Hidden Witness

by Shirlee McCoy

  “I was worried about you. That’s why I left. I needed to warn you that they were gunning for both of us.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but it could have gotten you killed.”

  “It didn’t,” she pointed out as they hurried through the alley and out into the sheriff’s department parking lot. There were three cars there. Two of them marked cruisers. She hadn’t had much of a chance to get to know the local law enforcement, but she didn’t think there were more than a few full-time deputies. Briarwood was small. Maybe a couple thousand full-time residents.

  “That doesn’t change the facts. You said you would stay in the shed. You didn’t.”

  “So you’re going to hold on to my arm for however long it takes for us to get to safety?”

  “At the moment, that’s the plan.” He was moving quickly. Not running, but not out for a leisurely stroll. She had no idea where they were heading. If Mac did, he wasn’t saying.

  Thick clouds shrouded the moon, and the cool air had turned damp with coming rain or snow. She tried to imagine walking or running twenty miles to the cabin Mac mentioned. She couldn’t. She had always believed that a positive mental attitude, a plan of action and faith could get her through anything. She wasn’t sure they would get her through this. Already exhausted, still cold from her time outside, she didn’t know how long she could continue moving forward. Mac had said they would get a ride, but so far, all they were doing was rushing somewhere on foot.

  They skirted past the Main Street businesses and turned down a side road with fewer houses, all of them old and stately. Farmhouse style, Greek Revival and a few Victorians stood on large, well-manicured lots.

  “Do you really think we’re going to get to your grandfather’s cabin?” she asked, her voice hollow with fatigue and fear. They could be walking straight into the paths of the assassins Moreno had sent. The thought terrified her.

  “Yes.”

  “Before we run into Moreno’s thugs?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “And, if we don’t manage to avoid them?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge—”

  “When we come to it.” She completed the thought. “But, I’d rather not come to it. Do you have a plan to avoid being seen until we get that ride you were talking about?”

  “We’re going somewhere warm where I can make a phone call.” His hand moved from her arm to her back as he ushered her into a driveway that led to a two-story farmhouse. The lawn was trimmed and tidy, an old elm standing sentinel in the center of a lush lawn. A tire swing hung from its branches, still and listless despite the cold breeze.

  “Whose place is this?” she whispered as they walked around the side of the house. A privacy fence separated them from the backyard. Six feet tall and solid, it prevented any glimpse of what lay beyond.

  “An old friend of my father’s owned it. They grew up together. My dad moved to Houston. The friend stayed behind. He married and had a daughter. His wife left and took the little girl with her. That was twenty-five years ago. He spent thousands of hours and thousands of dollars trying to find her, but he never saw her again.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It is. He spent every day hoping and praying his daughter would find her way back. He died of cancer two years ago, still hoping.”

  “That’s even worse,” she said, her heart breaking at the thought of a father spending his days longing for his child to return.

  “It was. It is,” he agreed. “The house is to be kept in trust for her. If she returns, it’s hers. For now, my father is the executor of the will, and he makes sure the property is maintained.”

  “Is he trying to find her?” she asked as he lifted a rock near the fence and grabbed the key that lay beneath it.

  “Yes. Adam—his friend—wanted him to, but he didn’t want her to be pressured to accept her inheritance. He said that if his daughter lived in the family home, it should be because she wanted to. Not because she felt obligated. Briarwood isn’t for everyone. He knew that.” He reached over the gate and unlocked it, swinging it open and hurrying Anna into the yard. He relocked the gate and shoved the key in his pocket. “Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “Inside.”

  “But...”

  “We don’t have time to argue. River has probably already put out an APB on us. He knows my father is keeping up this place, and it isn’t going to take him long to get over here.”

  “We shouldn’t be here when he arrives,” she hissed, following him up the stairs that led to a door.

  “He won’t know we’re here if everything is locked up tight and the lights are off. Without probable cause, he can’t enter the premises without permission or a warrant.” He pulled a multitool from his pocket and picked the lock the same way he had at the shed.

  She stepped inside, expecting it to be cold and empty. The heat was on, the warmth so welcome she nearly collapsed in a heap on the floor. “The furnace is running,” she whispered as if there were someone else in the house who might hear them.

  “Old houses do better if they’re not left to the capriciousness of the weather. There’s a trust set up to keep the electricity and the heat on and to do whatever maintenance is necessary.” He led her through a nice-sized kitchen and into a hallway. He didn’t turn on the lights, but she could see the front door and the living room, its windows with a view of the yard. She thought a dining room was on the other side of center stairs that curved up to the second floor.

  “Look,” Mac said, pointing to the windows. Blue lights flashed on the street as a police car rolled to a stop in front of the house. “This way.” He yanked her sideways, opening a hallway door and closing it quickly behind them.

  * * *

  Mac had known it wouldn’t take River long to realize they were gone and to come up with places where they might be hiding. He could only hope they hadn’t left any sign that they were here at the house. He had tried to walk on the driveway and avoid leaving footprints in the grass, but River was good at his job. If they had left a trail, he would find it.

