Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
M argot knew she looked like a fish, mouth gaping, closing, then gaping again, but she couldn’t force any words past the air frozen in her throat.
Luckily, Max didn’t seem to have that problem.
“Are you fucking serious?” His booming voice carried through the lobby. Pushing to his feet, he walked to the window. Margot’s gaze followed him. She agreed with the sentiment.
He spun around to glare at Marshal Marchand. “Why would he go into WitSec and not take Margot and the kids? Wouldn’t they still be in danger?”
Marchand glanced away for a brief moment, his expression souring. “At the time, no.”
His wording removed the block from Margot’s voice, and she turned to face him. “What do you mean, ‘At the time’? Is there danger now?” Her heart thumped and did a quick flip in her chest.
The girls!
“We need to call Dean.” She surged out of her chair and turned panicked eyes on Max, who already had his phone out.
Marchand patted the air. “Let’s slow down. I agree, we need to put some protections in place, but may I explain first?”
A burst of anger pushed away some of the fright filling her chest. Spinning around, she pinned him with an icy glare. “That would be a wonderful idea, yes.”
The marshal didn’t waste time. “Your ex-husband borrowed money from a small criminal organization the FBI has been watching for some time. One of their undercover operatives embedded in the horse racing scene buddied up to him, got to know him a bit. The plan was to catch Tad making illegal bets and force his hand so he would testify against the group. But before that could happen, he defaulted on his payments again. And when I say again, I mean for probably the fourth or fifth time. The head of this organization, Devin Owens, decided he’d had enough and threatened to expose Tad to the hospital board.” Marchand’s gaze flicked to Max, who watched with his arms crossed, phone clutched in his hand so hard his knuckles were white.
“It freaked Tad out,” Marchand continued. “He didn’t know that Owens knew who he was. He’d given a fake name. Thomas Villanova.”
Her jaw worked as she seethed. Was that the only reason Tad was scared? Because he’d lose his medical license? What about what could have happened to their family?
“Our operative cornered Tad shortly after that. By then, he had enough evidence to bring charges against your ex for fraud and illegal gambling. And he offered him an option: testify against Owens or face charges.”
Max held up a finger. “One thing doesn’t make sense. How did he end up in WitSec? Threatening to expose someone doesn’t sound particularly violent.”
“It’s not. But the people Owens partnered with are.”
Margot frowned, the fear creeping back in to spread dark tendrils through her body. What did that mean?
Marchand noticed the change in her demeanor and held up a hand. “I’m getting there, I promise. So, the FBI only had bits and pieces of evidence against Owens. They needed something bigger. Something that would put him away for many years and dismantle his criminal enterprise, or it would just spring back up under his minions. The operative convinced Tad to cooperate. They gave him enough cash to pay off some of his debts and get him back into the fold. It worked. He was back in and soon gained more of Owens’s trust. Enough to make him offer Tad an opportunity to get completely square.”
“The bank robbery.” Max dropped his arms and walked closer, stopping beside Margot.
She shuffled her feet until her shoulder touched his arm, needing the physical touch to calm the riot of emotions bouncing around her head.
Marchand nodded. “Exactly. And this is where the violent partners come in. Owens had grand plans. He wanted to be like Benny Binion, an old-timey bookie and hotelier. But opening a fancy hotel takes seed money, and he was having trouble getting investors. No one wanted to take on a project like that from an unknown, who didn’t have backing already. It was a catch twenty-two for Owens; he needed investors to get investors. So, his plan was to set up a shell corporation and funnel the robbery money through there. Make it look legit so he could persuade others to invest.”
Marchand paused, eyeing another traveler who walked past. Standing, the marshal eased closer, and once the man was out of earshot, he continued. “Tad was the getaway driver.”
“If the FBI knew all of this, why let them go ahead with the robbery?” Max aimed a questioning glare at Dye. “Why wouldn’t the place be full of undercover agents, ready to take them down?”
Slowly, Dye rose from his seat, casting a quick glance at Marchand. “That was the plan. From what I understand. I only know what he knows.” He pointed at the marshal. “It’s not my case.”
“There was a whole, elaborate op in the works. But Fred Berry, the head of the robbery gang, got antsy and jumped the gun.”
