A Runaway Witness

By Dolores Strandberg

After witnessing a murder involving her boss, a secretary turns to a Federal Marshall for help. She testifies at her bosss trial and then has to run for her life with the assistance of a number of law enforcement officials including the FBI. No one seems to be able to protect her as she begins traveling to numerous places across the USA in an attempt to avoid being killed. Even the people sent to protect her are suspect. Changing her name and using various disguises fail to keep her enemies from locating her. During her moves to various places she befriends two young run-away girls and later a young boy who become part of her life, along with the Federal Marshall who proves to be more than he seems. She finds help and friendship in unexpected places and eventually her problems come to a happy, though unexpected conclusion, when more than one person she trusts have become her enemies.
This is a fictional story though most of the places mentioned are actual communities in and around the USA. My Father was in law enforcement and several characters are similar to some of his friends that I knew during his lifetime, though their names and places they lived are not as portrayed in my story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 26, 2007
• ISBN: 9781469119304

Dolores Strandberg

I am a fourth generation Floridian who retired from the banking industry and turned my hand to writing which has been a hobby for a number of years. I have been married to my best friend and love, Charles, since 1963. I enjoy sewing, reading, writing, and various crafts. I teach a children’s Sunday school class and entertain them with my stories which usually have a good moral point. I make friends easily and my husband calls me a people magnet. We have lived in the Palm City Farms area of Martin County Florida since 1966.

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Copyright © 2007 by Dolores Strandberg

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Chapter 1

A Runaway Witness

Chapter 2

Witness in Hiding

Chapter 3

Witness Faces Danger

Chapter 4

Being Hunted

Chapter 5

No Place of Safety

Chapter 6

Finding a Sanctuary

Chapter 7

Reconciled with Jack

Chapter 8

Running Again

Chapter 9

Safety for Timmy

Chapter 10

Caught off Guard

Chapter 11

Hunted by Hired Killers

Chapter 12

Kidnapped

Chapter 13

Happily Ever After

TO MY FRIEND DOROTHY HOLMES FOR READING AND CORRECTING MY NUMEROUS GRAMMATICAL ERRORS, TO MY HUSBAND FOR GIVING ME THAT LITTLE PUSH I NEEDED TO GET ME TO PUBLISH MY STORIES, AND MY FRIEND AND ‘ADOPTED’ DAUGHTER, JO-ANN LONG FOR ENCOURAGING ME. I LOVE ALL OF YOU AND YOU HAVE MY DEEPEST GRATITUDE FOR BEING THERE FOR ME WHEN I FALTERED IN MY ENDEAVORS.

Chapter 1

A Runaway Witness

I’ve been known by several names over the years, however, you can call me either Jane, Kate or Aunt Kate. After all I have been through those are still the best names for me to use even at the present time. Jane Katherine is the name my parents gave me. Some of the circumstances that make up my story caused me to have to use other names to protect myself.

It felt very therapeutic to take time to write in a story format, everything that has happened to me. At least it will make a good story for someone to read if they care to take the time to do it.

For my own protection I had kept a small journal of everything that happened to me as it took place. The little book looked like a book of poetry. In fact I had labeled the front with the words Poems for Pleasure in calligraphy. I had been careful not to let anyone see me writing in it.

The first few pages did contain some little poems I had written years earlier when I was first given the little book. The rest, however, contained the most difficult years of my life along with some of the best ones.

I guess I had better start at the beginning of my difficult times before you get bored and stop reading. The following pages contain more nerve wracking excitement than most people ever hope to have in their whole life and most of it only covers a scant few years of mine. Most of it caused by being in the wrong place at the wrong time and I saw too much.

Most homicide witnesses have a way of having bad things happen to them when it becomes known that they have seen things the other persons want to keep hidden. I was no exception to this rule.

Anyway, at the beginning of my story I was working for a business in North Carolina. I won’t name the town or the business either because talking too much is what got me into trouble in the first place. There could still be someone out there that would want to shut my mouth permanently, even though part of my story made headlines at the time.

