Dangerous Testimony
“Will you be in the office tomorrow?”
“Meeting in the conference room at 0600 to nail down our strategy. Gonna do a little research tonight.”
“Research?” Her heart thudded. “Marco, you’re not going to go track down any gang members, are you?”
“Just some initial recon.”
She realized suddenly that her decision to testify had put them all in danger. Under her fingertips his pulse was sure and steady. He was not letting fear take hold and neither would she. “Please be careful.”
“I am always careful. You, however, are not. Don’t go anywhere by yourself. Brent will take you and JeanBeth to the office tomorrow. Bring Tracy.”
She gave him a sassy salute. “Yes, sir.”
“Sorry. I meant to put a ‘please’ in there somewhere.”
“I know, but that doesn’t come easy because you’re naturally bossy.”
He nodded. “Yeah, so you’ve told me.”
“Still...don’t put yourself in danger, okay?”
He answered with a silent nod, waiting until she went inside before he drove away. Watching from the window, she whispered a prayer for Marco and went to find her daughter.
* * *
The next morning at 6:00 a.m., Marco carried a sleeping Tracy from Brent’s truck and laid her gently on the couch in the reception area, where Candace tucked her in. It got to him, looking at Tracy’s delicate freckled profile, watching Candace stroke her fine blond hair. So small and innocent. The idea that someone, anyone, could possibly attempt to rob Tracy of her mother nearly sent him over the edge.
“Morning.” Baxter, the sixtysomething custodian with the graying fringe circling his bald pate, tiptoed out with a bag of trash. The bag was so full that Marco stepped up to help him with the load.
“I got it,” Baxter whispered, to avoid disturbing Tracy. “Have to earn my keep.”
“You do, Baxter, every day,” Candace said.
Marco agreed. Though he’d been there only a few months, Baxter was the best custodian the building had ever had. Score one for the mature guy, Marco thought. Plus he had been known to bring in detective books for Tracy that he’d read to his nephew a decade before, and that got him extra points in Marco’s estimation.
“Early meeting usually means trouble,” Baxter said, raising a grizzled eyebrow.
“Nothing we can’t handle,” Marco said.
Baxter gave him a cocky salute as he headed for the door. “I believe that.”
Marco and Candace crept out of the reception area and joined the others.
Marco looked at the group seated around the Pacific Coast Investigations conference table—dark-haired Brent, with his arm around Donna, Angela without the company of her fiancé, Dr. Dan, and the sisters’ mother, JeanBeth. The only sister missing was Sarah, who was currently honeymooning in Hawaii with her new husband, Jett. All of them had resisted filling the newly married couple in on the situation. They were entitled to some uninterrupted joy, having recently survived being abducted and held on an island for nearly a week. Sarah would throw a monster fit at being left out of the loop when she returned, but that wasn’t a problem for today.
Marco cleared his throat. “Met with a couple of guys. They told me where I might be able to find Jay Rico. He’s the big boss of the Pack. We have to get to him to stop the threats against Candace.”
Candace gasped. “Oh, no. That’s a bad idea, a very, very bad idea.”
“Gonna take me a while to confirm,” Marco went on. “In the meantime...”
“We do a complete investigation into anything and everything having to do with Jay Rico and his Pack,” Donna finished.
“Right,” Marco said. “Their members, their arrest records, their funding sources, everything.”
Brent nodded. “I have a buddy in Homeland Security. He owes me a favor.”
“Call it in,” Marco said.
“Yes, sir.” Brent pressed a kiss on Donna’s temple before he rose.
“Isn’t anyone hearing this?” Candace said. “Marco, you are not going to search out Jay Rico. Let us investigate and do our jobs. It won’t accomplish anything to go after him.”
“He’s the lead hostile. Need to go serve him notice.”
“No, you don’t,” she said, eyes flashing. “I’m not going to have you getting killed.”
The fire in her tone made his heart thud harder. She didn’t get it. He would risk anything, take on anyone, to keep her and Tracy from harm. These people—these women around his table and the child sleeping in the next room—gave him a purpose. They were his life and nothing mattered more to him than they did.
“Not going to get killed. Not by a two-bit gangster like Rico.”
