“I am.” She stuck out a tanned arm and gave a firm handshake.
A good quarter of Sierra’s nerves died down. Because this woman looked younger than Mollie. Like they were going to hang outon the grass and just soak up the sun. “You’re not dressed very, um, officially.”
“I was led to believe that you wanted this visit to go unnoticed.” The marshal hooked a thumb over her shoulder toward theforest she’d come from. “I’m blending in.”
“How did you get here?”
“I parked about a quarter mile away, then cut through the trees. Again, keeping a low profile.”
“That’s amazing.” It sounded like a little thing. But that level of attention to detail, the way she’d respected and followedSierra’s wishes without any proof this meeting would be worth her while? That professionalism instantly calmed Sierra therest of the way.
Marshal Evans slid her backpack down one shoulder into her hand. “I’m no superhero. It’s not a hardship to rock a pair ofshorts on a holiday weekend on the rarity of an Oregon full-sun day.”
“Are you from here?” If Sierra could glean even a scrap of personal info on the marshal, it’d make it easier, more fair whenshe had to spill her deeply personal secret to the woman.
“I go where the job takes me. Right now, that’s your porch. May I?” After Sierra nodded, the marshal climbed the stairs. Shekept one hand on the wooden rail as they faced off. “I can tell you’re nervous.”
“Not at all. Terrified, yes. Nervous, not so much, now that I’ve met you.”
“There’s no reason to be scared. But I get that me saying that doesn’t make the clenched belly go away. We can stay out hereand chat first, if that’s easier for you. But I don’t think skating through small talk will diminish your nerves. How aboutyou just tell me what was the first reproduction painting of yours that Rick passed off as the real thing?”
The answer popped right out, easier than spitting out a watermelon seed. “Daybreak, by Maxfield Parrish.”
It was that simple. Because, as the words flooded out of her, Sierra realized she wanted to tell the story. She wanted someone to be outraged on her behalf. Like Flynn had been . . .
No. Flynn wasn’t a part of her life, her narrative anymore. So maybe if her brain could stop circling back to him every threeminutes, that’d be great, ‘kay?
Sierra wanted to tell the story to someone who could make a difference. Who could stop Wayne. Stop Rick. Fear had kept hersmall, curled into an emotional and physical ball for all these months.
Speaking up made Sierra feel ten feet tall.
And Flynn was the one who’d given her the opportunity to do so. Damn it.
After Sierra had run out of details and names and dates and yes, more than a few choice expletives, she sagged against thesiding of her tiny house. Running a 5k sounded infinitely less exhausting than revealing her biggest secret to a woman withthe power to toss her in jail for being an accessory—no matter how unwittingly.
“Am I safe?” she finally asked in a low voice.
“From Rick?” Delaney flipped shut the notebook she’d been scribbling in and shook her head. “No way of knowing until I verifyhis whereabouts. I’m going to put out a BOLO for him. Just to keep tabs and make sure he doesn’t bolt out of Milwaukee. Wewant to know exactly where to find him once we get some warrants and are ready to move on this art ring.”
Wow. That sounded like it would come together fast. She’d only been talking for half an hour, and now there was suddenly a whole operation planned out in Delaney’s head. Sierragrabbed a brush from the edge of her easel. Running it back and forth through her fingers gave her something to do besidessqueezing her hands together so hard her nails could draw blood.
“No. Not from Rick. Am I safe from you, Marshal? Safe from prosecution?”
Delaney’s honey-blond brows knitted together. “Why, yes. Your cooperation is conditional on total immunity. I was told thatwas nonnegotiable.”
“Oh. Yes. Right.” It was one thing to hear Flynn say it. He’d said a lot of things since they met. Many—most—who knew—of which Sierra now guessed were straight-up lies. So yes, it was altogether a different and better thing to hear the marshalstipulate and agree to the terms.
Putting a hand on Sierra’s shoulder, Delaney leaned in and asked, “You are okay with moving forward on this, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Firmly, resolutely, and with a nod so sharp her neck cracked, Sierra said, “Yes, I am.”
Still pinning her with that blue gaze cooler and sharper than Antarctic icebergs, Delaney pressed once more. “Sierra, why’dyou decide to come forward now? Did someone talk you into it? Did you hear a story from someone about how the Marshals Servicecan protect a witness?”
Omigosh. She was being subtly interrogated. About Flynn. The pretty blonde with the super cut arms was trying to find out if Flynn had told Sierra about his other life. About theMaguire brothers being in WITSEC.
This was her chance. If she admitted Flynn had told her the truth, his cover would be blown. They’d move him. Out of Bandon.Give him a new name and a new life somewhere else.
Sierra wouldn’t have to look at him every day, wanting to touch him but not trusting him enough to do so. She could be freeof the reminder of how gullible she’d been to fall yet again for a man who lied to her up one side and down the other. Free of criminals, even those with six degrees of separation. Shecould be rid of her second biggest mistake.
But that would be horrible. For a whole slew of reasons.
Rafe and Mollie would have to break up. Or did Mollie know the big secret? All three of the brothers would not only have toleave their current jobs—which Rafe and Flynn seemed to enjoy—but switch to new ones in no way connected. Yes, she’d spentquite a bit of the night Googling
