Her stomach sank, and right along with it her heart. “Bodyguard,” she whispered. Then she had another horrifying thought. “Marsha got a dog.”
“If I were them, I doubt I’d pay much attention to a dog.”
She was feeling sicker by the second. “No. Especially not when they could trace her back if they want to. If they can.”
“Can they?”
In that question she heard the million unanswered questions her own life had become. She had as good as admitted what was going on here. And he had apparently figured out plenty on his own. Now what? Tell the truth, or leave the lies hanging out there. The omissions. The secrets.
Then she had another thought. “What if...” This one really sickened her. So much so she wrenched away from him and jumped up from the couch. She backed away, wrapping her arms around herself, staring at him, feeling horror start to grow.
“What if I’m the one hunting you?” he asked. “Good question. Call the sheriff right now. Tell him to come get me. Tell him whatever you want.”
“And then what?”
“And then I’ll leave. I’ll be gone from this county as fast as I can pack my duffel.”
Did she want that? No...no... Not if he was who he was really supposed to be. “You know too much about me.”
“Lady, I know nothing about you. I’ve guessed some things, but you sure as hell haven’t told me anything.”
“What did you guess?”
He passed a hand over his face. “Will it scare you if I get up and pace? I’m not really good at holding still unless I have to.”
She waved a hand, indicating permission. God, when he stood he seemed to fill the entire room.
He started pacing, but slowly, taking care not to come too close to her. “You know I noticed how afraid you are.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I noticed some other things, too, and last night it just all kind of came together for me. The way when you talk about things from your past you hesitate and then skip anything that might actually give away where you lived before. I also noticed that when you got scared by the phone call you turned to the sheriff.”
“What does that tell you?”
He looked at her. “That you’re scared and on the run from some threat that still haunts you. But you’re not running from the law, or your first response wouldn’t have been to call Gage Dalton.”
She nodded stiffly. “Okay.”
“I noticed the security system. You can’t afford it.”
“No,” she admitted.
“I’ve been involved in WITSEC ops overseas.”
“WITSEC?”
“Witness security. Witness protection.”
“Oh...my...God...” She sank onto the rocking chair, arms still tightly wrapped around her.
“All the signs are there for someone who can read them. Which most people can’t. It took me more than a day to figure it out, so don’t worry that you’ve tipped off everyone in the county. I’m sure you haven’t. But it’s the only picture that fits. Am I wrong?”
She shook her head stiffly. “It was that easy?”
“Actually, you made it very hard. Like I said, I didn’t glom on to it immediately. But when I put a few things together, it was the only explanation I could think of. The alternative was to think you’re just crazy, and you’re not crazy, Cory.”
She felt numb, almost out of her own body, with shock. This man had figured her out so fast, and yet he said it had taken him too long. How did that add up?
But if he’d figured it out, how many others had? No one, he said. But could she safely believe it?
“Trust me,” he said, “it wouldn’t occur to anyone not familiar with the protocols. You don’t give anything away.”
“I...find that hard to believe, now.”
“Well, believe it. WITSEC is not the first thing that would occur to anyone about you. It would probably be the last.”
“Why?”
“Because no one would suspect you of being a criminal, even if they suspect you have some secrets.”
“I’m not a criminal!”
“I know that. It’s obvious. And since everyone thinks that only criminals get witness protection, you’re even more covered. Very well covered.”
Her eyes burned and she felt hollow as she looked at him. “What now?” she asked, a bare whisper.
“Well, all I have is a suspicion. But you can choose how to act on it. Call the sheriff, I’ll tell him everything I noticed about the guy. Call the Marshals and they’ll move you again. Or...I can try to protect you until we get something solid.”
She’d already made up her mind she didn’t want to move again. Once was enough. What few tenuous connections she had managed to make here were more than she wanted to sacrifice. She couldn’t face another blank slate in a blank town, couldn’t face having to start all over again, small though her start here had really been. After all, there was Emma, Marsha, Gage, Nate and Marge Tate. While she hadn’t exactly gotten close, she had come to know them a bit. And she discovered she wanted to know them even better.
She raised her eyes to his, resolve steadying her. “I’m not running again.”
He nodded. “I kind of decided the same thing this morning.”
She nodded slowly. “I guess you did.” Her decision made, her muscles began to uncoil slowly, one by one. “I guess I need to tell you the story.”
“Cory, you don’t have to tell me a damned thing. I can work this without knowing. Your secrets can remain your secrets. But I gather, since you didn’t recognize the guy at the store, that he’s not someone you’re afraid of.”
“No. Actually...I saw only one man. The man who killed my husband and shot me.”
“Shot you?” He stopped short.
She nodded, and for some reason she didn’t understand, she opened her robe and tugged her pajama top up enough to reveal the scar across her midriff. “He killed my baby, too.”
He swore, a word she wasn’t used to hearing, and the next thing she knew he’d gathered her up off the chair and was carrying her through the house toward her bedroom. There he laid her down on the queen-size bed, and stretched out beside her. Without another word, he drew her into a close embrace, as if he wanted to surround her with the shield of his body. As if he wanted to shelter her from it all.
But nothing could. She stared blindly at his chin as her head rested on his upper arm, feeling as if a wind had blown through her and left her empty in every way, empty of her past, empty of her hopes and dreams, empty of feeling.