Identity Withheld

by Sandra Orchard

  He’s playing a part, she reminded herself. But her body wasn’t listening. Delicious tingles traveled up her arm and swirled in her chest. “It’s the stress of the situation,” she muttered.

  “Pardon me?” Jake slowly lowered her hand, his gaze still holding her captive.

  Heat rose to her cheeks that had nothing to do with her heavy coat. “Oh, I, uh, was just wondering when the P.I. would get here.”

  Jake blinked as if he’d momentarily forgotten why they were there, as if he hadn’t been playing a part at all, and her heart did a swirl of its own. He steered her toward the track. “Shouldn’t be long. To be on the safe side, Sam asked the P.I. to meet him at the police station and then planned to slip him out the back door to bring him here, just in case anyone tapped the P.I.’s phone or followed him.”

  Kara hid a smile as they walked the track the opposite direction to the jogger. Sam had had to do a lot of fast talking to convince Jake that he could still keep her safe when she’d adamantly refused a meeting at the police station. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Sam also sent a look-alike of her out the front of the police station to lure away any waiting bad guys.

  Jake nodded to the jogger as he passed them, then searched the grassy knolls surrounding the park. He tightened his hold on her hand, his expression as gray as the sky. “Are you sure you want to do this here? Now? There’s still time to change your mind.”

  “Yes, Jake. If I can help this couple find their son, it will make everything I’ve been through worth it.”

  His thumb stroked the back of her hand soothingly. “You’re an amazing woman. I can’t imagine how lonely and frightening these past few months must have been for you.”

  Unused to words of praise, she squirmed, even as his soft declaration nestled into a lonely corner of her heart. “Not so amazing. I’ve been feeling pretty frustrated and impatient at how long the police were taking to make the arrests.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  In the front yard of a house across the street from the park, a father and child strung lights around a manger scene.

  Kara let out a wistful sigh. “One good thing about all that’s happened, I suppose, is that I’ve spent a lot more time talking to God.” She snickered. “Even started listening to His answers.”

  “Yeah, know that feeling.” Jake’s clasp tightened as he quickened their pace around the track. “After my wife died, it took me a lot of sleepless nights before I finally knew He was there, realized that He’d been there all along. His ways still made no sense to me, but I knew with certainty that He loved my wife more than I ever could.”

  “Yes.” Kara choked on the word, utterly humbled by the sweet love that still resonated through his words whenever he talked about his wife.

  Jake cleared his throat. “So what’s God been telling you?”

  “Oh.” Kara shrugged off her woolgathering and focused on Jake’s question. “I guess, like you experienced, mostly assuring me that He’s near, even when it doesn’t feel like it. I’ve been reading a lot of David’s psalms.”

  “Have a favorite?”

  “Yeah. ‘If I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.’ And, ‘Even the darkness will not be dark to you, the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.’”

  Jake nodded. “I’ve recalled that verse a time or two when struggling to find victims in a smoky house.”

  Kara marveled at how easily Jake talked about leaning on the Lord. In the six months she dated Clark, she couldn’t recall ever having a spiritual discussion with him. He joined her for church every Sunday, and okay, once or twice they’d talked afterward about the sermon, but... Maybe it was as Jake said, that sometimes it took a lot of sleepless nights to truly meet God. To have Him become the first person you turn to in a crisis instead of the last.

  Jake tucked her arm beneath his. “They’re here,” he whispered so softly it took her a moment to decipher what he’d said.

  A green Ford Escort parked under the arching boughs of a giant oak tree with a few indomitable leaves still clinging to its branches. Kara drew a deep breath, willing the same resolute spirit into her own shaking limbs. Sam emerged from the driver’s side and a squat man with dark hair and a square face, wearing a trench coat, as cliché as a Sam Spade movie, climbed out the passenger side.

  Jake glanced down the road and around the park’s perimeter then escorted her to the same picnic table that Sam and the P.I. headed toward. Sam’s equally furtive glances around the perimeter made her steps falter. The P.I. seemed to have no such qualms. He eagerly reached across the table and shook her hand. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

  “I’m not sure I can help your clients, but I’ll try.”

  “That’s all I ask.” He opened a file folder and pushed a photograph of a tawny-haired boy of maybe four or five months across the picnic table. “Is this the boy you saw in the park in Boston?”

  “I couldn’t say. I scarcely saw the boy. He was bundled in a blanket. Didn’t the police show you the pictures?” Hopelessness swept over her like a tidal wave, its undercurrent threatening to yank her feet out from under her. Lord, please don’t let this be in vain.

  “This blanket?” The P.I. pushed another photograph across the table as Sam ambled around them, making her insides tremble all the more.

  She stared at the face of a smiling infant teetering on a mint-green, hand-knitted blanket, her heart breaking. “No, I’m sorry. It was yellow fleece.”

  As if sensing her despair, Jake eased the photo from her hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  The P.I. changed tactics. “What do you remember about the man who took the child?”

  “Didn’t you see the pictures I took?” She wrung her hands. How had she thought she could help?

  “Yes, but none showed his face or anything that would help us ID him. I’m hoping you might remember something that will.”

