Lone Rider (25 page)

Flustered, Tess slid the box into a drawer and quickly shut it.

“You have a call from a Mr. Barry Neilson with the FBI,” the maid said
when Tess opened the door
. “Do you want to take it?”

Tess nodded. She hadn’t talked with Barry since she’d left
Montana
. Maybe he had a message from Grey?

“Hello, Barry.”  She knew she sounded breathless.

They exchanged pleasantries, then Barry cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Her stomach clenched. Had something happened to Grey?

“Hector Sanchez was freed from jail on a technicality,” Barry continued.

Her relief was torpedoed by disbelief. Sanchez was free? “How could that happen?”

“The search warrant for his plane wasn’t signed at the time it was searched. Evidently there was a miscommunication between a couple agencies.” 

“But what about the other charges?”

“He made bail and already skipped the country. We can’t touch him.”

Tess thought about the women who, following Sanchez’s arrest, had been tracked down and freed from “private ownership
.”
She’d read an article about them. Some had been abused. All had been raped. And now, like a cruel joke, Hector Sanchez was free. Where was the justice for them?

“Can he be extradited?”
she asked.

“Doubtful, but we’ll try. It makes me sick to think we were so close to nailing him, that one of my men literally gave up almost two years of his life to catch that man.”

             
Barry was talking about Grey, of course. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “How is he?”  Both of them knew who it was she asked about.

             
Silence preceded guarded words. “He’s been busy, Tess. As you know, there’s a lot to be done on this case. And he’s trying to reclaim his personal life. He virtually walked away from everything he owned, his family--”

“Family?”  She closed her eyes, tried to picture Grey rushing home to a loving wife. She couldn’t. Not in his line of work.

Children, though, were another story. She could picture Grey as a father, just as easily as she could picture him as a lover. Boyfriend.

A new and sickening scenario presented itself. What if Grey had left a special
someone
behind? Perhaps he had only slept with her in the line of duty. A pregnancy would be unwelcome news indeed.

“Grey has a father and sisters,” Barry continued. “They know he does undercover work, which doesn’t make it easy when he disappears as he did.”

A father and sisters.
She recalled the things
Grey ha
d told her in Montana, realizing he had never mentioned specific details, like family, hadn’t really shared anything personal, which made her regret having told him the smallest detail about her life. The fact that she knew nothing about him sharpened the sense of deception.

He’d talked about living in
Pennsylvania
, being in the Army. Both were probably fabrications, part of his cover. She’d known
Dallas Haynes
. A fictional, undercover, caricature. When would she get it through her head that
Dallas
didn’t exist. He was fantasy. Vapor. Smoke.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” she said finally.

Barry sighed. “You understand why he hasn’t contacted you, don’t you? It’s not appropriate under the best of circumstances for two witnesses on the same case to spend time together.”

The inference was clear.
Best of circumstances
didn’t include witnesses who’d shared an intimate relationship.

Or witnesses who might be pregnant.

She thanked Barry for calling and hung up, her thoughts straying to the test kit she had stashed in the drawer.

She already knew the answer the kit would reveal. What she didn’t know was how, or when -- or if -- she’d tell the father.

CHAPTER TEN

The next six weeks passed in a blur of legal maneuverings.

Tess told no one she was pregnant, deciding to wait until some of the hubbub died down before even seeing a doctor -- which was probably just as well, considering.

She had made three trips to
Washington
,
D.C.
, meeting with the federal prosecutor and testifying before a federal grand jury. As a result, Bogen and Snake were indicted on first-degree murder for Matt Michaels’ death -- the worst of a long line of charges being levied. Subsequently, Bogen’s and Snake’s attorneys deposed her several times.

Both sides agreed to a change of venue, to the
Washington
,
D.C.
area, after the defense claimed they would have difficulty seating an impartial jury in
Montana
.  While much of it went over her head, Tess gathered that if all parties to the trial agreed to the shift in venue, there was no basis for a later appeal on those grounds.

She had expected the case to languish in the judicial system for months but to everyone’s surprise, Bogen and Snake exercised their right to a speedy trial on the murder charges, demanding that the prosecution try them immediately. Their case was placed on what the prosecutor called “the rocket docket
.”

Apparently Snake and Bogen felt there was a possibility that, like Sanchez, they could get off on a technicality. If so, they could then get out on bail pending the other charges. Not that anyone expected them to stick around if they posted bond.

In an unusual move, they also chose to be tried together. Were they worried that if they were tried separately, one might strike a deal to testify against the other?

Tess had retur
ned to
Montana
briefly, helping investigators re
-
create the scene of Matt Michaels’ death. The trip had been grueling and brought back a host of unsettling memories.

It also made her miss Dallas...Grey.

She knew her memories of him were romanticized. The fact that he’d been such a gentle, caring, guardian didn’t make him any easier to forget. He’d protected her, nurtured her, cherished her. Had it really just been
in the line of duty?
How could someone be like that, play a part so convincingly yet remain untouched?

