by Hope White
“What’s the FBI’s interest in this case?” Alex asked.
“We’ll discuss that later. So, this is Nicole Harris?”
“Yes.” Alex wished Banks would lower the volume a few notches.
Instead, he directed his attention to Nicole. “Ma’am, can you tell me what happened tonight?”
She shook her head and stared out the window with a detached expression. Banks studied her as if trying to determine if her shock was real or an act.
“You found her in the closet?” he asked Alex.
“Yes.”
“Did she hear anything?”
“She hasn’t been able to talk about it.”
Banks clenched his jaw and glared at Nicole.
“Did the driver see anything?” Alex redirected.
“One of my agents is interviewing him.”
“What about the bodyguards? Where were they?” Alex said.
“Don’t know. The house is empty except for the witness and the victim. It’s imperative that I interview her ASAP.”
“She’s obviously not ready to talk about it.”
“When will she be able to talk about it?”
The guy was being a class A jerk. Alex glanced at Nicole. She still stared blindly out the window, her cheeks even more pale than they were a minute ago.
“I don’t have time for this,” Banks said. “Ma’am, you’ll need to come with me, if nothing else, for your own protection.”
The guy seriously needed a crash course in sensitivity.
She snapped her attention to Agent Banks. “My protection? Do you think he’ll come after me? But I didn’t...see anything.”
“The murderer doesn’t know that and he won’t stop until—”
“Enough,” Alex interrupted. “Agent Banks, can we talk in the hallway?”
Banks marched out of the room and Alex turned to Nicole. “I’ll just be a minute, okay?”
Yet he was hesitant to let go of her hand. What was it about this woman?
Simple. She was in danger and Alex was a natural-born protector. Maybe this time he’d get it right. Maybe this one wouldn’t die because of his incompetence.
“I’ll be right back.” He slipped his hand from hers and stood.
She hugged herself. “You think... Will he...come after me?”
Seeing fear in her eyes, he mustered up the only answer he thought might ease her anxiety. “I doubt he even knew you were there. You found a clever hiding spot.”
She nodded, but didn’t look convinced.
As he headed toward the hallway to speak to Agent Banks, Alex focused on controlling the frustration burning through his chest. Intimidating Nicole was no way to get answers, not to mention it was incredibly inappropriate behavior for a professional.
Alex went into the hallway. Agent Banks took a step toward him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m trying to make the witness feel safe so she’ll talk to us,” he answered in a calm voice.
“Well, she’s obviously bonded with you.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Was that your plan? To play hero?” the agent accused.
“This isn’t about being a hero. It’s about finding a killer.”
Banks slammed his fist against the wall and leaned close. “I heard about you and your wonder-boy reputation on the Denver force. I won’t allow ego to mess up this investigation.”
“I guarantee you, my ego won’t be a problem.”
Alex stood his ground, refusing to back down. He surely wasn’t going to let Agent Banks take Nicole in for questioning if he planned to continue these aggressive tactics on her.
With a frustrated expression, Banks turned and paced a few feet away.
“Are you going to tell me why the Feds are involved?” Alex asked.
“Edward Lange was a target of an ongoing investigation. I can’t share the details.”
“You suspect him of criminal activity?” Alex couldn’t believe it.
Agent Banks turned to Alex. “Like I said, it’s need-to-know information.”
“If it’ll help me solve the murder, then I need to know.”
“That’s not my call.”
“Nor is it my call to release the witness into your custody. You’ll have to take that up with my chief.”
“I don’t have time to cut through your local red tape, detective.”
“You don’t have a choice. The witness is traumatized and won’t talk about what happened until she feels safe.”
“And that’s your job? To make her feel safe?” he said.
Alex ignored the attitude. “It’s certainly my goal. But she won’t be safe unless we work together and catch the perp. I can guarantee you that isolating her in an interrogation room isn’t going to get you the answers you’re looking for.”
Banks ran his hand across his jawline. “You’re right. There’s just a lot riding on this case.”
“My suggestion is we keep her identity a secret,” Alex said. “Better yet, don’t release the fact there was a witness. Can you talk to the first responders in there?”
“Yes, but you know how things leak out.”
“It’s worth a try. In the meantime, I’ll take Miss Harris someplace safe. Here’s my cell number.” Alex handed him a business card. “I’d appreciate you keeping me in the loop on your end and I’ll do the same.”
Deep in thought, Banks glanced at Alex’s business card.
“How bad is it, whatever you think Lange was into?” Alex pushed.
“It’s a game changer.” He handed Alex his business card and went back to the crime scene.
Officer Mark Adams stepped into the hallway looking for Alex. “How’s the witness?”
