An Eye For Danger (book 1)

AN EAR FOR LIES: Chapter 1

THIS IS BOOK 2 OF THE GOLIATH CONSPIRACY SERIES...

Chapter 1

“Lunchtime for the animals,” said Special Agent Mallory, the Amazon bitch formerly known as Faith, Sam’s illustrious partner. She entered the felt-green master bedroom, her spiky bleached hair cut as tight as her grip on her weapon holster, presenting a faux-wood tray with the same ham sandwich, the same barbeque chips and soda, the same miniature carrots I’d been served for four weeks in this rat hole the FBI deemed a mountain safe house.

“My dog could cook better,” I said, brushing my greasy hair out of my eyes and forcing myself out of the wingback, a remnant from the 70’s that should have met its maker already. Without the energy, or motivation, to stand, I sank back into the gold-velvet cushions that crackled with dirt and age. Lack of sunlight, decent food, or freedom had a way of tanking my drive. I smelled my shirt. Soured with sweat and sleep and various food stains. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d changed clothes or taken a shower.

“Eat up. You’re gonna need it, sister.” She dropped the food tray onto the round table next to my chair.

I started to speak.

“And don’t ask about that damn dog of yours again, or so help me...”

“Max,” I said. My dog’s name is Max. My name is Julie Larson. These were the phrases that kept me present, sane. Hopeful.

“Whatever. He’s gone. Now get cleaned up. Some bigwig is coming to conduct today’s interview. A real killer, boss said.” She’d spoken with a self-satisfied grin reminiscent of that bastard Detective Stone McCarthy, a grin I’d one day slap off that chiseled face of hers. Like I'd shot it off Stone's face.

Mallory’s rescuing me from Sam’s bedside at the hospital resulted in her surrendering me to her FBI team, and then driving me to this three-story log mansion in the Lake Placid woods. She’d assured me these were the legitimate good guys and therefore completely reliable in maintaining my safety. As opposed to their former Team Leader, FBI Agent Reynolds, the Goliath mole who’d kidnapped Sam and put two bullets into Sam's body for kicks before he'd planned to assassinate us both. Goliath's vigilante brotherhood nearly succeeded in ridding the world of the last two witnesses who could take down their operations.

Unfortunately, these new good guys spent every day for the last month conducting “interviews” with me as their star witness for ten hours at a time. Without sleep. Without counsel. And without Sam.

“I can’t believe you approve of this. Keeping me in Guantanamo Bay North.” I nodded to the bed with one blanket, no sheets. In case I got any ideas, they said, about climbing out the window. Or hanging myself.

“What's there to disapprove of? You’re under our protection." She sassed the last word. "Besides, you had your choice: here or the women's correctional facility. Hell, we offer room service. I’ve slept in gutters on assignment with five other men. This is a cake walk, sister.”

Compared to a mental ward, this version of house arrest was definitely a cake walk. I’d struggled to keep my head together, so Mallory's boss, Agent Vilet, didn’t get any ideas about sending me to a nut house instead of prison. After the accident that killed my fiancé, I'd spent a year-long month enjoying the benefits such psychiatric therapy till I proved myself competent and not a risk to myself. Better to keep Vilet question my loyalty than question my sanity.

But their interview tactics alone drove me to the brink of madness. For Sam, I’d hold on, I told myself.

"And your attorney can’t get through the snow, so don't ask about him either." She went to check the bathroom for any changes—shivs, broken glass, escape contraptions.