Defending the Eyewitness. Rachel Lee
head a little, as if she could shake off the memory. It wouldn’t entirely shake away, though. “They must have wondered what they were getting into. I was placed with a family and I was terrified of the father. I hid a lot. When my grandmother came for me, they had to pry me out of the back of a closet.”
He swore quietly. “Is your aunt still around?”
“No. She died of leukemia seven years ago. Grandma passed five years ago.”
“Your father?”
“I never knew who he was.”
“Damn,” he muttered. “I have more family than I know what to do with. I can’t imagine not having any.”
“I can’t imagine having a huge family.”
“Maybe you’ve created one here. As I was out and about today, people wanted to know a little about me. When I explained I was rooming with you, I heard all about your sewing circles. You seem to be quite a social center in your shop. So you’ve got a family. Not blood family, but still.”
She felt herself smiling at last. “That’s how I think of them.”
“And look at it this way,” he said, leaning forward a little bit, “you aren’t stuck with the ones who drive you crazy.”
“Are you?”
“Of course. I can’t be rude to Tío Reynaldo just because he’s obnoxious. Not allowed.”
She laughed. “Do you really think I could be rude to anyone in this little town?”
His smile widened and she almost caught her breath. My word, this man was attractive. Extremely so. His smile seemed to draw her in and make her heart skip a few beats.
“Well, you probably could,” he said. “Just like I could be rude to Reynaldo. But there’d be hell to pay.”
“It sure wouldn’t help my business.”
He laughed. “There’s a downside to family. I could share some of mine with you.”
“Starting with Reynaldo?” she asked archly. Amazement filled her as she realized how easily he had changed the subject and her mood. Relaxation replaced nervousness, and while she hadn’t quite made up her mind, she rather thought that having Austin around for a while might not be bad at all.
“Of course starting with Reynaldo,” he agreed. He glanced at his watch, a battered and inexpensive brand. “I need to get to the grocery. I picked up some clothes earlier, but I didn’t shop for food. They close at six today, right?”
“Right.” She glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. “You’re running out of time. Why don’t I drive you over there. I can show you where everything is.” She surprised herself by making the offer, then realized she felt good about it. A major step forward.
“Will you be all right with that?”
She nodded. “Let’s go. I need a few things, too.”
Chapter 3
The man sat at the old computer. It didn’t always work right anymore, but he had little use for it. He had begun to while away his evenings by composing messages in green letters on a black screen. He had known the first one he had decided to send would probably not bother the woman at all, but he was in no rush. These things needed careful planning.
Besides, he was going to have fun watching as the messages became increasingly troubling for her. He knew she didn’t remember. She didn’t need to remember until he reminded her. He liked knowing that he was in on a secret and she wasn’t.
He’d been watching her for a few years now. At first, he hadn’t thought much about it because she was so young, but now she was old enough that she should have dated someone, and if that had happened, he would have heard about it. Those things weren’t secret in Conard County.
So she spent all her time with women. All of it. Her preference was unmistakable. The more he watched her, the more convinced he became that she was just like her mother. What was more, she’d quit going to church right after her grandmother had died. There could be no other reason for that change.
He’d had a brief moment of doubt when that man moved in with her, but then he’d watched through the window of the shop and had seen that woman hug her and kiss her.
There was no longer any question. She was what she was, and eliminating her revolting presence from this world had become imperative.
Cleansing was imperative, and this was his mission. He had no delusion that he could get rid of them all, but he could get rid of some of them.
Her mother had been a start. He had come back here thinking that was all he needed to do. But then her daughter had grown up and he’d begun to feel the irritation again. That woman shouldn’t be walking the same streets with decent folk. It wasn’t right.
But he wanted her to know what was coming. He wanted her to fear it. He wanted her to feel the trap closing in on her.
Because as he’d already discovered, the killing was too swift and too kind for someone so evil.
* * *
Empathy. It always struck Austin as a crazy descriptor for someone who could go successfully undercover, but at the start of this journey the psychologists had assured him it was essential. Part of being undercover meant being able to identify with the reasoning and motivations of the people you were investigating. Walking in their shoes, as it were.
Well, he’d walked in their shoes for six years, and the results had left him with an internal mess. Yeah, he’d identified, all right. He’d understood. Clinging to his own values had sometimes become extremely difficult.
Had those psychologists even considered that part? Probably not. He’d not only walked the walk and talked the talk but he’d become one of them, all the while trying not to break the law or kill anyone. In that business, it was a dicey proposition.
He sure wouldn’t be the first person to get so messed up by undercover work that he had to walk away. Austin still hadn’t made up his mind about that. He’d never go covert again, but he wondered if he’d fit any other capacity.
He still often felt that he was on a spaceship, having departed one place, awaiting his arrival at his destination. Almost like being in suspended animation. Sooner or later, he was sure he would land. He just wondered where it would be.
He was troubled by Corey, though. It seemed to him her healing may have been truncated by her inability to remember, but he sure wouldn’t wish those memories on anyone.
He understood her problem with men, though. Completely. It wasn’t just empathy, either. After all, he’d been shot at on two occasions by fellow agents who had no idea he was on their side, and then he’d been left in that rat-infested cell being beaten by the Federales until they managed to identify him and yank him out. He wasn’t feeling too fond of his fellow agents these days.
He could have gone home to San Antonio, but that was too close to the border, too close to the culture he was trying to shake away. Right now he needed to get his feet firmly planted in Anglo soil, his head firmly planted in this world.
As for his family...he didn’t know exactly what the agency had been telling them all these years, except that he was alive and okay—okay being a relative term. They did know he was doing something highly secret, but after six years they must be wondering where the hell he had gone.
He supposed he ought to write or call, but something in him held him back. Maybe it was knowing they’d inevitably pressure him to come home, and he just wasn’t ready to do that yet.
So he focused his attention on Corey. He doubted he could help her, and he wasn’t a good bet for much these days. He’d discovered a streak of paranoia in himself that wouldn’t quit. It had made sense during the operation, but now? He couldn’t trust. He hadn’t even really trusted