The Marshal Pt. 07

"What?" Rob could hear the confusion in the chief's voice. "You want us to watch her? For what?"

"I don't have time to explain it all to you right now, but I have reason to believe her life might be in danger. This is just a precaution. I just need you to sit on her until I can get there."

"Sure, Rob. You'll explain this all to me when you get here?"

"Yes. Thanks, Hank. I owe you one."

Rob hung up, switched off the car, and walked into the station. Tom was standing just inside the door.

"Who'd want to kill Joel?" Tom asked the moment Rob opened the door. "That's why you wanted his address, isn't it? You suspected something happened to him."

"I didn't know, but I had reason to suspect something may have happened to him when he didn't show up at work this morning. As for why, I can't reveal that. What I need from you is for you to look at your personnel files and tell me if Britney Hadley's file is missing or has been tampered with."

"Britney? Were Britney and Joel mixed up in something illegal?"

"No, nothing of the sort. The files, Mr. Gilliam? It's important that I move quickly."

Rob followed Tom into the office he was in earlier that morning. Tom quickly opened a drawer and thumbed through the files. "Why am I doing this?" he asked as he pulled a file out.

"Mr. Egger's keys appear to be missing. I suspect whoever killed him took them and came here for that file," Rob said, pointing at the folder.

"That explains the false alarm this morning."

"False alarm?"

"Something tripped the burglar alarm this morning about 2 am. All the doors were locked, and nothing appeared to be broken or stolen, so I thought it was just a false alarm. You know, something went wrong with the system." He looked at the file. "I don't see anything missing or out of place, but then, I'm not sure I would."

"Is Ms. Hadley's address in that file?"

"Yes."

Rob nodded briskly. "Thank you, Mr. Gilliam. You've been very helpful."

"Can't you tell me what's going on?"

Rob shook his head. "No. For your own safety, the less you know, the better."

"But Britney is mixed up in it?"

Again, Rob shook his head. "No. She's an innocent victim, just like Mr. Egger. Thank you for your cooperation."

Rob turned and hurried out of the station. He had to assume Joel talked. He might not have known their address, but he knew where it could be found. Rob couldn't blame the man if he told whoever was threatening him everything he knew in a desperate attempt to save his life. Too bad it hadn't worked.

Rob threw himself into the car, started it, and roared backwards out of the parking space, flipping on the lights as he did. After the car rocked to a stop, he yanked it into drive and buried the throttle. He was almost an hour from Wurth, but was going to be there in forty-five minutes or less.

He was hauling ass, the speedometer hovering between ninety and one hundred when his phone rang. He'd only used the siren to punch holes in the traffic, but the emergency strobes were still flashing even though he was well outside Bangor. He began to slow, waiting until the speedometer fell below seventy before picking up the phone.

"Cogburn."

"Rob? I'm here," Britney said.

He allowed the cruiser to slow more, settling in at a more reasonable sixty-five. "I'm on my way. I'll see you soon. Love you."

"Love you too."

"Anything you want to tell me, Ms. Hadley?" Police Chief Henry Willoughby asked as Britney sat in a comfortable chair in his office. She'd just hung up from talking to Rob.

She shook her head. "No. Better to let Rob explain when he gets here. He's on his way."

Hank looked at her and twisted his mouth to the side in clear annoyance. He obviously didn't like being kept in the dark. "Somebody had better give me some damned answers."

"I'm sure Rob will explain it all to you when he gets here." Rob and the Wurth Police Department were on a first name basis. They respected his opinion since he was U.S. Deputy Marshal and part of the thin blue line.

Hank harrumphed as he leaned back in his chair, but he didn't press further. Britney had met the chief one other time, when she and Rob had bumped into the chief and his wife on the street. She'd learned that he'd been a police officer in Wurth, in one capacity or another, for over forty years, and now, like then, he reminded her of a kindly grandfather with his silver hair and glasses.

She'd parked her car in the parking lot beside the police station and hurried in. The officers were expecting her, and she was quickly ushered into Chief Willoughby's office. Wurth wasn't a big city, or even a big town, but she didn't think Kwang-hoon's hired guns would be stupid enough to try to storm even a small-town police station, even if they knew she was there.