  “Do you think he knows we’re here?” Anna whispered.

  “Maybe. He won’t come in without permission, though.”

  “Couldn’t he call your father and ask permission?”

  “He could.” He probably would, and knowing his father, Mac was certain River would be given the permission he needed.

  “Maybe you should call your father and tell him not to allow it.”

  “I’m not pulling my father into this. Even if I wanted to, and I don’t, refusing to allow River to enter the house would only make him suspicious, and that would probably be enough reason to obtain a warrant.”

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Make my phone call. Get out before River reaches my father.” He took her arm. “There are ten steps. Be careful, okay? If you fall and get injured, we’ll have to turn ourselves in and hope that River is on our side.”

  “It would be easier to be careful if there was a light,” she muttered. He could hear her hand sliding against the wall. He had been in the house several times, checking on it for his father. There was no railing on the basement stairs and the floor below was cement. He held on to Anna’s elbow as they made their way through the darkness. When they reached the bottom, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number Daniel Avery had given him for emergencies.

  Daniel picked up immediately, his voice taut with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “We ran into some trouble.”

  “You and my witness?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “That’s a good question. I’ll give you an answer as soon as I have one.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “What do you mean, you’d rather not say?” Daniel’
s voice rose a notch, his frustration obvious.

  “There’s a leak. There is no other way Anna could have been found. Until I know who the leak is, I’m taking full responsibility for getting her to trial.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, I’ll keep you posted on her well-being, but for now, I’m not telling anyone where we are.”

  “Is this a game, MacArthur? A joke? If it is, I’m not amused.”

  “No game. I suggest you start looking at your organization and the people who knew where Anna was hiding.”

  “I suggest—”

  Mac disconnected and dialed a second number, his focus half on the ringing phone and half on the silence of the house. Anna, for once, wasn’t talking, her quiet breathing the only indication that she was still standing nearby. If River entered the house, Mac would hear it. There was a cellar door that led into the side yard. If he heard a door open, they’d be outside before River searched the basement.

  “Hello?” Linda’s gruff voice filled his ear, a smoker’s rasp still apparent even though she had quit five years ago. The owner of a used car lot just outside of the city limits, she had been a fixture in town for as long as Mac had been there.

  “Linda, it’s Mac. I need a ride.” He didn’t say why. He knew she wouldn’t ask. She was the kind of person who helped the people she cared about without asking questions or expecting repayment.

  “What kind?”

  “Anything that works.”

  “Well, kid, I’ve got a bunch of keys in my office at the shop. They’re all labeled. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding a vehicle you can use. The security code is 7346. Spare key taped to the underside of the dumpster behind the shop. Left side of it. You take what you want off the lot. No questions asked.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Just bring it back unharmed. If you don’t, you’ll owe me.”

  “I’ll pay for the damage.”

  “Ha! Forget that. I’ve got more used cars on that lot than I know what to do with. You’ll owe me a date, young man. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other. I want to hear how your folks are doing.”

  “You’ve got it. Whether the vehicle is damaged or not.”

  “You need a ride to the lot?” she asked. Linda usually didn’t ask many questions. She’d seen her share of hard times, and she wasn’t the kind of person to judge others for theirs. Tough and hard-edged, she had a soft side that most people in Briarwood knew about but no one ever mentioned. Linda preferred to think she was viewed as a crotchety old woman.

  “No. And do me a favor, don’t mention this call to anyone. If you’re asked, I wanted a ride out of town. You weren’t able to give me one.”

  “What kind of trouble are you in, kid?”

  “Not the kind you need to worry about. I’ll call you in a few days. We’ll meet for lunch.” He disconnected and set the phone on the floor. He had no doubt his cell phone would be pinged and used to locate him. River might not be able to get a warrant to do it quickly, but Daniel would. He had plenty of connections and a lot riding on making certain Anna made it to trial.

  “What now?” Anna asked, her voice shaking. He could see her face through the darkness, her eyes shadowed, her skin pale.

  “Are you okay?” He touched her forehead, feeling for fever or icy skin. It was cool in the basement, but warm enough that she shouldn’t be shaking.

  “I’m cold. I’m tired. I’m scared. Other than that, I’m great,” she responded truthfully. “I want this over, Mac. I want to go back to the life I had before I witnessed the courthouse shooting.”

  “It will happen.”

  “I hope so. I worked hard to have a nice stable predictable life. I shouldn’t be in a situation like this.”

  He understood her thoughts. He knew how it felt to have the rug pulled out from under neat plans and grand goals. He hadn’t intended to be a rancher. He had intended to travel the world. To explore. To use the military as a vehicle to serve his country and to satisfy his wanderlust.

  The medical discharge he’d received had changed those plans. The fact that his grandfather had mortgaged the ranch had sent Mac in new directions that he never would have expected or wanted when he was young.

  He had no regrets.

  But, there wasn’t time to talk about God’s plans, His will or the way that bad things often turned out for the good.

