by Cate Nolan
She poured some coffee and grabbed a doughnut from the box the sheriff had left on the counter. “Are we the only ones here?”
Jackson sipped his coffee, trying to find the energy to match her mood. “Sheriff’s still asleep. He didn’t get in until just an hour or so ago. He said to help ourselves to anything in the fridge.”
Callie smiled that sunny smile at him. “Good. I love to cook. Let me see what I can find. Don’t you just love big, old-fashioned kitchens like this? The kitchen is my favorite room in the house. There’s something so cozy and inviting about being in a warm kitchen with all the good aromas from cooking food.”
Yeah, cozy. That’s just how he was feeling. Jackson took a slug of coffee. He was glad she was in good spirits, but her enthusiasm was making him realize just how tired he was.
Callie set about scrambling eggs. “You need more than coffee.”
She was right, but the idea of eating didn’t settle well in his stomach right now. “I already ate, thanks.”
She gave him a dubious look but proceeded to make her breakfast. “So, I have an idea.”
Those words said in that chirpy voice did not bode well. “Really?”
“I think we should set up a trap.”
“Excuse me?”
“These guys keep coming after me. So, instead of waiting for them to strike again, we should set up a trap for them.”
There wasn’t enough coffee left in the pot. That was Jackson’s first thought, his defense against an idea he could never allow.
“Callie, I appreciate that—”
“You didn’t let me finish. We’ll set out as if we were leaving and drive somewhere obvious so they’ll find us. When they do, we’ll call for police backup and head off to some lonely spot where we’ll wait for the police to show up and—”
“The sheriff will never agree to that.”
“But...” Callie clearly wasn’t giving up. “That way we’d be in control.”
Jackson sighed heavily. “One of the first things you learn in this line of work, Callie, is that you’re never sure how things are going to work out, so you just don’t take those kinds of unnecessary risks. Certainly not with a civilian.”
Callie did not look happy to be thwarted. “I’m not just any civilian. I’m their target. They’ve gone after me twice in as many days. What makes you think today will be any different?”
When Jackson didn’t answer, she pushed her plate away, folded her arms and leaned back in the chair. “Do you have a better plan?”
SEVEN
Apparently Jackson’s plan was to just hit the road, but he hadn’t taken into account the craziness that was holiday traffic on the last shopping weekend before Christmas.
Callie hummed Christmas songs to herself as they crawled along the highway. She’d grant him that stopping off at the sheriff’s office and sneaking out the back to pick up a waiting new car was clever. But that had been an hour ago, and they’d barely gone twenty miles.
“How can there be so much traffic in such a small town?”
Jackson practically snarled in response, and Callie burst out laughing.
“Oh, come on. You’ve got to admit it’s funny. You didn’t want to follow my plan, and here we are like sitting ducks in a Christmas parade.”
Jackson muttered something under his breath that Callie suspected she was better off not hearing.
“At least you have hot coffee.”
He made a face. “Do you have any idea how much coffee I’ve consumed today?”
Callie couldn’t help herself. She started humming the Grinch song. Jackson looked over as if to check he was really hearing what he thought he was hearing. She just smiled innocently. He chuckled and returned his attention to the traffic ahead. It was finally starting to clear.
Callie knew she shouldn’t give him such grief. The poor man looked like he’d barely slept a wink in days. By contrast, she was in a ridiculously good mood this morning, probably a reaction directly proportionate to the attacks on her life. She was so happy to be alive that nothing as silly as a traffic jam was going to destroy her mood.
“How do you do it?”
Callie looked up. “Do what?”
“How do you stay so upbeat in the midst of all this?” He waved his hand at the line of stalled traffic, but she sensed he meant the whole situation they were in.
“By ‘this’ you mean that someone has tried to kidnap me twice and that we have men after us who broke out of jail and somehow they keep finding us?”
“All that and you’re singing Christmas songs.”
“I like Christmas.” Callie knew she sounded defensive, but what did the man want—for her to curl up in a ball and cry all day? She’d done enough of that in the month after Rick’s death. It hadn’t accomplished anything, and it certainly hadn’t made her feel better.
“I like Christmas, too, but when men try to abduct my witness in broad daylight on a small-town street, I guess it kind of spoils the mood.”
Callie agreed. “Well, yes. That was a little sobering.”
“Sobering?” His chuckle was more like a full laugh now. “I think it’s a little more than that.”
“Okay, I’ll grant you that, but what choice do I have? I am going to testify against them. If they’re clever and determined, then we have to be doubly so. But that doesn’t mean I have to be in a foul mood.”
“Was that a dig at me?”
Callie looked up, startled. “Not at all. I doubt you got much sleep, and all the pressure of keeping me alive is on you. You’re entitled to be a little grouchy.”
“Uh, thanks.”
Callie shrugged dramatically. “Drink your coffee. Do you want a doughnut?” She offered one from the box the sheriff had given them.