Let me start by telling you a bit about my trouble. It was late on a Friday afternoon and I was just leaving work, late as usual because I hate to face Monday mornings with incomplete files left on my desk. It was rather warm and I had my jacket draped over my arm and carried my briefcase and handbag in my left hand. My keys were clutched in my right hand as I started out the back door to go to my car.

I heard a scraping noise coming from around the side of the building and nosy me just had to go see what was causing the sound. The wind was not blowing and it had been a nice warm day, the kind that make office workers wish they had the day off just to be outdoors for a change.

Just as I reached the corner of the building I heard my boss, Jon Cozemski, and another man, whose voice I did not recognize whispering rather loudly to each other. The sound had ceased and from where I stood I couldn’t tell what had made the sound that had caught my attention.

I started to turn back toward my parked car but before I had completed my turn I saw a third man getting out of a car. A police car—the local police chief, brother in law to my boss of all people. Knowing how little they liked each other and wondering what was up, I stopped in my tracks and peeped through the shrubbery planted just past the building corner so I could see all three men.

My boss then grabbed the man he had been whispering with and I heard a muffled thunk and the man, who was facing me at the time, slowly fell to the ground. A stunned look on his fairly good looking face.

He looked familiar to me for some reason but not until later did I realize why I thought I knew him.

I heard the Chief say, Did you have to kill him here? Why didn’t you wait like I told you? Now what are you going to do?

My boss in a harsh voice told him to shut up as he would take care of everything as he waived around a gun that had a funny looking barrel on it. Later learning it was a silencer made to keep the sound of the shot from being heard.

I was so stunned I was frozen in place. I realized then that my boss had shot the man. I stayed where I was, staring at the scene before me. My racing thoughts told me neither man would appreciate having a witness around right then.

My boss calmly walked over to his car, opened the trunk and brought out a folded sheet of plastic similar to a painter’s drop cloth. He tossed the gun into the trunk of the car before he spread the plastic out beside the dead man lying on the pavement.

Pick up his shoulders while I get his feet and we’ll put him on the tarp and wrap him up in it as soon as I empty his pockets. I have a place picked out where we can dump the body. When they find him they will think he was robbed and killed for his money and watch, My boss calmly stated.

I continued to watch, still frozen in place and not making a sound, as they removed the watch, turned his pockets inside out removing his wallet, a ring of keys, something that glimmered like gold that I found out days later was an engraved cigarette lighter and a money clip that held some folded bills.

The Chief took a paper bag from the police car and put the items in the bag, rolled it up and tossed it in the back seat of my bosses car.

Then they rolled the man up in the plastic and put him in the trunk of my boss’s car. He got behind the wheel and the Chief got in on the passenger side and they drove away, leaving the patrol car parked right there. They never noticed me as I stood white faced and shaking like a leaf in fear.

After I was sure they were out of sight I made my feet move and ran to my car. I was shaking so hard I dropped my keys, but finally was able to pick them up and got the door unlocked and sat down rather quickly, then locked all the doors. What if they come right back I thought. I decided rather quickly that I’d better get away from there as fast as possible.

I even drove around a bit looking behind me to be sure they were not chasing me, as my mind could not seem to face the facts of what I had witnessed and that neither one had apparently seen me.

As soon as I reached my apartment building, I parked in my usual spot and ran all the way to the stairs and raced up them as if the devil was behind me. After I got inside my second floor apartment I locked all my doors, closed all my curtains and sat in the dark trying to decide what I should do next.

Suddenly I remembered that my friend Becky knew a Federal Marshall so I decided to call her first. I let Becky think I was writing an article for a mystery magazine and needed some background information on law enforcement but wanted it to be accurate. She accepted my story and gave me the Marshall’s name and telephone number.

We chatted a few minutes and made a tentative date for lunch one day the following week before I was able to hang up. My mind seemed to be working even if my body continued to shake.

I was amazed that I was staying so calm after what I had just gone through. Even though she was a friend I did not want to get her involved. I was sure she would not have kept quiet and I did not need other people knowing my secret.

Becky had also told me that Marshall Jack Grant was great to look at and was single. She was married and had tried to fix me up with dates in the past including him though I had turned her down with some excuse. Being happily married she thought any single woman needed a husband especially me.

