Trust Me

Marshall gave a snort as he shook his head. "I'll have a damn hard time thinking this is just a courtesy call, gentlemen. I've only just got settled here and now I have a new worry to think about. I also have a woman that I'm in a relationship with. What am I supposed to tell her?"

"Nothing!" both men said in unison. "This is not information that should be shared with anyone ... including your lady friend. Just be wary and aware, that's all we can suggest. It may be that you're not even on their radar, but it would be smart to be alert," Tabler said.

Marshall sighed, shaking his head once more. "Okay. I have to give this some thought. I can't recall anything that was unusual or attracted my attention since I moved here, but ... as you say ... it's smart to be wary."

"I'm sorry if we've caused you concern, but we couldn't just sit by and not keep you informed. At least now you know what happened to your late wife," Patrick said.

"Yeah ... have the Omaha police and Iowa State Patrol been told what you know?"

"No, they haven't," Patrick said. "That's deliberate. We don't know whose fingers might be on some of their people, so the fewer people that know, the better."

Again, Marshall shook his head. He was in a state of incredulity that he would never have imagined. What was he to do about Antoinette? How could he protect her from a threat when no one knew if it even existed? He knew this was going to prey on his mind for the foreseeable future.

Understandably, the visit by the FBI had genuinely upset him. If the danger was even possibly true, he knew that he couldn't allow Antoinette to be exposed to it. He debated numerous times breaking the confidence he promised and telling her what was going on, but each time he realized that wouldn't make her safer. In the end, he knew he had to break off their relationship.

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was the only way he could protect her. The real question rolling around in his mind was how to go about it and not badly hur her. That was just as difficult a problem as the decision itself. In the end, he had no choice but simply to tell her that their relationship was at an end. He dreaded the thought of how it would hurt her, but it had to be done.

Chapter 8 Sometimes a Plan Just Doesn't Work Out

Sgt. Marshall Tomlinson was one of the lucky ones. He'd served two tours in Afghanistan and had survived both with what he thought were minimal injuries. The scars he bore were reminders of the death and destruction that had been part of every day he spent in that godforsaken land. Emotionally, he was exhausted beyond anything he had ever experienced. Tension, noise from the gunfire, bullets hitting the fortifications, roadside bombs, mortar fire, and screams from the wounded combined to wear on him hour upon hour.

No amount of training prepared them for the chaos of warfare in this arid, bleak land. They weren't fighting a conventional enemy, but a guerrilla band of fanatical believers. There was no Geneva Convention in their training manual. Every action was a fight to the death and it mattered not if they fell to a bullet. They would get their reward in the afterlife. They were relentless and forced the US Marines to be at their best and bravest. There were no non-combatants. Men, women, and children all were a threat.

Yet, through it all Marshall survived. When his obligation ended, he left the corps and returned to his chosen profession, the law. He was a more mature and sober man for the experience. He had seen the best and worst of mankind and was relieved that he could once again resume a normal life. It was back to Waterloo to complete his law degree and Carolyn.

He and Carolyn had been together since his third year at Waterloo, and she had been faithful with her letters all through his deployment to Afghanistan. It seemed preordained that they would marry when he returned to complete his law degree. Looking back on it with the benefit of hindsight, Marshall recognized that he felt obligated to marry her. He convinced himself that he was in love with her and their marriage was the right thing for both of them. It wasn't quite the romantic version of love that he expected, but it was comfortable and convenient.

Carolyn Meldrum was an attractive woman. A little over 5' 6" and about 120 lbs, she was nice-looking if not beautiful. Their sex life was conventional and reasonably regular. There was no hint in her behavior that she was dissatisfied with Marshall in any way. He had a growing income and her job allowed her to buy the little luxuries that she had denied herself while he was gone. It seemed like an ideal marriage ... even if it lacked a little passion now and then.

Marshall had no illusions about what had driven her to seek another man. He had spent very little time with Carolyn while he committed himself to bettering his career. They had talked about the long hours of work he dedicated himself to and Carolyn said she understood and supported him. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow would be substantial and worth the sacrifices they made. It seemed she had changed her mind somewhere along the way.

