chapter nineteen

He was sitting under the porch light on her doorstep when Robin returned.

Robin’s stomach clenched when she saw Ben Taylor, red-eyed with lines of exhaustion etched around his mouth. She’d been dreading the confrontation since she left the church.

She really needed to hone her skills as a liar. He could see right through her.

He stood as she drove up and parked. She locked the car and tried to ignore the various aches and pains, including her leg, which was stiff and complaining. He visibly stiffened as she approached the door.

“Where in the hell have you been?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, yet the anger in it lashed at her. “It’s almost midnight.”

She was too tired and heartsick to be diplomatic. “I didn’t realize I had to report to you,” she retorted. “I’m not under arrest. Or am I?”

“Your editor called me. He was worried sick when his so-called protection informed him you were missing.”

“I’m sorry about that, but I’m not used to having every movement monitored.”

She moved ahead and fitted her key into the lock. Despite the anger, her heart pounded at his nearness. She wanted to feel his arms around her, to shoo away the new fears that plagued her and made her blood run cold. But even if he were honest, someone else in the FBI may not be.

She couldn’t even ask him about it. What if he was the leak?

Too many lives now, including her own, depended on her not making a mistake. She was terrified his mere presence would cause her to make that mistake.

He tried to follow her inside. She didn’t give him a chance. She turned to him. “I’m really tired.”

His eyes turned to black ice at the dismissal.

Then he left without another word. She saw him talk to the two guards in front. Then he strode down the street to his car. He glanced back, got into the driver’s seat, and drove off.

She stood there for a moment. Had she done the right thing? She didn’t know. She just didn’t know. But she couldn’t trust anyone now.

She went down to where the men stood guard.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Next time just let us know,” the older man said. His name was Ted, she remembered.

“I wasn’t sure you were the only ones watching.”

“We haven’t seen anyone else,” Ted said.

“I hope I didn’t get you in trouble. I’ll tell my boss it’s my fault.”

“Just let us know next time,” Ted repeated with some emphasis.

“If we’re still here,” mumbled his partner.

Robin tried a small smile. She might well need them in the future. “I’m really sorry,” she said again. “Can I get you some coffee?”

The two men looked at each other. They had been embarrassed big time. She understood that. Yet she hadn’t wanted questions, hadn’t wanted anyone to guess what she was about.

“No, ma’am,” he said. “We brought coffee with us.”

Mrs. Jeffers’s light was on. Probably anxiously waiting for her to get home, even at this late hour. Robin walked over to her house.

The door opened before she could knock.

“Saw you drive up, dear. Are you all right?”

She nodded.

“Agent Taylor was upset.”

Robin thought that might be an understatement. “I know.”

“He really is a nice young man,” Mrs. Jeffers said. “Even if he is a little … testy sometimes.”

Another understatement.

Daisy meowed plaintively and rubbed her body against Robin’s slacks. Robin reached down and picked her up.

“Thanks for keeping her.”

“Anytime, you know that.”

Robin took Daisy home and fed her. She washed her face. Her eyes were as red-ringed as Ben Taylor’s had been. She had gotten some sleep the night before because of the painkiller. Yet she knew she couldn’t sleep. She kept seeing Ben’s face. His anger had been stark. So had frustration. But there had been something else, something like disillusionment.

She poured herself a glass of wine, turned on the classical music station, then went into the bathroom and ran hot water in the bathtub. She didn’t think she could sleep without its soothing comfort. Hopefully, it would take some of the stiffness from various abused parts of her body, and soften the hard edges of tonight.

After undressing and thankfully taking off the brace, she sank down in the bath, not bothering to take off the bandages. She would redo those as necessary when she got out. She leaned back, took a sip of wine, and listened to the music, allowing the hot water to soothe the hurting muscles.

Daisy jumped up on the edge of the bathtub and meowed.

Robin didn’t want to move, but she knew she must. She pulled the plug, then used her arms to get to the ledge and get out. Then she stood on both legs. No brace. Just legs.

She had tested her bad leg before. A moment now and then in the past two weeks. But she hadn’t wanted to push it. Now she did.

It felt good. So very, very good to place equal weight on both legs, to do it without a contraption of metal and leather. She took a step, keeping a hand on the wall and ignoring the crutches she usually used when she’d taken off the brace for the day. Another step.

She hadn’t done her exercises in the past few days. Too much had happened. But though a little unsteady, the leg felt good. Solid.

