Twin Targets. Marta Perry

most of all, what did the U.S. Marshals Service have to do with it?

      All good questions. Unfortunately he couldn’t answer any of them. Secrecy was the crucial element that made the Federal Witness Protection Program so successful. Breach that, and everything that had been gained in the battle against organized crime would be lost.

      He straightened, brushing his hands together even though he hadn’t touched anything. “My office will have a team here in a couple of hours. Until then—”

      “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Chief Burrows let annoyance show. “Cordon the scene, don’t touch anything, don’t say anything to anyone.”

      “That’s about it. Sorry,” he added.

      He was sorry, though Burrows probably didn’t believe it. Brownsville was the chief’s town, and he was responsible for keeping the people in it safe. Burrows probably hadn’t had a murder in this sleepy place in years, and now that there was one, the feds were brushing him aside.

      Micah’s father, a police chief in a Chicago suburb before his death, would have felt the same way about a crime on his turf.

      His cell buzzed, and he turned away from the disgruntled chief to answer it. “McGraw.”

      “The crime scene team is on its way.” The voice was that of Mac Sellers, a fellow marshal sidelined to desk duty after an injury. “Should be there in about an hour.”

      “Good. Make sure they know to check out the apartment, as well as the garage.”

      “Will do. You wanted the address for the woman’s next of kin?”

      “Right.” Ruby had a twin sister, he knew. She’d have to be notified. Since she lived back east, at least he wouldn’t be the one to do that.

      “Jade Summers.” Mac was probably reading from a computer screen. “Librarian. Current address is 45 Rock Lane, White Rock, Montana.”

      For an instant Micah froze, the cell phone pressed against his ear. “Are you sure of that?” He barked the words.

      “Course I’m sure.” Mac sounded offended. “I can look things up, as well as anyone.”

      Uttering an apology that probably didn’t placate the man, Micah hung up, his mind buzzing with questions.

      He turned to stare once more at the empty shell that had been Ruby Summers. She’d made mistakes in her life, plenty of them, but she’d done the right thing in the end when she’d testified against the Mob. She hadn’t deserved to end up lifeless on a cold concrete floor.

      As for her sister…

      What exactly was an Easterner like Jade Summers doing in a small town in Montana? If there was an innocent reason, he couldn’t think of it. That stretched the long arm of coincidence a bit too far.

      Ruby must have tipped her twin sister off to her location. That was the only explanation, and the deed violated one of the major principles of witness protection.

      Ruby had known the rules. Immediate family could be relocated with her. If they chose not to be, no contact was permitted—ever.

      Ruby’s twin had moved to Montana. He frowned. White Rock was probably forty miles or so east of Billings. Not exactly around the corner from her sister.

      But the fact that she was in Montana had to mean that they’d been in contact. And that contact just might have led to Ruby’s death.

      He glanced at his watch. He’d have to wait until the team arrived and all the routine that followed a violent death rolled into motion. Then he’d get back on the road toward Billings and beyond, to White Rock. To find Jade Summers and get some answers.

      Jade pulled a warm sweater over her head. After nearly a year in Montana, she’d learned to love the Big Sky Country, with its spectacular scenery, clean air and friendly, independent people.

      But if she stayed her whole life, she’d probably never get used to the cold winters. Her indoor-outdoor thermometer declared that it was two below zero now, and the weather forecaster had cheerfully announced that it felt like sixteen below. The thought made her shiver even in her warm bedroom.

      Still, the good things about the move far outweighed the bad. She had her own little house, neat and clean and everything she had once dreamed of. She could run the small county library to suit her ideas of what a library should be. She’d made friends here. She was settled.

      Had Ruby adapted yet to life in Montana? Her twin had loved warmth—warmth, comfort, luxury. All the things their early life had denied them. Was she happy now with the way things had turned out?

      Or was she pestering the Witness Protection Program to relocate her someplace warm? Jade had to smile at the thought of her sharp-tongued twin taking on some hapless U.S. Marshal.

      The sound of a vehicle coming down her narrow lane caught her attention. That probably wasn’t Herb or Ellen Trask, her landlords. Herb had been over at first light to plow her lane for her after last night’s snow, and Ellen knew that Jade would be headed for work soon. Jade moved to the bedroom window and raised the shade.

      A black-and-silver 4x4 stopped at the front porch. She was already learning to identify her neighbors by their trucks, but she didn’t recognize this one. It was old but looked well-cared-for, like most of the trucks she saw out here. People knew that in bad weather their lives might depend on the reliability of their vehicles.

      A man got out on the driver’s side. He paused for a moment, staring at the house, and she looked down at him, her hand pressed against the cold pane. He was tall, she could tell that even from this angle. Beyond that, his jeans, boots, heavy parka and Stetson could belong to anyone.

      He moved toward the front door, his stride that of someone fairly young and agile. Definitely not Herb, whose paunch was visible even when he wore a down parka.

      The stranger turned slightly, and the sunlight struck the object pinned to his jacket, making the metal glitter. A badge.

      Jade’s heart stopped for a second. Then it started thudding against her chest.

      Ruby—it must be something to do with Ruby.

      She raced down the stairs, feet keeping time to the violent beating of her heart. She hurried to the door and yanked it open while the man’s hand was still raised to knock.

      That faint shock in his brown eyes—was it because of her precipitous approach, or because he was looking at an identical replica of Ruby?

      “Are you Jade Summers?” His voice was a deep, mellow baritone, roughened by some emotion.

      She nodded, taking a step back, motioning him in. He stepped across the threshold, the movement bringing a wave of cold air into her cozy room.

      He was even taller than she’d thought, with an air of authority that seemed to suck all the air out of the space around him. He removed his hat, holding it in one hand, revealing thick, glossy brown hair cut in a vaguely military manner.

      He had a slash of straight dark brows, a lean, tanned face and a jaw that might have been carved from teak. A faint hint of sympathy in his brown eyes softened the harsh impression.

      Sympathy? Or pity? Her eyes focused on the badge. U.S. Marshal. The U.S. Marshals ran the Witness Protection Program.

      Nausea hit like a blow to her stomach. Something had happened to Ruby.

      “I’m Deputy Marshal Micah McGraw.” He held out some sort of identification.

      She shook her head in denial of the news he undoubtedly carried. “Ruby…” Her voice failed.

      “I’m sorry.” His baritone deepened even more. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

      She couldn’t stand dancing around it. “Tell me. Just say it.”

      His eyes hardened at her tone. “Your sister, Ruby Maxwell,