His gaze snapped to her face as if realizing she was analyzing him. One eyebrow rose. “Everything all right?”
A flush of heat rose to her face. She’d always been awkward and never exactly good at small talk, which was probably why she’d never had so much as a successful date with a man, let alone an actual relationship.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking that you know a lot about me and I know practically nothing about you.”
He waited a very long moment, then asked, “What do you want to know?”
She bit her lip. What did she want to know?
“How long have you known you wanted to be in law enforcement?”
There was another even pause. A look moved across his gaze that was somehow deeper than sadness or even regret. Then when he spoke, she wasn’t quite prepared for what came out of his mouth.
“Was I right in thinking you were praying back at the farmhouse?” he asked. She nodded. He turned away from her and stared straight ahead through the windshield, with one hand on the wheel and the other lying in the space between them. “Then I’m guessing you’re familiar with the biblical stories about David and Jonathan. That’s who I was named after, Prince Jonathan, son of King Saul. I couldn’t get enough of those Old Testament battle stories as a child. There was nothing I wanted more than to be one of those heroes of old, the kind with a shield and sword, who worked together with others to save my country and the people in it from evil and tyranny.”
A grin crossed his lips. It was unexpected, cute and infectious, and it somehow softened his face. She liked it. Then the smile faded again. He shifted his hand on the steering wheel.
“I didn’t see my first cop until I was eight. My parents had me late in life and mother always had health and mobility issues, with her joints mostly. She had early onset of arthritis and some kind of nerve damage when she’d given birth to me. Her mind was really sharp, though, and she had the best sense of humor. Anyway, the summer when I was eight I was in town with my seventeen-year-old brother and my mom, and these tourists started bullying us. They yelled at us mostly, but also threw some trash and pushed my brother around a bit.” He swallowed hard. “My mom fell.”
She reached for his hand without even thinking and squeezed it. He squeezed her back for one long moment. Then he pulled his hand away.
“Then this man and woman in blue uniforms showed up and told them to leave us alone,” he continued. “I knew then that’s what I wanted to be. Then when I was twenty and studying criminology I realized that what I really wanted to be was a US marshal. Specifically I wanted to work in the protection side of law enforcement, as opposed to the detection side. I wanted to help catch fugitives. I wanted to transport prisoners. I wanted to protect endangered witnesses. I wanted to be out there, like Prince Jonathan from the Bible, with my shining shield and sword literally and physically protecting people every day. I wanted to protect people and keep them safe.” A glimmer of a smile brushed his lips again. “Plus, I still really want to go out and fight the Philistines.”
A laugh slipped from her lips, taking her by surprise. Her fingers rose to her lips as she felt her smile spread into her cheeks, and as his eyes turned to her face there was something new there, a glimmer of something that again she couldn’t define. All she knew was that she’d never seen it before. For a long moment neither of them said anything.
“Are the stories of David and Jonathan still your favorite part of the Bible?” she asked. “I’ve always loved the Psalms, Proverbs and Ecclesiastes.”
“My father loves those, too. It’s funny. You almost talk like him.” Just like that the smile fell from his face and his hands snapped back to two and ten on the steering wheel. “I haven’t picked up a Bible in years.”
There was a tone to his voice that made her think of a book slamming shut or a door being locked. US Marshal Jonathan Mast was done sharing. Silence filled the car again. The longer it drew out, the colder and thinner the air felt and the more her chest ached.
Lord, I don’t know why he opened up to me like that or what the pain is in his heart that pushed him away from You. But if there’s anything I can do to help him, anything You want me to say, please let me know.
The truck slowed and it took her a moment to realize why. There was a horse-drawn buggy on the road ahead. A young man in a large brimmed hat held the reins. Jonathan gave him a wide berth, nodding to him as he passed.
“He’s Amish, right?” Celeste asked.
Jonathan’s gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead. “Yes, most of these farms are.”
She glanced out the window, looking anew at the large beautiful farms with barns and silos. “I haven’t driven through the Amish countryside since I was a child. I always assumed my memories were larger than life. But it’s every bit as beautiful as I remember.”
“You should see it in late summertime,” he said, “when the fields are full of flowers and the crops are almost ready to be harvested. There’s no place more beautiful on earth.”
She blinked. Had he really just said that? See, that was why he confused her. He could be so open and real one moment, and then shut off and closed the next.
Another buggy loomed ahead of them on her side of the truck. This one had a couple in the front, her large black bonnet tilted toward his bearded face as if whispering a secret in his ear. Six little heads, in hats and bonnets, bounced up and down in the back.
“It’s funny,” she said. “When we used to drive through the Amish country as a kid, all I wanted was to get out of the car and ride in a buggy. Now, I just wonder how they do it.”
“You mean, how does a family take their kids out in a buggy in January?” he asked. “With a whole lot of blankets and warm clothing. What kid would want to be stuck sitting in the back of a car with seat belts on when they could be outside with the horses, and their cousins, brothers and sisters piled around them?”
