The Marshal's Witness. Lena DiazЧитать онлайн книгу.
house for Jessica’s use had forgotten to turn the thermostat up. He turned the dial. The water heater clicked and hissed as it started heating the water.
“Alex Trask,” his boss’s voice sounded over the phone.
“It’s Ryan.” He leaned back against Jessica’s car and crossed his legs at the ankles. “We might have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“A supposed tourist jogged up the street and introduced himself to Jessica. He said his name is Mike Higgins. He’s from Little Rock on vacation. Runs a mom and pop auto insurance business called Solid Rock Insurance. I want to know if he’s legit.”
“On it.” Keys tapped on a computer keyboard as Alex began his search.
Ryan drummed his fingers on the hood of the car. Hopefully, Higgins would check out. When Ryan had heard voices out his back door earlier, he’d gone out on his deck, pretending not to notice Jessica and the man in the jogging suit. He’d hoped Jessica could push through her nervousness and have her first real conversation with someone other than law enforcement since she’d joined WitSec. But when she’d waved him over, he’d realized she was too nervous to face the stranger without him.
“All right, here’s what I have so far,” Alex said. “The insurance company appears to be real. They’re listed in the phone book and have a standard-looking website with customer comments going back several years on the feedback page. The website also mentions that even though the owner is on vacation, the office is still open and serving customers. Does that sound right?”
“Yeah, that fits what he said.”
“You aren’t convinced?”
“Not sure. Anyone can fake a website. Something about him seemed…off. He didn’t strike me as an insurance salesman. He’s a big guy, my size, and he didn’t look the type to sit behind a desk eating donuts all day.”
“Hey, my uncle sells insurance. He doesn’t sit around eating junk food all day, either.”
“My point is that he makes me nervous. As he was leaving, he made a comment about going fishing, hoping to catch something big. There was something in his eyes, his voice. Sounded more like a threat.”
“Where is he now?”
Ryan crossed to the end of the garage and peered out one of the rectangular glass panes in the top of the garage door. “If we can believe his story, he jogged back down the mountain to his cabin.”
“I’ll dig some more, call the phone numbers on the website, see if I can get a picture of the owner to email to you. But as of now, I don’t see any red flags, no reason to pull the witness out.”
Irritation flashed through Ryan, but he tamped it down. His boss had field experience working with witnesses. Ryan didn’t. Before following the family tradition of going into law enforcement, he’d spent over a decade in covert operations as an army ranger. Everyone he’d met was either trying to kill him or was willing to sell information to someone else who wanted to kill him. Trust didn’t come easily to Ryan, especially after the way his last mission had ended. His boss might be right, but Ryan wasn’t taking any chances.
“Send me that picture as soon as you get it. But if that guy comes back before you can confirm his identity, I’m pulling the witness.”
RYAN LEANED FORWARD under the showerhead, both hands braced against the tiles, as hot water sluiced over his head and down his back. After Jessica had cooked, or more accurately, burned breakfast, Ryan had spent the rest of the day hauling boxes from her garage to various parts of her house and helping her unpack. She’d seemed wary of his offer to help at first, as if she couldn’t believe he was actually being nice to her.
A twinge of guilt shot through him. Jessica had every right to be wary. He’d never been especially friendly to her. And she was right to suspect he had an ulterior motive. He’d helped her unpack so he could stay with her in case Higgins returned. But he didn’t want her to know that. He’d explained his actions by saying that he wanted to hurry and get her settled so he could return to New York.
She’d had no trouble believing that.
Higgins hadn’t returned. And Alex had verified the insurance company’s phone numbers. He’d spoken to the receptionist who verified the owner was vacationing in Providence. So far Ryan hadn’t received the picture his boss had promised to email him, but the general description the receptionist had given matched the jogger from this morning.
Maybe Ryan’s internal radar was screwed up. He’d been out of the military for over six months, and he usually worked behind the scenes for the marshals, planning security details. Not having to dodge bullets or be on guard every day must have dulled his instincts. All the facts pointed to Mike Higgins being exactly who he’d said he was, a businessman getting away for a few weeks of fishing and relaxation.
Ryan shook his head. Higgins wasn’t the problem at the moment.
Jessica was.
Ryan had spent hours watching her curvy little bottom bending over boxes. He’d watched her pink tongue dart out to moisten her equally pink lips. He’d accidentally brushed against her when he helped her make sandwiches for lunch. And later, when she’d reached up high to put something on a shelf, he’d watched in agony as her T-shirt tightened over her generous breasts. He was in his own private little torture chamber, lusting after a woman he had no intention of sleeping with.
Ever.
Even though he desperately wanted to.
His irrational attraction for her was something he’d just have to deal with. Unfortunately, it looked like he’d be dealing with that a lot longer than he’d originally planned. When he’d asked Alex this afternoon how much longer he’d have to stay in Tennessee, his boss had dropped a bombshell.
Instead of watching over Jessica for a few weeks, which by itself was unusual in WitSec, Ryan was assigned to watch over her indefinitely.
That didn’t make sense. Jessica was settled in her new location. She didn’t need a marshal hanging around. That certainly wasn’t standard procedure. So why did Alex insist that he stay? Something wasn’t right. From the moment Ryan’s boss had yanked him off another case and ordered him to deliver papers to the courthouse the day of the explosion, nothing had felt right.
Ryan closed his eyes and rinsed his face under the spray of water. He froze when the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against the side of his head.
His eyes flew open and the shower curtain jerked back to reveal two men. Ryan didn’t recognize the first man, but he definitely recognized the grinning face of the man holding the gun.
Mike Higgins.
“Hey, Marshal.” Mike’s grin broadened. “Remember me?”
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