back. For a moment he considered canceling his meeting, wanting to spend the evening on the phone with her. Why did talking to her make him miss her even more?

“What kind of conference are you attending?” she asked.

“A drug symposium. Boring.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll trade places with you.”

He knew time in protective custody was tedious and monotonous at the same time. God, he’d make it all go away if he could. “I know it’s bad, but what’s the worst part? Lack of privacy? Microwave meals?”

“Trying to sleep, I guess,” she said. “I don’t get enough physical activity during the day to really get tired, so I toss and turn most of t
he night. Which gives me a back
ache.”

“I know what would fix that.”

“The insomnia?”  A vision of
Dallas
, naked, flashed through her mind.
Wish you were here
. “Or the back
ache?”