Witness Protection Widow (Winchester, Tn. Book 5) Page 9

  Once they were on the paved road and moving along at a faster speed, she relaxed. She’d pinned her hair up and back in a makeshift twist this morning. She rarely wore it that way, but it was important not to look like her usual self.

  No matter that she had prepared for the trial, trepidation was building inside her. She tried to tamp it down, but there was no holding it back. In forty-eight hours, she would have the opportunity to tell the world just how evil the Armone family was. Truly, viciously evil. She wanted to do this. Nothing outside of a bullet to her brain would stop her.

  But that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared.

  Of course, she said this to no one.

  Jax rolled to a stop at the Highway 64 intersection. He reached across to the glove box, and she found herself holding her breath again. He popped it open and pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

  “Put these on.”

  She accepted the eyewear and slid it into place. “Thank you.”

  The half hour that followed was thick with tension and silence. He drove around, bypassing Winchester proper. The road they were on now felt like a tunnel through a dense wood. Traffic was light. School buses were already off the roads. The other time she’d gone to Nashville, it had only taken ninety or so minutes but Marshal Holloway had taken the interstate. This would likely take a lot more time. But they had plenty.

  She closed her eyes and allowed his scent to envelop her. After ten years how was it she could recall the scent of him so precisely? Whatever aftershave he wore, it was subtle. Earthy like amber, with the slightest hint of something sweet like honey. She’d loved the smell and taste of his skin. They had been so young—all they wanted to do was get lost in each other.

  He was her first love, her first in every way.

  Her eyes opened, and she forced away the memories. Not a good idea to get lost in those.

  “Do you have any questions or concerns about today?”

  She dared to turn her head to study his profile. Those lean, angular features tugged at her. The swell of his lips, the straightness of his nose. High cheekbones. His thick hair fell over his forehead. How many times had she seen that face in her dreams?

  She blinked, faced forward. What was wrong with her this morning? “No.”

  He was doing his job, not trying to make conversation. He had made that very clear last night.

  Could she blame him for not understanding how she came to be Mrs. Harrison Armone? Not really.

  I guess you had to be there.

  Last night she had decided not to pursue trying to make him understand. This was her burden to carry. The idea of him feeling the way he did about her forevermore was painful, but she had no power to control his feelings. She could only control her own, and she had spent far too much time as a prisoner to someone else’s desires and demands. She would not be a prisoner any longer.

  “We’ll stop just before we arrive in Nashville for a break.”

  He didn’t ask if she was good with that, simply made the statement. To her way of thinking, a response was not required.

  She closed her eyes and rested her head against the seat.

  It was time to think about the future. For months she had feared she wouldn’t have a future. Finally she could see the tiniest flicker of light at the end of the tunnel. Why not make a plan just in case she did survive?

  * * *

  THE TELECONFERENCE WAS scheduled in the Estes Kefauver Federal Building on Ninth Avenue South, only steps from Broadway and countless legendary country music spots, like the Ryman Auditorium and the Country Music Hall of Fame.

  Rather than park in the designated parking area, Jax drove over a street and parked in the lot of a huge church. From there he called an Uber that would take them right up to the door. Considering only half a dozen people—people he knew—were aware of this meeting, he hoped he didn’t have to worry about a leak, but he wasn’t taking the risk.

  Ali had answered the few questions he had when they started out, but she hadn’t said a word otherwise. He’d said too much last night. That he’d felt tremendously guilty only minutes later made no difference, since he’d opted not to apologize. In forty-eight hours, this assignment would be over. He could manage two more days without running his mouth off again.

  He’d received the color and make of the vehicle as well as a picture of the driver when he made the reservation, so he spotted the tan-colored sedan when it turned into the parking lot. He allowed the driver to go past their position before getting out. Since he drove slowly, Jax was able to identify him.

  “That’s our ride. Don’t get out until I’m at your door.”

  He climbed out and went around to the passenger side of the car. After surveying the area, he opened her door and she emerged. He hit the lock button for his SUV and waved down the Uber driver.

  Once they were in the sedan, Jax leaned forward and said, “We’ve changed our mind about where we want to go.”

  In the rearview mirror, Jax watched the guy’s eyebrows lift in question.

  “Estes Kefauver Federal Building. Ninth Avenue entrance.” He passed the man a fifty.

  The driver shrugged. “Works for me.”

  The walk would have only been two blocks, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to maintain some semblance of cover until they reached the entrance.

  Jax scanned the street in both directions, the sidewalks. He watched to ensure no vehicles were braking near where they wanted to get out. All they had to do was get out of the car on the passenger side and hustle across fifteen or so feet of sidewalk.

  When the car stopped the driver asked, “You need an updated receipt?”

  “No, thanks.” Jax opened the door and climbed out.

  He scanned the street and sidewalk again and then motioned for Ali to get out, as well. Once she was out of the car, he shoved the door shut and rushed her across the span of sidewalk and through the doors.

