by Lisa Harris
The doorknob jostled.
Oh good. Here they were now.
A blond man she’d never seen before stepped swiftly through the door and snapped it closed behind him.
She lurched to her feet, knocking the cup over. The chill of the rear wall resisted her spine, trapping her in the room with the stranger. She pressed one hand to her thumping chest.
The man’s hands shot to shoulder height, palms out. “Sorry to startle you. I don’t mean you any harm.”
Only a fraction of her alarm dissipated. “Who are you?” She took note of his uniform, which was different from those she normally saw on officers around here. One arm of a dark brown shirt that stretched taut over broad shoulders displayed a patch that read “Sheriff.” Her scrutiny swept down to a pair of medium brown slacks that hung from trim hips and then rebounded to the day’s-worth of scruff that coated his pleasantly masculine jawline and the vivid blue eyes that returned her scrutiny.
She worked some moisture into her mouth. He might be nice to look at, but with his size and fitness, if he wanted to harm her, she was a goner.
He glanced at the mess she’d made on the table and reached for one of the napkins Detective Lexington had left in a stack. As he sopped up the mess, he said, “I’m Sheriff Holden Parker. I work out on San Juan Island.”
With his focus elsewhere, she allowed her gaze to trail once more over the pleasant cut of his shoulders. “Work out” was obviously correct. She withheld a smirk at her own pathetic humor and reminded herself she still wasn’t sure if she could trust him. “And what are you doing here?”
He lifted her a look. “I’m here on the job, ma’am.”
Ma’am? He made her sound like an aged spinster. But after the night she’d had, maybe she looked like one. “I mean here in this interrogation room.”
He deposited the soaking wet napkins in a trash can by the door and used another to dry the last of the spill. “Detectives Packard and Lexington asked me to wait in here with you.”
“Why?”
His lips tilted into the barest hint of a smile. “They’ll be along shortly. I’m sure they’ll tell us then.” He tossed the last of the trash, including her cup, into the waste bin and then folded his arms and leaned into his heels. “You can sit back down if you want.”
Normally she was a trusting person, but today all her caution was on full alert. “I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself.” He lifted one shoulder. “You never gave me your name.”
“Camryn. Camryn Hunt. Do you think I could use a restroom?”
“Sure. The deputy chief has a private one. Let me just close the main door.” He left the interrogation room and returned a few seconds later. “Coast is clear.”
She stepped into the cluttered deputy chief’s office with its private restroom on the other side. After she used the facilities and washed her hands, she stood before the mirror and stretched her neck and back.
She pulled a face at herself. With her messy bun looking more like “rat’s nest” than “shabby chic” and the blue-gray bags beneath her eyes, no wonder the handsome sheriff called her ‘ma’am.’ She looked ten years older. She splashed some water on her face and quickly re-bound her hair.
It felt so good to be standing, instead of returning immediately to the interrogation room, she wandered the perimeter of the deputy chief’s office, taking in the pictures on his walls. There was a large painting of an old English fox hunt behind his desk and several plaques of commendations and medals he’d won.
She heard a sound behind her and turned.
It was the sheriff. “I don’t think they want you out here,” he said. “They’re trying to keep you from being seen.” He nodded toward the main office.
Before she had the opportunity to respond the door opened to admit the detectives. Each man carried a cardboard file box. Their eyes widened at the sight of her and they quickly shut the door to the main office.
Officer Lexington jutted his chin toward the inner room. “Let’s go back in there, if you don’t mind.”
Camryn sighed, but didn’t protest. She followed the sheriff back to the stainless-steel table.
The detectives set their boxes on the table and closed the door.
Camryn opened her mouth to inform them that she really needed to get to work, but Detective Lexington raised a hand.
He lifted an item that looked like a pen from his pocket and gave it a twist. “Okay, now we can talk freely.” Camryn must have had a blank look on her face, because he explained, “It scrambles signals so any listening device has a harder time picking up our words.”
Camryn didn’t miss the way Sheriff Parker straightened.
“A listening device?” she asked.
Detective Packard waved a hand. “For now, it’s just a precaution. We don’t want what we have to say now getting to the wrong ears.”
Camryn felt her jaw go slack. What in the world had she gotten herself into? How had she gone from a day of peddling burgers and shakes to a night of covert conversations protected by spy gadgets?
The sheriff’s voice emerged gruffly. “I take it you have dirty cops in your division?”
Packard gripped the back of his neck. “We’re afraid so. Still trying to figure how all the pieces fit together.”
Lexington kept his gaze on the sheriff but swept a gesture in Camryn’s direction. “You used to work in major crimes and have experience with WP. We need—”
“What’s WP?” Camryn interrupted.
“—your help to keep her safe. She needs to leave town for…I don’t know…at least until we can get a better handle on what’s going on around here.”
“Leave town!” Camryn’s dismay emerged on a squeak and she felt her cheeks warm. “Listen, I have bills to pay and I can’t—”
“Your life is more important than bills.” All three men spoke in unison, as though they had rehearsed.