Nights were the worst. Some nights her dreams were erotic, fevered, sensual
,
and she’d wake up to an empty bed, with a heavy heart. If she could have just one more night, one last chance to talk, to be held in his arms, to make love...

Other nights she’d wake up to find her hand resting protectively against her abdomen, the sense of loneliness not quite so oppressive when she thought of the baby.

Slowly, surely, she grew accustomed to the idea of being pregnant. Taking it one day at a time helped. She also broke down and called her doctor’s office a few days ago, talked with his nurse. She’d told the nurse she was out of the country -- a little white lie -- and that she believed she was pregnant. A whopper. She
knew
she was pregnant.

             
“Congratulations,” the nurse said. Then she asked several questions, assuring Tess it should be fine if she waited a few more weeks to see an obstetrician. “A lot of women wait until their third or fourth month before making their first appointment. Unless something goes wrong, naturally.”

The nurse gave Tess a list of things to watch for. “And contact us
as soon as you’re back in the S
tates.”

Talking with the nurse eased Tess’ conscience about not going to a doctor right away. It did nothing for her sense of guilt over hiding her pregnancy from the prosecuting attorney.

And Grey
.

She grew resigned to the fact she wouldn’t see Grey again until the actual trial. She mulled over ways to tell him about the baby.
Whether
to tell him. Wondered how he’d react.

She thought back to her last conversation with him. He’d brought up the subject of pregnancy. He’d promised to be there for her. Had he meant it? Or were they just words? Maybe he’d meant something different. That he’d be there to hold he
r hand when she got rid of it.

While she resisted the thought, she had no reason to believe Grey
wanted
a child.

As the heat of late summer surrendered to shorter, cooler days, Tess grew weary of being confined to the
Hamptons
. She’d set up a makeshift studio, sketching and tinkering with new jewelry designs, but it wasn’t the same. She missed
Boston
, her
friends
, her shop. Her freedom. The press had moved on to other stories, giving her a small measure of privacy though she knew interest would heighten again when the trial opened.

She woke up one morning
having reached a critical decision. No more being passive, no more hiding. No more dreaming about what might have been and what could never be.

It was time to reclaim her life.

Or at least take the first step.

Tonight she would attend the private art auction sponsored by her father’s charitable foundation. An exclusive event, the tickets sold out months ago. Tess knew most of the attendees and the press wasn’t invited
,
so it was a perfect opportunity to get out. A s
afe
first outing.

She eyed the dress on her bed, then threw another change of clothes in her suitcase, in case she wanted to spend an extra day in the city. The Marsh Manhattan had a private suite she could use for the night. And if she decided to stay even longer
,
she could go to her mother’s apartment. Madeline was still overseas
,
so Tess would have privacy.

A change of scenery sounded ideal. So did a day of shopping, a museum, a play. A bagel and a latte. All the little luxuries she’d taken for granted.

Heartened, she picked up the stack of new mail on her desk and shuffled through it, discarding magazines and junk advertisements. She read a letter from her mother, then opened a small white envelope.

She frowned at the lack of return address and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

TESTIFY AND YOU DIE
.
WE WILL FIND YOU - WHETHER YOU’RE IN
BOSTON
, THE
HAMPTONS
,
ASPEN
OR
MONTSERRAT
.

Her hand moved protectively to her abdomen as she reread the
typewritten
note.
Testify and you die.

It was unsigned, but she knew who sent it.

Bogen and Snake were connected with an international crime lord. A crime lord
who
didn’t want to be implicated.

In cryptic fashion they were letting her know they knew about the Marsh family homes in the
Hamptons
, Vail, Montserrat and her own town
house in
Boston
.

Tess looked around the room that had become her virtual prison
,
realizing there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She’d never felt more alone in her life. Her frenzied thoughts turned to Grey, wishing he were there.

But he wasn’t.

She had to face this on her own. Again.

Testify and you die
. The threat was simple and brutal. But effective.

Though they had no way of knowing it, they threatened her child when they threatened her. Which infuriated Tess. Her protective instincts kicked in, surprising her with their ferociousness, overriding all concern for herself. She woul
dn’t jeopardize her baby’s well-
being for anything.

She paced her room, weighing options, testing  alternatives, tired of being pushed around. But one thought overwhelmed all else: defy the note and die. In the end only one choice made sense for her child’s safety.

She wouldn’t testify.

Picking up the phone, she dialed Barry Neilson’s number.

*     *     *

Grey stuck a finger under the collar of his shirt. He hadn’t worn a tux since he’d been best man in a wedding six years ago.

He was alone in the private elevator of the posh Marsh Manhattan
,
ascending to the ballroom on the top floor. He straightened his cuffs, then tugged at the collar once more, impatient.

It had been two months since his return to civilization. Two months since seeing Tess. He ached with the need he’d denied every day they’d been apart.

He’d kept tabs on her through Barry, but that didn’t satisfy Grey’s desire to talk with her, be with her. Hear her voice. He regretted not seeing her before she left
Montana
. There had been much left unresolved between them.