Catch a Shadow

by Potter, Patricia;

  Kirke stepped up. “It smells wonderful in here. I think I could eat everything in those counters.”

  The woman beamed.

  Jake’s instinct was to step up and start spitting out questions, but he stood back while Kirke ordered a croissant chicken salad sandwich, and iced tea, and a box full of donuts.

  Kirke looked at him expectantly, and he ordered a hot croissant ham and cheese sandwich. While it was heating in a microwave, Kirke asked about the bar that used to stand where they were standing. “My husband went there years ago when he—” She stopped suddenly as if she realized she was saying something she shouldn’t.

  The woman put their sandwiches on paper plates and slid them over the counter to Jake. Her gaze ran over him, apparently approving, until they rested back on Kirke and her black eye.

  “No,” she said lightly. “It wasn’t him. It was a purse snatcher, and my Oscar is taking me on a trip to forget about it.”

  The frown faded.

  “In fact, he promised to bring me to the places he used to visit,” she rambled on. “He told me how much he loved the area. All the history. The rolling hills. He mentioned this bar that he thought was around here …”

  “The Enigma,” the woman said.

  “You know it.”

  “I grew up around here. Used to go there with a girlfriend. Met my husband there. Broke his heart when the owner died, and his son sold the land for development. Made a huge profit,” she said with disdain.

  “Is this your business?” Kirke asked.

  “Yes. My husband works for Old Williamsburg and often works late. I was bored and always liked baking, so we decided to invest what we had in this business.”

  The door opened, and two women walked in. Kirke and Jake took their food to a table.

  “Oscar?” he said softly.

  “I kinda liked the sound of it,” she replied. Mischief danced in her eyes, and he was beguiled by it. She’d almost been killed last night, and she still had that quirky humor.

  The newcomers ordered a cake, then left, and the woman returned to their table.

  “How is everything?”

  “More wonderful than I’d dreamed,” Kirke said. “I think I want a piece of pastry from the second counter.”

  The woman looked even more ecstatic than Kirke. In seconds she presented them with a plate containing several pastries. “The other two are on the house,” she said.

  “Will you join us for a moment?” Kirke asked.

  The woman hesitated for a second, then nodded. “The noon rush is over. Won’t be much business until four. I’m Edna Caswell.”

  Kirke thrust out her hand. “I’m Betty Sewell, and this is my husband, Oscar.” She picked up the pastry and took a huge bite, chewed, then said absently, “Oscar told me about a woman who used to manage the Enigma. A widow. Redhead. Name of Dallas. She gave him some really good advice, and I wanted to thank her.”

  “She told me to marry Betty,” Jake said without a beat. “Best advice I ever took.”

  “Dallas. Haven’t heard that name in a while. She left several years ago,” Edna said. “Say, how long you two been married?” Edna asked.

  “Ten years.”

  “You look so happy together,” Edna said.

  “How long have you been married?” Kirke asked

  “Twenty years. Just sent our oldest kid to college. The youngest is a senior in high school.”

  “Do you know where Dallas is now?” he asked.

  “I heard she went back to Texas with her son,” Edna said.

  The door opened, and Edna got up.

  “Do you know where?” Jake asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Her last name?”

  “Haley, I think, or something like that.”

  She flashed them a smile, then went to wait on the new customers. When she finished with them, another customer entered.

  “I don’t think we’re going to get anything else,” he said.

  “I don’t, either. But maybe now we have enough to Google her or go to a search site.”

  He pushed out his chair and stood. He still had to pay for the pastry she’d ordered.

  He waited until the other customers received their food and sat down. It looked like a one-woman business at the moment. He left her a big tip, then paid the bill at the counter. “Thank you. The food was great, and I really appreciate the information. I’ve thought about her often. Thought I would send a note. Tell her what great advice she gave me.”

  “Hope you find her. Everybody liked her.”

  He nodded, took the box of donuts Kirke had ordered, then they left.

  Outside the door, she turned to him. “Should we check with anyone else here?”

  He considered asking the other merchants, then discarded the idea. He didn’t want undue notice. Kirke had done a good job in disarming Edna. But too many questions would raise suspicions. “Let’s see what we can find out now that we have a last name.”

  “She wasn’t sure Haley was right. And there’s a dozen different ways to spell it.”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  “Okay.”

  He went back inside. “Can you tell me where the nearest library is?”

  “Turn right leaving the parking lot, then left at the third light and right again and … I’ll draw you a map.”

  He waited as she found paper and a pen and drew an elaborate map. She looked at the map, then handed it to him.

  “Thanks again,” he said.

  “Come back. I bake every morning.”

  “We’ll do that.”

  After he joined Kirke in the car, he remembered the call he was going to make. He didn’t really want to talk in front of Kirke. The one thing he wanted from Cole Ramsey was a way to take Kirke somewhere safe. With or without her consent.

  He had to admit, though, she’d been helpful in there. He probably would have come on too strong and aroused suspicions. Suspicions would mean police.

  Kirke had been perfect.

  Maybe they should leave Williamsburg now. Adams had that damned map. And Dallas was in Texas. Texas was a damn big state to find someone. But the more he thought about it, the more he believed that Dallas played a part in this puzzle. Why else would Cox have mentioned her to Kirke?

