Page 6 of Not the Bodyguard's Widow
The comment wasn’t what he expected.
“Abbie is my twin. I know her real smile.” Alex took the phone back and found a photo of Abbie on a hang-gliding trip they’d taken together before starting work for their father. “See? That is a genuine smile.” He flipped to a photo of her senior year of high school. “This is the night all four of us took her to prom after running her date off. That is a very fake smile. Preston compliments her life in a way I can’t understand. He’s even convinced her to stop carrying her gun during the pregnancy. Even Mom couldn’t do that.” Alex flipped through his photos. “And here is a diabolical smile.” He showed her the photo of their Halloween costumes when they were twelve.
“The wonder twins?”
“One of her friends dared her to get me to wear a unitard for Halloween. She tricked me into doing a twin theme, claiming it would be the last year we could dress up since we were twelve. Somehow I even suggested the wonder twins.”
Kimberly covered her mouth as she laughed. “Who is the space monkey?”
“Andrew, my youngest brother. I have no idea how she got him to dress up as a purple monkey.” Alex swiped to another photo from the same night.
Tears formed at the corners of Kimberly’s eyes as she laughed. “No more, please. I haven’t laughed so hard in months.” She gasped for air. “Do... do... you show them to a-a-ll your clients?”
Alex shook his head. “You are the first one I’ve shown them to. Although Abbie probably shared them with Candace and Mandy.”
“You’re doing it so I feel comfortable talking to you, right?”
Alex nodded. If she continued to be candid with her thoughts, it would make his job a lot easier.
Kimberly bit her lip. “Well, first thing you should know is I don’t like bodyguards.”
4
Words,once spoken, don’t return. Kimberly should have remembered the adage before she’d spoken and Mr. Alexander’s face had frozen. “Let me explain. All the bodyguards I have known in the past five years have made me feel more like I am a prisoner than protected. At first I thought I could trust them, but I’ve learned their loyalty is where the money comes from, which wasn’t me or my husband.”
“Your father-in-law?”
Kimberly nodded. “After Jeremy’s ‘accident,’ the bodyguard thing got worse.” She used air quotes. “I’m only explaining because of Candace.”
“Accident?”
“Yes, they killed my husband, Jeremy, in a ‘single-car drunk-driving accident’ on Valentine’s Day. I’d texted with him at five thirty. He said he’d be home by six. The accident occurred sometime around nine thirty, fifty miles north, nowhere near our house. He had a lot of faults, but he respected the no-alcohol-in-the-house stance I’d picked up when I lived here with Candace. He rarely drank. He knew I’d made a special dinner. And no one could explain why he was fifty miles north. My father-in-law hinted at a mistress, but I know he didn’t have one.”
Alex raised a brow.
“I thought he did last year and had him followed. It was all business meetings, my father-in-law present about half the time. Everything was always business. After my third miscarriage, Jeremy was better for a while and the eighty-hour workweeks dwindled to a more reasonable fifty. Then we went on a Thanksgiving cruise, alone.” She paused and sipped some water. “He confessed that not all the business practices they were involved in were legal. I urged him to get out. He said he would. Then the eighty-hour workweeks started again. He told me he was meeting with the FBI, the SCC, the IRS, and every other alphabet group. Jeremy wasn’t even home enough to realize I had morning sickness. I waited until I was in my second trimester to tell him in case I... He never noticed. I had to hide it from the housekeeper and my bodyguards, but my husband was clueless.” Kimberly grabbed the first thing she could off her plate and ate to cover the tears.
Alex quietly waited for her to continue.
“At the mortuary I learned my bodyguard knew Jeremy was dead before the police told me. After the funeral, I realized someone had gone through the house. I had left clear instructions with the housekeeper. My studio was never to be touched, and I put my own clothes way. But someone went through all my drawers and paintings, though they didn’t find much. I’ve become too paranoid over the last year or so, and I regularly check my studio for bugs and cameras. I found one last time they had disturbed things. I told my agent I couldn’t work for a while because of Jeremy’s death, and I asked him for six months off. He understands.”
“What do you paint?”
“I’m an illustrator. I started working under a pen name, or paintbrush name, in college to keep my illustrations separate from my fine art. I kept the name after we married because my father-in-law chided me about my ‘little hobby.’ Jeremy knew I had some commissions and told me to keep a separate account for tax reasons. I’ve written a few children’s books. I’m glad I followed his advice. My earnings are the only money I have now, and I don’t dare access them. I’m down to less than ten grand and a few prepaid credit cards, and I haven’t figured how I will pay for a hospital delivery if I’m still in hiding. I am insured through Jeremy’s company plan, but my father-in-law would know the second I used my card. Maybe a midwife… Sorry, tangent.” Talkative when nervous wasn’t a good trait to have when someone who made their living being a good observer sat across the table. He didn’t need to know about her worries concerning the baby.
“No problem. So, what does your father-in-law want?”
“I don’t know. He asked me where Jeremy put various things, where his safe-deposit box was, what the safe combo was. When I couldn’t give him what he wanted, he threatened me. Then he realized I was expecting, and he backed off with the physical threats. However, he doubled my bodyguards. They even started coming into my bedroom. Before Jeremy died, they never walked through the house unless I had company. Now, the only places I could be alone were at the OB-GYN’s and the nursery at church. That is no life for me or my baby. I knew I needed to leave for us to be safe. It took me weeks to get everything in place. Then I faked a miscarriage.” No point hiding what he’d already heard her tell Candace.
“How is that possible?”
“After having three, I knew how to act. It helped that everyone thought the baby was a New Year’s miracle and not a Thanksgiving surprise. A little corn syrup with red food coloring and the bodyguards rushed me and my suitcase to the hospital. HIPAA kept everyone off the maternity floor. The nurse was a friend from church. I asked her to go down the hall and get me some juice, and then I slipped on some scrubs, put my hair up, threw a pair of glasses on, and walked out before they finished my intake information. That was Monday afternoon. Since then, I have been crisscrossing the country using my pen name, maiden name, married name, and two fictitious names. I’ve spent a small fortune in airfare for flights I missed only to fly on a different flight under a different name. TSA was not impossible to get around. A pregnant woman crying over a stolen wallet works better than it should.” Kimberly forced a smile. It would have been comical if she hadn’t been running for her life. “I used my real name at airports where I withdrew cash from ATMs. Yesterday morning in Atlanta, I discovered he had frozen my account, so I knew it was time to head here. Jeremy and I initially met in New York. He knew I went to school here but only visited once before we got married. Since Candace had said I was always welcome...” Kimberly shrugged.
“Do you think Jeremy really was meeting with the FBI or the other groups you mentioned?”
“He said he was, but when I’d ask for details, he’d put me off. I think he knew the walls in our home literally had ears. If I hadn’t been pregnant, I think I would have left Jeremy. Our life was too much of a lie. But I wanted our child to grow up with a father.” The admission hurt. Kimberly had never said the words out loud, but the thoughts had crossed her mind several times over the past year. “I’m rambling. I guess you didn’t need to know my life story.”
“Understandable. Have you had anyone to talk to?”
