Loree Lough - Saving Alyssa

“My name is Alyssa. What’s yours?”

“Billie.”

“But … but Billy is a boy’s name.”

“Only if you spell it B-i-l-l-y. I spell it B-i-l-l-i-e.”

“There’s a boy in my class,” Alyssa said from the backseat, “and his name is Billy– Daddy! Look!” His child pointed across the street. “Isn’t that little white dog the cutest thing ever?”

If he ever said yes to a dog, it sure wouldn’t be a yappy ankle-biter like that one. “Uh-huh,” he said. When he had been forced to leave her favorite doll at the airport, Noah had soothed her tears by promising to replace it with a kitten.

“If I had a dog,” she said, “it would be big. Like the one you had when you were a little boy, ‘member, Daddy?”

How could he forget the gentle giant that had been more sibling than pet? “Cash. My dad named him Cash Money, because he’d been abused before we adopted him, and cost a fortune at the vet’s.”

Noah glanced over at Billie, and for a moment there, the woman in the passenger seat looked mildly interested. She pointed left. “You just passed my street,” she said.

Noah groaned. That meant driving up to Hamilton Street to make a U-turn in the post office parking lot. Halfway there, traffic on Main Street slowed, then came to a grinding halt. Noah gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles ached. Trapped at a dead stop between parked cars and the constant flow of traffic heading east, he and Alyssa–and Billie, too–might as well have bull’s-eyes painted on their foreheads… .

Dear Reader,

How many times have you wished you could escape your life and all its travails and tragedies? Or wanted to hop a plane or a bus–or just start walking–to get away from whiny kids, demanding bosses and inconsiderate neighbors, at least for a little while?

If you’re like me, the answer is “A lot!” At least, that was my answer, until I researched the Witness Protection program (WITSEC) and interviewed inspectors with the U.S. Marshals Service. These brave and dedicated people helped me understand that whether a witness goes undercover because he’s a bad guy turning state’s evidence or a good guy whose testimony will help get bad guys off the streets, life in the program is anything but easy.

Imagine receiving completely new identities and documentation, you’re moved far from home and warned that all connections with the past must be severed–if you hope to remain safe (and alive) and protect loved ones from potential danger. You’re told there’s no going back. Ever. Not for Grandma’s funeral or your niece’s wedding. The doctor and dentist you’ve trusted for years? He’ll never know why you didn’t keep your last appointment. Because for all intents and purposes, the old you is dead.

Sounds pretty bleak and lonely, doesn’t it? That’s because it is … and that’s why inspectors go above and beyond the call of duty, serving as parent, sibling, friend, confidant, counselor. Available 24/7/365, they help witnesses get beyond the temptation to reach into the past–and save lives. (According to the U.S. Marshals Service, no witness who has followed the rules has ever been located, injured or killed by the parties they testified against.)

But what if, in a moment of weakness, a witness doesn’t follow the rules? What if a child in protective custody unwittingly lets the cat out of the bag … and leads danger straight to her door?

That is the backdrop of the story you’re about to read. I hope you’ll enjoy this glimpse into the mysterious world of WITSEC, and that you’ll write (www.loreelough.com) to share your thoughts on the light I attempted to shed on a sometimes dark and dangerous lifestyle.

Not to give anything away, but … here’s to happy endings!

Loree

Saving Alyssa

Loree Lough

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LOREE LOUGH

Once upon a time, bestselling author Loree Lough sang for her supper. (That little corner in pubs reserved for “the piano lady"? Well, that’s where she sat, strumming a Yamaha in cities all across the U.S.) Now and then, she blows the dust from her six-string to croon a tune or two, but mostly, she writes. With the release of this novel, she will have one hundred books on the shelves (fifteen bearing a Mills & Boon® imprint), and 4.5 million in circulation. Her work has earned numerous industry accolades, movie options and four- and five-star reviews … but she’s most proud of her “Readers’ Choice” awards.

Loree and her husband split their time between a home near Baltimore and a cabin in the Alleghenies, where she continues to perfect her “identify the critter tracks” skills. A writer who believes in giving back, Loree donates a portion of her income to charity. (Complete list at Giving Back page, www.loreelough.com.) She loves hearing from readers and answers every letter personally. You can connect with her at Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest.

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This book is dedicated to all WITSEC personnel, devoted to the protection of individuals and families for whom life in the shadows is a necessary way of life.

My heartfelt gratitude to the men and women of WITSEC who generously shared of their time, information and experiences, and made it possible for me to give readers a personal, accurate portrayal of life in the program. In order to protect each of them and the people in their care, I can’t identify them by name, but they know who they are, and how thankful I am for all the help and friendship!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

“GIVE HER A couple of months,” George Webster had said, “and she’ll forget all about this. Kids are resilient.”

Easy for him to say. The agent’s little girl hadn’t spent the past eighteen months being shuttled from one safe house to another in the dead of night. The agent’s little girl hadn’t been asked to trade her big, bright, once-happy home for a series of windowless dumps where gunshots, angry shouts and screaming sirens disturbed her sleep.

Nate stopped pacing and looked at his four-year-old daughter, Melissa. The flickering blue-green glow of the cheap alarm clock gave off just enough light to see her, lying spread-eagled in the narrow cot beside his. The soft, steady sound of her peaceful breaths reminded him of the many nights when, because he’d come home too late to tuck her in, he’d stood beside her bed, staring like a mute fool, thinking perfection, from the moment of her birth to this. Tears stung his eyes and a lump ached in his throat. Greed and arrogance were responsible for every wasted moment that could never be retrieved.