  He started the car and headed out of the parking lot just as two men turned into it. As they passed, he saw the driver’s face. Crew cut. Hard. Even brutal. The man looked startled, then instantly braked. A car behind him ran into him, blocking him from going backward.

  The driver ignored a woman stepping out of the driver’s side and sped ahead, barely missing a mother and toddler trying to cross the lot. Jake didn’t wait any longer.

  He put his foot on the gas and ripped out of the parking lot, leaving screams and chaos behind. The other car was seconds behind him.

  Kirke was looking behind. “Tell me what he’s doing,” he said. “I can’t look back.”

  “How did they find us?”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  Jake swerved in between two cars and said a prayer as he caught the tail end of a yellow light. The other car would get caught in blocked traffic. He had a few seconds to disappear.

  He maneuvered again to get in the left turn lane, knowing it would be more difficult for the driver of the other car to follow him, then he turned left, right, then right again for a block, then a left. He heard cars honking behind him and it told him how far back the opposition was.

  No pattern. The opposition would expect a pattern. Instinct. Find another major road and hide in a full parking lot. A grocery store. A shopping center, anything.

  Then he saw signs to Williamsburg Village and started following them. There would be crowds there, and parking lots, and he doubted whether the opposition would think he would head there and chance getting trapped.

  He swung into one of the parking lots and maneuvered into a tight space between two cars with dark colors like theirs.

  “Move ov
er to the driver’s seat,” he said. “If you see anything, get the hell out of here. Go to the nearest police officer. Tell them you were kidnapped.”

  He got out, and she shifted over to the driver’s seat. He took out his pocket knife and within seconds changed license plates. He didn’t replace the one he took, just left an empty spot. Hopefully whoever owned the car would be at the village the rest of the afternoon.

  After they left Williamsburg, he would put back the original plate and toss the stolen one.

  The bad guys undoubtedly had the old plate marked. He just needed enough time to get the hell out of the area.

  He got into the backseat. “You drive,” he said. “Take off the hat. Follow the signs to the interstate and head south to Portsmouth.”

  She didn’t ask any questions, just started the car and headed out of the parking lot. He ducked down on the floor.

  A new license plate and a lone driver should be enough to get them out of town. He wondered how many men Adams had looking for them.

  Adams was desperate. And dangerous.

  But so was he.

  CHAPTER 24

  Kirke drove almost to Portsmouth. They stopped at a rest area not far from the city limits.

  At Jake’s direction, she parked in a secluded area, and he quickly changed license plates again. He discarded the stolen one in a waste can.

  When Kirke went into the restroom, he located a pay phone between the two restrooms.

  When he’d called Cole Ramsey earlier, his friend had told him that Bulldog was expected at the poker game. Bulldog could be no other than Dane MacAllister, who’d served with both of them. Bulldog was his service nickname, but Jake had always called him Mac. Jake knew Cole and Mac were friends and lived within miles of each other in Oregon.

  It had been obvious that Cole’s telephone was tapped, and possibly there had been someone else in the room. Jake hadn’t talked to Mac since before his imprisonment, and he doubted the FBI or marshals or whoever would tap him as well.

  He should have called Mac earlier, but he hadn’t wanted to use the cell phone, and he really hadn’t wanted Kirke to hear the conversation. He called operator assistance and quickly had Mac’s number.

  Mac answered immediately. “MacAllister,” he said.

  “Mac?”

  “Yeah. Good to hear from you. Not so good to hear of your trouble.”

  “Cole talk to you?”

  “He lost a tail and used a pay phone to call me. He wants to know what he can do. I do, too. I didn’t believe those charges for a second.”

  “Have a family yet?”

  “A wife and a kid. A boy.”

  “You shouldn’t get involved.”

  “If I was in trouble,” Mac said, “what would you do?”

  That stopped him. His throat went dry and tight.

  “One of the men I supposedly killed is alive,” he said. “He seems to have an army behind him, and he wants me dead. Unfortunately, I have a civilian with me. He wants her dead, too.”

  “A pretty civilian?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Do you still have contacts?”

  “A few.”

  “First I need to locate a Dallas Haley. Not sure of the spelling. I think she’s a CIA widow. She managed a bar in Williamsburg called the Enigma. Catered to the spooks. A friend of hers says she’s probably in Texas.

  “Betcha it’s Dallas for Dallas,” Mac said, then chuckled.

  Jake sighed. Unfortunately Mac, in addition to being a great soldier, was also a jokester.

  “You can’t narrow it any more?” Mac asked, obviously aware that Jake didn’t share his amusement.

  “I hope you can. Oh, and she has a son.”

  “Age?”

  “I don’t know that, either.”

  “Anything else?” Mac replied.

  Jake realized time was slipping away. Kirke would be back any moment. He glanced toward the restroom. The door was closed, and his attention was caught by two men entering the building. But they showed no interest in him as they went to a counter and obtained some maps and tourist information.

  “I want you to protect my civilian.”

  “Is that going to be difficult?”

  “Probably, but I don’t care how difficult it is. I want her out of this. Any way you can.”