All of a sudden, her expression changed, and he thought he saw her lips tremble. He wanted to pull her close. The urge was not in keeping with his resolve. It’s a mission, like any other. But Candace was not a woman like any other. Even though he loved all the Gallagher family, Candace occupied a different part of his soul, though he didn’t like to think about it. He drank a gulp of water to cover his confusion and stowed the feelings away in that deep-down place where he put all the other uncomfortable things in his life.
There was a soft knock at the door.
Marco opened it to a skinny man with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, an affable smile on his face. He bobbed his chin by way of a greeting.
“This is Lon,” Marco said. “He’s going to keep watch on JeanBeth’s place.” Marco quickly introduced the group, ignoring the surprised looks.
JeanBeth, the consummate military wife, rose without batting an eye and offered Lon a seat, which he politely declined, and a glass of water, which he also refused.
Candace was not as serene. She wasn’t a fan of surprises, Marco had come to learn, and this one would be hard for her to swallow. “It’s nice to meet you, Lon, but Marco, would you mind explaining?”
“Lon and I served together.”
Marco felt it was an adequate explanation. Candace did not, from the crimp in her full lips. Her mahogany eyes flashed in that way that made his stomach muscles tighten.
“So now you’ve gone ahead and arranged for soldiers to guard my mom’s house?”
“Lon’s on medical leave for a torn ligament. He gets bored. Needs something to do besides play video games.”
Lon smiled.
“You’ve brought in help.” Candace’s eyes narrowed. “Without bothering to consult us? Is there anything else we should know? Did you enlist any more of your buddies to guard my house, too?”
Marco tidied the already neat stack of papers in front of him. “Possibly.”
Candace groaned. “This is ridiculous, way out of proportion. I’m going to be careful and keep a close eye on Tracy. We’ll be extra cautious until the trial is over. We don’t need a platoon of people.”
“A platoon is sixteen. We’re closer to a squad,” he said, to clarify.
She groaned. “You’re not listening to me.”
“Yes, I am, but this is serious.”
“Overkill.”
“Your father would have done the same.”
She flinched and he wished he hadn’t said it. Bruce Gallagher’s death was still a raw and painful wound for all of them. But I can’t let anything happen to you, don’t you see?
She closed her mouth. “Fine. Do whatever you want. You will, anyway. I’m going to check on Tracy.”
It bothered him to upset her, and he didn’t want to bark orders as if he was her commanding officer, but he couldn’t give voice to that softer, disconcerting thought. Seeing you hurt would be unbearable.
He couldn’t take it, not after Gwen. She’d never in the four years they’d been married come close to staying clean, even after he’d wiped out his savings on rehab programs. Married when they were both just eighteen, she’d endured his navy boot camp days and the moving around, fighting battles he’d not fully comprehended until the addiction took hold. Then they’d fought together, but no amount of muscle, determination or grit could free her from the enemy of heroin. Or maybe he could have fought harder on his home turf instead of giving himself to the navy. He’d served his country, choosing to believe that he’d changed things, helped her, saved her. He’d been dead wrong.
There had been moments of pure joy, when he’d been sure they would make it, and deep down, part of him believed it right up until the moment she’d sent him a letter two months into his deployment, telling him she’d pawned her wedding ring and filed for divorce.
The thing that scared Marco the most was that he would have still tried to save their marriage, because despite the torture, he loved her and he always would. Even after the papers were signed, after her belongings were stripped out of the base housing they shared, even as a twenty-three-year-old divorcee whose ex-wife had cleaned out their bank account—even then, the love inside him was greater than the hurt. The divorce was a defeat, the worst he’d ever experienced, a public exposure of his failure. But still, he’d had the navy to bury himself in, and what had Gwen had? When he’d learned of her recent death from an overdose, he’d been anguished to his core, a feeling that still stabbed him in the gut when he let it.
He blinked, realizing he’d missed the last few comments.
Pay attention, Marco. What’s the matter with you?
With the briefing over, JeanBeth returned to the house with Lon, reminding them she would expect the entire group for lunch. They scattered to their respective corners, fingers tapping on keyboards and dialing phones. Determined to keep his mind on the critical business at hand, Marco marched off toward his own cubicle, itching to shut down Jay Rico before he could cause any more grief.
