Page 52 of Safeguarding the Witness

Special Agent Jamison set down his coffee and looked directly into the screen. His expression turned serious and so did his voice. “I have great respect for you, Spence. It takes a special kind of warrior to become an Army Ranger. The dealings I’ve had with your CLF team have been prime examples of security and personal protection. But Julio is a different kind of beast. A sociopath.”

Exactly the conclusion Spence had drawn moments before. “Which is why we can’t just step aside and wait for him to strike.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Jamison said. “Concentrate on protecting Mollie and her family. Notify me if you see Julio approaching.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Mollie said. “We ought to get going. Your day-old pizza is beginning to look tasty. Time for breakfast.”

Spence signed out of the conversation with Jamison and headed toward the staircase leading to the kitchen. He wasn’t quite hungry enough to indulge in cold pepperoni and congealed cheese, but he could eat.

On the landing at the top of the stairs, his ringtone sounded. He paused and looked down at the screen on his phone. The number wasn’t from anyone he knew. A burner phone.

The instant he answered, Spence recognized the voice of Hiram Harper. The missing father of Mollie and Madison. The old man sounded nervous and rushed, as if he was running late for a life-or-death appointment.

“Spence, I have vital information. I was just speaking to my daughter and—”

“She’s standing right here beside me,” Spence interrupted. He looked down at Mollie, who had stopped two steps lower then. “You should talk to her.”

“Not now, man. I’m telling you, I need—”

“She has needs, too.” Hearing from dear old dad might be a shock to her system. “Mollie, you should sit down.”

She lowered herself onto the stair at his feet.

“Damn you,” Hiram raged. “Listen to me.”

Spence sat on the step beside Mollie and glared at his phone. He was sick and tired of having Mollie left out of the loop. She’d abandoned her dreams and her lifestyle to go into WITSEC and help her father. Her sister’s wild agenda had gotten Mollie into deep, dark trouble. They needed to think about her for a change.

Spence passed his phone to her. “It’s your dad.”

Chapter Eighteen

Mollie held Spence’s phone gently. She hadn’t spoken to her father for twelve days. Not since Great-Aunt Irma had passed away and Mollie’s life journey had turned into a landscape that was both terrifying and thrilling.

Ever since she went into WITSEC, Dad had been her anchor. His presence grounded her and kept her attached to reality. Sure, he occasionally lapsed into absent-mindedness. What professor and art historian didn’t? But Hiram Harper had been the only person she trusted.

“Dad?”

“Mollie, sweetheart, this might sound improbable and fantastical, but you have to listen to me and do what I say.”

She gazed at Spence sitting beside her on the stairstep with his knees bent at an unnatural angle. Though he didn’t return her look and instead stared down at the hardwood floor at the foot of the staircase, he rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They connected. She wasn’t alone. Spence was here for her. Though she’d only known him for a day, she knew he’d protect her. If necessary, he’d give his life for her.

“What is it, Dad?”

“Two days ago, Madison called me. I didn’t believe her at first. I was flabbergasted. The whole world turned upside down, and I was somehow talking to my daughter who had died.”

Mollie was reassured that Dad hadn’t known about Madison until recently. She would have been hurt if he had kept her sister’s survival a secret from him.

Sticking to practical concerns, she asked, “How did she get your phone number? I thought you’d disappeared, and I had no way of reaching you.”

“No one has this number.” She heard the confusion in his voice. When confronted with too much reality, Dad slipped a gear. He wasn’t a strong personality, never had been, especially after her mother died. “I only use burner phones once and then throw them away.”

When he explained the plan Spence had already told her, she found it hard to believe. Using burner phones so cleverly didn’t sound like Dad. Not at all. “Who taught you how to do that?”

“Marshal Tim Youngblood,” he said confidently. “He even gave me a stack of phones.”

Swell! Dad was taking advice from a double-crossing fed who had ties to both Madison and Julio. “When you hang up, throw away all the phones. Buy a new one and send the number to Spence at this phone.”

“Okay, but Marshal Youngblood said—”