“I want a cookie.”
“If you give a mouse a cookie,” she teased.
“Huh?”
“Just a little kindergarten teacher humor. That’s the title of one of the books my kids loved.”
“So tell me about Callie the kindergarten teacher.”
Callie was surprised by the request. “Why?”
“We’re stuck in a car together, and we can’t talk about the bad guys all day. Tell me about cute kids. Maybe it will make me less...grouchy.” He glanced over at her and winked.
Callie felt that wink to the tips of her toes. Oh, he was a charming one.
“What do you want to know?”
“Why did you become a teacher?”
She didn’t answer right away. Jackson looked over and lifted his shoulders in question. “Was that a difficult question?”
Callie stared out the side window of the car, blinking at the bleak landscape. Funny how minutes earlier the cold air and bare trees had made her anticipate the holidays. Now they just depressed her. “Do you want the quick answer or the real one?”
“Both. Quick one first.”
“I love kids, and teaching gives me the opportunity to spend my day building hope into their lives, helping them see what they can become.”
“Sounds impressive. Now what’s the real answer?”
Callie leaned her head against the glass and closed her eyes, thinking back into her past. It was a lonely place she didn’t like to visit even in her memories. But something about Jackson made her feel safe, as if it was a good thing to share.
“I was a typical foster kid, bounced around because no one could keep me. The only stability I had was school, and there wasn’t even always that. But I had this one teacher.” Callie had to stop and blink back the tears. She swallowed hard. “Second grade. She made me believe it could get better. She gave me hope.”
“Sounds like a special lady.”
Jackson’s words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “She was. I
hoped she would adopt me since she didn’t have any kids of her own.”
“She didn’t?”
“No.”
“Callie?”
“She was killed in a car crash. Apparently she’d had a fight with her husband and took off. The roads were icy. We don’t do ice very well in Texas. Her car slid off the road.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “There was no one who would take me to her funeral, so years later, I went to visit her grave on my own. I vowed that I would try to give other kids the same hope she’d given me. And now I can’t.
“If you want to really understand me, really know why I’m determined to bring these men to justice, then know it’s because they took that away from me. I can’t work with my class anymore. I can’t even teach other children because I’d be a danger to them. They killed Rick, and they took away the only thing I wanted in my life—to make a difference to children who need someone.”
She was quiet for a bit, struggling for calm. “I’m sorry. I know that was way more intense than you anticipated.”
“You’re wrong.”
Callie swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. That was not the response she’d expected. “Wrong about what?”
He reached across the seat and took her hand. “I’m sorry they took that from you. But just from knowing you a few days, I know you’ll figure out a new way. It might not be what you planned, but you’ve got more grit, more courage than most people. You’ll figure out a way to do this.”
She smiled at him through her tears. “Thanks for the pep talk. Do they teach that at Marshal School?”
“Smart aleck. But I’m glad to see you smiling again. I’d even prefer you singing Christmas tunes to crying.” He patted her hand playfully as she reached to turn on some music “I’m serious, Callie. We’ll make sure you get to testify, and then we’ll find a place where you can make your difference. That’s a promise.”
“Don’t promise, Jackson. I don’t like promises.”
“Are you going to explain that?”
“No. I think I’ve done enough of the pitiful act for one day. Let’s talk about you instead. How do you celebrate Christmas?”
“I don’t.”
She waited but he didn’t add anything. He suddenly seemed very tense. His hands were clenched tightly on the wheel, his arms so rigid they’d snap if anything touched them. What could possibly be so awful in his life that he’d reacted so strongly to her simple question?
“Don’t look now, but I think we have company.”
Callie turned around to look over the seat. Sure enough, a dark gray SUV was traveling directly behind them, keeping back far enough so as not to be suspicious, but that only made it more suspicious.
“Get down, Callie. I don’t know what they’re planning, but there’s no sense making a target out of yourself.”
Gone was the gentle man of a few minutes ago. In his place was the tough marshal she’d first encountered back in New York. His voice demanded immediate compliance. She didn’t want to get down and not be able to see what was going on, but common sense said she needed to do what Jackson told her.
“Do you want me on the floor or just slouched down?”
“For now keep your seat belt on and slouch down below window height. Be ready to move instantly onto the floor if I say so.” He glanced into the rearview mirror and changed lanes.
Callie couldn’t see anything ahead of or behind her, but she felt the car speed up. From Jackson’s angry mutterings, she suspected the car behind had done the same.
“Here.” He tossed his phone to her. “The sheriff’s private number should be in recent calls. Call him. When he answers, give me the phone.”
Callie did as directed, waiting through interminable rings before the call was answered. “Hi, Sheriff. Callie here. We’re in a bit of a jam, and Jackson needs to talk to you.”