All these thoughts were going around and around in his head as he pondered just how to tell Antoinette that he was breaking up with her. No matter how he visualize the conversation might go down, each of his various thoughts ended in heartache and pain. There was no way to do this gently or compassionately. It was going to hurt both of them and nothing he could say would make it palatable.

~*~

The look on Antoinette's face nearly broke Marshall's resolve. He was on the verge of taking it all back and trying to heal the wounds. It was too late.

Her voice was cracking with frustration and anger. "How can you just stand there and tell me that you can't ... won't ... see me any more?" she cried, tears trickling down her face in a steady stream. "You told me you loved me. You told me you wanted to marry me. Were those all lies?"

"No ... no ... they weren't lies. I meant every word. It's just that ... something's come up and I can't be with you any longer."

Even to Marshall is sounded pathetic.

"Now you listen to me, Marshall Tomlinson," she snapped, her anger more dominant now. "You can't just waltz into town and romance me and convince me that you're the guy I've been waiting for all my life ... and then just bail out. I want an explanation. I won't give up until I get one either."

The tone of her voice and the set of her posture convince Marshall she was deadly serious.

"I'm sorry, Antoinette. I can't tell you what's going on. I can't allow you to be put in harms way," he said, suddenly realizing what he'd said.

"Harms way? What the hell does that mean? Is this something to do with your wife ... her murder I mean?"

Her guess was very much on target and Marshall knew now that he had no choice by to tell her everything. She was never going to stop her interrogation until he did. He sighed in frustration and took a deep breath.

"The other day, two FBI agents visited me. They told me the strangest story about my late wife and how she had come to be killed," he began. Over the next twenty minutes, he relayed the story of his wife's secret life and the history of her family, and the possible danger ... however remote ... that he, Marshall Tomlinson, may be in the sights of the criminal organization that had executed all the possible witnesses.

Antoinette's anger had dissipated as he told the tale, replaced by shock and now ... concern.

"Is this true? Someone might be after you because they think you know something that might convict them?" she said, wide eyed.

"I'm not sure ... and neither is the FBI. It's been three years since Carolyn's ... or should I say Cynthia's murder. There hasn't been a hint that anyone is after me. It's no secret when I moved to and I haven't changed my name. If someone was after me, they'd have found me long ago. But ... I can't take the chance that if they were, you would be in danger as well. The guy my wife was sleeping with had nothing to do with any of this, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Antoinette had sat in a large wingback chair as Marshall spoke. She was completely stunned by his revelation. She didn't know whether to think she was in danger ... or was this some contrived story that Marshall had made up to justify breaking up with her. She decided she needed some proof.

"What are the names of the FBI agents who talked to you? I want to talk to them. This sounds like an invented story to me."

Marshall sighed and shook his head. "I wasn't supposed to tell you any of this and you have to swear you won't tell anyone else."

"What proof do you have that you're telling me the truth?" she demanded.

He shook his head before he remembered something. "They left me their cards. I'm supposed to phone them if I see anything unusual or suspicious."

He took his wallet out of his jacket and looked inside, extracting the two cards the agents had given him. He passed them to her.

Antoinette's eyes widened as she saw the cards, verifying that the agents had visited him. But she was still suspicious. She went to the kitchen, picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"FBI, Special Agent Tabler speaking."

"My name is Antoinette Betancourt and I'm the fiancée of Marshall Tomlinson. I understand you paid him a visit the other day. I've forced him to tell me what your meeting was all about and I just want to confirm that what he's told me is the truth."

"Ma'am, I can't discuss this on the phone with you. I have no way of knowing if you are who you say you are," Tabler said.

"Just tell me if you think Marshall is in any danger," she demanded.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Betancourt, I can't discuss anything about the case with you. If you are who you say you are, then I can assure you that Mr. Tomlinson was also told not to discuss the subject of our meeting with anyone ... including his fiancée. Does that tell you what you need to know?"

"I think so," she said thoughtfully. "Thank you for speaking with me."

