The Pregnant Witness Page 8

  Maybe her mother had been right—she talked too much. Or, in this case, she’d written too much.

  Once again, she defended her best friend. “Andy was the most honest person I’ve ever known.”

  Blaine didn’t challenge her opinion of Andy. He just pointed out, “That doesn’t mean that his brother is honest, too.”

  “I understand their personalities being different. But not their fundamental beliefs. They were raised by the same parents—raised the same way,” she said. “How could they be that different?”

  “You are obviously an only child.” He laughed. “I have three sisters, and they are very different from each other.”

  “How?” she asked. She had always wished she’d had siblings. But her dad’s career was demanding, and he hadn’t been around that much to help her mother. So Mom had won the argument to have only one child.

  He laughed again. “Sarah is a car salesperson—with that over-the-top bubbly personality. Erica is a librarian—quiet and introspective. And Buster...”

  “Buster?” She’d thought he’d said they were all sisters.

  “Becky is her real name,” he explained. “She’s in law enforcement, too. She’s a county deputy. So my sisters are absolutely nothing alike.”

  “Maybe not personality-wise,” she said. Mark and Andy hadn’t been that much alike, either. Mark had liked to tease and joke around, and Andy had always been so sensitive and serious. “But morality and ethics...”

  “Sarah sells cars,” he repeated. “I’m not so sure about the ethics...”

  She laughed now. From the twinkle in his green eyes, it was obvious how much he loved all of his sisters—even the car salesperson.

  “Mark has been coming around because of his ethics,” she said, “because he made a promise to Andy—the last time Andy left for a deployment—that he would take care of me if something happened to him.”

  That blond brow lifted again with a question and suspicion. “How is he taking care of you?”

  If he was asking what she thought he was...

  She shuddered in revulsion. “Not like that. Mark is like my brother, too. We all grew up together.”

  Blaine clicked the remote and unfroze Mark’s image. Andy’s brother kept smiling at her...before Susan walked up and started flirting with him. “What about with her?” he asked. “Is he brotherly with Susan Iverson?”

  She hoped not. “Mark is married. He’s not interested in Susan.” But as she watched the footage, she wondered. “Maybe he’s just a flirt...” Sometimes it felt as if he was flirting with her, which always made her extremely uncomfortable. Because she really thought of Mark as a big brother and only a big brother.

  “I need to talk to Mark,” Blaine said. “Where can I get hold of him?”

  “I think I have his address somewhere in my office. He and his wife invited me to dinner before.” But she had politely declined because it was so hard to see him. “I can call him...”

  She would really prefer calling him to seeing him.

  But Blaine shook his head. “I’ll get his address from your office. Then I’ll put you back into protective custody.”

  “Because that worked out so well last time?” she asked. “How is that young officer?” Before they had left the little bungalow for the bank, Blaine had called the hospital to check on him, but all he’d told her was that the young man had made it through surgery.

  “He’s still in critical condition,” he said.

  “Then just let me call Mark,” she urged, her heart beating fast with panic at the thought of being separated from Blaine again. “You can talk to him—you’ll know that he had nothing to do with the robberies.”

  But Blaine shook his head in refusal. “No, I have to see him face-to-face.”

  So he had to leave her again.

  And every time he left her, there was another attempt to grab her. One of these times the attempt was destined to be successful.

  Would this be the time?

  Chapter Ten

  Every time Blaine left her alone or in someone else’s protection, Maggie Jenkins was in danger. He didn’t want to risk it again. It was better that she stayed with him. So she sat in the passenger seat of the FBI-issued SUV that had replaced his rental sedan as he drove to her almost brother-in-law’s address.

  But now was he the one putting her in danger?

  He shouldn’t have brought her along with him. But he couldn’t risk a phone call that might have tipped off Mark Doremire to his suspicions. If the man was one of the robbers, he certainly had enough money to escape the country—to one where there was no extradition.

  Hell, he was probably already gone.

