Assignment: Marriage Page 2

  They didn’t see her, she was positive. They walked to the car at the curb, a black or dark blue Lincoln with Nevada plates, got in and drove away. The only thing that gave her pause was the way the Lincoln had slowed as it passed her red Toyota.

  It was the one factor that made her think that just possibly the police weren’t being too conscientious about her protection.

  But disappear? They were suggesting some sort of witness protection plan, leaving Las Vegas, using an assumed name, telling no one—no one—what she was doing. What about her job? Couldn’t she at least tell her employers?

  “We can’t risk telling anyone, Nicole,” John Harper said solemnly. “Not at this point. Call your employer with a story of a family emergency. Tell them you have to leave immediately and will be in touch. We’d like you to pack and be ready to leave by tonight. Scott will stay here in the house with you until then.”

  Nicole tossed her head back, as though to twitch long hair away from her face. Her nearly black hair had been long until a week ago when she’d gone to her favorite hairdresser for a cut and new style.

  “I could be fired,” she said despondently. “It’s taken me years to work up to my present position.”

  “A job’s not as valuable as your life,” Scott said quietly.

  “Nicole,” John said, “the minute it’s safe to do so, I’ll talk to your employers myself.”

  “But you said it could take months. The Monte Carlo cannot function without a purchasing agent for months.” Nicole was sick about this and couldn’t pretend otherwise.

  The older man sighed. “I know it can’t.”

  Nicole felt a shiver go up her spine. There were other aspects of the situation that scared her witless. “I’ll be completely alone in a strange place. You two might not understand this, but the idea of living where I won’t know a soul is terrifying. I was born and raised in Las Vegas. I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

  “You won’t be alone,” John said softly.

  Nicole’s left eyebrow shot up. “I won’t? Who would be going with me?”

  “We’re working that out, but he’ll be a police officer.”

  “He? Why not a woman?”

  “It might be a woman. Nothing’s set yet. Don’t worry. Whoever picks you up tonight will be well qualified to protect you.”

  Rubbing her arms as though chilled, Nicole went to look out the window. “This is a nightmare.”

  John was instantly at her side and pulling her back. “Please. Don’t go near the windows.”

  Nicole gave up. Her legs were weak, her stomach churning. The thought of leaving everything familiar was horrible. It wasn’t fair that only doing what she’d felt was any citizen’s duty should result in this. But if she took a stand and refused, what then? The men she’d seen had, according to the police, already killed two people. Would killing one more bother them? Especially if that person’s testimony could convict them of murder?

  “I’ll be ready tonight,” she said numbly. “Can you tell me where I’ll be going?”

  John shook his head with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. I don’t know that myself.”

  “Well, Tuck,” Captain Joe Crawford said when Tuck walked into his office. “How’re you doing? Sit down. Make yourself comfortable.”

  “Thanks.” Tuck took a seat.

  “Feeling all right?”

  “Not bad. I got a call to come in and see you.” When Tuck had started out with the department, Joe Crawford had been his sergeant. They had eleven years of common ground and a good, solid relationship. “What’s going on, Joe?”

  “Your suspension’s been lifted.”

  Tuck nodded. “That’s good.” It was a lie. He wasn’t ready to go back to work and wasn’t sure if he ever would be. “Joe, I’ve been thinking about taking my accumulated vacation time and sick leave. It adds up to about six weeks.”

  Joe regarded him across the wide desk between them. “Need a little more time off, eh? Well, that’s not a bad idea, Tuck. You had a rough go of it. Went through it myself once.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Tuck leaned forward. “Joe, how long was it before you got over it?”

  Joe sucked in a long, thoughtful breath. “Not sure I ever did. But it does get easier, Tuck.”

  Tuck hoped so. He wasn’t sleeping well, or eating much. Those were a couple of facts he’d neglected to mention to Dr. Keaton.

  There was a lengthy silence. Tuck lit a cigarette. “Is it okay, then, to use my vacation and sick time?”

  “Sure, no problem. By the way, if all you want to do is get out of town for a while, there’s a real cushy job available.”

  “What is it?”