She laughed. Yes, when he put it like that it definitely sounded better than being in a car. “No, I meant I can’t imagine how people live entirely off the grid. No car, cell phone, internet or electricity.”
“It’s peaceful,” he said. His voice dropped. “It’s not right for everyone, but I have a feeling you’re the kind of person who’d like it. Well, if you weren’t a computer programmer.”
She had the odd sense that he’d given her a bigger compliment than she’d realized. They lapsed back into silence after that, but somehow it was a more comfortable space than before. It reminded her of the kind of comforting quiet that surrounded her when she curled up with a good book or spent hours happily typing lines of code. Something about the faint glimmer of a smile on his face led her to believe he understood those kinds of silences, too. She wondered if he’d ever had anyone to share them with.
He turned onto a smaller rural road, passed a smattering of stores and then she saw the wooden sign for a diner ahead. He pulled in. It was a low and long building, with a spacious parking lot and a smattering of picnic tables. He parked in a wide open spot near the front of the lot.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he said. “The food here is great and the owners are really friendly.”
“I’m guessing this place is part of some kind of witness protection network?” Celeste asked. “Cops on the door? Security measures?”
“Nope.” He cut the engine.
“But Dexter Thomes has goons out to kill me! I can’t just waltz into a diner and order scrambled eggs like a regular person.”
“You can, and sooner or later, you’re going to have to.” He undid his seat belt and turned to face her on the seat. “Yes, we’re taking a risk—a calculated one. Witness protection isn’t about locking people away in a secure facility with guards on the door, and my job isn’t just to watch your back 24/7. Not after the initial stage. Part of the purpose of witness protection is to equip you to live a fairly normal life and still keep yourse
lf safe. There are people in witness protection who haven’t actually seen an agent in months or even years, and just check in by phone regularly. After the initial transition and adjustment phase you’re going to find you don’t want to hide in your apartment with the door locked and the blinds down. Over time, you’ll learn how to make friends, go shopping and live a fairly normal life. Starting with eggs.”
Her head shook. “What do you mean some people spend months or years in witness protection without seeing a marshal? The trial is just a few months away. It’s your job to protect us.”
It’s your job to protect me! I thought you’d be there for me as long as I was in danger!
“One thing I’ve learned about this work is that it’s unpredictable,” he said. “Last I heard the trial was scheduled for March. But trials get postponed for all sorts of reasons. I’ve seen trials get delayed for years because of appeals, charges get suddenly dropped over technicalities and people who’ve expected to be in witness protection for a few days end up in their new lives indefinitely. I won’t always be able to be there every moment of every day to have your back, unfortunately. And you might have to hide from Dexter, and whoever he sends after you, for the rest of your life.”
* * *
She looked away, but not before he could see the look of fear that washed across her face. Her gaze rose to the sky. Somehow he knew she was praying and couldn’t shake the feeling he’d be the one breaking it to her that her prayers weren’t going to be answered as she’d hoped. He’d hated telling her the truth about how long and lonely a life in witness protection could be.
She turned back. Her arms crossed and her chin rose. “Okay, so where do we start?”
Did she have any idea how extraordinary she was?
“Step one is only frequenting locations that you know are safe,” he said. “Places with good lines of sight and good exits, that are run by honest people who aren’t likely to be involved in anything illegal on the side or pry into your business. Once we get you settled into your new home, I can help you identify those. Step two is learning to fly under the radar.”
He reached around into the back seat, opened his duffel bag and pulled out a baseball cap and shapeless black sweatshirt and handed them to her. “I’m hopeful we won’t need to look at any drastic changes to your appearance. Still, the last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself. Put these on.”
He waited as she fished an elastic band out of her jeans and tied her hair back into a bun. Then she put on the sweatshirt and pulled the hat down over her head.
“I’ve never been into clothes or worn makeup,” she said. “I’ve always been pretty plain and nobody much cares what the person hiding on the other side of the computer screen looks like.”
Plain? As in unattractive? Who was she kidding?
“Well, your new life isn’t about hiding so much as being inconspicuous,” he said, trying not to notice how beautifully the wisps of blond slipping out from under the hat framed her heart-shaped face. “It’s about being the kind of person who doesn’t get noticed. Which is hard for someone with looks like yours.”
She blinked so hard her entire body sat back. Heat rose to the back of his neck. Had he really just said that out loud?
“What do you mean looks like mine?” she demanded. “You think I haven’t heard enough men online and in person take potshots about my weight or my shape, or how thin my hair is, how funny-looking my nose is or how my eyes are too far apart?”
Wow, so she’d come across a lot of jerks in her life. She honestly didn’t know that she was an attractive woman? How could anyone that exquisite go through life thinking they were funny-looking or plain?
“Well, despite what idiots might have told you, you’re kind of a head turner.” His neck grew hotter. What was he saying? “Your hair is fine. Your face is fine. Everything all looks fine. Come on, let’s go eat.”
