The Witness

myself.” He slipped into an alcove off the living room. Seconds later the sound went off, and an ancient yellow Lab followed Anson creakily out of the den.
    “He’s harmless,” Anson said to Abigail.
    “I like dogs. He has a very intelligent face.”
    “Huck was always smart. Mostly blind now, and more’n half deaf, but he’s still got his smarts. Why don’t we go on back to the great room, have a seat? How’s your dad doing, Brooks?”
    “He’s good. Really good.”
    “That’s good to hear. And the job?”
    “I like it, Captain. I like where I am and who I am there.”
    “He’s a good cop,” Anson said to Abigail. “I hated losing him. How about a beer?”
    “I wouldn’t say no.”
    “I would,” Abigail said, then realized the simple truth sounded rude. “I mean, if I could have some water.”
    “Sure. I got some lemonade. It’s not half bad.”
    “That would be nice, thank you.”
    At Anson’s direction, they settled into a seating area off the large, open kitchen. At the back, wide glass doors led out to a patio, where she saw what she assumed was an enormous grill under a black cover, and several outdoor chairs and tables.
    As Anson got the drinks, the old dog shuffled over, sniffed at her, then rested his head on her knee.
    She stroked his head, rubbed his ears.
    “If he bothers you, just tell him to go sit.”
    “He isn’t bothering me.”
    “Abigail’s got a dog. Great dog. Bert’s out in the car.”
    “What the hell did you leave him out there for? Go get him. We’ll take this out back, let the two of them get acquainted and pal around.”
    “Bert would like that. If you’re sure, I’ll go get him. I ordered him to stay, so he wouldn’t get out of the car for Brooks.”
    “You go ahead, and just bring him on around the back. Side gate’s on the left.”
    “Thank you.”
    When she went out, Anson handed Brooks the beer, jerked a thumb toward the sliders. “What’s going on, Brooks?” he asked, as they stepped out.
    “A lot.”
    “Your lady covers it well, but she’s got enough nerves lighting her up to power the whole city of Little Rock.”
    “She’s got reason for them. I talked her into coming here, to you, because she needs help. And because I’m in love with her.”
    Anson let out a breath, took a long swallow of beer. “What kind of trouble is she in?”
    “I want her to tell you, and I need you to hear her out. All the way. I’m counting on you, Captain.”
    “She’s not from around here, or up where you come from, either.”
    “No, but Bickford’s her home now. We both want it to stay that way.”
    They heard the gate open and shut. Huck’s head went up—not at the sound, Anson knew—at the scent.
    Anson’s eyebrows lifted when Abigail walked around the house with Bert.
    “That’s one big, handsome bastard.”
    “He’s very well behaved,” Abigail assured him.
“Ami,”
she said when Huck, quivering, walked over to sniff the newcomer.
“Ami. Jouer.”
    Tails slashing the air, the dogs sniffed each other. Huck walked over to the fence line, lifted his leg. Bert followed suit. Then they wrestled.
    “Huck’s got some life in him yet.” Anson offered Abigail the lemonade, gestured to a seat. “Brooks said you had a story to tell me, Abigail.”
    “Yes. I should start by saying my name isn’t Abigail Lowery. Technically. It’s Elizabeth Fitch. When I was sixteen I witnessed a man named Yakov Korotkii, who is a lieutenant in the Volkov crime organization, murder his cousin Alexi Gurevich and my friend Julie Masters.”
    Anson sat back. After a moment, he glanced at Brooks. “You did say a lot.”
    Then he turned those steely eyes back on Abigail. “Why don’t you tell me about that?”

25
     
    S HE COULDN’T KNOW IF HE BELIEVED HER. HIS FACE SHOWED nothing, no surprise, no doubt, no understanding. As Brooks had, he interrupted the flow a few times with questions, then only nodded so she’d continue.
    Before she finished, the dogs came back for rubs, and were both sprawled out, exhausted from the play, when she stopped.
    “I remember some of what you’re telling me,” Anson began. “It was big news at the time, especially within law enforcement. Two U.S. Marshals killed, another wounded, the witness in a Mob-related double murder missing. Your name and face was all over the national media for some weeks, and there were a number of interagency memos on you.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    “As well as an outstanding warrant for