  “You’ll get your life back, Anna,” he assured her.

  “I hope so,” she responded.

  He was tempted to pull her into his arms and offer a comforting hug, but there wasn’t time for that, either.

  “Come on.” He tugged her to the cellar exit and walked up the few steps to the hatch-style door, unlocking it quickly. Refusing to doubt his plan. Refusing to second-guess it. For now, relying on his instincts made more sense than relying on anything else.

  “What if they’re outside waiting?”

  “What if they’re not?”

  “I’m too tired for games, Mac,” she said wearily.

  “I was making a statement. I can say it another way if you’d like.”

  “I know what you were getting at. We could stand here all night with nothing on the other side of the door to stop us. Except our fear.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Fine. You’ve made your point. Let’s get it over with.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he said, and she snorted.

  “My spirit is just about done for the night. I hope the sheriff isn’t involved in leaking my location to Moreno, but if he isn’t, he’s not going to be happy that we’re doing this.”

  “He’ll understand. I know him well enough to know that he would do the same if he were in my position.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. My first obligation is to you. Until I know who is involved in this, I’m not trusting anyone here in town. He’ll understand that.”

  “I hope you’re right. Let’s go.” She started to push the cellar door open. He put a hand on her arm to stop her.

  “Hold on. It’s loud if it drops back into place. We have to be careful.” He brushed her hand away, his fingers skimming over cool silky skin. Something flickered in his belly. That age-old acknowledgment that he was a man standing close to a beautiful woman. He ignored it, easing open the door and peering out into the side yard. There were trashcans and a recycle bin sitting on a wooden platform that stood between the cellar door and the street. He couldn’t see beyond them, but there were no blue lights reflecting on the grass or the house. He opened the door enough to allow Anna to squeeze out. “I’ll hold it, you go,” he said. “Not far. Just out. Stay close and stay down. We don’t want anyone to see us.”

  “No need for the warning. I’m very aware of the situation we’re in,” she whispered, sliding out on her belly and crouching inches away. She grabbed the edge of the door with both hands, opening it a few inches wider. She didn’t speak, didn’t move. Just waited as he eased out, took the door from her hands and gently lowered it back into place.

  The neighbor’s house was fifty meters away, across a dark patch of grass that had clear view of the street.

  “Stay down,” he mouthed, lying on his belly and motioning for her to do the same. They army-crawled across the cleared area and into the neighbor’s backyard. Once they were out of sight of the street, he stood and pulled her to her feet.

  She leaned close, her lips touching his ear as she whispered, “What now?”

  “We go find our ride,” he replied, taking her hand and leading her across the unfenced yard. Most people in Briarwood didn’t have security lights or alarm systems. In a town where everyone knew everyone, good intentions were presumed, and crime was rarely an issue. That would work to their advantage as they made their way across town to Linda’s used car lot. Dogs were Mac’s big
gest concern as he cut through one yard after another, staying close to the buildings and deep in the shadows.

  River’s deputies were doing their jobs. Mac counted three marked cruisers driving slowly through town. Each time, he and Anna stayed down and still and until the vehicle passed.

  By the time they reached the end of the residential area, he was on edge, adrenaline coursing through him, his muscles tense. If he weren’t careful, he would have a full-on panic attack. It had been years since he’d had one, but his time in the military hadn’t left him unscathed. He had scars. Plenty of them on his body and even more on his soul. He had been in therapy. He had faced his troubles and, with the help of a therapist and his faith, had beat them back. They still came back to haunt him sometimes. He needed to keep moving, focus his mind, get to the car lot and get out of town, but sweat was suddenly beading his brow, and his hands shook as he shoved them in the pockets of his jeans.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Anna said, touching his shoulder hesitantly, her palm just skimming his shirt before it settled lightly on his bicep.

  “I know.”

  “You’re shaking,” she pointed out. No judgment. No question. Nothing in her voice but concern. He appreciated that, but he didn’t have time to explain. He didn’t want to explain. His time in the military was something he only discussed with the men and women he had served with.

  “We all have our troubles, Anna. Even me. Come on. We’re almost there.” He lifted her hand from his arm, holding it gently as he stepped into sparse woods that separated the main part of town from the less affluent area. Linda lived in a small house near the car lot, its clapboard siding faded and gray with age and neglect. Most people in town never visited her there. She was known to have a hot temper and sharp tongue, but when she cared, she cared enough for twenty people.

  He skirted around her property, staying in the woods until the lot was in front of them, the cars gleaming in the streetlights that illuminated it.

  “What now?” Anna asked, her fingers curved through his as she scanned the lot.

  “Linda said we can borrow a car,” he replied, hurrying to the dumpster and running his hands along the underside until he found the key. He had the door open and the alarm off within seconds. A ring of car keys hung from a hook near Linda’s desk, each one marked. He didn’t spend a lot of time mulling over options. He could hear a clock ticking in his head, hurrying him along, reminding him that River wasn’t stupid, that he would think about the used car lot and probably send a cruiser out to keep an eye on it.