THREE
Candace watched Marco settle himself in the office chair behind his cubby walls and poke the computer to life, staring at the screen. He detested computers, and it was only after painful hours of her tutelage that he had become proficient on the new office email and messaging system. Still, he faced the screen as if it was a wily adversary bent on destroying him. As she considered his strong profile, muscled body dwarfing the small cubicle, she wanted to stay angry at him, to resent his cavalier treatment of her life, his tendency to order instead of ask. She wanted to keep her ire burning, but she found as she looked at him that she couldn’t.
“Marco,” she said, after a deep breath. “I know you want to protect me and Tracy, and I appreciate that, but don’t you think you’re taking this to an extreme? Recruiting your navy buddies?”
He didn’t turn around, quickly replacing a photo he’d been looking at in its usual place. After a moment he said, “No.”
She sighed. “But it’s crazy.”
“Not crazy to protect people you care about.”
Something in the words spoke of profound regret, drawing her closer. She saw the little black-and-white photo on his desk that he’d just replaced. The picture showed a proudly smiling young sailor, his arms around a willowy blonde woman who would later ruin her life and his with drugs. Gwen.
“Marco, what happened to Gwen wasn’t because you didn’t protect her.”
He stiffened, eyes still locked on the screen, and she knew she’d struck at a wound by mentioning Gwen’s name.
“Yes, it is. I wasn’t there enough,” he said after a moment.
The way he’d loved the broken Gwen, the way he still loved her memory even after the punishment she’d inflicted, made Candace’s heart break just a little. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. She could barely grasp him across the solid torso as she breathed in the scent of soap and pressed her cheek to his neck. “You couldn’t have saved her, not from that.”
“Yes, I could.” It came out as a whisper.
He still believed he’d failed his wife, the shame trapping him in a past from which he could not escape. Wishing she could somehow siphon the pain away, Candace savored the hard planes of his jaw. “You are a good man, Marco Quidel.”
She thought she felt him relax a fraction, lean his head ever so slightly into the softness of her embrace. But he did not turn, and he didn’t answer, so she pressed a kiss to his hair and left.
* * *
Marco allowed himself a couple hours of research and phone calls before he decided to run with Bear in tow to JeanBeth’s home, which was only two miles from the office. The others had already departed. He hoped the exercise would clear his head. First off, he couldn’t seem to rid his stomach of the tilt Candace’s embrace had caused. It was an unwelcome feeling. Candace was like family, a woman to be protected, not...well...attracted to.
Attraction? That was absolutely not what caused the stomach tilt, he told himself. Probably it was due to some residual tension set into motion by the parking lot attack. He was more comfortable with the subject of attacks than attraction. Whether Candace accepted it or not, she was in danger and so was Tracy. He would convince her of it if it was the last thing he did. His pace accelerated, and Bear kept up easily.
The Coronado sky was a breathtaking blue and San Diego Bay dotted with pleasure craft. A freshening wind against his face made him yearn to take Candace and Tracy out on his boat, the Semper Fortis, and listen to their cheerful chatter as they fished for bass in the bay. The boat never seemed to be as filled with life as it was with the two of them aboard, but it would have to wait until they put away Rico and his goons. It angered him that Tracy would miss out on school and her friends because of Rico, maybe even her upcoming birthday party. Somehow Candace would explain it to Tracy so it made sense to an almost-eight-year-old.
How did Candace do it? he wondered. Serve as both mother and father to Tracy. The kid was turning out great as far as he could see. How could she not with a mother who was so filled with grace, and determination and love? Candace was a rock for Tracy, and for some reason, she calmed a restlessness inside him, too, like nothing else did. Again the stomach tilt. He soothed himself by reciting parts of the creed embedded in his soul, even though he no longer wore the SEAL trident.
I will never quit. I thrive on adversity.
Honor on and off the battlefield.
My word is my bond.
His bond. His gut twinged. Long ago he’d promised Gwen he would love and protect her forever. He had not been able to shield her from the wicked hold of addiction. Would he be enough to protect Candace now?
He slowed the last two blocks and Bear reduced his gait to a steady trot. Watch and observe, Quidel. Stick to the mission, keeping Candace and Tracy safe from the Pack. You’re going to win. You have to.