  Once they were beyond the security checkpoint, he relaxed. The third floor was their destination. Ali stopped him before they reached the elevators.

  “I’d like to find the ladies’ room.”

  He nodded. “This way.”

  A short corridor right off the lobby led to the restrooms. He stopped her before she pushed through the door.

  “I need to check it out first.”

  She started to argue but then shook her head.

  Keeping her close to his side, he pushed the door open and shouted, “Hello! Anyone in here?”

  He waited three beats, and when no one responded, he walked inside with Ali.

  “You shouldn’t be in here,” she said.

  He held up his hand. “As soon as I know there’s no one else in here, I’ll get out of your way.”

  One by one he checked the stalls. Looked all the way around the room. Clear.

  “I’ll be right outside.”

  She nodded and watched until he was out the door. He stationed himself directly in front of it to ensure no one else went inside until Ali was finished.

  After they’d gone through security, he noticed that she looked a little pale. She was more nervous than she wanted him to know. Understandable.

  She wore jeans as she had every day since he arrived, but today she wore a pink sweater instead of the usual sweatshirt. The color made her look even more vulnerable. He doubted that had been her goal. Her wardrobe was limited, but he had seen a black skirt and jacket in a hanging bag. For court, he assumed.

  He shifted his weight to the other foot and wondered what was taking so long. Just when he’d decided maybe he’d poke his head in and check on her, the door opened with a hydraulic whoosh.

  They continued to the bank of elevators. He moved in front of her as an elevator opened. Two people emerged, and only when he ensured the car was empty did they walk through those doors. He selected the floor and
hoped the elevator didn’t stop on two.

  When the elevator stopped on three, she looked at him. “Will you be in the room?”

  “Only long enough to ensure you’re settled, and then I have some things to take care of across the hall. But I won’t be more than a few steps away.”

  She nodded, her expression clearly relieved.

  AUSA Knowles and his assistant waited in the conference room, along with Tom Phillips, another of the marshals assigned to Nashville, and FBI special agents Willis and Kurtz. These were all people Jax knew well.

  Introductions were made, and the teleconference began. Once Ali’s attorney and the AUSA from Atlanta were online, Jax slipped out and went across the hall. Agent Kurtz followed. He had agreed to prepare the file and accompanying videotaped interview for Jax’s perusal.

  “Good to see you, Stevens.” Kurtz said as he opened the laptop on the table. “How’s Holloway?”

  “He’s doing better,” Jax said, “but he’ll be out of commission for a while yet.”

  Kurtz pointed to the screen. “This file contains all the case documents. This one has the video interview. I’ll be across the hall if you need anything.”

  Jax thanked him and turned his attention to the laptop. The room was a small meeting area designed for separate discussion when the need arose during a larger meeting across the hall.

  First, he skimmed the documents. A good deal of the file was compilations of the material gathered over decades regarding the suspected activities of the Armone family. He read page after page of how Ali had come to know Harrison Armone and when they had married. He hadn’t known the more intimate details, like the fact that he’d run into her in the lobby at the firm where she worked and then he’d shown up at her office every day until she agreed to have dinner with him.

  The words sickened him. He kept seeing that bastard touching her. He closed his eyes and shook his head. If he didn’t know better, he would think he’d just gotten jealous reading about some other guy with Ali.

  No way.

  This was something else altogether. He just couldn’t name what it was.

  He plowed through the fairy-tale first year. Travel, expensive jewelry, lavish shopping sprees. The castle of a home.

  He cleared his throat of the bile that threatened.

  Then the day a covolunteer had asked the question that changed her life.

  You’re married to Harrison Armone?

  On that day, she opened her eyes.

  Her first mistake had been discussing the question with her husband.

  The evidence and the terror started to build until there was no way for her to pretend. She had tried to keep up the pretense but Armone had felt the change...saw it in her eyes...felt it in her touch.

  The fairy tale was over.

  Then I became his prisoner.

  The statement startled Jax. He read it three times before moving on.

  The file then referenced the videotaped interview. It was standard procedure to record statements. For the purposes of a jury trial, it was always better to have a living, breathing witness, but in the event something went wrong, the video could make the necessary difference.

  Jax closed the folder and moved on to the one containing the video. He double clicked the icon dated just over nine months ago and waited. The screen opened, and Ali came into focus. The interviewer instructed her to recite her name and other pertinent information. She did this. He was impressed with how calm and strong she looked as she spoke. She recited a lengthy monologue that basically recounted what he had read in the file.

  He stretched his back and repositioned himself. His body felt as if he’d been sitting here for hours when it had only been forty or so minutes.

  “How was Mr. Armone able to keep you prisoner?” the interviewer asked. “Did he lock you in a room? Shackle you in some way? The jury needs to understand why you continued to live with a man like Armone and why you didn’t come forward sooner.”

