Page 32 of Safeguarding the Witness

“The actual reading of the will is scheduled for Thursday,” Oliver said. “You have until then to decide.”

When she launched herself to her feet, she felt lightheaded. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to excuse me.”

Forcing herself to stay upright, she stalked to the door. Talking to Spence was necessary. Might as well get all the bad news over with in one swoop.

Chapter Eleven

Spence paced in the hallway outside the dining room, grateful that they were here at his grandpa’s house where his security improvements ensured top-notch protection. Nowhere was completely safe, but this property came close. He assigned Rossi and Liz Quintana to supervise others on his staff to watch the CCTV transmissions, check motion sensors, scan for drones and patrol indoors and out. While Spence ran this show, Julio Flores didn’t stand a chance of getting close enough to hurt Mollie.

She staggered out the door from the dining room. Barely able to stand, she leaned against him for support. He held her firmly in his embrace. Inhaled the orange blossom scent of her shampoo. Stroked her back. Patted her shoulder as if there were some way to make everything better.

“Did you know?” she asked.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

With an effort, she shoved away from his chest. Her eyes wavered as she tried to focus on his face, searching his expression and daring him to lie. “Did you know I’m going to inherit the Rainy Day Gallery in Salem?”

With complete honesty, he answered, “Grandpa didn’t tell me, but I’ve got to say, it sounds like a great fit.”

“At a different time in my life, this would be a dream come true. But how can I take on this kind of responsibility while I’m under threat from the Peligro Cartel? I have to know that danger is over.” She covered her face with her hands. “I want to stay here and reclaim my life, but I’m scared.”

And she hadn’t yet heard his bad news. “Can I get you something to drink?”

She dropped her hands, shook her shoulders and bared her teeth in an angry grin. “I’m okay, Spence. Tell me your news.”

He didn’t want to add to her burden. “Let’s go outside. Get some fresh air.”

On the veranda, he brought her to the hanging bench swing painted white to match the trim. He sat beside her and gently rocked. “When you have to remove a bandage, do you carefully ease it off or do you give a yank and pull it off fast?”

She inhaled and slowly exhaled. “Rip it off, Spence.”

“Surveillance at the Salem Airport identified the driver who got the sniper away from his perch. It was Julio Flores.”

The name landed with a thud.

Her blue eyes widened as she stared at him. “That can’t be.”

Several times she had clearly stated her belief that Madison was alive. If so, it stood to reason that Julio had also survived. “The cameras captured a clear photo of his face and used advanced facial recognition technology. It’s Julio.”

The air went out of her lungs, and she slouched. In her pretty teal dress, she looked like a wilted flower. He watched as her disappointment faded. Her resilience took over. “This might be a good thing,” she said. “I can talk to Julio and get him to call off this vendetta. When my inheritance comes through, I can pay him off.”

He appreciated her innocence, but naivety could get her killed. “Julio Flores is a drug-running criminal. An explosives expert. A murderer. He’s not a man of his word.”

“There must be something. Help me think.”

“Finding him is an excellent idea.” And then, arresting him. “I need to investigate.”

“We need to investigate. You and me. Both of us.”

“Not your job,” he said. “I want to get you out of danger.”

“How are you going to pull that off? Put me in WITSEC?” She scoffed. “That didn’t work out well in Denver. Those gunmen showed up on their watch.”

“Not WITSEC.” He still suspected Marshal Youngblood of informing the sniper of their whereabouts in Salem. “I can set you up in a secure location. A hotel. A resort in Vancouver. I have private security people who can watch over you at the safe house.”

“I’ll be careful,” she promised. “But I insist on coming with you to investigate. We should start by questioning the marshal who got shot in the legs. His name is Easton.”

“I know his name.” And her suggestion had actually been his plan. Spence had intended to meet Jamison and go to the hospital in Salem where Marshal Easton had been admitted. The bullet in his right leg was a flesh wound, easily repaired. His broken left tibia required surgery and a temporary cast on his lower leg to stabilize the bone. He wouldn’t be able to walk for quite a while but was expected to leave the hospital and return to Portland tomorrow.