She sat in an uncomfortable silence as they waited for Rob to arrive. When she saw Hank perk up, she turned in her chair to look through the large window that allowed the chief to see into the station, peeking around the star and the words Wurth Police Department that adorned the glass. Rob was shutting the door from the street as she rose and hurried to him. He took her into his arms and held her for a long moment before letting her go.

"Mind telling me what's going on?" Hank grumbled, following her out.

"In your office," Rob replied. They entered Hank's office and Rob shut the door as Hank waved to the guest chairs. "First, thanks for doing this." Hank nodded as the three sat. "What I'm about to tell you has to stay in this office, understood?"

Hank nodded again. "Got it. Rob, what the fuck is going on?" Hank demanded, then glanced at her. "Pardon the language."

"Britney's name isn't, well, wasn't Britney Hadley. She's under federal witness security protection."

"Wait. What? You mean this woman is in witness protection?"

Rob bobbed his head. "That's right."

"Who is she? Wait! Don't tell me. I don't need to know." He looked at Rob a long moment. "Wait. Wait just a minute. You're marrying a woman who's in the witness protection program?"

"That's right."

"And you know who she is, who she was?"

"I'm her handler."

Hank blinked at her, his eyes darting back and forth between them. "And the feds are okay with this?"

Rob squirmed a little. "Let's just say that I've gotten a special dispensation. When we were here last summer, for those three months, I brought her here to keep her safe while the U.S. attorney put his case together."

Hank's eyes narrowed. "And you didn't think my department needed to know this?"

Rob shook his head. "No. Britney's done nothing illegal. She's no different than any other person living in Wurth, and we're living outside your jurisdiction anyway."

"Except she's in the witness protection program. Why?"

"Because she testified against some very bad men. Now I think they've located her."

"Dammit, Rob! I don't want a war starting here! You should have told me! Does Scott know?"

"I'm telling you now, and no, Scott doesn't know. Until a few of hours ago, nobody knew where she was. They may still not. This is purely precautionary."

"Who are these men?"

"I don't know. I assume they're from the Korean Mob out of New York."

Hank watched her a moment before his eyes widened. "Holy shit! She's Han Bo-bae, isn't she? You're Han Bo-bae!" Britney looked down, her face burning in shame. "Pardon the language," he said again after a moment's pause.

"Yes," Rob replied.

Hank stared at her a long time, but she couldn't hold his intense gaze. "That's a hell of a thing you did, young lady. A hell of a thing. Very brave," he finally said.

"Thank you," she muttered.

Hank's gaze went back to Rob. "You should have trusted me."

"Maybe... but what's done is done."

Hank held Rob's steady gaze for a moment. "Yeah, I guess I can see your reasons. The more people that know, the bigger the chance the secret will leak. How many guys are we talking about?"

"I don't know that either."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get her out of town. I'll put her up in a motel in Bangor. We're too isolated at the house if they know where we live."

"Are you taking her now?" Hank asked. She couldn't tell if he was hopeful she was leaving town or not.

"I'm going to take her home first, get her some clothes packed, but yeah, we're bugging out."

"Like you said, it's out of my jurisdiction, but do you want me to send a car with you? They might think twice if a marked cruiser is parked in your drive."

"No. Thanks for the offer, but I don't want to draw attention. I'm hoping to slip in and slip out without anyone noticing... assuming anyone is even watching."

"So you don't know she's in danger?"

"Not certain, no. A man she works with was killed last night. He figured out who she was. I have to assume he talked before they killed him. Also, there was a break in at the radio station where they worked. Nothing was taken, but they could have gotten her address from the files there."

"You know this guy was killed because he knew who she was?"

"Not certain, no. It doesn't appear robbery was a motive, and he was shot once in the head, execution style."

Hank's lips curled in disgust. Her understanding was there hadn't been a murder in Wurth in years.

"That's doesn't sound good, but this could all be for nothing?" Hank asked.

"God, I hope so," Rob replied.

Hank sighed heavily and scrubbed furiously at his chin with a weather-beaten hand. "You sure you don't want me to send a car with you?"

"No. That will raise too many questions. If this turns out to be nothing, I'd like to keep those to a minimum."

"As opposed to her bursting in here after you calling and telling us to keep an eye on her?"

