Page 3 of Safeguarding the Witness

Relief that her father hadn’t been murdered—not yet anyway—mingled with a fresh jolt of grief and a vivid memory of Irma Winchell with her dyed red hair, raucous laugh and the scent of chocolate chip cookies that always surrounded her. Aunt Irma had taken care of Mollie and her twin sister, Madison, when they were thirteen and their mother died. Irma had done her best to protect them until Dad’s testimony against a drug cartel forced him into the Witness Protection Program—WITSEC. She and her sister were also encouraged to disappear. Mollie resisted as long as possible.

She tucked her sorrow into the overflowing supply that suffocated her heart. Given that Aunt Irma was in her nineties, her death didn’t come as a total shock. “When did it happen?”

“Ten days ago,” he said.

Which mirrored the time when Dad took off on his trip. Her suspicions flared. Another coincidence? “How well did you know her?”

“My grandpa has been her family attorney since before her husband died twenty-seven years ago. As you know, Irma never had children of her own and never remarried. She turned her energy toward business and finance, and she did better than anyone expected. Her estate is considerable. You’re one of her heirs, Mollie. She left everything to you and her other two great-nieces.”

“Bethany and Erin.” When they were growing up in Cloverdell and all lived with Aunt Irma, they’d been best of friends. Three leaves of the four-leaf clover tattoo. The fourth was Madison.

“There’s a catch,” he said. “You need to appear in person to claim your inheritance.”

“And you think it might be dangerous for me to show my face in Cloverdell, right? That’s why you have a gun.”

“Right.”

A chance to go home again was tempting, but how could she say yes? She couldn’t desert her father. When she first joined him in WITSEC, she’d been twenty and naive. He had to take care of her and protect her from the cartel that was responsible for Madison’s death. During the past five years, she’d assumed the major responsibilities for both of them. She doubted he could survive on his own. However…

If she came into a lot of money, their lives would drastically improve. She could afford to hire private security and shape her own future. No more living in WITSEC houses in sketchy neighborhoods. No more struggling with car payments, other debts and student loans, none of which had been forgiven even though Dad heroically testified against a drug cartel.

A great big juicy windfall meant she could actually plan for the future or go back to college or open a flower shop of her own. Not that she’d ever wanted to grow up to be a florist, but she’d learned about plants and cultivation at Aunt Irma’s hazelnut orchards. Might as well put that knowledge to use.

“That’s why you came to Denver,” she said. “You want to take me back to Oregon.”

“I have a chartered jet waiting at Centennial.”

“Just to be clear, how much money are we talking about?”

“I can’t reveal the exact amount of cash or property until the reading of the will,” he said, “but I can tell you that your share is well over two million dollars.”

She swallowed hard and frankly stared at the man in the driver’s seat. Had she heard correctly? Did he say two million?

He flashed his dimples and said, “That’s million as in six zeroes. Ready to come home to Cloverdell?”

It wasn’t every day that a golden-eyed stranger turned up on her doorstep offering a huge inheritance. How could she possibly say no?

Chapter Two

Spence gave her less than an hour to decide whether she’d return to Cloverdell with him—approximately the amount of time it would take to drive to the private airfield where a chartered Cessna Citation awaited his instructions. If she agreed, he’d do his best to fulfill the mandate in Irma Winchell’s will that required Mollie, Bethany and Erin to meet. If not, he’d wait with her while she contacted the US Marshals Service and returned to the custody of WITSEC. A tough decision. In Witness Protection, she’d still be in danger, but there would be people looking out for her. As an heiress, she had a chance to return to her old life with new opportunities.

He drove east on Sixth Avenue Parkway. “Questions?”

“Let’s start with an easy one,” she said. “How did you find me?”

“As you know, the number one rule in WITSEC is to never communicate in any way with your former friends and family. When your dad went into the program, he agreed to cut all ties. He understood that making contact might alert the cartel to the whereabouts of his loved ones. They could take revenge on your family.”

“I didn’t ask for a history lesson,” she said. “Five years ago, my father was a different person. And so was I. Tell me how you knew my current address.”

He recognized her prickly attitude as a form of protection. Though she looked as soft and cuddly as a furry kitten, Mollie had the demeanor of a porcupine with needles sticking out in all directions. “My point about your father,” he said, “is that he’s a rule breaker. Instead of being a good-little-cooperative witness, he stayed in touch with Aunt Irma. She’s always had your current alias and address. When she died, she gave explicit instructions on how your father was to be contacted.”

“That’s why he took off on his mysterious trip,” she said under her breath. “Have you spoken to him?”

“Yes.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s safe.” At a stoplight, Spence glanced toward her and saw a flash of relief. The tension around her eyes and mouth relaxed. He continued, “My firm hasn’t notified WITSEC about our communication.”