“Okay, so they robbed the bank and took off with Tad at the wheel. How did he end up with you?” Max tipped a finger toward Marchand.
“Berry tried to kill him.”
Margot covered her mouth, feeling tears well in her eyes.
Jesus . Why hadn’t he come to her? Sure, she’d have been upset, but they could have done something to pay off his debts and get him help. She could have sold the jewelry her parents left her, or a couple of the coins. At least it would have kept him out of danger.
“Apparently, it was a snap decision and Berry’s a bad shot,” Dye said.
Marchand shifted, casting a quick glance around the lobby. “Tad said he was standing by the car, and when Berry pulled out the gun, he dove into the driver’s seat and just took off. We found a bullet embedded in the bumper, but no other marks.”
“Why didn’t he come straight to his FBI contact?” Max asked.
“Fear of repercussions,” Marchand answered. “Berry shot and killed the bank manager during the robbery. He was afraid he’d get charged with accessory to commit murder. He’d also lost confidence in the agency’s ability to keep him safe after the robbery went so off the rails.”
“Okay, so how did Tad end up with you and why was the money at the Conroy’s farm? How do they figure into this?” Max crossed his arms again, a deep frown on his face.
“When Tad ran after the robbery, the money was in the car. He told us he spent months on the run, trying to stay one step ahead of Berry, but he was running low on funds and didn’t want to use the robbery money. Hence the reason he finally turned himself in. One of his caveats to working with us again was withholding where he’d stashed the money. He said he wasn’t giving it up until we could assure his safety and yours.” Marchand nodded to Margot. “Even though he’d already left you, Dr. Gaultier, several months before, he didn’t want any of the kickback, if he got caught, to fall on you. So, we put him in witness protection and put a detail on you and your daughters.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Eyes narrow, she leaned in, not sure she’d heard him right. They’d been followed? She balled her fists, tamping down the anger that wanted to explode from her mouth in a loud and expletive-filled rant. If she’d been under suspicion of wrongdoing, she could accept being followed without her knowledge. But when it was her safety and her daughters’ safety on the line, she should have been informed of the danger. She’d have been more vigilant and cognizant of her surroundings.
Max held up a hand. She looked at him and saw the raw anger simmering in his eyes. “Why wouldn’t you take Margot and the girls too? Owens knew Tad’s real name and what he did for a living. It wouldn’t be hard to find out about his family, especially since Margot worked in the same hospital.”
“We offered that to him, but he said he didn’t think Owens would let Berry resort to that. Despite his criminal ways, Owens has scruples. He?—”
Max sliced a hand through the air. “No. Wrong answer. You should never have bowed to Tad’s wishes. Not with a violent criminal in the midst.”
“He threatened to walk, Mr. Carson. The entire case would have just—poof”—he raised a closed hand and popped it open—“disappeared without him.”
“So, the lives of a woman and two children were inconsequential, is what you’re saying?”
Marchand narrowed his eyes. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No. But as I said, even with what we knew about Berry, we didn’t think Dr. Gaultier or her children were in any real danger. But to be sure, we posted a protective detail.” He turned his gaze to Margot. “Then you went and helped us out by leaving. At that point, we figured you and your daughters were relatively safe. Especially once we learned you’d surrounded yourself with several former members of the special forces.”
Margot poked her tongue into her cheek and glanced through the front windows as she digested that. It still didn’t sit right with her that they’d left her in the dark.
She returned her gaze to the marshal and cast a quick glance at Agent Dye, encompassing him with her next question. “Why do you think we need protection now? Tad’s dead. The feds have the money. Why are my girls and I still in danger?”
“Because Berry doesn’t know we have the money,” Dye said.
Marchand’s lips flattened. “I’ve been monitoring the FBI’s investigation into the body found in North Dakota. That postcard you identified in your ex-husband’s things set off alarm bells for me. I think Berry’s been in Costa Rica and was trying to scare Tad into giving up the money. We’re worried he’ll escalate things.”
Margot’s eyes narrowed, confused. She glanced at Max to see the same confusion on his face.
“Why would he escalate things?” Margot asked. “He killed Tad.”
Dye’s expression tightened, and a pit formed in Margot’s stomach.
Marchand inhaled a breath, then dropped a bomb.
“Tad’s not dead.”