The sheriff gave her an understanding glance. “WP is witness protection. It’s never undertaken lightly. Only when law enforcement believes a person is in grave danger.”
Her shoulders slumped. She massaged her temples. How had she come to be a witness in a case such as this? “I was just walking to the bus stop.”
Detective Lexington dipped his chin. “I know. And I’m sorry to yank the rug out from under your life, but until we know exactly what’s going on, we need to keep you safe. These men have already killed two police officers.”
“But I don’t know anything other than what I’ve told you!”
“Yes, ma’am. But these kinds of men, they live in worlds where they can’t afford to leave any loose ends. They won’t hesitate to take you out. Even if they only fear you know too much. Do you have family? Kids? A husband? Pets?”
She shook her head no to each question, feeling like she’d been pressured into running a marathon without training and was trying to keep up. “No.”
“Good that will simplify things.”
The two detectives looked at Sheriff Parker, brows raised.
Camryn sank into the chair she’d vacated a few minutes ago. She propped her head on one hand.
Sheriff Parker shuffled his feet. “I’ve got a place I could stash her, yeah.”
Great. They could “stash” her. Like a box on a shelf in a closet. Forgotten until the end of time. Okay, maybe that was a bit melodramatic.
“Good.” Detective Packard gave his box a pat. “We need you to keep these records for us too.”
The sheriff eyed the boxes. “Do I get to look at the files?”
“Actually, we were kind of hoping you would. Maybe you’ll see what we haven’t all this time. There’s something we are missing here.”
“I’m happy to take a look. But to pull this off, we’re going to need a second waitress.”
“A second waitress?” Detective Lexington asked.
Camryn was just as confused.
The sheriff nodded. “If I fly out of here with her, everyone in the precinct is going
to know she’s in hiding on the islands. I don’t want to invite that kind of trouble on my people.” He looked at Lexington. “Isn’t your wife into theatrical stuff? Seem to remember her disguising herself when you worked that drug case out on San Juan last year.”
“She is. I’ll get her.”
“Excuse me. Don’t I get a say in whether I want to be protected or not?”
“Good.” The sheriff didn’t even glance her way. He looked at Packard. “Can you find me a trustworthy female officer, about her height, coloring, and weight?” He jabbed a finger in Camryn’s direction.
She tossed one hand in the air and flopped against the back of her seat.
Packard pondered. “There’s a rookie who fits the bill. She’s only been here two days and been doing entry paperwork for most of that. I don’t think that’s long enough to be corrupted.”
“Even better because most of the other officers won’t know what she looks like. Is she on duty?”
Packard nodded. “Should be. I’ll get her.”
“Get your captain to assign her TDY to my department. We can say I need her for…a twenty-four-seven security detail of a celebrity.”
Detective Packard waved his acknowledgement. “Cap’s down at the jail right now. But I’ll write up the paperwork and have him sign it tomorrow.” He stepped from the room.
It was once more only her and the sheriff.
He sat across from her and bounced his forehead against steepled fingers, deep in thought.
Camryn glowered at the top of his head. “All of this is ridiculous.”
He didn’t look up. “If we let you go back to your own place and you…become another victim, that’s on us. Most people have no idea the depths these kinds of criminals will go to.”
Somehow the little pause in the middle of his sentence made her realize exactly what he wasn’t saying.
If she didn’t listen to them, she would end up dead like the officers.
She sighed.
Put like that, did she have any choice but to do as they asked?
Chapter Eight
An hour later, Holden watched as the detectives hustled the female officer through the growing bustle of the precinct. Several units were still hunting for the escapee, apparently, but several more had returned to their duties at the precinct. And that would work in their favor.
The female officer had now been transformed into the spitting image of Miss Hunt, complete with waitress uniform and apron, and he was pleased to see that plenty of the officers took note of her leaving.
“Hey Pack,” one of them called. “Where you taking her?”
Damien waved a hand. “Stick to your own case, Ed.”
Ed’s lips thinned. He didn’t like being told to mind his own business. But the interaction had been exactly what Holden had hoped for. Drew enough attention that every man in the room thought the witness from the night before was being removed from the building.
Thankfully, most of these officers hadn’t been on shift the evening before to see what she looked like. And if any of them had been at the scene, maybe the darkness and chaos had kept them from getting a good look at her.
He turned to assess Camryn, who paced behind the interrogation table. It was amazing what Case’s wife had been able to do with her appearance. Kyra Lexington had arrived at the precinct on the pretense of bringing her husband breakfast since he hadn’t come home the evening before. Case snuck her in here. And from the amount of makeup she’d dumped from her paper McDonald’s bag, it was a wonder the bag hadn’t torn.
But the transformation she’d completed on the waitress was incredible. It was amazing how much a little makeup could change someone’s appearance. Her face looked thinner, forehead longer—just like the rookie. Somehow with a few brush strokes she’d made over one woman into another so that only those who knew them best would be able to tell them apart.