Rob snorted and smiled. "Yeah, well, I had limited options. I'll leave you to square that with the rest of the officers. You can tell them I've lost my mind, it was a joke, or whatever. I'll back whatever play you make, but it's important we keep who she is, who she was, between us. You know how gossipy this town is."

Hank nodded, his gaze far away. After a moment his eyes refocused on her. "Yeah, okay. I'll tell them that something spooked you. You saw a guy with a rifle. Being a city girl and all, you didn't understand it was probably just a hunter trespassing. It's bear season after all."

Rob began nodding before Hank finished speaking. "Yeah. It covers all the bases. Since I didn't know what was going on, I sent her to you. That's good. Thanks, Hank."

Hank looked at her. "You seem like a nice girl, and I admire what you did. That took real guts. We'll make sure nothing happens to you."

She had a sudden intense urge to cry that he wasn't judging her or holding what Rob and she'd done against her. "Thank you. I'm sorry I've been lying to you."

Hank waved away her apology. "I guess if the State of Maine says you're Britney Hadley, then as far as I'm concerned, you're Britney Hadley."

She sniffed, fighting her tears. "Thank you."

Hank looked at Rob. "Anything else?"

"No. Thanks, Hank... for everything."

"Go on. Get out of here. If something happens, call. We can be there faster than the sheriff. Scott and I are on good terms, so I can square it with him."

Rob nodded as he rose, extending his hand across the desk. "I will, but I hope it won't come to that."

Hank stood as well and accepted the offered hand. "I hope not too." He turned his gaze to her. "And you, young lady... you take care of yourself. I will take it personally if something happens to you. You're part of the Wurth family now, and we take care of our own here."

It took every ounce of her self-control to not cry. "Thank you," she mumbled.

Hank opened his office door for them, and Rob and Britney walked briskly across the office. "Into the Dodge," Rob said, stepping out onto the sidewalk ahead of her and leading her around the side of the building to the parking lot.

"What about my car?"

"We'll worry about that later. Where's your pistol?"

"Still in the car."

He opened the passenger door of the Dodge and she settled inside, his hand resting on her head to protect it. "Keys," he said, holding his hand out.

She fished her keys out of her purse and dropped them into his hand. He shut the door, walked quickly to her Subaru, and returned a moment later, her pistol and holster in his hand. He handed her the weapon as he slid in under the steering wheel. She dropped the sidearm into her purse.

"Who's Scott?" She asked as he started the car.

"Scott?"

"Hank said he could square it with Scott if he sent someone to our place and asked you if Scott knew."

"Oh. Scott Troxler. He's the Piscataquis County Sheriff."

She felt like everything was coming unraveled. "What's going to happen?" she asked as he pulled out of the parking lot and turned toward home.

"Like I told Hank. We're going to pack you some clothes and I'm going to put you in a motel in Bangor until I can sort this out."

"But after that?"

"I don't know. We may have to move you again."

"And what about us?" she asked softly.

He reached over and put his hand on hers. "We may have to be apart for a while, but once you get settled in, I'll come to you."

"But what about your job? What if they won't let you move?"

He squeezed my hand. "They can't stop me."

"You'd quit?"

"If I have to. I don't think it'll come to that, but if it does, I can always find a position with some other police department."

"You'd do that? You like being a marshal."

He glanced at her and then turned his eyes back to the road. "Of course I'd do that. You're my wife, or will be. Did you think I wouldn't?"

She squeezed his hand in return. "I don't want to move. I love it here."

"I don't want you to, either, but we may not have a choice. Before we get in a panic, let's see how this plays out. It's possible this is all a bunch of nothing."

"You don't believe that."

His lips thinned. "No."

They turned into the drive and pulled straight into the garage. She started to open her door, but he grabbed her hand and held her until the rumbling garage door thumped into the fully down position. He released her hand and she stepped out of the car.

"Get together enough clothes for a week," he said as they stepped into the house.

They quickly walked to their bedroom. "Will you stay with me?" she asked. She didn't like the quiver she heard in her voice, but the thought of being separated from him was upsetting her.

"Of course."

"I fucking hate Kwang-hoon," she growled as she began throwing underwear onto the bed. "Now I wish I'd never testified against him. I wish I'd fucking killed him instead."

