CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Angela woke to the sound of a phone ringing. It wasn’t either of their cell phones, and it took her more than a minute to place. Their safe house had a landline. She’d registered it as a relic from years gone by or maybe a necessity of living in a remote part of somewhere within a forest. Either way, the thought had been fleeting.
“Sawyer.” Angela nudged him. “The phone is ringing.”
He slapped the nightstand as though he were trying to snooze an alarm. “It’s not.”
“The kitchen. The phone on the wall.”
With tousled hair and sleepy eyes, he inched off his pillow. She saw the mental gymnastics of who might call the landline that hadn’t rung once since they’d arrived, then Sawyer lumbered out of bed, walking his naked self out of the bedroom.
He returned with the cobwebs seemingly cleared out of his sleepy thoughts. “It’s time.”
“That was them?”
He nodded and searched the floor for the clothing they’d discarded before falling into bed together. “Yup. You’re scheduled to testify this afternoon.”
Her stomach dropped like a boulder pushed into the sea. “Today?”
He nodded.
“How do we know it’s them?” She gathered the sheets up to her chin, hiding as Sawyer walked around the room, gathering his belongings.
“They said they’d get a hold of us. They identified themselves the way they’d said they would.”
“I thought that was if they knocked on the door.”
“Or, apparently, if they called.” He paused, took her in as she hid under the sheets, and sat beside her. Sawyer brushed her hair off of her face. “You’re ready for this.”
“I know.”
“You can do this,” he urged.
“I know.” But she still didn’t set foot out of bed. “But I’m not ready.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve been ready for years,” he said quietly. “The sooner you do this, the sooner you’re done with him.”
All of this she knew. Still, she was stuck under the sheets. “I don’t know if I can.”
It wasn’t as if she was going to have a panic attack like she had at the Cabots’ house. But her frozen limbs weren’t moving. She didn’t know how to jumpstart her derrière into action.
“Angela.” Sawyer crawled over her and under the covers, pulling her into his arms. “I am ready to start my life with you. I am ready for everything. All of it. But it all starts with you taking this step and ridding yourself of this baggage. I can’t do that for you. I would in a heartbeat, but it’s not my burden to release.”
An ache throbbed in her throat.
“I’m going to spend my life with you. I’m going to marry you. Have kids with you. Anything that you want, Angela. And all of that starts with testifying.” He tilted her chin up, forcing her gaze to lock onto his. “Give me that, and I will give you the world.”
Once more, tears threatened to fall down her cheeks. They had talked about their future, but when he put it like that, their future made her heart explode. She couldn’t say anything except, “I love you, Sawyer.”
“Love you too.” He pulled her onto his chest and kissed the top of her head. “If I could do this for you, I would.”
She knew that and nodded. And that was all she needed. “All right. Let’s do this.”
Several hours of driving later, the blacked-out SUV rolled into the underground parking lot. Somewhere above them was the federal courthouse, brimming with reporters and Tran Pham.
Angela wore a black pencil skirt and cuffed white blouse. She channeled her inner badass with a stack of gold bracelets like her mother’s and a vivid red lipstick that made her feel like a rock star.
Sawyer sat next to her, silent and holding her hand as the Marshal rolled to a stop. An armed gaggle of marshals waited outside the SUV to escort Angela into the building.
“When you’re ready,” the federal agent in the front passenger seat said.
Her heart galloped twice as fast as it had when they exited Interstate 495 toward the federal courthouse complex. She squeezed Sawyer’s hand even tighter than she had as they slowed in the garage bay.
“Ready?” Sawyer asked.
Angela inhaled slowly through her nose and exhaled through her mouth just as slowly. “Yes.”
Sawyer nodded to the agent in the front seat. The woman got out and opened Angela’s door. Fluorescent lights from the parking lot flooded into the back seat, as did the murmur of voices, greeting her and setting them into action.
Updates were given. Directions commanded. Angela relied on Sawyer to hear everything and ensure she did what was needed. The protective gaggle hustled her into an elevator.
Two minutes later, she sat in a private conference room, a bottle of water at her right hand and Sawyer standing next to her left, waiting for the assistant district attorney prosecuting Pham’s case to make their appearance.
The ADA didn’t have much to say. She looked younger than Angela expected, but she also looked smart, savvy, and hungry for a conviction. The one-sided conversation ended with an utterance of “We’ll call for you when we’re ready.”
Then Angela was alone with Sawyer and her bottle of water. She looked up at him. “I’m ready for this to be over.”
He nodded, in bodyguard mode, scanning the empty room like a threat hid in the wood paneling. “Same, sweetheart.”
One minute passed. Then five minutes. Finally, fifteen minutes had crawled by. “Maybe we should ask—”
The door swung open. A new face greeted her. “They’re ready for you.”
Angela’s stomach lurched. She reached for Sawyer’s hand. He took it and held it until they reached the door. “You’ve got this,” he whispered.
She did. Forget the number of interrogations over the years and the amount of prep work the federal investigators and district attorneys’ offices had put her through; Angela was beyond ready to leave Pham in her past.
They moved into the courtroom. A jury waited to hear from her. The judge reigned from the dais in the middle of the room. People filled all the other available seats. There were no news cameras, but reporters huddled at the back wall, ready to get their sound bites and run them out of the courthouse to wherever their computers and cell phones waited.
Then she saw Pham.
White noise and rushing blood pounded in her head. He didn’t turn to watch her walk in, but she could have picked him out of the lineup if everyone had their back to her. For years, he was one of the only people she’d seen.
Sawyer was forced to stay with the crowd lining the benches. Whatever had been said to call her to the witness stand had already happened. A uniformed man directed her toward the elevated platform and empty chair. A microphone and a glass of water waited for her there.
Her palms sweated, but Angela didn’t rush. She held her head up and strutted to the witness stand in her killer shoes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pham as she passed, and at that moment, she decided to meet his gaze from her spot next to the judge.
Angela took her seat. The members of the jury watched her. Some looked curious. Others appeared to be exhausted by what thus far must have been tedious with savvy lawyers searching for loopholes.
Another uniformed officer approached. “Raise your right hand,” he directed, “and repeat after me.”
She swore to tell the truth and then noticed Sawyer at the back of the room. His tight jaw and stoic expression were unreadable to anyone but Angela. But, in his ice-blue eyes, she saw the words he’d promised. Their future.
With that, a calm settled over her. This chapter of her life would close. The next one waited minutes away. She couldn’t wait.
Angela testified. She looked Tran Pham in the eye and said her piece. After she spoke, it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Even when the defense crossed, she didn’t care. There was only so much they could do to assassinate her character, since she had been Pham’s captive for years.
“You may be excused,” the judge said.
Angela met Sawyer’s eyes and almost smiled. She was ready to go home and start their happily ever after.
A glass window shattered.
Bright lights exploded.
Hissing smoke instantaneously filled the room.
“Sawyer!” she called for help as pandemonium broke loose. She could barely see. Tears poured from her burning eyes.
The judge was pulled from his chair.
Gunfire popped. Screams tore into the chemical haze.
Angela ducked. Smoke burned her throat and nose.
A scurry of shouts and orders and rushing feet ricocheted in the melee. She covered her eyes. Rough hands grabbed her arm and shoulder, dragging her out of the chair and over the front of the witness stand.
“No!” Angela choked. She struggled. She lost a shoe and fought for freedom. Gunfire popped again. She threw herself away from the sound. Pain exploded in her shoulder.
Another set of hands reached her. Sawyer . She didn’t have to see him to know it was her man. He roared, swung her into his arms, and, just as fast, rescued her from the gas-bombed room.