  But then, who kept trying to grab Maggie or kill her? And why? If she could identify them, wouldn’t it be easier to escape now than to stick around to try to kill her?

  “This trip is a waste of time,” she remarked from the passenger’s seat. “Mark won’t be able to help you, either—just like I couldn’t help you this morning at the bank.”

  She had helped him. He’d found a possible suspect. She just didn’t want to see that her dead fiancé’s brother could be a suspect.

  “I watched all that footage and I didn’t notice anyone casing the bank,” she said, her soft voice husky with frustration. “I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. And I didn’t at the first bank that was robbed.”

  He should have brought up that footage, too. But she’d already admitted that Mark Doremire had been at that bank. Both banks had been robbed—it was a coincidence that was worth checking out.

  But he should have checked it out alone. “You really shouldn’t be along with me,” he said regretfully.

  “No,” she agreed, even though it had been her comments that had talked him out of risking her safety to someone else’s responsibility. “I don’t want to see Mark. And I really don’t want to see one of those zombie robbers again.” She shuddered with revulsion. “Maybe I should go stay with my parents in Hong Kong.”

  His pulse leaped in reaction to her comment, to the thought of her going away where he couldn’t protect her, where he couldn’t see her. “You can’t leave the country.”

  “Why?” she asked, her voice sharp with anger. “Am I still a suspect?”

  He wasn’t sure what she was. Entirely too distracting. Entirely too attractive...

  He couldn’t let her leave. “Right now you’re a material witness.”

  “Some witness,” she said disparagingly. “I can’t help you at all. I didn’t see anything on that footage. And during the robberies I only saw what everyone else saw—trench coats and zombie masks.” She shuddered again at mention of the disguises.

  She obviously hated those gruesome masks.

  “You heard one of them speak,” he reminded her.

  She shrugged. “But I didn’t recognize his voice.”

  So it hadn’t been Mark Doremire who’d spoken. But it could have been someone he knew—a friend of his. “You might if you were to hear it again.”

  She sighed with resignation. “That’s true. I doubt I’ll forget him announcing the robbery the minute they walked into the bank.”

  Like the guns and disguises hadn’t given away their intentions.

  Announcing a robbery made them seem more like rookies than professionals. But then, they hadn’t been robbing banks that long. Less than a year—barely half a year, actually. Blaine would catch them before they went any longer. If he had his way, the last bank they robbed would be the one at which Sarge had died.

  “Which house is it?” he asked as he turned the black SUV onto the street on which Mark Doremire lived. The SUV would probably give away Blaine’s identity, but he tucked his badge inside his shirt.

  “I don’t know,” Maggie replied. “I haven’t been here before.” She leaned forward and peered at the numbers on the houses. “That one...”

  This neighborhood wasn’t like Ash’s. Nobody looked out the windows. They probably looked the other way. Th
e houses were in ill repair, with missing shingles and paint peeling off. If Mark had stolen any of the money, he hadn’t spent it yet—at least not on his house.

  “I’ll stay in the car,” she offered.

  Blaine turned toward her. Her face was pale, as if she’d already seen a ghost. “I can’t leave you in the car.”

  “Why not?”

  “Someone could have followed us.”

  She glanced around fearfully. “Did someone?”

  He doubted it; he had been too careful. “I don’t know. But I don’t want you out of my sight.”

  He didn’t want her walking into the line of fire, either. So he handed her his cell phone. “Call him.”

  “But we’re already here...”

  If she tipped Mark off now and he ran, Blaine was close enough to catch him. He’d also radioed in his intentions to speak to a possible suspect. So other agents and the local authorities knew where he was and there was a deputy in the vicinity.

  “Call him.”

  She sighed but looked down at the piece of paper that had Mark’s address and cell phone. Then she punched in a number. “It didn’t even ring. It went straight to his voice mail. Do you want— Oh, his voice mail is full.” With another sigh, of relief, she hung up the phone.

