Page 24 of Safeguarding the Witness

“Oh, pul-eeze. Your firm has been working for Aunt Irma for years. Don’t you think I checked you out, Spencer Cameron? I know where you buy your suits, where you get your hair cut and how much you paid for your Porsche Cayenne Coupe. You could do a lot worse than hooking up with my friend Mollie.”

Somehow, she’d turned a life-and-death narrative into a matchmaking effort. Give it a rest, Erin. “Speaking of hookups, tell me what you know about Julio Flores.”

“Madison sent me a photo. Julio was gorgeous. In spite of his criminal family, he adored Madison and treated her like royalty. Princesa Peligrosa. He asked her to marry him, and she was ready to do it.” This time, her lips pinched as though she’d said something wrong. “OMG, don’t tell Mollie. She never liked when Madison and I had secrets. She definitely didn’t approve of Julio.”

“Tell me about these secrets.”

“Not going to happen. No matter how many times you ask me, I’m not going to blab. Doesn’t matter now, anyway. Julio and Madison are both dead.”

“Did you ever communicate directly with Julio? Or with anyone else in the Peligro Cartel?”

“Not really. I mean, one of his buddies… Luis or Carlos or something. One of them wanted a date, but I said no.”

That exchange sounded like a conversation. She’d been talking or texting or emailing. “What else did you talk about?”

“Nothing.” She shoved another cookie into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. Her gaze leveled. Her lips flattened. When she spoke, her voice held the ring of truth. “You probably think I’m a twit without a brain in my head. Well, you’re wrong. I’m a mom, and I take good care of Amy. I’m loyal to my friends and try to do the best for them. For the past two years, I’ve been working at Aunt Irma’s hazelnut groves and doing a damned good job.” She held up both hands. “Even though the work is hell on manicures.”

He nodded and listened quietly, appreciating her apparent honesty and hoping she’d say something that gave him a clue.

She continued, “I knew the Cartel was dangerous, especially Julio. He was an explosives expert, and some people—I’m not saying who—suspected that the bomb on the yacht was one of his experiments gone wrong. I told Madison she needed to get away from him before something terrible happened.”

Her gaze dropped into her lap, and her shoulders gave a shiver. She looked like she was about to cry but managed to keep talking. “I couldn’t believe the violence and destruction of the explosion. One minute there was the beautiful yacht on a sunny afternoon. The next, it was all fire and black smoke.”

He hadn’t expected eyewitness testimony. “Did you see the video?”

“Yes.”

The explosion had been recorded by an undercover agent. How had Erin gotten her hands on this piece of FBI evidence? “Who showed it to you?”

“Anonymous. Before Mollie went into WITSEC, a copy came to her in a plain envelope with no return address. We kept it between ourselves because there was no need to upset Aunt Irma and Bethany.”

He had to wonder why Mollie hadn’t mentioned this contact with the FBI undercover agent to him. Were there other issues she was keeping secret? He made a mental note to ask her. Also, he could check with Agent Jamison to learn more about the undercover contact. While Erin kept talking, drinking coffee and munching on cookies, he considered federal involvement in the case involving Mollie and her dad. As far as Spence knew, the head of the Peligro Cartel and two of his generals had been arrested, tried and convicted. They were serving sentences in federal prison. The top guy had been murdered in his cell. The person who should have been in charge—Julio Flores—died in the explosion. Like Mollie told him before, the Cartel was mostly dismantled.

It didn’t make sense for them to suddenly take an interest in Mollie. Revenge was a strong motivator. But after five years, the anger had probably faded. Why were they suddenly focused on her?

* * *

Wearing the knee-length cotton nightshirt that Quintana provided for her, Mollie lay flat on the queen-size bed under the pale blue comforter and stared upward. Moonlight crept around the edges of the drapes and made faint patterns on the ceiling. The whisper of wind in the surrounding forest played a gentle serenade. She listened intently, hoping to hear something to put her mind at rest and let her sleep. Her eyelids refused to close. Her brain wouldn’t shut down. The cure? Talk to Spence.

Her visit with Erin and her cute, funny, gifted daughter had been a terrific distraction. Chatterbox Amy struck poses suitable for pictures, and Mollie enjoyed sketching with pencils and pens. It had been a long time since she’d done anything but doodle. Though she’d learned the skills for creating artworks, she never felt like she had the talent to produce something brilliant. Her training and abilities were best used to curate for others. Seeing the acrylics from Selma Firebird had wakened her ambitions and dreams. She had Spence to thank for that reminder.

After not speaking for five years, Erin had a lot to say. Though currently divorced and not dating anyone special, she didn’t have a boyfriend and had taken a long, serious look at Spencer Cameron. Not that she was interested in him. Instead, she unequivocally pointed out: “He’s perfect for you. The guy is not bad-looking. Love those green eyes. And the light scar. Very sexy. Plus, he’s got money and a steady job. He’s responsible, maybe a little bit too law-abiding for my taste. He made our conversation feel like a police interrogation.”

Which it was. “What did you talk about?”

“Explosions. Shootouts. Cartels.” She cast a glance toward Amy, who was pretending to be a ballerina. “Yadda, yadda, yadda. Same old things.”

Was he perfect for her? Mollie had to wonder. While she was in WITSEC, she hadn’t dated. In part of her brain, she was afraid of making new friends who might turn out to be enemies. Any relationship she started would be based on lies. She couldn’t even use her real name. And she didn’t have a friend like Erin pushing her toward blind dates.

Her thoughts jumped to the embrace she shared with Spence when they were downstairs in front of the Firebird painting. Being in his arms had aroused her. In an instant, she’d felt a fizzy electricity racing through her nerve endings and waking her dormant sexuality. Shocked in a good way. I should have kissed him. Should have taken the next step. Too easily, she imagined their clothes falling away.

She sat up on the bed and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. The very valid reason she needed to talk to Spence wasn’t about lust or desire. It was about the note.

Mollie wanted to believe that Madison was alive and had found a way to communicate. Her twin sister wanted to meet with her. But why did Mollie have to come alone? And why didn’t Madison just come right out and tell her what was going on?

The mysterious, dramatic note made her suspicious. Danger was written between the typed lines. She might be walking into a trap. But who would be after her and why?

Spence would know how to handle the note like a piece of evidence. He might be able to find fingerprints or locate the printer it was typed on.