With the Material Witness in the Safehouse. Carla Cassidy
She didn’t remember that they had become lovers…
When Ryan stepped back into the room, Britta’s head was turned towards the window and a shaft of sunlight shone on her platinum hair. His fingers itched, remembering the silkiness of those strands.
She didn’t remember him. Somehow her mind had erased the last seven months. That meant she didn’t remember the shooting she’d witnessed. She had no memory of being a material witness, living her life before the trial in a safehouse with him as her handler.
And she definitely didn’t remember that because their relationship had once been far more than FBI agent and witness, he’d had to let her go.
Or that it had killed him to do so…
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Britta Jakobsen – She was missing for days and now suffers from amnesia. Is there something in the beautiful blonde’s hidden memory worth murdering for?
Ryan Burton – The FBI agent isn’t sure he wants Britta to get her memories back.
Captain Claybourne – Does the fisherman know more than he’s telling about Britta’s disappearance?
Mayor Perry Wells – A grieving father who raises suspicions with his unusual actions.
Hazel Baker – She senses the evil enveloping the town. Is she a part of that evil?
Michael Kelly – Why did he bring Britta to the strange fishing village of Raven’s Cliff?
Camille Wells – She was blown off the bluff on her wedding day and remains lost at sea.
Grant Bridges – His fiancée Camille disappeared on their wedding day. What is his connection?
Patrick Swanson – The chief of police knows all too well about the curse on his small town.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels. In 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from Romantic Times BOOKreviews.
Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.
With the Material Witness in the Safehouse
CARLA CASSIDY
Chapter One
Happy is the bride that the sun shines on. If that was the case, then Camille Wells was going to be one unhappy bride, Ryan Burton thought as he stood among a huge crowd of people gathered on the rocky bluffs of Raven’s Cliff, Maine.
The dismal gray sky seemed to plunge right down to the frothing water of the coastline below. A stiff breeze blew everyone’s hair askew and the female guests held on to their skirts.
Beneath the hum of conversation among the attendees was the ever-present thunder of the waves crashing against the rocky shoreline. Despite the fact that it was early May the air held an oppressive closeness broken only by wind gusts, which had been strong enough to decimate the floral arrangements long ago.
Ryan had arrived in the small fishing village that morning with a specific job to accomplish, and that job had nothing to do with attending some fancy wedding ceremony. But when he’d discovered it was the mayor’s daughter getting married, and everyone who was anyone would be there, he’d wrangled an invite from the innkeeper when he’d checked in.
Maybe somebody here knew something about her disappearance. Ryan tried to ignore the tension that knotted in his chest as he thought of the woman he’d come here to find.
Britta Jakobsen was supposed to have begun work as a housekeeper at the inn four days ago. According to the innkeeper, Hazel Baker, Britta had checked in and gone to her room and hadn’t been seen since.
Later today he was to speak with Michael Kelly, the FBI agent in charge of relocating Britta here. To the FBI, Britta Jakobsen was a witness who had fingered a number of bad guys who’d been in a shoot-out that had taken place in Boston six months before.
The shoot-out had not only involved local thugs but also police and FBI agents. It had resulted in the death of one of their own, and the FBI had leaned hard on Britta for her cooperation.
There had already been one attempt on her life, resulting in her being placed in the Witness Protection Program and relocated to this small Maine fishing village.
And now she was missing.
“Ugly day for a wedding.” The deep voice brought Ryan out of his thoughts.
He looked at the barrel-chested bald man standing next to him and nodded. “I’ve definitely seen better.” As if to punctuate his sentence, a fierce wind gust nearly blew him back a step, and the scent of brine became stronger.
“Don’t believe I’ve seen you around these parts before.” The man’s hazel eyes held both a wealth of intelligence and more than a touch of curiosity. “Friend of the bride or the groom?”
“Neither,” Ryan admitted. “I checked into the inn this morning and Hazel invited me to come out for the wedding. She mentioned these bluffs are the best place to get a look at that.” He pointed to the old lighthouse that rose up in the distance. “Hazel told me it’s the stuff of local legends.”
The well-built man offered a small smile. “Hazel is our resident kook. Don’t let her fill your head with nonsense. Is that a touch of Texas I hear in your voice?”
Ryan eyed him in surprise. “It is. Born and raised there.”
The man held out a hand. “I’m Patrick Swanson, Chief of Police.”
Ryan wasn’t surprised. The man definitely had the aura of power and authority. He took the proffered hand, and the two men shook. “Ryan Burton, nice to meet you.”
“So, what brings you to Raven’s Cliff, Ryan Burton?”
Ryan couldn’t very well tell him he was in town undercover to find an important material witness who had gone missing. The last thing they wanted was any kind of publicity. “I’ve heard the fishing is good in these parts.”
He wasn’t sure yet how to handle things with the authorities here in Raven’s Cliff. He’d had to tell Hazel that he’d come to look for Britta because Britta had gone missing from the inn. He was banking on the hope that Hazel wouldn’t want anyone to know that a woman had disappeared from the inn under strange circumstances. It wasn’t good for publicity.
“The locals are pulling in record breakers lately. I’ve never seen fish so big,” Patrick replied.
Ryan nodded absently and gazed around at the group, wondering who among the guests might know something about the woman he sought. Again a fist knotted in the pit of his stomach. To the FBI Britta was a material witness, but to him, she had once been far more.
He focused back on Patrick, who was pointing out the town notables to him. There was Mayor Perry Wells and his wife, Beatrice, and standing nearby was Rick Simpson, the mayoral aide.
The prospective groom, Grant Bridges, was also the assistant district attorney and stood impatiently at the altar that had been set up precariously close to the edge of the bluff.
“I’m going to see if I can find out what’s holding up the ceremony,” Patrick said. With a nod he left Ryan standing alone.
This was probably a waste of time, Ryan thought. He’d tried to question several people immediately upon arriving in town, but the one thing he’d discovered