Witness Protection Widow. Debra Webb

The man was absolutely disgusting. Like his son, he was a charming and quite handsome man for his age. But beneath the surface lived a monster.

      Once the trial was over, she hoped she never had to think of him again, much less see him.

      Staying alert to her surroundings, she unlocked the back door and sent Bob inside ahead of her. He was trained to spot trouble. She wasn’t overly concerned at this point. If anything had been amiss, he would have warned her as they approached the cabin.

      The dogs were a new addition to the witness protection family. She hadn’t had a dog at the first location. It wasn’t until she’d arrived here and had Bob living with her that she’d realized how very lonely she had been for a very long time. Since well before her husband was murdered.

      She locked the door behind her, taking care to check all the locks. Then she followed Bob through the three rooms. There was a small living-dining-kitchen combination, a bedroom with an attached bath and the mudroom–laundry room at the back. Furnishings were sparse, but she had what she needed.

      Since cell service was sketchy at best, she had a state-of-the-art signal booster. She had a generator in case the power went out and a bug-out bag if it became necessary to cut and run.

      She shivered. The fire had gone out. She kept on her jacket while she added logs to the fireplace and kindling to get it started. Within a couple of minutes, the fire was going. She’d had a fireplace as a kid, so relearning her way around this one hadn’t been so bad. She went back to the kitchen and turned on the kettle for tea.

      Bob growled low in his throat and stared toward the front door.

      She froze. Her phone was in her hip pocket. Her gun was still in her waistband at the small of her back. This was something else Marshal Holloway had insisted upon. He’d taught her how to use a handgun. They’d held many target practices right behind this cabin.

      A creak beyond the front door warned that someone was on the porch. She eased across the room and went to the special peephole that had been installed. There was one on each side of the cabin, allowing for views all the way around. A man stood on the porch. He was the typical local cowboy. Jeans and boots. Hat in his hands. Big truck in the drive. Just like Marshal Holloway.

      But she did not know this man.

      “Alice Stewart, if you’re in there, it’s okay for you to open the door. I’m Sheriff Colt Tanner. Branch sent me.”

      Her heart thudding, she held perfectly still. Branch would never send someone to her without letting her know first. If for some reason he couldn’t tell her in advance, they had a protocol for these situations.

      She reached back, fingers curled about the butt of her weapon. Bob moved stealthily toward the door.

      “I know you’re concerned about opening the door to a stranger, but you need to trust me. Branch has been in an accident, and he’s in the hospital undergoing surgery right now. No matter that his injuries were serious, he refused to go into surgery until he spoke to me and I assured him I would look after you, ma’am.”

      Worry joined the mixture of fear and dread churning inside her. She hoped Branch wasn’t hurt too badly. He had a wife and a daughter.

      She opened her mouth to ask about his condition, but then she snapped it shut. The man at her door had not said the code word.

      “Wait,” he said. “I know what the problem is. I forgot to say ‘superhero.’ He told me that’s your code word.”

      Relief rushed through her. She moved to the door and unlocked the four dead bolts, then opened it. When she faced the man—Sheriff Tanner—she asked, “Is he going to be okay?”

      The sheriff ducked his head. “I sure hope so. Branch is a good friend of mine. May I come in?”

      “Quiet, Bob,” she ordered the dog at her side as she backed up and allowed the sheriff to come inside before closing the door. She resisted the impulse to lock it and leaned against it instead. Holloway wouldn’t have trusted this man if he wasn’t one of the good guys.

      Still, standing here with a stranger after all these months, she couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy. Bob sat at her feet, his gaze tracking every move the stranger made.

      “Is there anything you need, ma’am? Anything at all. I’ll be happy to bring you any supplies or just...” He shrugged. “Whatever you need.”

      The kettle screamed out, making her jump. She’d completely forgotten about it. “I’ll be right back.”

      She hurried to the kitchen and turned off the flame beneath the whistling kettle. She took a breath, pushed her hair behind her ears and walked back into the living room.

      “Thank you for coming, Sheriff, but I have everything I need.”

      “All right.” He pulled a card from his shirt pocket and offered it to her. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll check on you again later today and give you an update on Branch’s condition.”

      She studied the card. “Thank you.” She looked up at him then. “I appreciate your concern. Please let the marshal know I’m hoping for his speedy recovery.”

      “Will do.” He gave her another of those quick nods. “I’ll be on my way then.”

      Before she opened the door for him to go, she had to ask. “Are his injuries life-threatening?”

      “He was real lucky, ma’am. Things could have been far worse. Thankfully, he’s stable, and we have every reason to believe he’ll be fine.”

      “What about his wife?”

      “She wasn’t with him, so she’s fine. She’s at the hospital waiting for him to come out of surgery. If you’re certain you don’t need me for anything, I’m going back there now.”

      “Really, I’m fine. Thank you.”

      When the sheriff had said his goodbyes and headed out to his truck, she locked the door—all four dead bolts. She watched as the truck turned around and rolled away. She told herself that Marshal Holloway’s accident most likely didn’t have anything to do with her or the trial. Still, she couldn’t help but worry just a little.

      What if they had found her? What if hurting the marshal was just the first step in getting to her? Old man Armone was pure evil. He would want her to know in advance that he was coming just to be sure she felt as much fear as possible. Instilling fear gave him great pleasure.

      Harrison Armone Sr. had a small army at his beck and call. All were trained mercenaries. Ruthless, like him. Proficient in killing. Relentless in attaining their target. They would be hunting her. If being careful would get her through this, she had nothing to worry about. But that alone would never be enough. She needed help and luck on her side.

      With this unexpected development, she would need to be extra vigilant.

      “Bob.”

      He looked up at her expectantly.

      “We have to be especially alert, my friend.”

      The devil might be coming.

      And he wouldn’t be alone.

       Chapter Two

      Winchester Hospital

      Jaxson Stevens left Nashville as soon as he heard the news of the accident. He and Branch Holloway had been assigned together briefly before Holloway transferred back to his hometown of Winchester. Holloway was a good guy and a damned fine marshal. Jax was more than happy to back him up until he was on his feet again.

      He parked his SUV in the lot and headed for the hospital entrance. He hadn’t been in the Winchester area in ages. He hailed from the Pacific Northwest, and he’d taken an assignment in Seattle when he completed