“You’re gonna to listen to me this time, Candace,” he said as he eased his pace to a walk, knocked once and tried the door, surprised to find it locked. JeanBeth had an open-door policy, so Lon must have changed her ways. Atta boy, Lon. He used his own key to let himself in.
Tracy looked up from the board game she was playing with Lon, and ran to give him the customary squeeze. “Hi, Unco.”
Lon lifted an amused eyebrow, which Marco ignored.
She’d called him that since she was two years old and he’d returned to Coronado on leave. Crossing paths with Bruce Gallagher meant an invitation to meet his family, and they had taken him under their wings. Those were happy times back then, before Rick had been killed and Marco had been christened Unco. No one else in the world would dare address him like that. It made him sound like a jolly grocer from a kid’s story, but from Tracy, he didn’t mind. For some reason he couldn’t manage to be very stern with the girl, who made him laugh like no one else on earth.
“Who’s winning?” he inquired.
“I am,” Tracy announced proudly, “But Mr. Lon is trying his best.”
Marco chuckled. “You’re going down, Lon. Kid’s an ace at checkers.”
Tracy beamed. “Only sometimes.” She turned to Lon. “Want to take a break and go throw the ball for Bear in the yard?”
“Uh-huh,” Lon said, and Bear, sensing a game in the offing, was quick to follow them to the back sliding door and out into the Southern California sunshine.
JeanBeth handed Marco a plate full of kale salad with cranberries and lemon vinaigrette. His favorite and she knew it. They settled in the living room.
“Lon doesn’t talk very much. Is that some sort of Navy SEAL creed?” JeanBeth asked.
Marco smiled. “No, I know a few guys who will talk your ear off if you bring up the right subject.”
“What’s the right subject with Lon?”
“Dunno. I’ve never figured that out.”
“He doesn’t eat much, either,” she said with a disapproving frown. “Look how thin that man is. If he turns sideways you can’t even see him.”
“When we were stationed in Virginia Beach his mom sent him fudge. He’s got a real sweet tooth.”
Her face brightened. “I’ll make a note of that,” she said. Marco sensed that JeanBeth had just assigned herself a different kind of mission altogether. Brace yourself, Lon.
Brent slung an arm around Donna and leaned back on the couch.
“The Pack doesn’t leave much of a trail,” Brent said. “My guy at Homeland put me in touch with a Fed who figures Jay Rico runs a series of chop shops, but the locations change and they haven’t been able to get a bust.”
Candace nodded. “That’s what Donna and I got, too. We did find out that Rico was born in Long Beach, and he had a brother who died in jail and a sister who seems to have dropped off the radar. Never married. No kids.”
The phone rang, and JeanBeth picked it up and said hello.
Marco eyed her, noting the tension in her jaw as she listened, the subtle stiffening in her posture. She put the phone down.
“Who was it?” Angela asked.
“I’m not sure. A man, deep voice. All he said was ‘Tell Candace. Five rings,’ before he hung up.”
Marco felt a stirring of alarm, but he kept it from his face. “Let’s call Ridley at Coronado PD.”
Donna gave Brent a pat on the knee. “He and Brent are not the best of friends, but he did help get Sarah and Jett off that island. I’ll call. What should I tell him?”
“Did you say five rings?” Angela said, returning from the kitchen, her face grave.
JeanBeth eyed her. “Yes, what does it mean?”
“It’s a gang thing. I’ve counseled some young sailors who came from difficult backgrounds.” She toyed with the zipper on her jacket. “The rings is the number of phone calls you get before...” She looked at her mother and then at Candace. “It probably isn’t the time to talk about it.”
“Five rings before what?” JeanBeth repeated.
Angela grimaced. “Really, Mom. I shouldn’t have brought it up just now.”
“Angela,” JeanBeth said. “You have to tell us.”
All eyes were riveted on Angela. She pulled the patio door closed so Tracy would not hear from out in the yard.
“Five rings before what?” Marco asked.
“Five rings...” she cleared her throat, “before you’re dead.”
