Page 26 of Lawman’s Witness

She had looked into those intense pale blue eyes of his and felt as if she were locking gazes with the devil. How could he be so handsome, so rich, so powerful and yet so evil, that others didn’t see past his smile? He had everything, yet he didn’t, or he wouldn’t have a mistress, let alone kill her. She reminded herself that his need for a mistress was his weakness, his Achilles’ heel, his fatal flaw. If it didn’t bring him down, then she would have to.

As her pulse slowed, she told herself that Jack Marshall wasn’t all-powerful. He hadn’t committed the perfect murder, and he wasn’t going to get away with it. She had to believe that. Otherwise, what was she doing other than merely upsetting him? How could she bring down the man?

She considered going to his wife, but it was the last thing she wanted to do. What did she think? That by destroying his marriage she could make him confess what he’d done?

No, what she had to do was find evidence to force the police to act.

It angered her that when he’d spotted her from behind the glass of his office window, he’d recognized her at once, which was damning enough since he’d lied to Detective Tate saying he’d never laid eyes on her.

He’d been startled to see her, maybe even shocked to find her standing in his showroom talking to one of his salesmen. It had definitely upset him. He had no longer looked quite so arrogant. She’d scared him. It was small comfort.

So what had been her plan? She had wanted to shake him up. She’d also wanted him to know she was coming for him. But when she’d stood toe to toe with him and looked into his ice-chip-blue eyes, a chill had rattled through her as she was reminded of just how dangerous this man was. She’d done her best to cover her fear, but knew she’d failed when he’d quirked a mocking smile. He thought he could use her fear against her.

That was the worst part. Jack Marshall wasn’t worried about her doing real harm to him. This was a man who believed he was untouchable. Just as he knew he was even better-looking up close than on television. Who better than an arrogant con man when it came to selling especially women anything he had to offer?

She watched him go toward the back of the building, ignoring her, thinking he had gotten the last word. She tried to find satisfaction in the fact that Jack had recognized her, which meant she’d caught him in another lie. It made him look guilty since he’d told the police he hadn’t been on her ranch, didn’t know her name or where she lived, and wouldn’t know her if he saw her. But she knew that if she went to them with this they’d laugh in her face.

She felt her anger bubble up even more. He’d apparently believed that he’d scared her enough out at the ranch that she wouldn’t dare talk to the police again, let alone show up at his car dealership. Scaring her had only had the opposite effect. As much as he terrified her, she wasn’t going to let him get away with what he’d done.

After a moment to catch her breath and stop shaking inside, she followed him and the sound of voices down the hallway. They’d left the door to the room open. As she peered in, she saw Jack step up onto a small stage decorated for spring with pots of different colored tulips. A mural of a country road cutting through new green grass under a Montana blue sky hung on the wall behind him.

Jack took his place, adjusting his cowboy hat. He appeared nervous. Seeing her definitely had upset him. “Give me a moment,” he said to the cameraman. She watched him apparently shake it off.

After a moment, he looked up at the camera, then gave his spiel in a folksy Western accent nothing like the man she’d just met. Today, though, it seemed to lack his usual exuberance.

“Let’s do a couple more takes,” he told the cameraman, and looked past the lights to see her standing in the doorway. Eyes widening, a thunderstorm of an expression filled his suddenly flushed face. He kicked over one of the pots of flowers as he bound off the stage and strode toward her as if he wanted to kill her.

She hadn’t expected him to move so quickly. Her breath caught. Her feet felt rooted to the floor. She started to raise a hand to protect herself when Jack grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it in her face. She heard him lock it. On the other side of the door, she heard him snap at the cameraman, “I’m ready now. Let’s just get this over with.”

When she could breathe again, she turned and walked down the hall. She’d half expected him to chase her out to her car. She saw George look at her almost apologetically as she pushed open the large glass doors and stepped out into the cool June day. She sucked in air as he walked toward her.

“Your vehicle is ready,” George said, and handed her the keys. “I brought it right around for you.” He pointed to her SUV parked out front. “Have a nice day.”

She thanked him before he could hurry away. She’d gotten a little information out of him, less out of the service manager. She wondered if anyone really knew the real Jack Marshall. Unlocking her car, she slid behind the wheel and looked back at the showroom.

The sun glared off the glass front of the building. She didn’t see Jack. She’d seen enough of him today, and she figured he felt the same way. However, several of his salespeople had come outside and were watching her with naked curiosity.

As she started the engine, she thought of her sister’s warnings—and Detective Russell Tate’s as well. She’d poked the bear. She wondered what he would do now, if anything.

He couldn’t call the cops since she hadn’t done anything wrong. How could he explain that he’d recognized the woman who’d made the false statement about him? He couldn’t. There was no reason for Jack to even know who she was unless he saw her the night he killed his mistress. Not to mention the day he’d passed her on the ranch road and pretended to shoot her. She feared next time he pointed a gun at her, it would be the real thing.

But then again, she thought, remembering the night of the murder, Jack Marshall seemed to like knives.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Liz told herself not to do anything impulsive. She needed time to think as she drove toward Billings. The last thing she should do was anything rash. She hadn’t slept well after seeing Jack Marshall coming from Whitney’s rented house. Her brain kept replaying it until the wee hours of the morning when she’d finally dozed off, exhausted. Did Jack Marshall really think he’d fooled her with his beat-up car, his hoodie, his baseball cap?

She scoffed. He might be one of the most recognizable men in the county, maybe the state because of his television commercials. Even without them, the man stood out. As if he didn’t know how handsome he was. He’d used that and his apparent charm to sell cars for years. He was everything Whitney had dreamed of.

One late night after talking about the man she planned to marry, Whitney had opened up about her childhood. “You don’t know what it’s like to be dirt poor,” her roommate had said from the darkness of their shared college room. While Liz had been half asleep, something about Whitney’s tone had made her stir herself fully awake to listen. She’d suspected her roommate’s life hadn’t been as normal as she’d wanted everyone at college to believe.

“Living in an abandoned house, going to school smelling like a skunk because one had gotten in through a hole in the wall the night before.” Her voice lowered. “The way the other kids walked past me as if I didn’t exist or made fun of me behind my back because of my ill-fitting hand-me-down clothes. There wasn’t water in the house. I bathed in the creek out back except in the winter.” Her voice faltered. “There were these jars of canned food in the basement we were afraid to eat but sometimes I was so hungry…” Whitney had fallen silent.

Liz had lain perfectly still, feeling her friend’s pain. She’d known girls at school who came from less fortunate families. But there was one that filled her full of shame at the memory of how she’d avoided the girl because of her homemade ill-fitting clothes, her dirty hair and the smell. Kids at school said her family didn’t have running water.

Listening to her roommate’s confession, Liz hadn’t moved, hardly breathed until she was sure Whitney had fallen asleep. The next morning, she’d pretended she’d been sound asleep and had heard nothing, again ashamed of herself. But while she hadn’t known what to say, Whitney’s revelation had left its mark on her. While she’d hoped her friend would find the fairy-tale life she yearned for, Liz had feared it would always elude her and eventually destroy her.

Was it Whitney’s neediness or her beauty that had attracted Jack Marshall to her friend? Not that it mattered, she thought as she turned off the interstate and headed for the man’s car dealership. He’d done what so many other men had. Played to Whitney’s need for that perfect life, making promises he never planned to keep, lying until he was finished with her and then discarding her like yesterday’s trash.