"You're welcome, Miss. Remember, this case should not be discussed with anyone not associated with the FBI. Is that understood?"

"Yes ... yes ... of course. Thank you again," Antoinette said, hanging up the phone.

She turned to see Marshall leaning against the door frame, silently watching her and frowning.

"Satisfied?" he asked in a neutral voice.

She nodded. "I think so. It seems so strange. I thought you made it all up to give yourself an excuse for breaking up with me."

She walked to him and put her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry I got so angry," she offered quietly.

"I tried to think of a way that I could protect you that wouldn't cause us to break up, but none of them were realistic," he said, his arms now around Antoinette. "I know I hurt you and I didn't want that, but I couldn't think of any way that wouldn't be hurtful."

"It did hurt ... and I didn't want to accept it. I told you, I've waited all my adult life for the right man to come along. You are the chosen one, Marshall. I haven't changed my mind, and as I said to that agent on the phone, I am your fiancée. You've asked me to marry you and I am formally accepting your offer."

For the first time, Marshall could see a hint of a smile on her lips. It didn't last long because he quickly covered her lips with his. They held the kiss for some time before breaking slowly apart.

"I love you, Antoinette. I would never do anything to hurt you. What I did today was to protect you from harm. It did not mean that I didn't love you."

"I know that now," she murmured. "I was so afraid that I was losing you. I wasn't prepared for that. I was in shock when you told me. I'm just so relieved that it isn't going to happen."

"No ... it isn't. I have a ring at the house that I've been hoping to give you when you accepted my proposal, but that plan got blown to hell just like my other plan," he grinned. "Perhaps if we went there now, I could present it to you properly and make it official?"

She beamed her agreement and hugged him once more. "Let's go. There are other things we can do after the formal part."

"Agreed," he smiled before kissing her deeply.

~*~

"Do you think anyone will be surprised when you tell them?" Marshall asked as they lay in the afterglow of the lovemaking.

Antoinette was admiring the ring on her finger as she answered. "Nope. I've pretty well told everyone that you're the guy I've been waiting for. My parents will be happy for me, and my friends will be too."

"I'm glad. I'm the stranger in a strange land. I'm relieved that I've been accepted here in Ridgeview. But, to be honest, I never thought I'd find my soul mate here. I wasn't really even looking until that hot summer morning in town. I've had some time to think about you and how I feel about you ... and inevitably, I've compared you to Carolyn. It's not a fair comparison at all. I had no idea of what genuine love was until I met you. That's not some trite comment to make you feel good. I really do love you beyond what I ever expected."

She smiled and laid her arm across his chest. "Is that why you thought you should leave and it would protect me from harm?"

"Yes. How did that work out?" he snorted, not looking at her.

"It was never going to work out. I wouldn't let it. Marshall, you spent nearly three years in Afghanistan. You knew full well what danger was about. What were you thinking when you woke up each morning?" she wondered.

"I was celebrating ... briefly. I'd made it through another day. Would this be my last? There were only three possible outcomes each day. I could survive and live to sleep in my tent again, I could be wounded and end up in an Evac hospital, or I could be shipped home in a body bag. I learned early on not to allow myself to think that way. I had a job to do and I had a group of Marines to lead and protect. The chaos going on around us sharpened our senses and forced us to focus on getting through each day."

"And how do you feel about this possible threat that the FBI are trying to warn us about?" she asked.

"I don't know. I'll protect you at all costs, no matter what. But this isn't like Afghanistan. I don't know who the enemy is. I don't even know if they exist or that we're under any threat at all. I want you to be absolutely sure that being with me is what you want, Antoinette."

"I am absolutely sure," she said firmly, pulling him closer to her. "My intuition tells me that this is a very remote threat, and you know what they say about a woman's intuition."

"I hope your intuition holds true. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you," he said, rolling toward her and wrapping her into his arms.

