Page 3 of Bitter Truth
“Still, I think it’s safe to assume that he has ties to Bianchi,” she says.
Tony Bianchi is one of the people whose trial I’m responsible for. I’m the one who found the evidence linking him to my parents’ murders. The one who got a recording of his accomplice discussing their roles in the crime. The one who’s planning on testifying against them all.
But being a seasoned killer isn’t what makes the man so dangerous. It’s the breadth of his reach into the dark corners of the shadowy underworld. A reach that apparently still exists, despite being in prison awaiting trial.
Money will do that, I suppose. And if there’s one thing the drug kingpin has, it’s money.
“Janine’s hearing is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Agent Gellar asks, even though I suspect she already knows.
“Yes.”
She looks toward the barn, where Jake’s in silhouette as he finishes feeding and watering the animals for the night.
“Has that caused any… complications?”
Removing the fingertip that’s somehow found its way between my teeth from my mouth I say, “No.”
“Really? I find that hard to believe.”
I give her a sharp look.
“Listen, I’m not trying to pry. But you have to admit, it’s unorthodox. Testifying against your boyfriend’s mother at her murder trial.”
Swallowing down what feels like a burning lump of charcoal, I clench my jaw, refusing to react. Janine Walker had been my mom’s best friend. And Jake hadbeen mine. He’d been a part of my life from the day I drew my first breath, and if I get my way, he’ll be a part of it until the day I draw my last.
But decades passed where we weren’t in touch. After my parents died and Jake’s mom abandoned him our lives took separate paths. It’s been less than six months since we found our way back to each other. I don’t intend to lose him again.
And I won’t, I assure myself.
“Jake and I have spoken about it,” I say in a low voice as he approaches. “He supports what I’m doing. He has no allegiance to his mother.”
It might seem cold, but Jake has his reasons. Because after Janine Walker helped kill my parents, she’d left Jake with his abusive father. Even when she returned over thirty years later, it wasn’t to reunite with him. It was to find the evidence she’d hidden at my grandfather’s house so she could blackmail Bianchi after they’d fallen out.
But things didn’t quite go according to her plan. Though she’d known that my grandfather had recently died, she hadn’t known that I’d be at the sanctuary. And despite having had her fingerprints swapped in the system with another woman’s, I figured out who she was—and what she’d done.
Agent Gellar gives me a tight-lipped smile that suggests she doesn’t believe me. “Well, anyway, I wanted to offer to post a couple agents here overnight. I doubt they’d be foolish enough to try again so soon, but—”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say, ignoring the look Jake gives me as he joins us and hears what’s being said.
As much as I’d love to give him the peace of mind that a federal security detail might provide him, I can’t.And I refuse to feel bad about it.
I don’t know how many cops—or agents—Bianchi has on his payroll, but it’s clear that he has at least one person on the inside. Considering that I don’t have any idea who that might be, it’s too big a risk. There’s no way I could trust the people assigned to protect me.
I’d have to constantly look over my shoulder inside my own home as well as out, and the truth is, I’m exhausted. I need someplace—some time, as fleeting as those moments might be—to let my guard down enough to just breathe. Inviting a skilled enemy into my domain is the last thing I want to deal with.
“Why bother? Girl’s got more lives than a dang cat.”
Correction. Having to watch my back against an armed and trained federal agent with the possible intent to kill me is the second to last thing. Speaking to the man whose voice just made my teeth grit together hard enough to chip a molar is the first.
“You don’t have to sound so disappointed by that,” Jake says, slinging an arm around me as I turn to face Sheriff Kingston.
The man scowls. “And where were you when all this was happening?”
Swallowing down a splash of bile at the memory, I point toward the chunk of wood missing from the doorframe. “Here getting shot at, same as me.”
But I don’t think he gets the chance to hear what I’ve said, because Agent Gellar’s response is louder and holds more menace.
“The real question is, where were you, Sheriff?”