  Straight to voice mail? That wasn’t a good sign—especially since the house looked deserted. Maybe he had already left. Just then an older car, with rust around the wheel wells and on the hood, pulled up across from them and parked at the curb in front of the house.

  “That’s his wife,” Maggie said as a red-haired woman stepped from the car.

  Nobody else was inside the vehicle, so seeing no threat to Maggie’s safety, Blaine opened his door. “Mrs. Doremire.”

  She jumped as if startled. But then, in a neighborhood like this, it probably was strange for someone to call out her name. It was probably strange for anyone to even know her name. She slowly turned around and stared at him. “Yes?”

  “Tammy,” Maggie called out to her.

  The woman peered around him and noticed Maggie inside the SUV. She smiled and waved. “Hi, there. Mark will be thrilled that you finally came over to visit.”

  “Is he here?” Blaine asked.

  Tammy turned her attention back to him, and her brow furrowed with confusion. “I’m sorry...”

  “Blaine.” He introduced himself with his first name only. If the press had mentioned him in any reports about the bank robbery, it would have been as Special Agent Campbell. “I’m a friend of Maggie’s.”

  And, really, friendship was all he could expect from her—even though he wanted so much more. He wanted her.

  “I’m sorry,” Tammy Doremire said again, as she crossed the street to the SUV. “Mark isn’t here right now.”

  “Where is he?”

  She sighed. “He’s at one of his folks’—probably his dad’s.”

  “Dad’s?” Maggie asked. “Mr. and Mrs. Doremire aren’t together anymore?”

  “They split up after Andy died,” she said. “It was too much for them. So Mark keeps checking on them, like he checks on you, Maggie. He’s trying so hard to take care of everybody since Andy’s gone.”

  Maggie’s voice cracked as she apologized now. “I’m sorry...”

  It wasn’t her fault that Andy had died. It was whoever had set the damn IED where the convoy would hit it. But Mark’s wife didn’t absolve her of guilt. She only shrugged.

  “Sometimes he’ll stay the night at his dad’s,” she said, “so you’ll probably want to come back tomorrow.”

  Maggie nodded in agreement. But Blaine had other plans.

  “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Doremire,” he said as he slid back behind the wheel.

  She nodded, but her brow was furrowed again—as if she’d realized she hadn’t really met him. He had only told her his first name.

  “We’ll come back tomorrow, then,” he lied.

  “Why?” Maggie asked after he’d closed his door. “You can tell Mark has nothing to do with the robberies. He’s too busy taking care of everyone.”

  “Where does Andy’s dad live?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “You don’t know?”

  “I didn’t even know they had gotten divorced,” she pointed out, and that guilt was in her voice again, as if she considered herself responsible, “so how would I know where either of them is living now?”

  “One of them might have kept the house where they lived before Andy died,” he said. “You know where that is.”

  He felt a flash of guilt that it might have been the house where Andy had grown up—a house where she and Andy had shared memories. It would be hard for her to go back to that.

  “I know,” she admitted and then confirmed his thoughts when she added, “but I don’t want to go there.”

  He wished he didn’t have to take her there. But he had to find Mark before his wife had a chance to warn him that a man, a friend of Maggie’s, was looking for him. Because then the man would run for sure...

  * * *

  BLAINE CAMPBELL CARED only about his job. He didn’t care about her or he wouldn’t have made her give him directions to Andy’s childhood home in southwestern Michigan. He wouldn’t have kept her in the car to go with him. He wouldn’t have made her keep revisiting her past and her guilt.

  Everything had fallen apart since Andy’s death. And that was all her fault. If she had told him the truth earlier, he wouldn’t have reenlisted. He wouldn’t have needed the money for the damn ring she had never wanted.

  Blaine Campbell had taken it as evidence against Susan Iverson. She hoped he never returned it.

  Maggie stared out the windshield at the highway that wound around the Lake Michigan shoreline. She had always liked this drive—until she had traveled it up for Andy’s funeral. Then she had vowed to never use it again.