She took a deep breath and slowly walked to the bed. She thought about calling Wade but it was far too late now. An excuse. She knew it. She should have called him much earlier but she hadn’t been sure what, or how much, to tell him.

Would he and management demand, at this point, that she go to the authorities?

Daisy leaped onto the bed and Robin turned out the light. She was tired, too tired to think, but she also thought she might have trouble sleeping.

She didn’t. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Sunlight streamed through her windows and the telephone jolted her awake.

Heaviness weighed on every move as she reluctantly picked it up.

“’Ello,” she mumbled.

“Robin, this is Mason Parker.” The attorney’s voice was clipped. “A subpoena was served to me this morning as your attorney. You’re directed to speak to the federal grand jury tomorrow at ten a.m.”

That woke her up. She struggled to sit up. She drew in a breath as her ribs complained about the sudden movement.

“Robin, are you all right?”

“Not exactly,” she said honestly.

“I heard about the explosion.” He paused. “But we have to talk about a statement for the grand jury tomorrow. Can you come in today? Or should I come over?”

How could she say no if he learned she’d been running all over the city last night?

“I planned to come in. Bob Greene and I are writing a story about the attack on me.”

“Just let me know when you get in.”

She looked at the clock. Seven thirty. “I should be there by noon. I have to get a replacement driver’s license this morning. Mine was burned in the car explosion.”

“That’s fine. Just ring my secretary when you get in.”

“Mr. Parker …”

“Yes?”

“Does it make a difference that the subpoena wasn’t served to me personally?”

A pause. Then, “You mean not appearing as ordered?”

Her silence answered the question.

“I told the FBI that everything was to go through me. The service to me is the same as service to you, except the paper is now involved.”

She said good-bye and hung up. She stood, again testing her leg. She wanted to disregard the brace altogether. Maybe she could reschedule the final appointment earlier. Like this week.

Or maybe nothing could be scheduled at all.

Subpoena. Grand jury. Jail. For how long? Weeks? Months? She would have to talk to Mrs. Jeffers about keeping Daisy.

As those thoughts bounced in her brain, she did the much neglected exercises, then went to the kitchen to prepare coffee. Obviously feeling neglected, Daisy darted in and out of her feet.

“You may have to stay with Mrs. Jeffers for several days,” she told the cat, praying it was only several days if at all. Perhaps the federal judge wouldn’t force testimony.

Daisy meowed, whether in objection or approval Robin wasn’t sure. She gave Daisy a feline treat, and then brewed her coffee.

She turned on the radio and sat down at the table with the coffee and her new disposable cell phone. She took a sip of the coffee, then called Lark, hoping that the music from the radio would mask her words if anyone was listening. She wasn’t taking anything for granted today.

Lark answered her call immediately.

“Lark, can you go to a public telephone and call me back on my cell phone?”

“Robin?”

“Just do it. Please,” she added, realizing how she’d sounded.

Then she called Star’s husband at work. She doubted that phone would be tapped. Jeff had been a police officer, then a private investigator while working on his law degree. She told him to take Lark’s family and Star somewhere safe.

“The baby is due in two weeks,” he protested.

“I hope you can come back in a few days, but if not you’re going to have to find a new obstetrician.”

“I can’t just up and leave.”

“You have to,” she said. “I can’t tell you how vicious and dangerous they are.”

“The FBI?”

“My source says they might have some agents involved.”

A loud groan came over the phone.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If I’d known …”

“I’m a one-man law office. I can’t afford to leave.”

“Then send my sisters away. They both have a lot of friends. Just be careful of the communication between you.”

“If anything happens to Star or the baby …”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. She was already sick to her stomach with fear for them all.

“What about you?” he asked. “Star will want to know.”

“I’ve been ordered to testify tomorrow.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I can’t give them a name. Not when I know there might be a leak in the FBI.”

“Hell, he should have the guts to go himself. He started this.” The phone slammed down on the other end.

Robin pressed the “end” button, feeling more desolate and alone than ever. Her choices could destroy her family. Her word meant little to them. It meant everything to her.

But even if she was willing to give up the name to the FBI, she feared the bad guys would still go after her sisters.

Lark called then, and Robin told her to contact Star’s husband. She should leave for a few days.

“The depositions!” Lark wailed.