  Jax would like to understand that, as well.

  Ali’s chest rose with a deep breath. She moistened her lips. “He told me what he would do if I ever left him.”

  “What did he tell you he would do?”

  Another big breath. “He said he would kill me and bury parts of me all over the city.”

  Jax felt his shoulders tense.

  “How could you be sure his threat was real? Had you seen him murder anyone?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ll need to voice your answers,” the interviewer reminded.

  “No. Not then. I had overheard phone calls about taking care of situations and cleaning up problems. But he was very careful what he said over the phone. It was the discussions between him and his father that warned me I shouldn’t doubt what he was capable of. They would drink and smoke cigars once a week in my—in Harrison’s study. I started taking every opportunity possible to listen in.”

  “Did you learn anything specific?”

  One by one, she listed names and dates of “fixes” and “cleanups.” Jax didn’t need to refer to the file to know those were dates that major power shifts occurred. Bodies showed up. New people took over in the Armone operation.

  The interviewer referenced a document that would be listed into evidence. The document was a timeline that laid out the murders that occurred on the dates she recited.

  “You were gathering this evidence for a reason?” he asked.

  “Yes. I wanted to have enough for the FBI to arrest him and his father.”

  “Again, I ask, how did he keep you from leaving for so long?”

  She blinked, looked away from the camera for a moment before answering. Jax watched her eyes, saw the fear mingling with the determination.

  “In the beginning, when he wasn’t home, I was forced to spend part of the day shackled in my room. Whenever I was allowed to leave the room, one of his men accompanied me. To the bathroom, when I showered. Anywhere I went—to the dentist, shopping, whatever, I was escorted. I was never out of his sight. Never.”

  “But you attempted to escape, did you not?”

  She nodded. “The first man, Tate. I’m not sure whether that was his first name or his last.” She stared at her hands a moment. “Harrison had a big dinner party coming up. I told him I needed to go to the spa for my hair and nails. He ordered Tate to take me there and shopping for something new to wear. At the spa, when I went back to change into a robe was the first time Tate had not followed me into a changing room. He got a call on his cell. I guess he was distracted.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I went out the back and ran.”

  She stared at her hands again.

  “But he found you.”

  “Tate caught up with me. He took me back home and called Harrison. He came home immediately. I was terrified.”

  “What did he do?”

  She lifted her gaze and looked directly into the camera. “He shot Tate right in front of me. Told me his death was on me.” She swallowed hard. “Then everything got worse.”

  “Worse? He’d just killed a man in front of you. What could be worse?”

  Her eyes glittered with emotion. “There are worse things than dying.”

  She dropped her gaze for a moment.

  “The jury will need to understand what that means, Ms. Armone.”

  Jax’s gut tightened at hearing her called that. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Sweat had popped out on his skin.

  “He punished me severely for forcing him to kill an old friend.”

  Jax drew slightly away from the screen.

  “Punished you how?”

  “He withheld food. Water. Kept me shackled naked in my room for days with the lights off and the blinds closed tight. Once he felt I had been sufficiently punished for trying to run away, he removed the shackle a
nd told me he had decided on new rules.”

  The silence throbbed for too many seconds.

  Every muscle in Jax’s body had grown rigid with tension.

  “He told me what to wear. Clothes, makeup. Everything. How to walk. When to speak. When to eat. If I made a mistake, he...”

  She stared at her hands as she went on. “He tortured me.”

  Those three words stabbed deep into Jax. He wanted to push away from the table. To shut off the volume. But he had to keep listening. He had to know the rest.

  “Sometimes he used a leather whip. The number of lashes I received was determined by the severity of my mistake. Did I say the wrong thing or wear the wrong perfume?

  “Over the course of the next two years, I had a dislocated shoulder. A fractured arm. Two concussions and a series of burns.” Her breath caught, yet somehow she managed to go on. “There were other, more intimate methods of inflicting pain he utilized, depending upon my infraction.”

  Jax stared at the face on the screen. It hurt to breathe. The crushing sensation against his chest was unbearable. Why hadn’t she told him any of this?

  Why the hell hadn’t Holloway told him?

  “Were you taken for medical attention?”

  “His personal physician always came and attended to my injuries.” A single tear rolled past her lashes and slid down her cheek.

  “This was a very painful time for you.”

  “Yes.” She flinched. “But I never cried.”

  She shook her head. “I would have died before I let him see my pain. He’d already taken my pride, my hopes and dreams. I wouldn’t allow him to have anything else.”

  “On May 2 of last year, you witnessed one last travesty. Describe that event for the jury.”

  “My father-in-law, Harrison Sr., came for his weekly visit. He and Harrison went to his study for the usual evening of cigars and scotch. I recognized an added layer of tension between the two.”

  “Was there anyone else in the house?”

  “Always. But Harrison had sent them outside. He and his father preferred complete privacy.”

  “Did you overhear anything different this night?”