  Jake covered her hands, urging them to still. “Close your eyes and picture the scene. Tell us everything you see.”

  She closed her eyes. Could smell the damp earth, hear the babble of the water over the rocks. “It had rained that morning. Everything was wet.” She remembered thinking how out of place the two well-dressed men had looked standing around a picnic table at the river. Her heart quickened at the realization that she could picture him as if he were standing right in front of her. She’d knelt to tie her shoe, to afford a longer look. The one had lifted his foot onto the table as he leaned forward over his knee for a closer look at the child. “He wore polished black leather shoes, expensive looking. Not what I expected to see on a guy in the park.”

  “That’s good. What else?” Jake urged.

  She squeezed her eyes tighter, saw the man edge the blanket back from the child’s face. “He had a ring on his pinkie. A chunky one with a big topaz stone.”

  “Could be his birthstone in a school ring,” Sam suggested from behind her as the P.I. scratched notes on his pad of paper.

  “Right or left hand?” he asked.

  She held up her hands, mentally positioning the two men in her mind. “His right.”

  “What about distinguishing marks? Scars, moles, a tattoo?”

  She shook her head. “Not that I noticed.”

  Jake squeezed her hand. “How about vehicles? Did you see what the guy drove?”

  Kara closed her eyes again and mentally scanned the scene. “Yes. Maybe. There was a fancy silver car parked not far away. The woman in the passenger seat was watching the two men.”

  “Can you describe her?”

  “No, not really.”

  “How about the car? Do you know what kind it was?”

  Kara let out a frustrated sigh. “Sorry, I’m not good with c
ars.” It had frustrated Clark to no end that she had no interest in them. Maybe she should’ve been paying more attention when he had been expounding on the merits of each while trying to decide which one to buy.

  “Did it have a hood ornament or decal?” Sam asked, now standing behind the P.I.

  “Yeah.” She squinted, trying to bring the image into focus in her mind. “It had three circles on a diagonal on its front air filter thingy.”

  “On the grille?” Jake clarified.

  “Yes. Do you know what make that is?”

  Sam flicked through images on his cell phone and held out one labeled Audi for her to look at. “Are you sure it wasn’t four rings like this?”

  “No. The circles were kind of pointy and definitely on a diagonal.”

  Jake whipped out his phone and scrolled through a few pictures. “Like this?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. That’s the car exactly!” She offered a lopsided smile. “I guess they aren’t really circles. Only...” She squinted at the picture, straining to reconcile what was still off. “The license plate. The car didn’t have a front license plate like this one.”

  “You did good.” Jake turned the phone so Sam and the P.I. could see. “A Buick Enclave. The chief just bought this one.”

  “And we can narrow down the search to the states that don’t require front license plates,” Sam added.

  Kara pictured the men at the river once more. “I remember something else. The man handed the adoption agency guy a bulging, half-page–size envelope, and there was a logo in the corner.”

  “Can you describe it?” the P.I. asked.

  “Yeah, it was solid red with yellow words.”

  Jake’s gaze snapped to Sam’s. “A bank logo, maybe?”

  “Yes.” The P.I. tapped the tip of his pen to his pad with a grin. “This gives me lots more to go on.”

  Sam pressed two fingers to his ear and his attention instantly shifted to the hills behind Kara. “Copy that,” he said brusquely into his mic then motioned them up. “Okay, we’ve got to move. Now!”

  Kara’s pulse kicked into overdrive at the urgency in his voice.

  Jake grabbed her hand and sprang to his feet as the P.I. hurriedly gathered his photos. “I appreciate you meeting with me.” A breeze caught the corner of one of the photos and sent it skittering off the end of the table.

  Kara stretched to grab it.

  “Leave it,” Jake hissed, tugging her to move before she’d untangled her legs from the picnic table.

  An odd pop-pop cracked the air.

  “Down!”

  “Down!”

  “Down!”

  The shouts came from every direction as she slammed into the ground, fought for breath...under the...bone-crushing...pain. Shots exploded around her.

  A heavy weight pressed over her body. “You’re okay.”

  Jake. If she could...just...catch...a...breath.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Jake repeated more urgently, inching higher, shielding her head, not sounding convincing.

  She tasted dirt and—blood. The light faded and understanding rushed in. She wasn’t okay.

  ELEVEN

  The female deputy ducked behind the baby stroller and shot in the sniper’s direction, providing cover. But nothing could shield Jake from the castigation lashing his chest as he hooked his arms under Kara’s shoulders and dragged her behind the nearest tree. He never should’ve let her come here. He’d told her he’d protect her.

  “Shots fired,” Sam barked into his radio. “Two men down. Send ambulance and backup to...”

  “Two?” Jake’s gaze snapped to his brother upending the picnic table. The P.I. lay sprawled in the dirt behind him. “How is he?” Jake hissed, fumbling over the zipper on Kara’s jacket.

  “Bad.” Sam dragged the man closer to the table’s cover, leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake as the shooting mercifully stopped.

  “Find the wound and apply pressure until the ambulance gets here,” Jake barked, then, giving up on Kara’s zipper, ripped open her jacket to find the wound. “Kara, honey, talk to me.” The sight of her ashen face caught him by the throat. “You cannot die on me!”