Callie handed over the phone, then listened as Jackson apprised the sheriff of their situation and location. It took all she had not to peek over her seat to see what was happening. Jackson’s ever-increasing speed gave her enough sense that it wasn’t good.
The sound of something hitting their car wasn’t good either.
“Jackson?”
“Callie, I need you to crouch down in front of the seat—wedge yourself in as tightly as you can and hold on to whatever you can find. It’s going to get bumpy, but you’ll be out of the line of fire down there.”
Resisting the urge to look out the rear window, Callie unclasped the seat belt and slid to the floor. She curled herself into a ball. Jackson shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it down to her. “Pull this over you and try to use it to cushion your head.”
“What’s happening?” The tremors in her voice probably gave away her fear, but Callie was beyond caring.
“Someone fired at us.” He sounded like he was speaking between clenched teeth, so Callie decided it was better not to distract him. She turned her attention to God instead. “Lord, help us,” she whispered. “Surely You didn’t bring us this far to die in a car crash.”
The car suddenly swerved. Callie bit her lip. She didn’t want to bother Jackson but she needed to know how desperate the situation was. As if in answer to her unspoken question, she heard Jackson say to the sheriff, “I need both hands. I’m going to hand the phone off to Callie. She can tell me what you’re saying. Here, Cal, take this.”
Callie reached for the phone and then tucked herself back into the small space. “Hi again.”
“Hey, Callie. Hang in there, kiddo. We’ll have you out of this in no time.”
“Good to know.” She hoped he wasn’t just trying to make her feel better.
“Sheriff wants to know why you don’t just put him on speaker?”
* * *
Jackson had taken his eye off the road only long enough to hand Callie the phone, but already he could see the momentary distraction had given his opponents an edge. They were closing in. “Tell him we’re bouncing around too much. It’d be too difficult.”
“Okay.” She relayed the message and listened. “He says there’s a turnoff up ahead. You won’t see it until you’re on it so let them think they’re getting close, then swerve off road at the last minute.”
“If it’s so hard to see, how will I not miss it?
“You heard that, did you, Sheriff?”
Callie chuckled. It was an absurd sound, given their tense situation, but it helped settle him.
“He says there should be a big red barn coming up on the left side. On the right there’s a sign for a Christmas-tree farm.”
“I see them.”
“Right after the tree-farm sign, make a hard right. It won’t even look like a road at first, but there’s pavement under there.”
“Barn’s coming up on the left.” Jackson eased up on the gas enough to slow his speed without giving away his intention to the pursuers. They were speeding up as if the game was just about up. Good.
“Tree farm sign coming up in ten, nine, eight, seven. Hang on tight, Cal—this is going to be rough.” Jackson gripped the wheel as tightly as he could and braced himself against the seat. At the very last moment, as the car in pursuit closed in, he swerved sharply to the right and accelerated, hoping that the chief was right about there being a road under all the overgrowth.
The other car surged forward past them, and Jackson breathed a sigh of momentary relief. It wouldn’t be long before they’d turn around and be after him again. The other car was a bigger SUV and would be able to handle being off road better. Jackson made a mental note to choose something like that when they switched this car out. Provided they lived that long.
Anger flared at the thought. He was responsible for Callie’s safety, and somehow he’d failed yet again to prot
ect her. Had he put her in danger, or was there something else going on here? If he was going to keep her alive, he needed to get to the bottom of it and fast. But right now he needed to concentrate on getting them safely out of this situation.
“Sheriff says this is an old logging road. Keep straight.”
A squeal of tires behind him alerted Jackson that the chase was on again. They wouldn’t be fooled as easily this time. “Tell him they’re on my tail again. How long?”
Callie repeated the question and waited for an answer. “They’re setting up a roadblock on the other side of the hill.”
“What hill?” Jackson shouted. The land all around him was hilly. Frustration gnawed at him, and his temper grew shorter with every foot the enemy gained.
“Do you see a sign up ahead for a swimming hole?”
“No.”
Jackson could hear the sheriff’s impatient reaction through the phone. Yeah, he understood all about that.
“He wants to know how far back they are.”
Jackson darted a look in the rearview mirror. He’d come around a curve about half a mile back. They hadn’t cleared that yet. “Half a mile, a little more.”
Callie relayed the information. Later, when they made it through this, he’d tell her just how impressed he was with her clearheadedness under pressure. She was acting more like a partner than a client.
“I think he is, but I’ll ask.” She turned to Jackson. “He wants to know if you’re a good driver.”
Jackson did not like the sound of that. “Yeah.”
“Willing to do something risky?”
Right now he was willing to do whatever it took to get them out of this.
“Just tell me what to do.”
“Can you describe for him where we are now?”
“On a road surrounded by trees. I know, not very helpful. We just passed another sign for the Christmas-tree farm. One mile ahead.”
“Good. That’s what he’s looking for. The road is pretty straight for three-quarters of a mile, then it makes a sudden left curve before the entrance to the farm.”