“Get a postponement. I’ll help with any legal expenses.” Robin paused. “I’m so sorry, Lark. But even if I went to the FBI now you wouldn’t be safer. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Her heart ached as she ended the call. Her life was one thing. But she’d had no right to bring harm to her sisters and their families. It was up to her to try to right things.

She forced herself to return to the bedroom and dress, reluctantly lacing the brace. She went to her guards outside and asked one of them to take her to get a driver’s license. With her luck—and decisions—lately, she would be stopped by the police on the way to getting the license.

Two hours later, she emerged with the driver’s license and asked her bodyguards to take her to the office. She would get a ride home. Going in to the office, she stiffened her shoulders. She sensed the next few hours were going to be nearly as bad as those this morning.

Ben sat in on the newly organized task force meeting. He and Mahoney had been supplemented by four additional agents. Two members of the Drug Enforcement Agency had joined them.

“The subpoena was served on Ms. Stuart’s attorney this morning,” Ron Holland said. “It requires her presence tomorrow.”

“Fast work,” Mahoney said, glancing at Ben.

“Time is of the essence. The current grand jury session ends in a week. There won’t be a new one until next month.” Holland looked at Ben. “What will she do?”

“I don’t think she’ll give you what you want,” he said.

“Not many reporters hold out when faced with jail.”

“I think she will,” he said. “Then we’ll have to protect her in jail, along with her family outside.”

Holland glanced at him. “You haven’t changed her mind?”

“I don’t think anyone can change it.”

“Any other suggestions?”

He didn’t have any. He could only hope he was wrong. He’d made a mistake last night, lashing out at her. But he’d been eaten alive by worry. He’d imagined any number of scenarios, all of them bad.

Robin’s face had been lined with fatigue and pain when she’d finally appeared. He’d wanted to put his arms around her, but there was something in her eyes …

Something had happened, and she wasn’t going to tell him about it.

The pain of that sudden and certain knowledge ran unexpectedly deep.

He had been a damn fool caring in any way but professional. He’d lost his wife to ambition. He wasn’t about to let his heart get involved again.

Holland continued to blister him with his eyes. “I thought you might be getting through to her.”

“She thinks she’s doing the right thing.”

“You said her family has been threatened. Any leverage there?”

“She doesn’t respond well to leverage.”

“Assistance then.”

“Assistance might help.”

“Do what you can to help. Call the bureau offices in those cities.”

Ben nodded.

“You tell her. You can be the hero.”

“I’ll try.” He wasn’t going to say he didn’t seem to be her hero last night. Not with the suspicion he’d thought he saw in her eyes.

“Also explain to her what jail means,” Holland continued.

“I imagine her attorney is doing that.”

Holland turned to the others. “Okay, what do we have on members of the sheriff’s department? Deputies living beyond their means, et cetera?”

“We don’t have much,” one of the other agents said. “We’re halfway through the list. No big expenditures or change of lifestyles on any of them.”

“The sheriff appears clean?”

“Lives in the same farmhouse where he was born. Drives a five-year-old pickup. Kids going to county schools. Vacations are mostly hunting or fishing trips.”

“Keep trying. What about ownership of the property where the cops were killed?”

“The trail starts with the Somerville Corporation and ends in an offshore island. We’ve had Washington trying to hack into government files there. Also the banks. No luck.”

“Okay, keep working on the sheriff’s department. Nothing on the murdered cops?”

“Nope,” said a woman who was with the DEA. “Same as the sheriff. Looks like they were just struggling to get by.”

“What about the deputy who was just killed?”

“Nothing again,” Mahoney said. “Recently divorced and lived in a small rental house. A few days late on two credit card payments. Certainly doesn’t live beyond his means.”

“Check the divorce settlement and talk to the ex-wife,” Holland said.

“Ex-wife moved away, but I’ll call her,” Mahoney answered.

Holland tapped his fingers on the desk. “So all we really have is one reporter and her informant.”

“One stubborn reporter,” Mahoney interjected.

Holland looked toward Ben. “Maybe faced with the subpoena she’ll listen. Try again. She called you from the hospital. She obviously trusts you.”

She had. He would have sworn that. But early this morning he had more than a few doubts. Was it that explosive anger he’d displayed? Or something else? In any event, he doubted that the subpoena would help the trust level.

But Holland rarely changed his mind, and Ben wasn’t about to voice the reasons he knew would separate him from this case. He’d learned last night how much he was beginning to care for her. He’d have to learn now to damn well control those feelings.