Before I lost my nerve, I picked up the phone and dialed his number. He answered on the fourth ring and sounded very grouchy.

Who’s calling’? he asked.

I told him I was Jane Smith and I had witnessed a murder.

I did not get the response I was expecting. Hang up and call the cops, he stated and hung up on me.

I hit redial and when he finally answered, swearing under his breath when he heard my voice, I remained calm and said I couldn’t do that as the Chief was involved in the murder. The murderer was the Chief’s brother in law and the Chief was standing right there when the man was killed.

Who gave you my number? he asked. I told him Becky did but that I had not told her about the murder and that she was under the impression that I was writing a story and needed specific information about law enforcement so she had given me his name and number.

I didn’t know who to turn to and sure did not trust anyone connected with the local law enforcement. Even this call to you could put me in danger. I trust Becky and felt she would not have me call anyone she did not trust even though she thought it was only for information, I told him.

I finally convinced him that either I talk to him or to someone he would recommend or I would keep my story to myself and go hide somewhere. I didn’t know who to trust other than an outsider like him. Just seeing what I did has put me in danger anyway.

If anyone else had seen me spying on the men and told either of them that I had been watching I was positive I would also be killed just like that man. I was not ready to die and I hoped I would live a good number of years. There were still things I would like to be able to do with my life.

The Marshall finally agreed to meet me the next morning at 8:30 AM in a local park, a park I had jogged through a number of times, so I knew my way around it pretty well.

I could tell from the tone of voice he used that he felt he was humoring a hysterical flighty woman. At that time he really did not believe that I had witnessed a murder. He even mentioned that I seemed rather calm for what I claimed to have seen.

You just can’t see my shaking body and hear my chattering teeth, I told him in response.

After hanging up I was still too upset to eat so I drank a glass of milk, took a shower, and went to bed. Too upset and too keyed up to sleep I tossed and turned most of the night. I got up several times and just looked out my windows, so afraid I would see one of the two men. The well lit parking area and yard was quiet and peaceful with no one about each time I looked.

As soon as my alarm went off at 7:00 AM, I got up, did my usual morning rituals but still couldn’t eat anything. I got dressed in my jogging clothes of faded blue and my old worn tennis shoes. I put my credit cards, and the usual junk most women feel necessary to carry around in my fanny pack, buckled it around my waist and jogged to the park.

It was just a half mile from my apartment so I got there earlier than the Marshall. I sat on the bench near the duck pond where we had agreed to meet and just about the time I had given up on him, he arrived. I noticed immediately that he was even better looking than Becky had told me.

You Jane? he asked. With my quirky sense of humor I almost said You Tarzan?, but I didn’t. For once I only said the obvious, Yes, I am and you must be Marshall Grant.

He pulled out his wallet and showed me his credentials. He was a tall athletic man, late thirties I thought. He had brown hair, dark brown eyes, was clean shaven, dressed in a smart navy blue suit, white shirt, blue striped tie, and shiny black shoes. Typical governmental dresser I could see.

He was looking me up and down the same way I was staring at him. This better be good. he said, as though he thought I was wasting his time.

Sit down and I will tell you what I saw and then you can decide what should be done. OK?? I said.

He sat down, stared at me expectantly. I looked around once more to be sure no one was near us and I told him exactly what I had seen the afternoon before and explained how scared I was to be involved in such a thing as murder, even if only as a witness.

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes and then asked me if I would follow him to his car as he had some papers to show me. I agreed and we walked a block or so to the parking lot at the edge of the park.

He unlocked a sporty red car, opened the door and picked up a local newspaper, folded in half, with a picture on the front page. Blaring headlines read Congressman Adams Killed By Unknown Assailant. Below the picture was a short caption stating that his body had been dumped behind his home and found by one of his security guards about 10:00 PM. The Congressman had been seen alive and well earlier that evening when he had left home for one of his many meetings.

Witnesses said he had attended the meeting, had stopped at a local restaurant for dinner though no one seemed to remember who his dinner partner was though she was well dressed.