  “Protecting the witness who can place Nick Lowicki at the exact site of the Buckley murders.”

  Tuck’s eyes narrowed. “There’s a witness?”

  “A reliable one. An upstanding citizen, Tuck, clean as a whistle.”

  “Does Lowicki know?”

  “We’re not sure. He didn’t do it alone, Tuck. We think the other man the witness saw was Gil Spencer. Anyway, the witness’s car was parked on the street in plain sight, and Spencer and Lowicki might be lowlifes, but they’re not completely stupid.”

  Tuck turned his head and laughed sardonically. “Thought you mentioned a cushy job. Better get my hearing checked.”

  Joe leaned forward. “Tuck, it will be cushy. We’re moving the witness to…well, I’ll tell you that if you get involved, but I guarantee you’d like the place. Look, all you’d have to do is keep the witness company. We’re really keeping the lid tight on this one. Only a few of our top people even know there is a witness, even fewer know what we’re planning to do. What do you say? It would be like a vacation with pay, and you wouldn’t use up your accumulated days. Afterward, if you still need more time away from the job, you can take it.”

  “Why me?”

  Joe cleared his throat while sitting back. “Because you’ve got a perfect excuse to disappear for an extended leave.” Joe hesitated before adding, “And you’re unencumbered, Tuck. There’s no one at home to ask questions.”

  It wasn’t at all what he’d thought he might do with his free time. Actually, he didn’t know what he might do, but he sure hadn’t thought of anything like this.

  “Can I think about it, Joe?”

  Joe shook his head. “There’s no time. The witness will be ready to leave tonight.”

  Tuck butted his cigarette, got up and went to a window. He stared out and absently watched traffic. “Can you tell me anything about it?”

  “Not unless you agree. No one’s going to know anything unless they’re involved up to their eyeballs. We’re going to nail Lowicki this time, Tuck, but we don’t have a positive ID on the other guy. We need time to box him in, to prove that he was with Lowicki at 1:00 a.m. that night. The prosecutor’s office wants an airtight case before we haul them in. That’s what we’ll work on while you—or someone like you—takes care of the witness.”

  Tuck mulled it over. Nick Lowicki was a snake. A drug dealer, a pimp, the sort of man the law enforcement community referred to as street scum. He’d made a bad mistake and there was a witness who could positively finger him. If the D.A. could build a case and put Gil Spencer away at the same time, the streets would be just a little bit cleaner.

  “Well, guess I don’t have anything better to do,” Tuck said quietly.

  “Then you’ll do it?”

  Tuck turned. “I’ll do it. Now, can you fill me in?”

  “Tonight, Tuck. Just before you leave. Meet me back here at nine this evening. Have your things with you. I’ll give you a car and some money. You’ll pick up the witness and be out of town before ten.”

  Captain Joe Crawford didn’t just hand over a car and some cash that night, he had a whole new ID prepared for Tuck, a driver’s license, a social security card, and a couple of credit cards. “The credit cards are strictly for show, Tuck. Don’t want you using them and leaving any kind of trail. There’s enough cash her
e to last you for several weeks, and there’ll be more available if you need it.”

  Tuck studied the handful of cards. “So, my name’s going to be Tom King.”

  “Nice simple name, Tuck. That’s how we’re going to introduce you to the witness, as Tom King. No need for her to know your real name. She’s no pro at this sort of thing and might make a slip at the wrong time.”

  Tuck regarded his captain. “The witness is a woman? How old is she?”

  Joe Crawford cleared his throat. “I don’t know, maybe thirty, thirty-one.”

  “She’s not married?”

  “No. Now, Tuck, don’t get that bullheaded look on your face. What difference does it make? You’d be doing the same job if the witness was a sixty-year-old man.”

  “It never occurred to me we were talking about a woman, a young woman.” Tuck shook his head disgustedly. “Tell me she’s buck-toothed, stringy-haired and ugly.”

  Joe laughed. “Can’t do that. She’s a pretty woman.”

  “Aw, hell,” Tuck muttered.

