The Escape

by Lisa Harris

  She paused. Was he asking her out on a date?

  “Just as fellow marshals and colleagues,” he said, seeming to backtrack when he realized the implications of his offer.

  “It’s a deal then. Hot dogs and chowder.” She scooted another inch closer to the fire. “And here’s another thing to celebrate. I think I can feel my toes and fingers again.”

  “Just glad we’re facing a spring thunderstorm and not a winter snowstorm.” Jonas unzipped the food bag and held it out for her to choose what she wanted. “I bet when you decided to go into law enforcement, you never imagined a situation quite like this.”

  “True.” She grabbed one of the granola bars. “You go in hoping to make the world a better place and you end up lost and soaking wet in the middle of the wilderness with airplane peanuts and power bars.”

  Jonas laughed. “What does your family think about your career choice?”

  “Both my father and grandfather were police officers, and on top of that, I had two uncles in the military and a third who was a firefighter. When my dad ended up having two girls, I don’t think he knew what to do with us, especially when Danielle had no interest in guns and hunting. So it’s always been just mine and his thing.” She stared into the crackling flames as Jonas grabbed another thick branch to toss on top. “It’s been a long time since we’ve gone out together though. His health has been deteriorating over the past year.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am. I know how tough that is.”

  “He does love that I’m a marshal though.”

  “I have to say I was surprised when I found out.”

  “Honestly? You’re the one who inspired me to become a marshal.”

  “I find that a bit hard to believe. I always thought you didn’t like me.”

  She let out a low laugh. “You were tough, but I knew if I wanted to stay alive in this job, I needed to learn everything I could. You were the best instructor I’d ever had.”

  “I’m not sure about that. I did notice that I never had to push you. In fact, you were the one pushing the rest of the class to keep up with you.” He picked up the beef jerky, opened the pouch, and offered her a piece. “I’m sure I wasn’t the only reason behind your career change.”

  She reached for a piece of the meat, hesitating with her answer. “I was ready for a change, and at the time the Marshals seemed like the perfect challenge. It still is.”

  Jonas dropped the pouch into his lap. “I feel as if I owe you an apology.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Michaels told me today about the death of your husband. I wish I would have known back then.”

  She shook her head. “That training was exactly what I needed. I was pretty much existing on autopilot back then. It gave me a reason to get out of bed. But if I’m being honest, I did almost drop out at one point. In fact, everyone told me I should, but I knew I’d never get back out there again if I did.”

  “I still wish I would have known. I pushed you harder than anyone in that class because you had more focus and skill than everyone else. But I was also completely insensitive. You should have said something.”

  Madison shivered as the wind howled through the cracks in the cabin walls. Rain pounded against the roof. But except for a couple steady drips on the other side of the room, the inside was still fairly dry and warm.

  “That’s one of the reasons why I made sure you didn’t know. I was there to train. I didn’t need you feeling sorry for me and slacking off on my training. I knew if I was going to get everything I wanted out of that experience, I couldn’t have anyone babying me. People die when they aren’t prepared.”

  “I wouldn’t have babied you,” he said.

  “Really? I find that when I tell people my husband was murdered, it tends to get me a lot of sympathy. They immediately see me as fragile and vulnerable.”

  “Trust me, I never saw you fragile or vulnerable.”

  She smiled. “Thanks. Sometimes I tend to push myself too hard—at least that’s what my sister says, but it was something I needed to do.”

  “Did they find your husband’s killer?” Jonas shook his head. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s been long enough that I’m okay talking about him, but no. They never found his killer.”

  A flash of lightning struck close by, lighting up the sky. A second later the door flew open and slammed against the inside wall of the cabin.

  Nine

  Jonas grabbed his handgun and rushed to the door, managing to slam it shut before too much rain blew in. He looked to where Madison still sat by the fire. He knew what she was thinking. What they’d both been thinking. That despite the storm, Barrick was still out there. And even though it made sense to him that the man would get as far away as possible, there was still a chance Madison was right and he was close by, waiting for an opportunity to strike. They couldn’t afford to let their guard down.

  He looked out one of the front windows, but all he could see was dark shadows stirring. “I’m pretty sure that was just the wind.”

  She grabbed one of the wooden chairs that sat lopsided across the room and jammed it under the doorknob.

  “Good idea,” he said. “That should keep it from flying open again.”

  She nodded, before sitting back down in front of the fire.

  “You okay?” He sat down beside her, noting a change in her expression he couldn’t quite peg. “You look far away.”

  “Yeah.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment as the fire crackled in front of them. He added a couple more of the logs, feeling guilty over his too personal questions.

  “I really don’t mind talking about my husband, it’s just that today’s the anniversary of Luke’s death.”

  He hesitated, not sure how to respond. “Wow, I’m sorry. This has been one tough day for you.”

  “I thought working would help me forget, but there are some things you just can’t run from.”

  “I’ve been told once or twice that I’m a good listener. If that would help.”