“Understandably upset. I need you to keep an eye on things here,” Alex said. “I’m taking her into protective custody.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alex turned back to the TV room and took a deep breath. Somehow he had to convince Nicole Harris to shelve her trauma and tell them whatever she could about the murder. Time was critical, potentially for the community of Waverly Harbor but most definitely for Nicole. Alex knew it would be nearly impossible to keep her presence in town a secret, but he hoped they could keep it quiet that she’d been at the crime scene, sitting on the other side of the closet door while someone viciously murdered Edward Lange. If that got out, even by accident, it could mean Nicole’s life.
No, he wouldn’t let it happen again. He’d stay one step ahead of the killer and make sure an innocent woman didn’t become a victim.
He slid the pocket doors open.
“We decided I should take you—” he said to an empty room. “Miss Harris? Nicole?”
He rushed to the sofa hoping to find her stretched out in exhaustion.
She was gone. So was her messenger bag.
He spotted a closet and raced across the room to whip open the door. Switched on the light.
Empty.
How was that possible? He bolted to the sliding door and whipped it open. “Nicole!”
TWO
She had to run.
There was no other choice.
The killer was after her. He wanted her dead. The FBI agent had said as much. And the only way to survive was to either hide...
Or run.
Because given Nic’s experience, the police couldn’t or wouldn’t protect her. She was the only one who could save herself.
She’d hesitated before taking off, remembering the false sense of security she’d felt when leaning against the muscled arm of Detective Donovan. When he spoke in his rich, deep voice, she could almost believe the words coming out of his mouth, and she was sure she read truth in his striking blue ey
es.
But then something had slammed against the wall, snapping her out of her momentary distraction, yanking her back to reality and the violence that surrounded her.
No one can help you but yourself. A lesson learned years ago as a child.
Jogging across the property toward the lake, she figured the next house was about four city blocks away. She’d make her way there and...and...what?
Didn’t matter, she couldn’t think about what came next. She had to stay focused on getting away from the murder scene, the cops...the threat to her life.
She had to feel safe.
A sob-gasp caught in her throat. Safe? Since when?
In the recesses of her mind, her intellect argued that this was a bad move. She couldn’t elude authorities for long and it could even make her look guilty, as if she’d done something wrong. Yet all she’d done was her job.
If she couldn’t be safe in this quiet little town that meant...
He was right.
You can’t run fast enough or hide well enough. You’ll never be safe.
“No,” she gasped, picking up speed as she eyed the lights of a house in the distance.
She was a survivor, a fighter. A killer had stood on the other side of a closet door, weapon in hand, yet she was still alive. The cops said they wanted to protect her but she knew the truth: they wanted something from her.
No one genuinely cared about Nicole, not even the polite and handsome Detective Donovan with the calming voice. She knew how it worked. She’d grown up the victim of a failed system, heard all the excuses about keeping children with their father, the one remaining parent. “A little discipline is no cause for putting the kids in foster care and splitting up a family,” the caseworker had said.
In reality, “a little discipline” equated to extreme emotional abuse in the Harris household. Those scars weren’t obvious, and her little sister and brother were so frightened of their dad that they wouldn’t let on about the abuse to teachers, doctors or even friends. The kids feared his retaliation.
He’d earned that fear.
He’d leave newspaper articles on the kitchen counter about parents disciplining their children by locking them in a nonworking freezer in the backyard for two days, or locking them in a dog cage in the basement.
And being found dead.
Beau and Addy didn’t want to be afraid all the time, but they didn’t want to be dead, either, so Nicole taught them how to survive.
Tonight she needed those very survival tactics to escape the threat of a killer.
She must have run a quarter mile, her arms pumping, her brain spinning. Disappearing, then starting fresh in a new state with a new name was her best option. She’d planned for this day just in case the monster named Timothy Harris came looking for her.
She never thought she’d need the escape bag to flee a random killer.
Aiming for the cedar trees bordering the property, she thought she heard something behind her. Her name. Detective Donovan was calling her name.
She charged into the thick mass of trees for camouflage. If the police found her they’d take her into custody “for her own protection,” while in fact they’d make her an easy target for a killer she hadn’t even seen. Would she be able to identify his voice if she heard it again? She shoved the thought back. It didn’t matter. She had no intention of putting herself in the line of fire.
Guilt snagged her conscience. What about Edward Lange? Didn’t he deserve justice? Of course, but she hadn’t seen anything and wasn’t sure she’d recognize the voice if she heard it again.
Besides, this was about survival. It was always about survival.
She darted behind a towering cedar to catch her breath.
“Nicole Harris!” Detective Donovan shouted. He sounded frantic. The beam of a flashlight arced across the property, then skipped across the lake.
She slowly backed up, turned and—
Came face first with a chain-link security fence. She was locked in, with nowhere to go.
“No,” she gasped.
“What’s the matter?” a man said.
Startled, she spun around and eyed the surrounding trees but didn’t see anyone.
“Who’s there?”
