Witness in the Dark (Love Under Fire #1)(21)

“Edward Maples. He owns a white, heavy-duty pickup truck. District of Columbia plates, number Charlie, Tango, Echo, one, seven, nine.”

“Put out an inter-agency alert on the vehicle.”

“Doing that now.”

“Tell me about Mr. Maples.”

“Self-employed contractor. Two charges of failure to report all income on his taxes. One charge of attempting to commit fraud on an insurance claim.”

“Thanks. Call me when you find that truck.”

“Will do.”

Garrett pulled his gun and knocked on the neighbor’s door. No answer.

“Mr. Maples, please open the door so I don’t have to bust it down,” he yelled. He was not in the mood for the whole S.W.A.T. act tonight.

The door opened and a short man with a large stomach peeked out. “Are you part of the thing with the other two?” the man asked.

Sometimes people made it too easy.

“Yep,” Garrett assured him. “They asked me to check in to make sure it was going as planned. Everything okay?”

“Hell yeah. Twenty grand for that piece-of-shit truck goes a long way to making everything okay.”

“You haven’t reported it stolen, have you?” Garrett raised his brows.

“No way. Your friend told me to wait a few months before I report it, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“Excellent.” Garrett patted Mr. Maples on the shoulder and walked off the dingy porch. His phone was at his ear a second later. “The safe house was compromised. I have confirmation that Wendy and Tom are dirty.”

“Damn it. They passed their last security check with flying colors,” Thorne muttered.

“And I just did a recheck a few days ago.” In WITSEC, every precaution was taken. People’s lives depended on the integrity of every single deputy marshal. “Nothing popped.”

“God, I hate that. A fox in the henhouse is the worst possible scenario. Now I’m going to have to follow up with an investigation.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience.” Garrett made sure to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Can you track her down?”

“I think so.”

“Let me know when you have her back in custody. Take her someplace safe and wait for my orders. Absolute discretion goes without saying.”

“Got it.” He understood following orders—he had survived some hairy situations by following orders. But sometimes you just had to take charge of a mission yourself. He had a feeling some rough seas could be ahead for him.

Totally worth it. He would face whatever came next.

But first, he had to find Sam.





Chapter Fifteen


It was almost nine the next morning when Sam pulled into a truck stop. She was starving, but she’d managed to get a few hours’ sleep in the cab of the truck so she felt a little more alert. According to the map hanging inside the door, she was in southern Virginia.

After cleaning up in the restroom and purchasing a cupcake and chocolate milk with her tip money, she headed straight back to the truck. She didn’t dare take the time to order anything hot and nutritious.

Wendy’s phone rang before she got there. Tentatively she pulled it out of her pocket and looked around before she answered. As if they could see her.

Hell, maybe they could.

She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID. For another ring she debated whether or not to answer. But she might gain some valuable information if whoever was calling didn’t realize she wasn’t Wendy.

She did her best to disguise her voice. “Hello?”

“Why the hell do you still have this phone?” Garrett yelled.

She recognized his voice immediately. He must have used a different phone. “What do you want?” she asked.

“They can track you with her phone. You need to get rid of it as soon as we’re done talking. Take the SIM card out and smash it to bits.”

“Okay,” she snapped. She didn’t like being scolded. Then again, she should have known that. Parents used cell phones to keep tabs on their kids. And had she learned nothing from countless episodes of Law and Order? “Okay,” she said again, this time without the attitude.

“Don’t tell me where you are, or any other details. I can only jam my side of the conversation. They’re listening to you, a hundred percent.”

“All right.” It actually sounded like he was trying to help her. Maybe he was one of the good guys, after all.

Or it could be a trick.

“Can you be at the rest stop at mile-marker sixteen on Highway 70 near Frederick, Maryland, by six tonight?”

“Maybe,” she said, boggled by all the numbers he’d rattled off. She was only about four or five hours away by freeway, but she’d have to take back roads. “How do I know I can trust you?”

He puffed out a breath. “I guess you don’t. If you think you can, I’ll meet you at the rest stop. If you can’t, then good luck to you. Pay attention to the cameras everywhere—traffic cams, parking lots. Avoid them whenever you can. But either way, you won’t make it another hour with that phone on you.” He hung up and she blinked in alarm.

Cameras. She hadn’t thought of that one. But first things first. She eyed the phone like it was a scorpion.