  “No deadly force, I take it.” Mac’s voice was amused.

  “No, dammit.”

  “Where do you want to meet?

  “The city of Dallas.”

  “Okay, I’m on the way. I’m sure Cole will follow as soon as he knows he’s not followed. When will you be there?”

  “We’re driving through. We’re in Virginia now. I estimate eighteen to twenty hours.”

  “I’ll try to meet you between two and three at Bob’s Barbecue. If either of us is running late, call this number and ask for Bob. He’s my brother-in-law.” He gave the phone number and directions, then hung up.

  Jake was loath to put anyone else in danger, legal or physical, but now he had no choice. If nothing else, he needed them to take Kirke safely off his hands.

  He hung up and turned. Kirke was behind him.

  Had she heard anything? He hoped to hell not.

  She looked at him with a question in her eyes.

  He shrugged. “An old acquaintance. I thought he could help find Dallas.”

  Her face didn’t change. He couldn’t tell whether she’d heard more of the conversation or not.

  “Time to get going,” he said, starting for the car. Damn but she got to him. He wanted to reach out and touch her hair. Hell, he wanted to do a lot more than that. He also hated deceiving her, but it was more important to get her out of harm’s way. “You look tired,” he added. “I’ll drive for while. Try to get some sleep.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “West. Texas.”

  “That’s a long way. A plane …”

  “We can’t risk that,” he said more curtly than he intended. “Driving day and night, relieving each other, we can get there in about twenty hours. Are you up for it?”

  She nodded. “I did it a lot of times in college.”

  Jake got in the driver’s side, turned the key in the ignition, and they drove out of the parking area.

  Kirke knew she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. She’d already separated the good guys from the bad ones in her mind. Yet when she’d left the restroom she’d stopped at the sound of Jake’s voice as he talked on the phone. It was low, but she heard one phrase: I want her out of this. Any way you can.

  Did he mean her? Or, God help her, Dallas?

  She pretended sleep and actually slipped into it. Gunshots. Merlin’s siren. Hands grabbing at her.

  “Kirke!”

  She heard his voice from a distance and tried to understand. Then slowly she emerged from the fog of sleep. Nightmare. It was just a nightmare. The same as last night except for Merlin.

  She shook her head and peered out of the car. It was dark. He’d stopped on the side of the road, and vehicles were ripping past them.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Just a bad dream. What time is it?’”

  “Around ten.”

  “I should drive.”

  “Can you?” He asked.

  “With some coffee and cold water.”

  “We need gas. I’ll stop at the next likely looking exit, and we’ll switch.”

  He started the car again and returned to the road. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking slightly.

  Merlin. Ten o’clock. It wasn’t too late to call Robin. She knew Robin stayed up late.

  “Can I use the cell phone?” she asked him. “I want to call Robin.”

  “The feds might have this number now,” he said. “They can trace it.”

  “We’re in the middle of the country,” she said. “If we don’t use it again, they’ll have no idea where we’re heading.”

  He hesitated.

  “I won’t be
long.”

  He handed her the phone. “We’ll get another prepaid as soon as I can. We won’t have to be so careful.”

  She nodded and punched in Robin’s number.

  “Hey, I hope it isn’t too late,” she said when Robin answered almost immediately. “How’s Merlin?”

  “Chatting away and whistling a weird melody.”

  “He’s eating?”

  “Oh yes.” A pause. “You okay?”

  Not really, but she wasn’t going to tell Robin she was nearly kidnapped last night. “Yes,” she lied. “I have to ask another favor.”

  “What is it?”

  “Information.”

  Jake glanced at her but didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll do my best,” Robin said on the other end. “Okay, what or who do you want me to find?”

  “A woman named Dallas Haley. Probably H-a-i-l-e-y or H-a-l-e-y. She used to live in Williamsburg, Virginia, and was manager of a bar named the Enigma some ten years ago. It’s closed now, occupied by a bakery/deli.” She gave Robin the address.

  “How do I reach you?”

  Kirke gave her Jake’s cell phone number.

  “Oh,” Robin said, “I checked on that agent you asked about. He just came to the Atlanta office.”

  “Thanks,” Kirke said, hearing the strain in her voice.

  She glanced at Jake. He was driving easily, concentrating on the wheel. She quickly tapped the keys to see his call list. Two. She memorized them in her head, then turned the cell off.

  Had he noticed? If he did, he wasn’t reacting.

  A few minutes later he turned off on an exit road. They stopped at an all-night gas station and convenience store. She went inside as he pumped gas into the car. She bought a cup of coffee and scarfed down a cold com dog. Pretty awful, but she was used to grabbing food on the quick. Jake came in and selected an even more evil-looking piece of fried chicken and ate it on the way back to the car.

  She got into the driver’s seat and steered the car back on the interstate.

  “Take I-85 to Atlanta, then we’ll take I-20 the rest of the way,” he said.

  “Where do we go when we get to Texas?” she asked.

  “Hopefully, your friend Robin will come up with some ideas,” he said.

  It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted to ask him who he’d talked to at the rest stop, but he would probably lie to her again, just as he’d lied to her then.