Silence echoed back at her. Goose bumps shot down her arms. She scanned the area, looking for escape, but saw only darkness.
Suddenly a man stepped out from behind a tree, the brim of his baseball cap pulled low, shielding his face.
“I said, what’s the matter?”
“Who are you?”
“Who are you?”
There was something about his voice, the way he lurked in the shadows and wouldn’t identify himself, that set off a gazillion red flags in her brain.
Then he took a step toward her.
She took off, sprinting in the direction of the lake. Maybe not her smartest move but this had been a day of irrational decisions borne of fear.
If she could get out to the dock and wave her arms, cry out like a crazy person, Detective Donovan would see her, right? At this point she’d take the cops over a strange man with a creepy demeanor.
“Hey,” the man called after her.
She kept running.
Aimed for the dock.
She wanted to scream, call out for help, but she needed every ounce of energy to breathe.
Was he close?
She glanced over her shoulder...and tripped on a tree root poking up from the ground. Her messenger bag slipped off her shoulder as she tumbled over the edge of the embankment into the water.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain of rocks digging into her back and legs. Her head slammed against something hard and she plunged into the water, her breath catching in her throat.
“Help!” she cried, although it sounded more like one of her cat’s high-pitched squeaks. She treaded water, shaking her head to clear it of a buzzing sound.
The weight of her clothes pulled her down.
Her mind spun with panic.
Stupid, worthless moron.
They were her monster father’s words, words that taunted her as she struggled to stay above the water’s surface. Arms flailing, she fought for breath, for life.
She tried to call out.
Her vision blurred and the buzzing intensified.
Help, somebody help me.
Instead, the water swallowed her, pulling her into its chilling embrace.
* * *
Alex knew he heard a woman call out for help. “Nicole! Nicole Harris!”
Complete and utter silence answered him.
His heart pounded against his chest as he listened intently for the sound of distress.
Then he heard a splash.
He sprinted toward the lake and aimed his flashlight at the water, desperate to see a break in the calm surface.
He was on his own. No one knew Nicole had gone missing. Alex didn’t have time to tell anyone in the house. He had to find her, make sure she was okay.
The silence ringing in his ears indicated she was not okay. Why did she run? He didn’t get it. Unless she was involved in Edward’s murder?
He refused to believe that. She wouldn’t have been trembling in the closet if she’d been a part of the plan to kill him. She would have been long gone before authorities showed up.
“Nicole!” he called out.
He skimmed the water’s surface with his flashlight.
If Nicole had no reason to run from the authorities, that meant...she’d been running from the killer?
“Nicole! Answer me!” he demanded, jogging along the shoreline to the small pier. Racing onto the wooden planks, he aimed his flashlight across the wet rocks by the shore and spotted her messenger bag. He pointed the beam out about ten
feet from shore...
And spotted a break in the water.
A hand reached out, then sank below the surface.
“Not happening.” He ripped off his jacket and firearm and tossed them on the wooden planks. He kicked off his boots and dove in.
His body cramped as he hit the frigid water, but it wasn’t as if he had another option. Nicole had either fallen in or been pushed. She might drown if he didn’t get to her.
Blackness surrounded him beneath the water’s surface. He swung his arms in the hopes of making contact. Defeat taunted him, but he shoved it aside and kept flailing his arms in desperation.
And brushed up against something.
Someone.
With renewed strength he gripped her arm and kicked to the surface, pulling her with him. Rolling her onto her back, he placed an arm around her chest and swam toward the dock.
He was close, so close. He got to the dock ladder, hoisted her over his shoulder and climbed the metal steps. He laid her gently against the wooden planks.
He felt for a pulse.
She was alive, but not breathing. He started chest compressions. One, two, three, four...
No one’s going to hurt you.
A promise he didn’t intend to make and was unable to keep. Yet he couldn’t have guessed she’d run out into the darkness. What had spooked her?
Finishing chest compressions, he tilted her head and performed mouth-to-mouth. She coughed, the best sound he’d heard in years, and he gently rolled her onto her side facing him. She retched twice and went still. She blinked a few times, turned her head and looked up at Alex.
“You’re okay,” he assured her.
So was Alex, thanks to her beautiful eyes staring back at him. She seemed dazed, and that’s when he noticed redness forming above her left eye.
“What happened?” he said.
She touched her head. “I was running and tripped.” Her amber eyes rounded with fear. “There was a man...it could have been the killer.”
When she struggled to get up, Alex placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Sit tight for a second, okay?”
He scrambled across the pier and grabbed his radio. “Mark, it’s Alex. Send officers out back to search the property. Miss Harris encountered an unidentified man. Could be our suspect. Over.” He glanced back at Nicole. She trembled worse than when he’d found her in the closet. This time it wasn’t just from fear. She could be suffering from hypothermia.