  An hour later, briefed on his destination in great detail and as ready to go as he’d ever be, Tuck and John Harper got into the assigned car, with John at the wheel. Tuck hadn’t asked the woman’s real name. Joe had told him that her assumed name was Cheryl King, and then quickly added, “The two of you can decide what kind of arrangement you’d be most comfortable with. You could be sister and brother, if that makes you happy. Personally, I like the idea of a couple, a husband and wife.”

  “Dammit, Joe, you set me up!”

  Joe had smiled blandly. “You’ll enjoy yourself in Idaho, Tuck. Coeur d’Alene’s a beautiful little city.”

  While John Harper drove to the woman’s home, Tuck glared out the side window. If Joe Crawford had even hinted at the witness’s sex and age, Tuck would have refused the job with gusto. He didn’t want to spend the next month, or whatever it took, with a woman.

  John pulled into a driveway. “Well, here we are, Tuck.”

  Tuck didn’t immediately jump out. “I don’t like this, Harper. I don’t like it one damn bit!”

  John shrugged, as if to say, Tough, Tuck! You took the job, you live with it. But then the older man relented and smiled. “She’s a nice woman, Tuck. You’ll like her.”

  “Like hell I will,” he muttered as he got out of the car.

  Inside, Nicole was back to pacing. Scott Paulsen answered the back door, and Nicole stayed in the living room. She was dressed for a long ride, wearing old jeans, faded and soft from a hundred washings, a plain, blue T-shirt and sneakers. She was pale and biting the thumbnail on her left hand, a habit she abhorred and thought she’d cured herself of more than a dozen years ago.

  Scott, John, and a third man walked in. Nicole’s anxious blue eyes went instantly to the stranger. John made the introductions. “Cheryl, this is Tom.”

  “Hello,” Nicole mumbled. Tom was stiff and unsmiling. Tall, well-built, wearing jeans that rivaled her own for age and comfort. Inscrutable gray eyes.

  “Hello,” Tuck said tonelessly, refusing to acknowledge Cheryl’s pretty face and long legs. Two large and two small suitcases sat near the sofa. “I’ll get these loaded.” Scott moved to help and between them they carried all four cases out to the car.

  Nicole looked around her living room. Crying would do nothing beyond reddening her eyes, but she felt like busting loose with a wounded wail. Instead she began snapping off lamps. The house was already locked and as secure as it could get.

  “Well…guess I’m ready,” she said listlessly.

  John Harper offered a consoling smile. “Nicole, this will all be over in no time. You’ll see.”

  She wasn’t consoled. Weeks—maybe months—away from her home and job didn’t seem like “no time” to her.

  John pulled an envelope out of his inside coat pocket. “Scott filled you in on destination and identity. Tom’s been given most of the money, but we thought you should have some, too, just in case.”

  Nicole took the envelope. “In case of what, John? Tom’s trustworthy, isn’t he?”

  “He’s the best there is, Nicole. Don’t worry about that. He’s got eleven years with the department and has experience in every phase of law enforcement.”

  “Tom’s not his real name.”

  “No.”

  Looking around one last time, Nicole sighed. “Come on,” John said gently. “You’ve got a long trip ahead of you.”

  “One more question, John. Why are we driving to Idaho, rather than flying?”

  “Everyone thought it would be best, Nicole. We’re keeping your departure as low-key as possible. There’s very little way of telling if some stranger follows you onto a plane, but driving north out of Vegas, the road is long and empty. Tom will know if anyone’s behind you.”

  Nicole left several lights burning in the house, at John’s suggestion. They went through the back door and Nicole locked the dead bolt. She was carrying her purse, into which she’d tucked the envelope of cash. Her suitcases were jammed with clothes of every description. No one knew how long she’d have to stay away, and that was probably the hardest part of this whole discomfiting ordeal. At John Harper’s instruction she’d written a dozen cards to friends, all with the same carefully worded message. Family emergency calls me away. Don’t worry. I’ll be in touch. Hopefully the simple message would forestall someone panicking and raising a public fuss because they couldn’t reach her.

  Tuck was leaning against the car. He straightened as Nicole and John approached. “All set?”