Camryn hitched up the duty belt that didn’t tighten quite enough to fit her slender hips. “Can we go now? You are at least going to let me stop by my place to get some things, aren’t you?” She hefted her coat. “And bring my coat?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. She’d been instructed not to talk after Case turned off the scrambler, but he supposed her words could have just as easily been asked by a deputy assigned to temporary duty in his department.
She rolled her eyes and tugged at the uniform sleeves that were too long for her. Hopefully they would get through the precinct quickly enough that no one would notice the ill fit. As for her coat, the chopper ride could get a little chilly this time of year. It would be good for her to have it. He opened one of the cardboard filing boxes and compressed all the files to one end, then motioned for her coat, which he flattened as much as possible and then shoved into the box before replacing the lid.
He checked the scene from the deputy chief’s office. Lexington and Packard had already disappeared through the far door. He pointed Miss Hunt toward the door with his chin, indicating it was go-time. She didn’t move. He hoped the look he gave her conveyed support before he nudged her into the main office with the file boxes against her back.
He spoke in a normal tone of voice. “Glad to have you serving with us for a couple weeks, Hewlett. On the island every officer has to pull a lot of weight, but this protective detail would have had us stretched really thin. We appreciate your help.”
“Yes, sir. Happy to help, sir.” Her voice emerged steadily without even a hint of a tremor.
Good for her. The woman had some chops.
Holden looked up and was both gratified and terrified to find almost every eye in the room on them. Could they pull this off? Was anyone going to recognize that she was not the new rookie? He stepped out. “Helo is this way.”
Most everyone turned back to their own business.
Camryn followed him with a purposeful stride.
He kept to a good clip, thankful to hear the soft tread of her boots keeping time with him.
It had been a bold plan, but his first training officer had told him once if not a thousand times, “If you’re going to create a lie, make it loud and bold, and hardly anyone will pause to think twice.”
He could only hope that was the case this time.
Camryn had never gotten to ride in a helicopter before, and the scenery sweeping along below them took her breath away. She wished she wasn’t feeling so disgruntled and discombobulated. With a determined clench of her jaw, she resolved not to let her weariness and fears of the future overcome her enjoyment of this experience.
The cerulean blue of the Pacific contrasted with the emerald and taupe mounds of the San Juan Islands. Off to the north, the great snowy mound of Mount Baker floated on a bank of clouds as though it hovered above the ground. Despite the helo doors being firmly shut, a biting chill in the cabin cut through the flimsy fabric of the police uniform reminding her once more that she hadn’t been allowed to pick up even one item from her apartment. She cut a churlish look at the sheriff beside her as she reached into the box at her feet, extracted her coat, and put it on.
It might all be well and good for him to say they would get her new clothes and toiletries once they arrived on the island, but she honestly didn’t have the money to spend on new clothes right now. And especially not from shops that were likely a lot more expensive due to the tourist nature of the islands.
The sheriff nudged her arm and spoke through the headset. “Look.” He gestured to the water below his side of the helicopter.
She leaned toward him, placing one hand against the back of his seat to look through his window.
A group of seals cavorted and frolicked around a green buoy, clearly visible even when they were below the surface of the water.
She pulled in a breath of awe.
The sheriff caught the pilot’s attention and circled a finger in the air. When they’d first climbed aboard, Sheriff Parker had introduced the man as Deputy Jay Powers. The deputy nodded and banked the helicopter into a circle above the seals.
For several minutes they flew in a holding pattern, enjoying the sight of three seals breaching and diving. One would sun itself on the buoy platform until another would launch out of the water and vie for a position in the warmth, knocking the first one off. Bright sunlight glistened off the black of water-sluiced heads. Finally, all three seals managed to balance precariously on the lip of the platform, heads resting against each other’s tails like a circle of napping puppies.
“They are so cute!” Camryn tossed the sheriff a glance, only to see that he was no longer watching the seals, but had transferred his gaze to her.
Smile lines crinkled the corners of his eyes, drawing her attention to the nicest pair of silvery blues she’d ever had the pleasure to encounter. Flecks of light blue contrasted starkly with the black of his pupils and the darker blue at the outer edges of his irises. With his blond curls and the sketch of a golden beard highlighting the angular planes of his jaw, he was like a piece of art. She could stare at this particular sculpture all day and never tire.
Warmth blazed through her cheeks. She cleared her throat and resettled herself into the distance of her own seat.
He got Deputy Powers’ attention. “We should get going.”
The man gave a little salute of acknowledgement and banked the chopper around into a straight course toward the northwest again.
She watched the scenery for a few minutes until she felt the sheriff bat her arm with the back of his hand.
“You ever rappelled before?” he asked.
Camryn frowned. What an odd question. She must not have heard him right. She pressed the bulky headphones tighter to her head. “What was that?”
“Rappelling? Ever done it before?”
She felt her frown deepen. “Like repelled people? I mean, I try to be kind, so I hope not, but I suppose there’s a possibility—”
He chuckled and shared a look of amusement with the pilot.
Her confusion mounted. “What?”
“I’m going to take your answer to mean no. Rappelling is lowering yourself from a height. In this case, from a helicopter that isn’t on the ground.”