  He waited silently for her response, while lightning flashed in the distance.

  “It was an otherwise normal Tuesday.” The fire cast a yellow glow across her face she stared into the fireplace. “It’s funny how I can remember so many little details, like what day of the week it was. Luke was an ER doctor and had just finished a twelve-hour shift. He called me on his way to the parking garage. Told me he was going to pick up some takeout and meet me at home as soon as I got off work. We’d both had a long day and were anxious for the chance to unplug for a few hours. I got home about an hour after we spoke. There were two officers from my precinct waiting in my driveway with the news. Luke had been shot twice in the chest in the hospital parking garage.”

  “I can’t imagine how hard that had to have been.”

  “Sometimes it still seems surreal. Like I’m going to wake up and discover it was all nothing more than a bad dream. My father drove up from Portland to stay with me, and my sister was there, making sure I was eating and taking care of myself, but I was numb for weeks. My captain insisted I take some time off from work, which of course, I fought him on. I guess I thought if I just kept moving—if I was too busy to feel the pain—I’d somehow skip to the other side of grief. But I quickly learned that grief wasn’t optional.”

  Jonas frowned. Was that what he’d tried to do?

  “In the end, they classified his murder as a robbery gone wrong, but they never had any solid leads. His killer stole his wallet, then left him bleeding out next to the car. All for twenty bucks. A woman found him and called 911, but by the time she got to the hospital, he was already gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

  “I really am sorry. I know pain like that doesn’t ever completely disappear.”

  “No. I know I’ve healed on so many levels, but when I think I’ve taken another giant step forward, some kind of trigger—like the anniversary of his d
eath—tries to smack me back.”

  He tossed another log on the fire, realizing he needed to tread carefully. She was strong, there was no doubt about that. But sometimes the illusion of strength could be used as a veneer to hide the chinks in one’s armor. He’d learned that firsthand.

  “You’re trained to track people down for a living,” he said, “so I suppose it’s safe to assume you did your own investigation.”

  Madison let out a soft laugh. “I think my sister used the word obsessed. The first year was the worst. I tracked down every lead the police had and searched for my own, but there was never anything. The surveillance cameras were out in the garage. There were no witnesses other than the woman who called 911, and she didn’t see the actual shooting. No physical evidence we could match to the case. No personal connects we could find to any of his cases where a patient might have a grievance toward him. Nothing ever panned out.”

  “It’s not completely surprising. A third of all murder cases are never closed.”

  “And yet, my job is to track down felons, and five years later, I have no idea who killed my husband. It’s something I wake up to every morning and go to bed with every night.” Her eyes looked glassy. “I should have found his murderer years ago.”

  He understood the need for resolution from his own life, and how not finding closure could interfere with moving forward. “Closure’s important.”

  “It is.” She fiddled with one of the buttons on her shirt. “There’s another piece of the puzzle that you’ll find odd.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I haven’t even told my sister this, but every year, someone leaves a single black rose on his grave on the anniversary of his death.”

  “That is odd. And you think it’s the killer?”

  “It would make sense, but what’s the point, other than to ensure I remember his death? And it’s not as if I’m going to forget.”

  “Any card or note with it?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Nope. Just the rose.”

  “There can’t be a lot of florists who sell black roses. It seems like it wouldn’t be too hard to trace it.”

  “They’re definitely not as popular as your typical flower, but you’d be surprised how many places sell them. And because you can order them online, narrowing it down has been impossible.” She shrugged. “It just makes an already hard day harder.”

  “You should have taken the day off and spent it with your family,” he said.

  “Like I said, staying busy has always been my answer to grief.”

  “Did you find a flower today?” Jonas asked.

  She nodded. “I haven’t had much time to process it yet, but this year . . . this year it was on my bed.”

  “Wait a minute, Madison. Someone was in your house? If this is your husband’s killer—”

  “I know. I need to find them.”

  “Yes, but you also need to go to the authorities.”

  “I will. I’m just worried that nothing will come of it again. I never felt my life was in danger, and we’ve always thought it was a random robbery.”

  “Leaving a black rose on the anniversary of your husband’s death isn’t random. And leaving one in your bedroom? That’s personal and it’s a threat. Someone is trying to mess with your head.”

  “I know.”

  “And it means that whoever killed your husband sees this as personal. Very personal.”

  “I promise I’ll file a report when I get back and have my locks changed, but there’s not much I can do about it right now.” She waved her hand in the air as if she could dismiss it just as easily. “I feel like I’ve just laid my whole life story out in front of you, and I still don’t know much about you.”

  He dumped the small bag of peanuts into his hand and shrugged, popping a few into his mouth. “Probably because there isn’t much to know.”

  “I doubt that’s true. You can start wherever you want. Favorite travel spot. Favorite food besides seafood chowder. Taken or single.”

  “Let’s see. Thailand, sushi, and single.”