  “All set,” John said quietly.

  “Who’s driving?” Nicole questioned.

  “I am,” Tuck said flatly.

  Nicole got in the passenger side, Tuck got behind the wheel. John leaned down to peer through the open window. “Take care.”

  “Yeah,” Tuck drawled, and started the motor.

  Nicole fastened her seatbelt. The car backed out of her driveway without lights. They were two blocks away from her house before Tuck switched on the headlights. Nicole was battling tears and looking straight ahead.

  Tuck took a maze of back streets to reach Highway 95. The fuel gauge indicated a full tank of gas. They wouldn’t have to make a stop for hours. He glanced at the woman sitting so silently and registered her rigid profile.

  Her silence was welcome. He turned his attention back to the road.

  Two

  Once out of Vegas the road became black and almost eerily vacant. Highway 95 was an important link between Las Vegas and Reno, but away from those two cities, Nevada’s roads were sparsely traveled. Ten, fifteen minutes would pass between oncoming cars. There were none behind him, Tuck was certain. None with headlights at least.

  He eyed his silent companion. “Mind if I turn on the radio?”

  Nicole’s head barely moved in a brief glance. “Go ahead.”

  Tuck turned on the power, drove with one hand and fiddled with the radio with the other, trying to pick up a station. After a few minutes he gave up. “There’s nothing but static.” The car was an inexpensive blue sedan, and apparently the radio was a weakly powered model.

  Driving the dark road, Tuck’s thoughts turned to his last session with Dr. Keaton. I’m not going to preach to you, Tuck. You’re going to have to deal with your conscience in your own way. You did nothing wrong, and that’s what you must come to accept. He had answered, I did nothing illegal, Doc. She had slowly nodded her understanding.

  He understood, too, which relieved none of the tension in his gut. What else could he ever be but a cop? And yet he couldn’t see himself back on the street and dealing with the myriad problems he’d previously faced so confidently.

  This trip, this witness protection job, was eating at him. He shouldn’t have let Joe talk him into it. He didn’t want to protect anyone. He wasn’t wearing his gun, although he had it with him, tucked under his seat on the floor of the car. Joe had described the job as “cushy,” and maybe it would be. He’d been to northern Idaho once before
and liked what he’d seen. Certainly it was different from southern Nevada, with lush, green-forested mountains and numerous lakes. Beautiful scenery, unquestionably. And the chance of Lowicki and Spencer tracking Cheryl so far north, once they discovered there was a witness who could unequivocally tie them to the murders, was slim to none.

  But spending weeks with a woman he didn’t know, nor had any desire to know, was damn disturbing. He really hadn’t thought about the witness’s gender when Joe first brought up the subject, assuming, obviously, that they were talking about a man.

  Well, there was nothing manly about “Cheryl King.” She was pure woman, every inch of her, and some exotic scent wafted his way every time she moved.

  She wasn’t moving very much, he had to admit. It was as though her gaze was glued to the windshield. In the dash lights, her silhouette was board-stiff.

  Tuck sent her a more open glance. “You don’t like this, do you?”

  Nicole started, as though coming awake. “Pardon?”

  “This whole setup. You don’t like it.”

  She looked at the man behind the wheel. “No, I don’t like it.” She studied Tom for another moment, then returned her eyes to the road. “Have you done this before?”

  “Not exactly,” he admitted.

  “Scott said you have experience in all phases of law enforcement.”

  “I’ve gone undercover before, just not to this extent. Doubt if too many people have gone to this extent,” he added dryly.

  “I keep wondering if it’s really necessary,” Nicole said with some bitterness. “I’m probably going to lose my job over it.”

  Tuck sent her another glance. “What do you do?”

  “I’m the purchasing agent for the Monte Carlo.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Well, don’t be. I’ll probably have to start over as a clerk.”

  Tuck’s lips tightened. He could lay all sorts of lies on her, but the fact was that right now no one could predict the outcome of this case.

  “What I don’t understand,” Nicole said in that same bitter tone, “is why they’re sending me so far away. Why not L.A.? Or Phoenix? At least we wouldn’t have to drive for days.”