"You don't mean that," he said as he appeared from the closet with a suitcase.

"I do!"

"Then you'd be in jail and I'd... get down!" he yelled, dropping the suitcase before running the last two or three steps, and jerking her roughly to the floor.

She cried out in pain as her knees and elbows collided with the hard, wood floor. Rob was partially covering her with his body. "What?" she gasped.

He began crabbing backwards off her. "Stay as low as you can and follow me," he said as he scooted along the floor until he was beside the bed.

She slithered along the floor until she was beside him. "Rob! What? What's going on?" she cried, her rising panic clear in her voice.

"I thought I saw a flash of light in the trees across the lake. It may have been nothing, but it might have been sunlight reflecting off a rifle scope." She stupidly started to rise to peek over the bed, but Rob jerked her down before she could expose her head. "Not a good idea."

The front of their house was full of glass. What normally gave them a beautiful view of the lake was now an opening for a sniper. In her mind's eye, she imagined what Rob saw. To have a clear shot through one of the windows, and not be in a boat, the sniper would have to be a long way away.

"Can he hit us from so far away?" she whispered.

"I don't know. I wouldn't want to take the chance," Rob said, his voice strained but at normal volume. Why was she whispering? It wasn't like the gunman could hear them. Rob pulled his phone out of his pocket, hoping against hope. "Shit," he muttered.

Her phone was in her purse, which was on the dresser and out of reach, but it didn't matter. Her phone wouldn't have a signal either. Unless their phones were right by the windows overlooking the lake, or outside, they didn't work, but to stand in either place now to call for help could prove to be a death sentence.

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to sit tight for the moment." He paused. "Don't move."

"Where are you going?" she gasped, grabbing his arm tight.

"To get your purse. It'll be okay."

He pried her fingers off his arm and slid along the floor on his stomach. She watched, peeking around the end of the bed. When he reached the end of the dresser, he rolled to his side, reached up, and grabbed blindly until he found her purse. He pulled it off and slid back along the floor until he was beside her again. He pulled out her pistol and phone before shoving the rest of the purse aside. He handed the items to her.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Now, we wait."

After a few minutes, they relocated to the closet, scooting along the floor to safety. At least the highly polished floors made it easy to slide around. There were no windows in the closet, and so long as they didn't stand in the doorway, they were safe from the potential sniper. That gave them the ability to sit more comfortably or stand and pace around to work out the kinks, as they felt like it.

Rob sat with his back against the wall so that he had a clear shot of the door from the bedroom. The plan was they'd wait until dark and make a break for it on foot. Rob was certain there was more than one man gunning for them, and they didn't dare try to escape during daylight. He was confident the only reason they weren't dead was they hadn't stopped moving. The rifleman was so far away it would take enough time for the bullet to reach them after he pulled the trigger that if his target wasn't still, at least for a moment, he might not be able to make a kill shot, especially having to target them in profile. Because the walls blocked his aim most of the time, he hadn't been able to acquire his target with any confidence. He wanted to be sure of his first shot because if he missed, he'd have tipped his hand. Not that it mattered now. He'd been too cautious and Rob had spotted him.

If what Rob had seen was actually an assassin and not something innocent, like the sun glinting off a ripple in the lake, or maybe someone with binoculars. The problem was, there was no way to know until the sniper, if there was one, took his shot.

If the sniper had a partner, he was almost certainly in closer and watching the house, waiting for them to appear. Rob didn't think he'd be able to back out of the garage and turn the car around before a gunman could start filling the car with holes, especially since the drive and parking pad were gravel, which would prevent the car from accelerating quickly. The goons, if they existed, had them boxed in, and she and Rob knew it.

At least they had access to water and a bathroom. She sat propped against the wall as the house gradually darkened. Since nothing had happened, she silently questioned if Rob was being overly cautious.

After seven hours sitting in the closet, she had become terribly fidgety, but there was nothing they could do to pass the time except talk, and even that was difficult. Rob was so focused on the door he answered mostly with monosyllabic grunts. It was twilight, so it wouldn't be much longer now, thank God. She was almost ready to take her chances with the sniper if she didn't have to sit on the hard floor in the closet anymore.