Twin Targets. Marta Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ He hadn’t been the agent charged with relocating her to this small, supposedly safe environment in a small village in western Montana. He didn’t have to feel responsible for her death.

      Bless her, Lord. Speed her soul’s journey straight to Your hands.

      The brief prayer helped to center him. Shoving aside all distracting thoughts, Micah leaned over the body, studying the wounds. One shot to the chest, a second to the head. Her killer wanted to be sure Ruby was dead.

      “Her apartment was tossed, too. Might have been a robbery, but nothing’s missing that we can tell.”

      “I’ll have a look before I leave.” He’d been in Ruby’s apartment a couple of times when he’d come to check on her.

      “This looks more like a professional hit than a robbery gone bad.” Chief Burrows made it sound like a question.

      “Yeah.”

      He knew only too well what was in the man’s mind. What would a professional hit man be doing in the remote reaches of western Montana on a cold January night? Why would anyone want to kill this seemingly inoffensive woman who’d been waiting tables at the Village Café for the past year?

      And 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 СКАЧАТЬ