  “Interesting. Thailand’s on my bucket list. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised about sushi, though I am about the single status.”

  He shot her a wide grin. “Because I’m such a great catch.”

  “One could do worse, I suppose.”

  “Thanks. I think. Let’s just say I’m sure there’s someone out there for me, but I’ve never met anyone willing to put up with both me and my job.”

  “So the job always wins? That’s kind of sad. Lots of marshals find a way to juggle both.”

  “With the right woman.” He hesitated. “Maybe one day.”

  “You’ve never come close?”

  “Once, but that’s a story better left for another day.”

  She gestured to the empty cabin around them. “You have something better to do right now? I just told you things I’ve never even told my sister.”

  He stared into the fire, wondering how he was going to get past her inquisitive nature.

  “Fine. I won’t push, but I do have another question for you then,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Were you serious about opening up a bait and tackle shop?”

  “That’s your question?”

  “The idea intrigues me. You’re a US Marshal, and you’ve spent your whole career putting your life at risk chasing down felons.”

  “So you think it’s too far away from my character? That I’d be bored?”

  “Yes, actually. I see you as the kind of person who will be a hundred before you retire.”

  “Maybe, but people change. Grow. Look for different adventures. I love what I do, but I’m not sure I want to do this my whole life. Don’t you ever think of doing something a little less dangerous? To settle down with a regular nine-to-five job and live a normal life? Or is normal simply overrated?”

  He tried to gauge her response in the firelight. He knew how hard it was for people like them to have anything close to a normal life. Just to become a marshal was fiercely competitive, and once you were in, there was no typical day, other than the fact that it was going to be long and grueling.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “My sister just had a baby. She stays home with her three kids, has what I’d call a normal life, and loves every minute of it.”

  “Then tell me what you do for fun, besides chasing after bad guys.”

  She let out a swoosh of air. “Now that’s a tough one. I like to run. Hang out with my sister’s family. Their kids are still young, but definitely old enough to spoil.”

  “I bet they love you.”

  “Probably not as much as I love them. I’m also involved in a nonprofit that is working to stop sex trafficking in the area. That might not be fun, but it is fulfilling.”

  “What about rest?” he asked.

  “Rest? I know God had a reason for that day of rest, but I struggle to find time for it.” She shifted slightly and caught his gaze. “Once again, you’ve angled the conversation back to me. What about you? What do you do for fun besides eat chowder and dream of opening a tackle shop?”

  He let out a low laugh. “Working out and motorcycling. I have a bike and have found it’s a great way to wind down.”

  “Luke and I used to take at least one trip every summer on a bike with a group from church.”

  “Have you taken any trips recently?”

  “No. When you’re not a couple anymore, it’s easy to get lost in the shuffle.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s a journey. I’m coming to realize that sometimes life is hard, and that’s okay. I’ve had to give myself permission to grieve, especially on days like today that somehow manage to bring back all the memories—both good and bad.”

  “There’s some great places to ride outside Seattle. The Chinook Pass Scenic Byway, the Yakima River Canyon—”

  “Now that’s not a bad idea. You could always be a guide. Do tours, rent out bikes and fishi
ng equipment. I can definitely see you doing that rather than standing behind a cash register selling worms.”

  “Maybe, but it really doesn’t matter. I’m not exactly ready to retire. Not yet anyway.”

  “Even after this fiasco?”

  He chuckled. “Even after this.”

  He yawned and she followed suit.

  “You’re making me tired.”

  “Maybe that’s good,” he said. “I’ll take the first watch. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

  She looked around the room. “And something tells me it’s also going to be a long night.”

  Water continued to drip in various spots around the room, but at least the spot they’d chosen was still dry.

  He added a couple more logs to the fire. “I’ll lean against my bag. You can lean against me.”

  For a second he wanted to take his words back. Somehow the invitation seemed too . . . intimate. “I’m just trying to ensure we both are at least somewhat comfortable and warm.”

  “It’s fine.” She smiled. “And, Jonas, thank you.”

  Getting comfortable, though, proved to be an effort in futility. He settled in on the hard, wooden floor that wasn’t exactly even, while she snuggled up next to him.

  A minute later, she was softly snoring.

  He was glad she’d be able to forget the day, even if it was only for a few hours. Glad she’d been able to share with him about the significance of today. But why hadn’t he been able to talk about Felicia? Just when he thought he was past everything that had happened, he found himself frozen when trying to talk about her. Memories of their last encounter blurred his thoughts.

  He’d met Felicia outside her physical therapy class that afternoon. He’d planned to give her a ride home, hoping she might agree to stop for lunch on the way. Nothing had turned out the way he’d expected.

  “How did it go?” he asked her, knowing how ready she was to lose the wheelchair.

  She started down the extra-wide hallway beside him. “My therapist said I’m making progress.”

  “That’s great! I talked with a guy I met down in the cafeteria. His name is Matt Johnson, and he works with some cutting-edge technology for amputees.”