Assignment: Marriage. Jackie Merritt

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      Tuck studied the handful of cards. “So, my name’s going to be Tom King.”

      “Nice simple name, Tuck. That’s how we’re going to introduce you to the witness, as Tom King. No need for her to know your real name. She’s no pro at this sort of thing and might make a slip at the wrong time.”

      Tuck regarded his captain. “The witness is a woman? How old is she?”

      Joe Crawford cleared his throat. “I don’t know, maybe thirty, thirty-one.”

      “She’s not married?”

      “No. Now, Tuck, don’t get that bullheaded look on your face. What difference does it make? You’d be doing the same job if the witness was a sixty-year-old man.”

      “It never occurred to me we were talking about a woman, a young woman.” Tuck shook his head disgustedly. “Tell me she’s buck-toothed, stringy-haired and ugly.”

      Joe laughed. “Can’t do that. She’s a pretty woman.”

      “Aw, hell,” Tuck muttered.

      An hour later, briefed on his destination in great detail and as ready to go as he’d ever be, Tuck and John Harper got into the assigned car, with John at the wheel. Tuck hadn’t asked the woman’s real name. Joe had told him that her assumed name was Cheryl King, and then quickly added, “The two of you can decide what kind of arrangement you’d be most comfortable with. You could be sister and brother, if that makes you happy. Personally, I like the idea of a couple, a husband and wife.”

      “Dammit, Joe, you set me up!”

      Joe had smiled blandly. “You’ll enjoy yourself in Idaho, Tuck. Coeur d’Alene’s a beautiful little city.”

      While John Harper drove to the woman’s home, Tuck glared out the side window. If Joe Crawford had even hinted at the witness’s sex and age, Tuck would have refused the job with gusto. He didn’t want to spend the next month, or whatever it took, with a woman.

      John pulled into a driveway. “Well, here we are, Tuck.”

      Tuck didn’t immediately jump out. “I don’t like this, Harper. I don’t like it one damn bit!”

      John shrugged, as if to say, Tough, Tuck! You took the job, you live with it. But then the older man relented and smiled. “She’s a nice woman, Tuck. You’ll like her.”

      “Like hell I will,” he muttered as he got out of the car.

      Inside, Nicole was back to pacing. Scott Paulsen answered the back door, and Nicole stayed in the living room. She was dressed for a long ride, wearing old jeans, faded and soft from a hundred washings, a plain, blue T-shirt and sneakers. She was pale and biting the thumbnail on her left hand, a habit she abhorred and thought she’d cured herself of more than a dozen years ago.

      Scott, John, and a third man walked in. Nicole’s anxious blue eyes went instantly to the stranger. John made the introductions. “Cheryl, this is Tom.”

      “Hello,” Nicole mumbled. Tom was stiff and unsmiling. Tall, well-built, wearing jeans that rivaled her own for age and comfort. Inscrutable gray eyes.

      “Hello,” Tuck said tonelessly, refusing to acknowledge Cheryl’s pretty face and long legs. Two large and two small suitcases sat near the sofa. “I’ll get these loaded.” Scott moved to help and between them they carried all four cases out to the car.

      Nicole looked around her living room. Crying would do nothing beyond reddening her eyes, but she felt like busting loose with a wounded wail. Instead she began snapping off lamps. The house was already locked and as secure as it could get.

      “Well…guess I’m ready,” she said listlessly.

      John Harper offered a consoling smile. “Nicole, this will all be over in no time. You’ll see.”

      She wasn’t consoled. Weeks—maybe months—away from her home and job didn’t seem like “no time” to her.

      John pulled an envelope out of his inside coat pocket. “Scott filled you in on destination and identity. Tom’s been given most of the money, but we thought you should have some, too, just in case.”

      Nicole took the envelope. “In case of what, John? Tom’s trustworthy, isn’t he?”

      “He’s the best there is, Nicole. Don’t worry about that. He’s got eleven years with the department and has experience in every phase of law enforcement.”

      “Tom’s not his real name.”

      “No.”

      Looking around one last time, Nicole sighed. “Come on,” John said gently. “You’ve got a long trip ahead of you.”

      “One more question, John. Why are we driving to Idaho, rather than flying?”

      “Everyone thought it would be best, Nicole. We’re keeping your departure as low-key as possible. There’s very little way of telling if some stranger follows you onto a plane, but driving north out of Vegas, the road is long and empty. Tom will know if anyone’s behind you.”

      Nicole left several lights burning in the house, at John’s suggestion. They went through the back door and Nicole locked the dead bolt. She was carrying her purse, into which she’d tucked the envelope of cash. Her suitcases were jammed with clothes of every description. No one knew how long she’d have to stay away, and that was probably the hardest part of this whole discomfiting ordeal. At John Harper’s instruction she’d written a dozen cards to friends, all with the same carefully worded message. Family emergency calls me away. Don’t worry. I’ll be in touch. Hopefully the simple message would forestall someone panicking and raising a public fuss because they couldn’t reach her.

      Tuck was leaning against the car. He straightened as Nicole and John approached. “All set?”

      “All set,” John said quietly.

      “Who’s driving?” Nicole questioned.

      “I am,” Tuck said flatly.

      Nicole got in the passenger side, Tuck got behind the wheel. John leaned down to peer through the open window. “Take care.”

      “Yeah,” Tuck drawled, and started the motor.

      Nicole fastened her seatbelt. The car backed out of her driveway without lights. They were two blocks away from her house before Tuck switched on the headlights. Nicole was battling tears and looking straight ahead.

      Tuck took a maze of back streets to reach Highway 95. The fuel gauge indicated a full tank of gas. They wouldn’t have to make a stop for hours. He glanced at the woman sitting so silently and registered her rigid profile.

      Her silence was welcome. He turned his attention back to the road.

       Two

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