The security guard had seen a car leaving the driveway but didn’t see enough to get a description of car or driver. He discovered the body a few minutes later. Then followed a history of the Congressman’s congressional activities, family information, etc.

His wife had been out of town on business and was due to return early that morning. Authorities had reached her and her secretary at their hotel before midnight after his body had been found.

Jack asked if that was the man I saw killed and I said it was definitely him. The picture was in full color and his suit, and everything shown was exactly the same as the man I saw with my boss, though the tie was a different color. This tie was a dark blue and the one I had seen was a red paisley one. I shuddered to think his life was ended so abruptly.

Jack turned the paper to an inside page where a smaller rather gory picture was showing the man as he lay in his yard with blood all over his chest and a smear across his cheek. I also saw the red paisley tie though it was partially covered in a darker color that I realized was also blood.

I visibly shuddered as I looked away from the newspaper and into Jack’s nice brown eyes. What do I do now? I asked him. I can’t go back to work Monday as if nothing had happened. If I faced my boss I was positive I would fall to pieces and that meant he would know I had seen him and then he would probably kill me too.

I explained my fears to Jack Grant, who surprisingly agreed with me. He said we would think of a cover story to give us time to decide what steps we needed to take.

I’ll take you home and then call my office. I’m just a field agent and about all I do is escort criminals from jail to court or put someone in a safe house when they need it. Being a field agent I am assigned the cases I handle, Jack explained.

I could tell he was very concerned about my situation though, and for some reason it made me feel a lot better.

I got into his car as he opened the door for me and then he walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat. He reached over and patted my hand before saying in a very soothing voice, "We’ll get you through this. There is a lot we can do to keep you safe, though you will have to tell either my boss or someone else in law enforcement about what you saw. Since it was a congressman your boss killed, it will probably be someone from the FBI.

When we reached my apartment building he got out first telling me to stay in the car. He looked all around the parking area, the street, and the fenced and well manicured lawn area surrounding the apartment complex.

From this moment onward we will take absolutely no chances. I think you are safe enough for the time being but better safe than sorry later, he added.

When we entered my second floor apartment, Jack immediately asked to look around to be sure no one was inside. Of course I agreed and followed him around, explaining what each room was used for including my very cluttered spare bedroom that I used to sort laundry, iron, sew up rips, etc.

He even went into the small utility room off my kitchen that led to an outside stairway which connected to each of the five floors of apartments at the back of the apartment building. Also on each side of the building were other porches as well as a stairway down each side. This meant if one stairway was blocked one of the other two was accessible.

Each apartment also had a small uncovered porch just outside the utility room. Mine contained two wrought iron chairs, a small oval iron table and several potted plants, leaving a three foot path over to the apartments on each side of mine. A four foot wide wrought iron trellis separated each porch, dividing the areas but not giving much privacy.

In the event of a fire I had always felt lucky to have the stairway just off my porch. Jack was concerned that both the front and back of my apartment were so easily accessible.

I explained that most of the tenants used the back stairs to take garbage down to the dumpsters at the corner of the parking area. Also that the back courtyard was surrounded by a locked seven foot iron railed fence.

There was a combination four digit lock on the gates and every tenant had the combination. The manager did change the combination several times each year usually following the time when a tenant moved away. Then we each were called and given the new combination.

Inside the fenced back yard was a nice playground for the children of the tenants, several benches and even picnic tables at the far back end.

Each floor had two front center apartments, one more on each side of these two with side of the building access, with five smaller apartments across the back. A hallway led to the front door of the back row of apartments as well as the one on each side of mine.

Jack and I went back into my apartment and he called his Superior and told him he had an eye witness to the Congressman’s murder and explained exactly where it had occurred. He listened a couple of minutes, then asked if he should bring me in or take me to a safe house as a precaution.

Under the circumstances they decided a safe house first, then they would get my statement. In the meantime a forensic team would go to the crime scene and gather whatever evidence they could find to corroborate my story.

The forensic team might be able to uncover information that could connect my boss to the killing. Marshall Grant had not given them my name for some reason.

We discussed what cover story I could use so I need not return to my office. If I called in sick and did not come in one of my friends at work might just drop in to check on me and that would not be a good thing.