Chapter 9 Suspicion

Antoinette was right. Their engagement was met with universal approval. Marshall was relieved and delighted with the genuine congratulations that he received. Ms. Betancourt was considered a catch that several suitors had found impossible to land. He also noticed her glow of happiness as she received the well wishes of the community. Their engagement was published in the local paper, alongside a photograph of the happy couple. Jules and Monique Betancourt were delighted that at long last their daughter had found happiness and would marry. Of course, the matter of grandchildren was raised.

"I'm glad you prepared me for that," a relieved Marshall said as they drove away from the Betancourt home toward their future home. "We hadn't got around to discussing children at all."

"Yes we did," she contradicted him. "I asked you if you wanted children and you said yes. That's all I really needed to know," she chuckled.

"Yeah, but we didn't say when or how many," he smirked.

"Well, I thought you handled that perfectly when you told mother that it was up to me, but whatever I decided was just fine with you."

"Well, in truth, that's exactly how I feel," he sighed. "It's your body and your future too. We haven't talked about your job, either. I'm probably making a mistake in assuming you'll want to continue to work for now."

"A good assumption," she grinned. "I think two children would be perfect, as long as we had one of each."

"What if we only have boys ... or girls?" he wondered.

She shrugged. "We'll deal with that if and when it happens."

"Huh. You've got this all worked out in your mind, have you?" he asked with smirk.

"I've been thinking about this day long before I met you. I held out a long time for the right guy to come along, Marshall. You are the chosen one and I couldn't be happier that I've found you in time to have a family."

"Huh! I'm the pick of the litter, am I?"

"Definitely!" she laughed.

~*~

When Marshall was in Afghanistan, he learned to pay attention to his senses. Sometimes it was when things were quiet and seemingly the enemy had decided to take a day off. But there were times when the hair on the back of his neck stood up, sensing that something wasn't quite right. Those occurrences had saved his life and the lives of his men on more than one occasion. Two months after their June wedding, that old feeling returned. He'd learned not to ignore it, but to look around and see what it was that made him uncomfortable.

It took him a couple of days before he realized he was being followed. He never actually saw who it was, but he was aware of a nondescript late model car that appeared in his rear view mirror more than a couple of times. The car would disappear and then reappear as he neared his home. It would sometimes be parked not far from his office. The windows were tinted enough that he couldn't get a good description of the man in the driver's seat. It was a man, he was certain, but that was about all he was certain of.

"Special Agent Tabler, speaking," he heard when the phone was answered.

"This is Marshall Tomlinson, Agent Tabler. I thought I should call you about a suspicious person who seems to be following me."

"Oh? Can you describe the person?"

"No. I've only spotted him in his car and the windows are tinted enough that I can't make out a decent description of him."

"Can you give me some information on the car itself?"

"Yes ... it's a late model Ford Fusion, silver in color, with Oregon plates. I think the license number is 808 JQR."

"Okay, don't worry about it. It's one of our people and they are keeping an eye on you. We've had some more activity from the organization in Detroit and we're just making sure they aren't out here. I have a report that no one is tailing you at present other than our man. You're pretty observant. You weren't supposed to notice him."

"This is a small town and my time in the big sandbox taught me to keep my head on a swivel. He is trying to go unnoticed, but I picked him up about three days ago."

"Well, that's about how long he's been assigned. It looks like we're going to have to send him back to surveillance school," Tabler chuckled.

"Yeah ... I suppose so. Well, I'll still be watching and if I see anything that arouses my suspicions, I'll call you," Marshall promised.

"Good. That's what we want you to do. Stay alert," Tabler said before signing off.

Marshall hung up the phone and pondered Tabler's comment about "more activity in Detroit," wondering just what that meant. He rose and went to his laptop and used Google to search for "Detroit crime." The screen was flooded with hits. It was going to take forever to weed through them. He sat back and then revised his search to "Money Laundering Court Case" to see if that narrowed things down. It did.

He stared at the screen, finding a comprehensive coverage of arrests of a number of known criminals and some otherwise upstanding citizens in a massive money laundering scheme. It was related to drug money, of course. The amounts were staggering if the story was to be believed. More worrisome was the notation that a number of key witnesses and some of the suspects had either disappeared or had met an untimely death. There was no mention of the death of Carolyn/Cynthia in the story.