  She hadn’t wanted to go back. It wasn’t home without her best friend. She had to make a new home for herself and for her baby. But she was afraid that she hadn’t found one yet—at least, not one where they would be safe.

  “Andy’s been gone awhile,” Blaine remarked.

  “Nearly six months,” she said. But sometimes it hadn’t sunk in yet. Sometimes she still looked for his letters in her mailbox or an email in her in-box or a call...

  “Did you even know that you were pregnant when you learned that he’d died?”

  She nodded. Since her cycle had always been so regular, she’d taken a test on her first missed day. She hadn’t been happy with those test results because she’d known that Andy would insist on marrying her. He had always been so old-fashioned and so honorable. But now he was dead...

  Blaine’s gaze was on the road, so he must have missed her nod. She cleared her throat and replied, “Yes, I had just found out.”

  “You’re strong,” he said.

  She nearly laughed. Had he already forgotten how she’d screamed her head off that first day they’d met? She wasn’t nearly as strong as she’d like to be. If she was, she might have saved Sarge. “Why do you say that?”

  “Some women might have lost the baby,” he explained, “because of the stress.”

  “I was fine.” She hadn’t had any problems then; she hadn’t even had morning sickness. She was more afraid of losing the child now.

  As if he’d heard her unspoken thoughts, he reached across the console and squeezed her hand. “I’ll keep you safe,” he promised. “I’ll keep you both safe.”

  Andy had made promises, too. He’d promised that he would return from his last deployment. So Maggie knew that some promises couldn’t be kept. She suspected that the promise Blaine had just made was one of them.

  He didn’t believe that, though. He thought it was a promise he could keep and his green eyes were full of sincerity as he shared a glance with her. Then he turned his attention back to the road and to the rearview mirror. His hand tensed on hers before he released it and gripped the wheel.

  “Hold on!” he
warned her as he pressed harder on the accelerator.

  Maggie instinctively reached out for the dashboard, bracing her hands against it, just as the SUV shot forward. “What’s going on? Why are you driving so fast?”

  She had felt safe with him earlier. But not now.

  “Just hold on,” Blaine said again, as he sped up some more.

  Tires squealed as he careened around a curve.

  “What are you doing?” she asked again—with alarm.

  But then more tires squealed and metal crunched as another vehicle slammed hard into the rear bumper of the SUV. The SUV fishtailed, spinning out of control toward where the shoulder of the road dropped off to the rocky lakeshore below. Nobody had ever broken a promise to her as fast as Blaine just had.

  Maggie screamed in fear as the SUV teetered on two tires, about to roll over and plummet to that rocky shore.

  Chapter Eleven

  Blaine cursed and jerked the wheel, steering the SUV away from the shoulder. Gravel spewed from the tires as the SUV fishtailed, the back end sliding toward that steep drop-off to the rocky shore below. He needed all four tires on the pavement before he could accelerate. But before he could regain complete control, the van struck again. Metal crunched on the rear door of the passenger’s side.

  Too close to Maggie and her baby.

  He had just promised that he would protect them. It was a promise that he’d had no business making. As a marine, he knew that there were promises that couldn’t be kept—the way all his fallen friends had promised their families they would come home again. It was a promise that Maggie’s fiancé had probably made to her when he’d given her that ring.

  Blaine was not about to break his promise. At least not yet.

  He pressed on the accelerator, taking the curve at such a high speed that a couple of the tires might have left the asphalt again. The black cargo van skidded around the corner behind him, its tires slipping off the pavement onto the gravel shoulder. So close to that dangerous edge, the van slowed down, and Blaine increased the distance between them.

  He had grown up driving on roads like this—roads that curved sharply around lakes. But there had been mountains to maneuver, too, in New Hampshire. So he wasn’t fazed. But neither was the driver of the van as he regained control and closed the distance between them again.