We finally decided I was to call a co-worker and tell her my mother in San Francisco had been in an accident and I was taking emergency leave of absence. I would tell her to tell my boss as I had been unable to reach him and that I would call back as soon as I found out how badly injured she was, but the doctor seemed to think it was extremely life threatening.

This should give me a few days before anyone got suspicious of my absence. Jack had me pack whatever I normally would take on a two week trip. That way anyone entering my apartment wouldn’t think anything was strange about my abrupt leaving. My apartment would look normal.

He wouldn’t even let me clean up the messy spare bedroom! I did wash the few dishes in the sink, but he had me leave them in the drain tray instead of drying them and putting them away.

He said that anyone in a rush to leave to see a sick or injured loved one would be too upset to leave everything perfectly in place, even the dishes.

Jack called someone else and made arrangements for my mother’s ‘accident’ to be put in the newspapers in San Francisco. He wanted me to call my mother to let her know what was happening.

I’m an orphan. My parents were killed in a boating accident when I was very young and my grandparents raised me. They passed away several years ago. I haven’t told anyone about my past life other than about my college education, so my past life and family should not cause a problem, I explained. I have two friends that live here in my apartment complex that do know about my parents. Right now they are on vacation and due back in about a week. I can contact them later and make sure they know not to tell anyone about me.

Jack was pleased that instead of regular suitcases I had the large nylon duffle-bag type with numerous zipper pockets on them. The largest bag held clothes and a smaller one held toiletries, cosmetics, a spare pair of shoes, pajamas, my newer set of jogging clothes, etc. My small handbag was exchanged for a large shoulder bag also with numerous pockets, which I proceeded to fill with a woman’s usual assortment of possible traveling needs including Band-Aids, etc.

Just before leaving my apartment Jack had me place a call to my co-worker at her home and tell her my made-up story, which she accepted and even asked if there was anything she could do to help me. I told her a friend was already there helping me and would be taking me to the airport in just a few minutes. I told her I would call the office the first of the week and tell her how my mother was doing and by then would know whether I would have to take a leave of absence or be able to come back to work.

I breathed a sigh of relief after I hung up. That step had seemed almost too easy.

Jack picked up my large bag as if it only weighed a pound or two, though I knew what I had packed it had to be heavy. I took the smaller bag and my handbag, then I locked the door as we were leaving.

I stopped next door and let my neighbor Jeannie know I would be gone and gave her the same story about the accident. Jeannie had just moved in a few weeks ago and did not know my parents were dead. I had also written a note and left it in the manager’s mailbox telling the same story.

When I opened the door of Jack’s car I realized I was still wearing the old faded joggers. I wanted to go back and change but he wouldn’t let me.

Looks more realistic this way. Anyone who’s Mom was injured would probably not think about something as mundane as dressing up to travel to her side. Besides it looks cute on you, He said as he gave me a cheeky grin.

OK Buster, I said, but don’t get any funny ideas. I’m too old to flirt with, though I appreciate you trying to get my mind off my worries.

I’m thirty-nine and you can’t be more than that. I’m guessing you are in the thirty to forty age range as well. He replied.

You sure do know how to make an old lady feel good about herself, though actually I’m pushing forty-two, so thanks for the compliment. Right now I’m feeling every day of it! I responded.

You sure are much younger looking and from what I can see you have a body a teenager would love to have. Then he chuckled and added, Their Moms would be envious as well!

Yeah! Gray hair and all! I stated.

He only chuckled again, showing a deep dimple in one cheek. I think I’m beginning to like this guy. So much for first impressions. Then he had to ruin it by bringing me back to my present danger.

By the way, he said, we will be changing your looks a little so you won’t be as easily recognized if we should run into someone that knows you. You know, change your hairstyle, do a dye job on it, maybe glasses, and a new identity.

We will stop at a stylist I know who can be depended on to keep quiet about your real identity. She’s a real Pro at changing someone’s looks. You probably won’t recognize yourself at first when she gets through. Oh! Also my superior will send over a new set of identity cards for you including drivers license, passport, credit cards, and such,