  She let out a shuddered moan.

  “That’s it.” He stroked dirt-encrusted hair from her face, rechecked her airway, her breathing. “Talk to me.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, but failed to open. “Hurts,” she moaned, her tongue flicking over a cut on her swollen lower lip.

  “I know, baby, but stay with me. I need to turn you over.” He’d already felt the hole the bullet had ripped through her jacket. A rifle shot, even at that distance, would’ve torn right through her if...

  “Ow,” she moaned as he rolled her gently onto her side, easing her arm out of the Kevlar vest.

  His breath rushed from his lungs at the sight of the shattered ceramic trauma plate that Sam had stuffed into the level IV vest. But there was no blood. No blood!

  He edged the bottom of her shirt up her back, revealing an angry red welt from the impact. He palpated the ribs, checking for broken bones.

  Her moan clawed his heart raw. “I’m sorry, Kara.” He eased her onto her back once again. “You’ve suffered an impact trauma, but the bullet didn’t penetrate.” His gaze caressed her too-pale face as he pulled her coat closed over her chest. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she groaned. “Let the entire Seattle Mariners lineup have batting practice on your back, then we’ll talk.” The corner of her lip tilted up as her eyes finally slid open.

  Humbled by the sight, for a moment he could do nothing more than drink it in. “You are a remarkable woman.” He leaned over her and gently brushed his thumb along her bottom lip in a feathery caress, savoring the baby softness. Her breathy sigh flitted over his skin, sending his pulse charging.

  Her long lashes swept her cheeks, and then the direction of those fathomless blue eyes dipped to his lips.

  He forgot how to breathe. He leaned closer, then...

  An explosion of sirens snapped him out of the fantastical world he’d tumbled into. He straightened regretfully, touching her cheek as he withdrew.

  Sam was hunched over the P.I.’s chest, blood staining his hands. The female deputy stood guard, scoping the horizon. The other deputies had disappeared.

  “Did they get the sniper?”

  “He got away,” Sam said through clenched teeth. “How’s Kara? Does she need to go to the hospital?”

  Kara rolled onto her side and pushed herself to her knees, muffling a groan. “No, it won’t be safe.”

  Sam shifted his gaze to Jake’s, seeking confirmation.

  An impact of that magnitude had to have compressed her ribs a fair amount, maybe caused some internal bruising in addition to the external. She’d be sore for a long time, but not enough to risk sending her to the local hospital if that sniper was still on the loose. “She’ll be okay,” he muttered.

  “Okay.” Sam turned to the female deputy. “Get them out of here. Make sure you’re not followed.”

  “This way.” She motioned to the run-down van parked at the edge of the parking lot, authentic looking for the cover of a young mother but not exactly a good getaway car, not to mention pretty easy to track.

  “Go!” Sam shouted.

  Jake scanned the hills one last time, then scooped Kara into his arms and hurried after the deputy.

  Her arms laced around his neck, clinging tighter with every jolting footfall.

  “We’re almost there,” he soothed.

  The deputy flung open the side door, and Jake eased Kara onto the nearest seat, then jumped in.

  “Okay, go!” He slid the door home. The van immediately lurched into Reverse. Bracing his knee against the seat, he fought to s
tay on his feet as he fastened Kara’s seat belt.

  Her eyes were pinched closed, her face contorted.

  He pressed his lips to the lines creasing her forehead, wishing he could take away her pain as easily as he could kiss away his son’s boo-boos.

  An undeserved “thank you” whispered past her lips, twisting his heart.

  “You might want to belt yourself in,” the deputy said from the front seat, backing the van into a swift swerve that sent him toppling.

  “Take it easy. You don’t want to attract attention!”

  She eased off the gas and cut through a subdivision. “Where am I going?”

  Uneasy about giving a stranger—deputy or not—his address, he expelled a breath. “Drive around for a bit. Make sure no one is following us.”

  She zigzagged through subdivisions, giving the direction the sniper had been a wide berth.

  “Jake,” Kara puffed out with obvious effort, although her voice was scarcely audible. “He’s seen me with you. I can’t—” She gulped a mouthful of air. “I can’t put you in any more danger.”

  Her unselfish concern flowed through him like the homespun warmth of hot cocoa on a crisp winter’s day, and he couldn’t help the altogether inappropriate smile that tugged at his lips. “If our sniper’s already made that connection, it’s too late to protect me. And I’ll feel a whole lot better knowing where you are.”

  “But—” Her voice petered out and her tortured gaze clung to his. “But Tommy,” she finally squeaked out.

  As if a Mack truck had hit him square in the chest, Jake’s breath rushed from his lungs. He closed his eyes and his son’s smiling, trusting face danced before him. Lord, I can’t endanger my son.

  The image of Jesus on a cross seared his thoughts.

  Oh, God... His mind blanked. How do I pray? What do I do?

  Instantly he remembered his uncle’s cabin in the foothills. He pulled out his phone and called his dad. “There’s no time to explain. Pack up enough food and clothes to last at least a few days and get everyone to Uncle James’s. Make sure no one follows you. We’ll meet you there.”