Reluctant Witness (65 page)

Authors: Sara M. Barton

Tags: #coffee

BOOK: Reluctant Witness

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The terrorist got to his feet slowly,
deliberately controlling his movements so as to not attract
unwarranted attention from the police officer sitting on the
motorbike a hundred yards away. With his hands casually in his
pockets, Anwar Salih strolled out into the street and maneuvered
his way around the girls until he was at their backs. When he
struck, it was swift and cruel. The two girls barely had time to
utter a cry before they dropped to their knees, forever silenced by
the knife wounds that cut through their vocal cords. As they fell,
one by one, onto their faces, the third girl was roughly dragged
away by her captor, screaming.

Fin knew how the story ended and he knew the
price Domino paid. He hadn’t been able to save the first two girls,
but he made damn sure he saved the last one. It took him two days
to get it done. Once he was in position and had intercepted Salih’s
communications with his commander on Jolo, once he studied the
man’s communications style and his phraseology, once he was certain
he could impersonate the terrorist successfully, he made his move.
Anwar Salih never saw it coming, but it came just the same.

The girl, eyes as black as coal, was so
traumatized by her ordeal that it just about broke the man’s heart.
Domino snuck her through the streets of Isabela City in the early
morning hours before the sun came up. He brought her to the U. S.
Embassy in Manila, knowing that she was in desperate need of
protection. That’s where Fin picked her up two days later. Salih
had promised his men some entertainment when he returned to Jolo.
There was no way to protect her or her family from the wrath of the
terrorists, short of moving them to a safe house once the girl was
debriefed. Fin did what was asked of him. And when the girl was far
from harm, Fin went back to Manila to wait for Domino. The ruse was
so successful, the impersonation so believable, it was another
three weeks before the two men shared that first beer, but it was
worth it.

But that was then, this was now, Fin had to
admit as he held onto that icy bottle in Lisbon. Both men had
retired from the Navy long after the Abu Sayyaf mission. They had
moved on with their careers. It was time for Domino to deal with
reality.

“You know that you gave Maria a pass because
of what happened to those girls in Basilan, Domino. You can’t bring
them back to life by going easy on every woman you meet,” he told
his friend bluntly as the caps came off the next round of cold
beers. “You’ve got to toughen up, man.”

“It’s ironic, isn’t it? I want to believe
there’s an angel in every woman I meet and you always assume you’re
looking at the devil.”

“I’ve met too many liars and schemers,” Fin
replied matter-of-factly. “The only way I’ll ever trust a woman is
when she proves herself worthy.”

“The only way? Won’t that be difficult,
given the fact that you’re a healthy, heterosexual male with a
penchant for risk and an enjoyment of the fairer sex?”

“There’s a difference between loving a woman
and making love, my friend. Sex is easy. Love not so much. You
can’t ever really love without trust. Otherwise, you’re always
looking over your shoulder, waiting for the knife to stab you in
the back. You nearly found out the hard way with Maria, Dom. The
next time a calculating woman bats her eyelids at you or wiggles
her fanny, do the math. Make sure she’s not working for the bad
guys. And when you start to doubt that it’s necessary, remember
those four thousand people you nearly got killed.”

“I’d tell you you’re a real buzz kill, Fin,
except I know you’re right.” Domino grimaced.

“I am. The next time, we might not be so
lucky.”

That conversation between two fictional
characters set my mind at ease. It was something I could picture
Jeff saying. And as for not trusting women until they proved
themselves worthy, I had already been through that with him. His
faith in me hadn’t been instant or unconditional. I saw now that he
really couldn’t afford to make mistakes, not given the risks.
Satisfied, I closed the book, turned off the light, and gave the
dog a final pat before closing my eyes. It was just after
three.

When I awoke, it was just after seven and the
little dog was barking at the front door. I flew out of bed to let
Jeff in.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I overslept because I had
to finish the book last night!”

“It’s okay,” he laughed, returning my hug.
“Go get dressed while I get breakfast started.”

Frantic, I rushed from closet to bathroom,
clothes in hand, not wanting to miss a moment of this last hour
with him. I had wanted so desperately to know the real Jeff before
he left for the mainland, but I failed; despite my determination to
figure out what it was that we had in common, that elusive thread
that would bind us for life escaped me. Disappointed, I sat on the
end of my unmade bed and brushed my hair.

“Poached or scrambled,” asked a cheerful
voice from the open doorway.

“Either,” I replied, forlorn.

