Page 23 of Safeguarding the Witness

He’d asked Quintana to arrange for Erin’s daughter to be taken care of. Then Erin would be brought to his office. For a moment, he considered asking his cookie-baking assistant to handle the interview. In addition to being the best sharpshooter on his team, Quintana had seven years’ experience with Seattle PD and had left the homicide division as a decorated sergeant. She was better qualified than Spence to question a suspect.

But he sensed that Erin preferred dealing with a man—a creature she could bend to her will with a smile and a flutter of her eyelashes. Had she changed since high school? He turned off the laptop, leaned back in his chair and thought about Erin Eckhart. Everybody at Cloverdell High knew the bubbly girl with the kind of grin that was made for toothpaste ads. She was a couple of years younger than him and a cheerleader. Go Bucks! She knew him because he played sports. Not football or basketball, but he had been an ace pitcher for the Cloverdell Buccaneers and had dreams of joining the Mariners.

He doubted that he and Erin had ever had a real conversation, but he knew her well enough to recognize her bouncy, honey-blonde hair and big, brown eyes when Quintana showed her into the office. Quintana hadn’t come empty-handed. She’d provided Erin with a mug of coffee and placed a plateful of cookies on the coffee table in front of the long sofa.

Erin sauntered into the room, shot a disinterested glance at the floor-to-ceiling wall of books and held out her arms toward Spence for a hug. No hesitation on her part, and no way he could politely avoid the physical contact. He couldn’t help comparing Erin’s enthusiastic embrace with Mollie’s nervous thank-you hug to show her appreciation for the artwork. Erin was automatically aggressive. Mollie had been sincerely moved by his gesture.

Erin held him at arm’s length, gazed up into his eyes and gave him a sly smile. “Nice to see you, Spence. But I’m really here for Mollie.”

If he had believed her, the concern for her friend might have been touching. Spence suspected Erin had another agenda, probably related to the inheritance. He decided to play straight with her. Honesty all the way. “I want to talk to you about Mollie’s situation. The danger. And the need for protection.”

“Fine.” She flounced around the coffee table and sat on the sofa. “I’ll do everything I can to help. I suppose you have some questions for me.”

“How did you know Mollie was coming back to Cloverdell?”

“You’re kidding, right? Everybody knows.”

“That’s not possible,” he said firmly. “She’s been in WITSEC for the past five years.”

“As if the Secret Service can really keep secrets.” She gave a short laugh. “I’m sure Mollie wants to believe that. She’s always been good at following rules, but the minute her plane landed, somebody called me. Then I heard about the sniper. Sheesh!”

She implied that a federal program dedicated to hiding a person’s identity was nothing compared with the speed-of-light gossip network that operated in many small towns. Possibly true. Irma’s death must have triggered rumors about the Four Clovers, especially Mollie, who had been out of touch. “It sounds like you’re familiar with some of the feds.”

“I’ve talked to Marshal Jerome Easton. He’s based in the Portland office.”

Easton. He recalled that was the name of the marshal who’d been shot in the legs. “How and why are you involved with him?”

“After Aunt Irma died, I decided to do some research.” Her attitude implied that snooping around into Secret Service data was commonplace, something to do on a slow afternoon. “I knew that Mollie was in WITSEC, and I had a legit reason to contact her. The inheritance, you know.”

Though he doubted federal officers were easily distracted and fooled by Erin, he had to ask about Marshal Tim Youngblood.

“Do you know him?”

“Nope.”

Though she was quick to deny the acquaintance, he noticed a subtle widening of her eyes and a twist of her mouth. Apparently, the name meant something to her. Were the marshals using Erin to keep track of Mollie? Why? How many people knew her whereabouts?

Spence opted for the truth. “I need your help, Erin. When I went to the WITSEC house where Mollie lived, we were stalked and pursued by armed men. I want to know the connection between those thugs and the sniper at the airport.”

“Don’t know.” She picked up an oatmeal-raisin cookie and nibbled at the edge. “Maybe you should talk to the Secret Service instead of having me do your work for you.”

“Did Marshal Easton mention Mollie to you?”

“Not exactly.”

If this snarky dodgeball game was her version of helping, he’d hate to see her being uncooperative. “Who told you Mollie was coming here and landing at the airport?”

“Well, I don’t want to give you the name and get my friend in trouble, but someone who works at Salem Beacon Charter heard that you were flying back with Mollie. I figured she’d want to be here for the memorial tomorrow. So, I hopped in my car and headed over to the airport.”

“You took it into your head to interfere,” he said.

“She’s my cousin. And I was subtle. I took my little car instead of driving my big, blue truck.”

“Thoughtful,” he mumbled.

“I got there in time for the shootout. So I waited outside until I saw Mollie leaving with you. And I followed.”

“How do you know about me? That I use Salem Beacon?”