Page 36 of Safeguarding the Witness

He accepted a mug of black coffee and followed Jamison into the living room, where they sprawled in heavy leather chairs facing the blank TV screen. “I can figure out half a dozen ways they could have abandoned the yacht,” Spence said. “But how did they stay disappeared? Supposedly, nobody saw them after the yacht blew up.”

“We can get details from the undercover guy. I touched base with him this morning. He’s stationed in Miami and sounds happy to be away from the Peligro Cartel.”

“Too dangerous?”

“Too chaotic. The danger comes from disorganization. After the big boss—El Jefe—was convicted and jailed in federal prison—”

“Thanks to Mollie’s father.”

“Not just him. Several others were willing to testify. Anyway, when he was removed, the organization fell apart. Nobody heard from Julio or Madison, but there were lots of rumors about how they took over some of the regular trucking routes. Another guy focused on drugs until he was replaced by another family, and Peligro was absorbed into another cartel.”

Neither Spence nor Jamison noticed Mollie until she spoke. “It sounds like Peligro was out of business.”

“Could be,” Jamison agreed.

“Why were Dad and I kept as protected witnesses if there wasn’t a threat?” She strode into the living room. Instead of an appropriate dress for a memorial service at the church in Cloverdell, she wore jeans and a simple dark brown blouse, casual but not sloppy. “How long has it been safe for us to leave WITSEC?”

“I don’t like to comment on the priorities of another federal agency,” Jamison said, “and I can’t unequivocally state that there was no danger from the cartel. There’s always a risk. But it seems to me that you and your father could return to your lives before the threat.”

“And now?” She looked first to Jamison, and then she stared at Spence. “I’ve been in two attacks. If it’s not Peligro, then who?”

“Evidence points to Julio Flores.” Spence looked her over from head to toe. She was wearing sneakers. “What’s with the outfit?”

“I rummaged around and found this. Everything fits. The pants are a little baggy. No big deal. Even the shoes are the right size.” She glanced at Jamison. “Please tell your friend thank you. I promise to pay her back for the clothes.”

“I don’t get it,” Spence said. “On the drive over here, you wanted to go to a boutique. What made you change your mind?”

She shrugged. “I’m incognito.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I like the idea, like it a lot. Protecting you will be easier when you’re dressed like that. But why the change?”

“I don’t need to parade around, having people notice me while—at the same time—being a clear target for Julio and his thugs. My reasons for attending are personal. I want to take a moment to remember Aunt Irma and mourn her passing. Also, to celebrate her life, a life well lived.”

Though many people—including Bethany and Erin—would be dressed up, Mollie’s casual clothing made it possible for her to fade into the crowd. Spence checked his watch and shifted gears. He’d already spoken to Rossi and Quintana about a protection detail at the church. Escorting high-profile clients under threat was something they’d done before. Many times before.

After he got her safely tucked into the Escalade, he communicated with his team via a nearly invisible two-way earpiece. He told them what Mollie was wearing and set up a drop-off near the church so he didn’t need to worry about parking. Typically, the target was most vulnerable when entering or leaving an event. Inside the church, his people had already arranged for her to hide in the pastor’s office. Out of sight.

He ended the call and looked in her direction. She stared back at him like a cat watching a canary. Not necessarily to swallow him in one bite but to be aware of his movements.

“If it can be arranged,” she said, “I want to sit with the congregation.”

“No promises, but I can try to sneak you in.”

“Only if it’s practical,” she said with a shrug. “My sister is the demanding one. It’s my job to provide balance. And I like to prioritize things.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said dryly.

“The important part of this afternoon is making it to the five o’clock meeting.”

He wasn’t so sure about that. “I turned the note over to Jamison for FBI fingerprinting and other forensics. He hasn’t gotten it back yet, but he’ll let us know when he does.”

“I ought to be mad at you,” she said. “You weren’t supposed to make big decisions like that without consulting me. But I’m okay with it. Jamison isn’t like most feds.”

“He’s a good guy to have on our side.”

They drove through the forests and farmland separating Salem from other parts of the valley. Staked-out rows of grape vines outlined the hillsides surrounding wineries. Christmas tree farms bristled with Douglas fir. As they got closer to Cloverdell, Mollie buzzed down the window, stuck out her arm and rode her hand on the June breeze.

“Almost home.” Her voice cracked, betraying her excitement. “I never realized how much I missed this place.”