He pushed the door open and half stumbled out, like he’d spent too long on a boat and gotten sea legs. By the time he’d made it around to her side of the truck, she’d already hopped out and closed the door behind her. They walked over to the diner. His hand brushed her shoulder as they reached the door, and even through her jacket and sweatshirt he could tell she was shaking.
“Don’t look so nervous,” he said with a smile that he hoped was reassuring. “Compared to what you’ve been through in the past week, getting coffee and eggs should be a breeze.”
He pushed the door and held it open for her, then followed her in and couldn’t help but notice she was scanning the room the same way he would. He liked this diner. It was a long building and wider than someone would’ve expected from the outside, with two rows of tables. Chairs instead of booths made it easier to jump up at a second’s notice, and along with the front door there was a large emergency exit at the side, not to mention a third exit through the kitchen. Two of the tables were occupied with elderly couples.
“Where do you want to sit?” he asked, tilting his head close to hers.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m just stuck thinking I’m going to have to walk into every building from now on wondering who’s out to hurt me and how to escape.”
“Trust me, it’s not as bad as all that, and soon enough it’ll be second nature. Now let’s go eat.”
He reached for her shoulder, but somehow as she stepped forward he found his hand sliding down to the small of her back, his fingers fitting so comfortably there it surprised him. He led her over to the table by the window and pulled a chair out for her, noticing the slight shake in her limbs as he did so. He understood why her legs were wobbly. Not as much why his were, too.
A middle-aged woman with spikey blue hair and a name tag reading Missy arrived almost immediately with menus, mugs and a pot of hot coffee. He thanked her and she left.
“It’s a pretty simple menu,” he said, sliding one of the two laminated sheets across the table to her. “I hope you like eggs.”
A gentle smile lit her face.
“I like simple,” she said. She looked down at the menu. “There’s nothing worse than those fancy coffee shops with hundreds of ways to order coffee. I always feel so awkward and uncomfortable and like I’m holding up the line.”
“I like things simple, too,” he said. There was a comfort in simplicity and that was part of what he liked about this place. There was one egg, or two or three, with bacon or sausage. There were pancakes and syrup. There was hot brewed coffee being poured into chunky and solid white mugs. Celeste chose two eggs with fruit. Jonathan went for three eggs with bacon. And they sat mostly in comfortable silence, exchanging simple furtive glances while they waited for the food. The late-morning sun sent dazzling rays bouncing off the blanket of crystal-white snow.
They finished their meal and sat for a long moment, just enjoying the coffee and the sunshine.
“How was it?” he asked.
“Amazing,” she said. “I can’t remember when I last had a meal that wasn’t on my desk wedged beside my laptop.”
The sound of children laughing dragged their attention to the door. A girl of about three charged into the room, followed by a young boy, a teenager and two tired but smiling parents. Missy met them at a table with menus and coloring pages. He guessed they were regulars. He watched as the mother pulled electronic game devices out of her bag and slid them in front of the younger two even before they’d settled into their chairs and wriggled out of their coats. Her own phone came out, too, and the father checked his before he examined the menu. The teen boy curled into a corner chair with headphones in and some kind of device Jonathan couldn’t see hidden in his hands. He sighed.
“You don’t like kids in restaurants?” Celeste asked.
“I love kids in restaurants,” Jonathan said, turning back. “I love kids, period. I just don’t like that they’re so focused on their devices that they’re totally ignoring each other.
I don’t doubt those parents love their kids. But I don’t get the point of spending time with another human being only to ignore them.”
“So, you’re a ‘no phones at the dinner table’ kind of guy?” she asked.
He paused. How could he possibly explain to a computer programmer how he sometimes missed living in a home with no electricity?
“I’m a ‘no electronic devices during family time’ person,” he said finally. “Anytime family members are gathered together, whether sitting in the living room, eating at the dinner table or curled up in bed at night, then the point should be to be together, not stare at flickering screens.”
“Why Marshal Mast!” She tilted her head. “I didn’t imagine you were old-fashioned.”
“Well, if there’s something old-fashioned about wanting to pay attention to the person you’re with, then I don’t much want to get with current fashion.”
She laughed, then leaned forward. “Do you have any?”
“What, kids?” He blinked. Had she really just asked that? “No. No kids, no wife, no pets and no family. Family just isn’t something that tends to happen easily when you’re in a career like mine. I take it from your file you have no significant relationships? It’s something we look into, because the last thing we need is some ex-boyfriend suddenly deciding to track you down.”
“No, no relationships.” A sad smile crossed her face. “I’m not for small talk, or dating, or any of that. The closest I’ve come is a very small handful of people I met online, who either turned creepy or disappeared suddenly without notice. Every date I’ve been on has been a disaster. It’s hard to find someone looking for anything real, but so very easy to find men who want female attention. Dexter was one of those.”
He leaned forward. “You had a relationship with Dexter?”
Amish Hideout (Amish Witness Protection Book 1) Page 5
