Page 38 of Safeguarding the Witness

“You can trust me,” she argued. “Nothing happened at the memorial. We got in, paid our respects to Irma, celebrated her outstanding taste in music and got out. No danger. No trauma.”

“That was different,” he said.

“Pull over.” She indicated the wide shoulder bordering the forest road. “Give me a chance to make my case.”

He parked on the shoulder and left the car running so they’d still be cooled by the air-conditioning. “You have five minutes.”

“I haven’t known you very long,” she said, “but I understand where you’re coming from. You grew up in Cloverdell, a small town where people cared about each other. My great-aunt took in four teenaged girls who had lost their connection to their parents. Not an easy job. But she did it because we’re family. We support each other.”

“Family,” he said with a lopsided smile. “Does that mean you and me are like brother and sister?”

“Oh, I hope not.” She flashed on the memories of Spence naked in bed, embracing her, kissing her. Definitely not the way she’d feel about a brother. “My point is that you’re a natural-born protector. As long as Julio is at large, there’s a threat.”

“So far, you’re making sense.” But his expression showed a healthy dose of skepticism. “What are you trying to tell me, Mollie?”

“Just being practical.” She applied her logic. “We’ll start at Bethany’s house because the reception is there. Also, you assigned Liz Quintana to drive Bethany around town and protect her. Your people are already in place at her house. And the Clover Clubhouse is at the foot of the hill behind the property. That’s where we’ll turn the tables on Julio and trap him.”

“You’re forgetting one thing,” he said. “The number one priority is to be sure you’re not in danger.”

“I won’t be,” she promised. Trust me on this. “I grew up in Irma’s house, and I know all the hiding places. If I don’t want to be seen, nobody will find me.”

“Inside the house, you’re well-protected,” he said. “I put in surveillance systems for Irma at the same time I did Grandpa’s place. And you’re right about having Quintana and several others stationed inside and on the grounds.”

She could feel him starting to lean in her direction. “Here’s my practical solution. Driving me all the way to the safe house and driving back to Bethany’s is a waste of your time. If you want to get into place to ambush Julio, you should go directly to Bethany’s.” She paused for emphasis. “And take me with you.”

“You have to stay in the house. Under protection.”

“You got it.”

He reached across the console, cupped her chin and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Then he slipped the Escalade into gear and made a U-turn. They were headed in the direction of Bethany’s house.

She sank back into the plush leather seat, stretched her legs under the dashboard and watched as he made a series of phone calls, starting with Rossi. Should she ask him again to give her a weapon? That might be pushing her luck. Better to accept this small step forward in the investigation.

The three-story house that formerly belonged to Irma Winchell had been designated a National Historic Landmark sixty years ago. Originally built in the early 1900s by a farmer named Harrison, the property included the largest cherry orchard in the valley, which was nicknamed “Harry’s Cherries.” He married a banker’s daughter, and they had eight children. The Victorian-style house was huge but tasteful, thanks to the educated Mrs. Harrison, who supervised the planting of an ornate formal garden with a greenhouse.

When Mollie glimpsed the cone-shaped gray roof atop the cherry-red turret, her hope of finding Madison soared. The house always reminded her of an enchanted castle. The time was ripe for both twins to come home where they belonged. She’d gladly split her inheritance with her sister. They had enough money to finance a new start.

After Spence parked outside the barn, she led the way through the door into the root cellar that went to the kitchen, then they ascended a narrow back staircase to an unused part of the third floor. Mollie took the key from the ledge at the top of the doorframe where it had always been hidden.

When she opened the door, gray dust swirled through the enclosed space. Sunlight through two filthy windows struggled to shine. The roughly twenty-five-foot-square room was furnished with clutter, including broken furniture, discarded toys and boxes neatly labeled.

She swatted at dust motes. “This place looks like it hasn’t been open in years.”

“It’s perfect,” Spence declared.

Liz Quintana, still dressed in her linen suit, pushed open the door and joined them. “How many people know about this hidey-hole?”

“Very few,” Mollie said as she went to the southern window and wiped a clean spot with the sleeve of her sweater. She pointed through the lush yard behind the house. “Down that hill next to the clump of cottonwoods is a toolshed that we called the Clover Clubhouse. I don’t know if it’s used anymore, but that’s where Julio intends to meet me. From here, I can observe all the comings and goings.”

“Without leaving this room,” Spence said firmly. He turned to Quintana. “Please arrange to leave an armed bodyguard with her.”

“I don’t need a guard,” Mollie protested. “Nobody will find me here. If you’re really worried, give me a gun. I’m an excellent shot.”

Quintana touched her arm. “This isn’t about your ability. It’s about grit, training and attitude. Have you ever fired a weapon at another human being?”

“No.”

“This isn’t the time to start learning.” Quintana gave her a smile. “You need a guard.”