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I snatch a brown paper towel out of the dispenser. “So he’s new to WITSEC?”
She flaps her hand in the so-so gesture. “Fairly. But he’s capable.”
“He’s on-the-job training at our expense,” I mumble, balling up the paper towel and tossing it into the trash can.
“Calm down, Julia. Your safety is our priority.”
“How high is that priority, Eleanor?”
Her blank expression tells me everything I need to know.
“That’s what I thought.” I help Conrad wash his hands, and we exit the restroom.
Conrad chooses a package of Fig Newtons and a bottle of apple juice, which I pay for with the prepaid credit card Eleanor gave me. This is the first purchase I’ve made in four months. One of many simple daily acts that have now become anomalies. While I’ll never get my old life back, I’d be satisfied with some semblance of normalcy. I have a hunch that what Witness Protection has in store for me is nothing of the sort.
I’ve never left the state of Texas, and as we travel deeper into Colorado, I glue my eyes to the mountainous scenery passing outside my car window. Growing up, our vacations were limited to annual trips to Rockport Beach during the summers. On the farm, leaving our crops and animals unattended wasn’t an option. I wonder for the millionth time what has become of our horses, goats, and chickens. Having to leave behind our border collie, Lucy, nearly broke my heart. Once we get settled, I’ll get us a new dog.
I think back six months to the first night I heard the murmured voices in my kitchen. Sneaking out of my bedroom, I crouched down at the top of the stairs, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I suspected they were involved in something illegal. I feared my husband was dealing arms or drugs. Why else would they be meeting in a remote farmhouse in the middle of the night? Then about a month later, when I got up during the night to pee, I spotted headlights in the driveway. I followed the sound of their rumbling engines a quarter mile to our barn and watched in horror as the men from my kitchen transported the anguished-faced women and children from a passenger van into our root cellar.
Smuggling guns and drugs is one thing, but I could not tolerate human trafficking. As much as I loved Grady, I didn’t think twice about turning him in to the police. The image of the uniformed officers hauling Grady off in handcuffs will forever be etched in my brain. I’ll never forgive him for what he did to me. For ruining our lives. For playing me for a fool in thinking he could run his human trafficking operation right under my nose.
The nature of the crime made Grady’s a federal case. The men I heard in my kitchen and saw at my barn belong to a cartel. They are thugs who do the dirty work for an organization known as The Six, the modern-day mafia, an elite club of six men whose identities remain a secret even from our government.
The justice department offered Grady a plea deal to turn state’s evidence against the members of the cartel. But he refused. I assume out of fear. I’ve studied tens of thousands of mug shots, but I’ve been unable to identify the cartel members. Eleanor thinks they are undocumented immigrants, and she’s probably right. They know who I am, but I don’t know who they are, which puts my son and me in grave danger. The program protected me at all costs before and during the trial. Judge Guzman couldn’t afford to lose her star witness. But now that Grady is in prison for life, I’m no longer of use to them. While they are obligated to take care of me, I’m not high on their priority list, as evidenced by them assigning a rookie to my case.
The closer we get to Denver, the more my doubt about the program grows. WITSEC will hide us in a remote cabin in the mountains of Montana where protecting us will be easier. What quality of life will we have in the wilderness?
I don’t sleep a wink that night in our roadside motel on the outskirts of Denver. And when Eleanor taps on the door connecting our adjoining rooms early the following morning, I tell her we need to talk.
Eleanor’s shoulders sag. “I know that look. It would be a mistake for you to consider leaving the program.”
“I’m no longer considering it, Eleanor. I’ve made up my mind.”
She glances over at the bed where my son is beginning to stir. Grabbing my wrist, she pulls me into her room, out of earshot. “You won’t survive, Julia. You’ve never been on your own. You went from your daddy’s house to your husband’s.”
“Then it’s time I start taking care of myself,” I say, my jaw set in determination.
“You don’t know how to do that on a good day, let alone with The Six hunting you down and a four-year-old in tow. Do you even have a plan?”
I hunch a shoulder. “Not really. We’ll get on a bus and head east. We’ll figure it out as we go.”
Eleanor looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “You’ll be dead within a few days.”
Her certainty makes me more determined than ever to prove her wrong. “I agree the thought of being on my own scares the hell out of me. But the sacrifices my son will have to make if we stay in the program scares me even more. Admit it, Eleanor. The justice department no longer needs me. My happiness is of little concern to WITSEC.”
Her expression softens. She knows I’m right. “I won’t give you my blessing, but I can at least help you on your way,” she says, gathering up her wallet and glasses and stuffing them in her purse.
I follow her to the door. “Where are you going?”
“Shopping. Be packed and ready to leave when I get back.”
I stare open-mouthed at Eleanor. She hasn’t left me alone since I entered the program. Am I sure I’m ready to be out on my own? “What should I tell Rod?”
“Don’t tell him anything. If he asks, pretend you haven’t seen me this morning,” she says and disappears into the foggy morning.
Returning to my room, I take a long hot shower, give Conrad a bath in the grimy tub, and pack up all our belongings.
An hour later, Conrad and I are seated on the edge of the bed, waiting for Eleanor, when Rod knocks on the door. “I’m gonna grab some breakfast. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he says, and to my relief, he doesn’t ask about Eleanor.
