Protected Secrets. Heather WoodhavenЧитать онлайн книгу.
correct. He reached and tugged a bit on the cuffs. “Better?”
She stared at the shoes for another second before she nodded. He leaned against the seat. If only all of his problems were as easily solved as shoe discomfort. How was he going to manage staying in a safe house? Was he allowed to ask where the safe house was located or were questions like that frowned upon? Bruce wasn’t accustomed to looking or feeling foolish or uninformed. He took great pride in researching every opportunity or purchase beforehand so that he always knew what he was getting into. It applied to his personal life, too, meaning his car was always stocked with extreme-weather gear, his house never lacked flashlights and extra batteries, and he never left the house with his daughter without bringing a bag full of snacks, toys and extra clothes.
Right now, though, all his emergency preparedness kits meant nothing. Instead, he was asked to rely on a woman he knew nothing about. “So you just moved back to the area?” he asked. “Maybe we did know each other at one point.” He couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something about the way she moved or maybe her facial expressions...
“I used to work in the Ames Police Department, but it’s been almost three years since I was on active duty. I suppose it’s possible you saw me on patrol.”
He leaned back in the vinyl seat, the top of his head almost brushing the fabric above him. He never recalled a police officer making enough of an impression on him to remember their face, especially three years later. She’d made a point of saying active duty—did that mean she spent some time off duty but still an officer? What reasons could there be aside from health issues or a suspension? “Are you new to the Marshals?” Please say no.
“No. I’ve been working in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.”
That didn’t exactly make him feel better about her qualifications and experience. How many serious crimes could’ve happened in the Potato State? “Doesn’t Idaho have more trees than people?”
She laughed. “Not sure about that. Definitely more cattle than people, but the same could be said for Iowa.”
Fair point. “And pigs.”
Delaney took a sharp turn around a corner and his daughter giggled. A lyrical laugh escaped Delaney before she pressed her lips together in a stern line. Bruce stared at the rearview mirror and tried to make sense of the woman. Did she like children or not? Perhaps it wasn’t professional to appear happy when you were guarding people in danger.
She pulled up in front of an aging pink farmhouse. It was in the middle of nowhere—cut off from everything he was used to. Bruce purposefully lived his life focusing on the positive, but the bright side proved difficult to find at the moment. The loss of contact with his company and his employees hit him squarely in the chest. His throat tightened, but he forced himself to remain quiet until they stepped inside the dimly lit, musty-smelling house. He certainly hadn’t expected luxury, but he’d hoped for a place comfortable enough that he could present it to his daughter as an adventure—a holiday. It would be downright impossible to imagine they were on vacation here. Delaney closed the door behind them and flicked on the light.
“How long is this supposed to last?” Almost all of his employees had families, and Bruce felt responsible for their financial stability. He already had to forgo the sales meeting Monday that could’ve provided millions in revenue. If the company failed in his absence, their livelihoods would be threatened. It wasn’t as if he had a bunch of investors lined up to keep them afloat.
She bit her lip. “I can’t really—”
“Please.”
Her long brown ponytail swung to the left then the right as she looked around the room. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “There are no guarantees, but there is the hope that this will only last until the trial.”
“Which will be when?”
“I can’t say. It usually takes two weeks to get the Marshals involved in a case. The fact that I’m here on the same day should tell you how important it is to the federal government to handle this matter swiftly.”
Bruce’s legs suddenly felt weak. He sat down on an ugly yellow-and-brown-striped love seat. Winnie climbed onto his lap. “Are you telling me we’re being put into WITSEC?”
“No. At least, not right now. It’s not off the table, though.” A knock sounded on the door. She pulled out her weapon and peeked through an eyehole. “Friendly,” she said softly as she reholstered the gun and opened the door.
The police officer on the porch reported a clear perimeter. “We got your stuff out of the trunk like you asked.” He handed her a bright blue bag with the Marshals logo on the side. She set it down next to the couch, unzipped it and retrieved a laptop.
“I thought electronics were frowned upon,” Bruce commented.
“The Marshals make sure we use only the most secure devices.”
So did he. It was tempting to argue with her, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt that she knew what she was talking about. Delaney sat down next to him on the couch, and Winnie reached her arms out for her.
He’d never seen his daughter act so forward, and he’d never seen a woman bolt so fast. Delaney popped up and moved to a wooden chair across the room. “I can probably type better over here.”
Bruce wasn’t so much offended as perplexed. Winnie didn’t have a cold at the moment so it couldn’t have been a germ-related phobia.
Delaney typed rapidly on her keyboard. “I’m afraid I need to get a few questions out of the way to provide the best protection possible. Do you have any loved ones in town?”
“Besides my daughter? No.”
“What about your parents?”
He sighed. If only. “My mom remarried and retired in Arizona. My dad died when I was young.”
Her gaze snapped up as if to comment but instead she returned to typing. “Your case file says you have a stepbrother.”
Wow. They were going to hit on every sore point of his life in one swoop. This was going to be more fun than a visit to the doctor. “Trevor Schultz. He’s also my former business partner. He asked me to buy him out six months ago. Last I heard he was catching rays in the Cayman Islands.”
“I see you divorced over a year ago. Know the location of your ex-wife?”
“No.”
Delaney stared at the screen for a bit before she looked back up. “Listen, I know this is hard. I really do. But I need to find out if there are any weaknesses someone might exploit to get to you.”
If there was one thing Bruce had learned over the past couple of years, it was how to spot sincerity. He could see Delaney’s genuineness. She hated asking the personal questions as much as he hated answering them.
He leaned over and pulled out Winnie’s favorite pop-up book from the duffel bag, hoping it would keep his daughter distracted. “Shannon left over a year ago. She...” He let his voice trail off because he wasn’t sure how to explain. Shannon had thought Bruce became boring after they got married. She’d wanted to live in Silicon Valley instead of the Silicon Prairie. She’d said she wasn’t cut out to be a mother, but only brought that up after they had adopted a baby. He couldn’t see a reason the Marshals would need to know all of those things. “Shannon left me for another man,” he finally said. “I didn’t ask who, and I honestly don’t know where she landed.”
Delaney’s gaze flickered to Winnie and back.
“I have full custody.” The fact was that Shannon didn’t want anything to do with Winnie, something Bruce still couldn’t understand.
Delaney twirled a strand of hair from her ponytail as she stared at the computer screen. It was a cute gesture that he doubted she did consciously. “How well did you know Andy Williamson before he was hired?” she asked.
“Not