“What’s wrong, little bird?” He came and sat
down next to me, wrapping an arm around me. “We’ll be together
again soon enough.”

“I know. It’s not that, Jeff. I...I wanted to
solve the mystery, but I blew it.”

“Did you?” He was smiling at me. “In what way
did you blow it?”

“I haven’t figured out what we have in
common,” I sighed, “other than we both have spent decades living
secret lives.”

“Isn’t that enough?” he laughed
good-naturedly. “It takes one to know one, doesn’t it?”

As I looked into his eyes, I suddenly
understood. All those women in Atlanta, Hollywood, and beyond never
had a chance with the man. He would never be able to trust any of
them because they could never know the importance of keeping
secrets. But I knew. I was a survivor, just as the fictional Nora
was, just as the flesh-and-blood Camille was. The men who loved us
took daring chances, not for the thrill of it all, but for the
honor and sense of duty. We were the protected and they the
protectors, and we knew too much to betray each other. In a perfect
world, Jeff and I would have loved each other gladly, but in this
messy, complicated place where evil often rears its ugly head,
secrets brought us together. With our trust tested and proven, we
were ready to open the door to love.

That was the instant I realized paradise
wasn’t a place on earth, some idyllic tropical hideaway with azure
blue waters and swaying palm trees. It was that invisible sanctuary
tucked inside our hearts, where love, nurtured by the desire for
truth and freedom, thrives. No one could ever steal it away from
us; it was ours for eternity, ever entwined by our secret lives,
and neither time nor distance could alter it, for it dwelled within
us wherever we went. I would survive Jeff’s absence in the coming
weeks and months. I understood now that he needed me as much as I
needed him. We belonged together.

“I’m ready,” I declared to him, feeling
stronger.

“For breakfast?”

“For whatever comes our way,” I told him,
taking his hand in mine. He grinned and kissed me sweetly.

“Life is good in paradise, isn’t it?”

Author’s Note

I love to bake. That’s why you will often
find my characters baking too. When I create a recipe, such as the
one that follows, I try to be true to the essence of the baker,
even one who is fictional.

I know some people are intimidated by the
idea of making cakes from scratch. They shouldn’t be. This cake is
practically foolproof. It’s made in one bowl, with all the
ingredients tossed in and mixed by hand, with a wooden spoon.

Camille’s Paradise Cake:

Whisk together in a large bowl:

2 cups all purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons freshly grated peeled ginger
root (or 1 teaspoon ground ginger)

2 teaspoons cinnamon

½ teaspoon nutmeg

Add in and mix by hand with a wooden spoon
until smooth:

1 ¾ cups sugar

1 cup natural vegetable oil (Wesson,
Crisco)

3 eggs

1 teaspoon good quality real vanilla
extract

Add and mix in:

1 cup shredded carrots

1 cup mashed bananas

1 8-ounce can crushed pineapple
(drained)

1 cup finely chopped nuts (macadamia,
walnut, or pecan -- whichever you prefer)

1 cup flaked coconut

Pour the batter into greased and floured
pan(s). Bake at 350 degrees. Cake is done when toothpick comes out
clean:

9” x 13” pan -- about 45-50 minutes

2 9” round cake pans -- about 30-35
minutes

Cupcake pan -- about 20-25 minutes

Camille’s Paradise Cake is delicious as is,
or dusted with confectioner’s sugar, but it is also a wonderful
cake when frosted. Use your favorite cream cheese or buttercream
frosting recipe, or you can try this one:

3 cups confectioner’s sugar

1 cup (2 sticks) of butter at room
temperature

1 teaspoon good quality real vanilla
extract

1-2 tablespoons whipping cream

In a bowl, beat together sugar and butter
with an electric mixer at low speed until blended. Increase speed
to medium and continue beating until smooth and fluffy, about three
minutes. Add in vanilla and whipping cream. Continue to beat for
one minute, until it has good spreading consistency. (If necessary,
add a little more cream.)

About The Author

Contact the author:
[email protected]

Author’s blog:
http://sarabartonmysteries.blogspot.com

Review me:

Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/sarambarton

Library Thing:
http://www.librarything.com/author/bartonsara

Connect with me:

Twitter: @bartonmysteries

Facebook fan page: sarabartonmysteries

Other books by Sara M. Barton:

Henry Hartman’s Holiday Crisis: An
Off-the-Books Mystery #1

Henry Hartman's Boondoggle Crisis: An
Off-the-Books Mystery #2