FOUR
It seemed to Candace that time sped up as soon as Angela dropped her bombshell. In a matter of three hours, an officer from the San Diego Police Department named Jennifer Barnes, and Ridley from the Coronado Police were meeting with the adults in the family room, while Lon and Tracy were occupied building a spaceship with Tracy’s Lego set in the kitchen. Candace suspected Lon was silently taking in every word of the briefing, but fortunately, Tracy seemed oblivious.
Candace tried hard to focus, but her mind was still fogged in disbelief. The Pack had somehow tracked down her mother’s phone number and called to inform Candace that she would be terrorized and killed for daring to testify against their gang brother Kevin Tooley. She wondered if the same message had been left on her own home phone. A shiver went through her. Though her mother and Angela flanked her on either side and Marco and Brent stood sentry nearby, Candace felt the roots of fear taking hold. Suddenly Marco’s preparations did not seem so over-the-top.
“The district attorney has three witnesses that saw Kevin Tooley pull the trigger at the gas station,” Barnes said. “So far you’re the only one who has been threatened. I’ve been assigned along with Officer Ridley and another couple of San Diego officers to do drive-by checks of your house during the day and post a cop here at night until the trial.”
Candace blinked. “But what about when I’m not at home? Are you supposed to follow me for the next four weeks until our court date?”
Barnes shook her head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We just don’t have enough manpower for that. We’d like to suggest that you stay at home as much as possible.”
“But I’ve got a daughter.”
She nodded. “Any other kids?”
“Tracy is an only child.” Only child, though Tracy desperately wanted a sibling. The words always hit Candace hard when she had to say them.
For a brief, shining period of time, she had carried that little sibling for Tracy. But then there was a knock on the door, the men in uniform respectfully reducing her life to ruins, and then there was the miscarriage when she’d lost the last part of Rick, and then there was a bottomless well of depression where she could see no hope, not even from the God she beseeched for mercy.
And then...
Angela’s hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her reverie. How did her sister always know when Candace was teetering on the edge of that abyss? She covered her sister’s fingers and squeezed back, telegraphing the thank-you she couldn’t voice in front of the officers. How grateful she was to God for giving her sisters, who were truly the hands and feet of Jesus in her life. It felt doubly painful that she had not been able to give any siblings to Tracy. The only thing with which she could supply her daughter were the memories of her heroic father. Candace meant to preserve each one to keep Rick alive in Tracy’s heart. What’s more, she would not let her daughter see her fear. Her chin went up.
“Am I supposed to lock Tracy away for a month?”
Ridley tapped a pencil against his knee. “That’s not Jay Rico’s pattern. He usually orders the Pack to take out the direct threat to his organization and avoid collaterals.”
“What does that mean?” Angela asked.
“They target the person who has crossed them,” Marco said.
JeanBeth jerked. “But we’re going to stop that, right?”
“Affirmative,” Marco said. “There are enough of us to supplement the police watch. If the Pack is going to make a move, they’ll have to get through us first.”
“If?” Donna said. “So this could be intimidation only?”
Ridley nodded. “That’s most likely. The Pack is not active here in Coronado, though we’ve been keeping our eye on some auto thefts, but it would be risky for them to take action. They are probably just trying to scare you.”
They’re doing a great job of that, Candace thought.
“The guy Rico sent to the college was more than intimidation,” Marco said.
“Maybe.” Ridley shrugged. “Could be he exceeded his orders from Rico.”
“I’m not willing to put Candace’s safety on the line for a maybe.” Marco looked around at the family members. “From now on, she and Tracy stay inside unless it’s urgent, and we get her whatever she needs, agreed?”
Everyone nodded.
“What about Tracy’s school?” Candace said. Her daughter adored third grade and her teacher.
Marco shrugged. “You can get one of those home study packets, and she gets a vacation.”
Candace felt like screaming. “So we’re going to be prisoners until the trial is over?”
“Think of it as protective custody,” Marco said.
“I feel like I’m being punished.”
“Not punished, protected.” Marco got up. “Let’s talk about a schedule, and we need to know everything you have on Jay Rico.”
They clustered together with phones and notepads, as if Candace was no longer even in the room.
Bullied. That’s how she felt about this five rings business. Like she was back in junior high, being bullied by the boys who refused to let her take a seat on the bus. She remembered sitting on the sticky floor in the rear, trying to ignore the jeers from her classmates, wishing one person might make a space for her.