Shielding His Christmas Witness
Page 1
A PROTECTOR FOR HER CHILD
Days away from testifying in a bank robbery and murder case, witness Kari Danville’s safe house is breached, forcing her to run for her life. Scared, alone and pregnant, her only hope for survival rests in the protection of FBI agent Marc Callahan. With everyone in uniform a suspect, Marc goes rogue to keep her alive. Deep in hiding as the holidays approach, the vulnerable mother-to-be proves a dangerous distraction. But Marc can’t lose another witness on his watch. As the Christmastime trial draws near, the killer stalks ever closer. And Marc must find a way to shield Kari—and her unborn baby—long enough for justice to be served.
“Let’s go, but stay to my left, okay?”
They left the motel, keeping close to the building as they rounded the corner to the back.
Kari didn’t say much once she was safe inside his car, and he drove away from the motel, although he could tell she was watching the road behind them for any sign of the SUV that had shot at them. He hated knowing she was so afraid.
He headed for the interstate, but they were on the freeway for barely ten minutes when bright headlights gained on them from behind. Marc tensed when he realized the vehicle was an SUV.
The same one as before? How was that possible?
He hit the gas, determined to put distance between them.
“Gun!” Kari shouted. Sure enough, he could see the narrow barrel of a gun poking through the passenger-side window just like it had earlier.
“Hang on,” he said, pushing the speed limit as much as he dared.
“Not again! Please, not again!”
Kari’s desperate cry stabbed like a hot poker in his gut. He’d promised to keep her safe.
He couldn’t bear the thought of failure. Of losing another witness.
A pregnant witness.
Laura Scott is a nurse by day and an author by night. She has always loved romance, reading faith-based books by Grace Livingston Hill in her teenage years. She’s thrilled to have published sixteen books for Love Inspired Suspense. She has two adult children and lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with her husband of thirty years. Please visit Laura at laurascottbooks.com, as she loves to hear from her readers.
Books by Laura Scott
Love Inspired Suspense
Callahan Confidential
Shielding His Christmas Witness
SWAT: Top Cops
Wrongly Accused
Down to the Wire
Under the Lawman’s Protection
Forgotten Memories
Holiday on the Run
Mirror Image
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SHIELDING HIS
CHRISTMAS WITNESS
Laura Scott
All the prophets testify about him, that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.
—Acts 10:43
This book is dedicated to my cousin Carol Goodfellow. Carol, thanks for always being supportive of me and my books. Love you!
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EPILOGUE
DEAR READER
EXCERPT FROM ABDUCTED BY DANA MENTINK
ONE
A muffled thud startled Kari Danville, pulling her out of a sound sleep. She froze, heart racing as she blinked in the darkness, straining to listen.
Silence.
She placed a protective hand over her slightly rounded abdomen, trying to tell herself she and her baby were safe. The noise she’d heard was not someone trying to get inside the safe house. It was only her imagination going into overdrive.
Special Agent Marc Callahan promised no one other than the bank-robbery task force members knew she’d been moved here. And there was an officer stationed right outside. Kari forced herself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. No reason to think the serial bank robber she was now scheduled to testify against in a week’s time had sent his buddies after her.
The sound of shattering glass made a mockery of her attempt to remain calm. Kari reacted instinctively, leaping out of bed and grabbing her phone as she quickly shoved her feet into running shoes.
She had to get out of here. Now!
Thankfully, she’d been sleeping in a pair of thick stretch pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Yanking a sweatshirt over her head wasted a precious moment, but then she quickly made her way over to the window. The sash lifted easily enough, but removing the storm window was difficult. Willing her fingers not to shake, she finally managed to pry the window out of the frame.
She threw her leg over the sill. At eighteen weeks along, she was still fairly flexible, but she couldn’t help worrying the short drop would somehow harm her baby. Halfway out the window, she heard the bedroom door bang open.
No!
She tumbled to the ground at the same time she heard two muffled bangs. Something whizzed past her head.
He was shooting at her!
Her ankle twisted as she landed hard, but she ignored the throbbing pain as she sprinted through the cold winter night, crossing the snow-covered ground in order to reach the protective shadows of the evergreen trees behind the safe house.
Lord, keep me and my baby safe in Your care!
The prayer helped her to remain calm. Where should she go? She needed to call for help, either Detective Monique Barclay or FBI agent Marc Callahan, but didn’t dare stop long enough to use her phone. She had to assume the gunman had followed her footprints in the snow to the small wooded area. From there, the bare areas on the ground around the trees helped hide her trail.
What if the intruder wasn’t alone? Her chest squeezed with fear at the thought of others being somewhere outside, lying in wait for her.
She reached the shelter of a cluster of trees along the edge of the property, but kept going, stepping carefully to avoid leaving footprints. Her breath created puffs of condensation that she feared the gunman might be able to see, so she lifted the edge of her sweatshirt to cover her mouth.
The house where she’d been staying was located at a quiet and secluded dead-end street. Hugging the shadows, she made her way around to the front of the house. There was a policeman sitting in a squad car outside the house. If she could get to him, he’d be able to drive them to safety and call for backup.
Kari took cover behind a huge oak tree, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. From her position she could see the police car parked beside the curb. She frowned, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rising in alarm. The vehicle looked empty, no shadow indicating a person was seated behind the wheel. No sign of condensation on the windows, either. Where was Officer Wallace? Was he outside making rounds?
Or had something happened to him?
Kari swallowed har
d and stepped softly through the brush, going from one tree to the next in a direction far from the so-called safe house. She needed to keep moving. To get as far away from the gunman as possible.
She stumbled and fell to her knees. The cold, wet snow made damp patches on her pants. A sob rose in the back of her throat, but she relentlessly pushed herself upright, wiping her snowy hands on her hips. She swept her gaze over the area, searching for someplace to hide.
The sound of a branch snapping in half echoed through the night, spurring her into action. There was a shed up ahead, but that hiding spot was too obvious. She needed something better.
But what?
She crossed several more backyards in a zigzag pattern, choosing those that were already trampled with kid-sized footprints. She lost track of how many blocks she’d passed when she saw it. A long rope ladder dangling from a thick tree branch. Tipping her head back, she noticed there was a small tree house made out of mismatched wood, nestled in the branches.
Without giving herself time to change her mind, she grabbed the rope and quickly ascended the swaying ladder to the platform of the tree house. Once she was safely inside, she pulled up the ladder behind her, hoping and praying that if the assailant went past, he wouldn’t notice.
The interior of the structure was dark, the gaps in the wood frame letting in the frigid air along with a tiny sliver of moonlight. For the first time since waking up to the sound of an intruder, she felt a modicum of safety. Kari pulled out the disposable phone she’d been given and quickly searched for the emergency contact information she’d been provided. Agent Callahan’s number came up and she quickly placed the call.
“Callahan,” he answered gruffly on the second ring.
She nearly wept in relief. “It’s me, Kari Danville,” she whispered. “I need your help. Someone found me and tried to kill me.”
“What?” Agent Callahan’s harsh voice made her wince. From the moment they’d met, there was something about his stern demeanor that put her on edge. Oh, he was handsome enough, tall with dark hair and strikingly green eyes. His broad shoulders gave her the impression he worked out a lot, too. But she’d found it difficult to warm up to a man who never smiled.
“Where’s the officer guarding your house?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The squad car is still out there, but I didn’t see anyone inside.”
“Where are you?” he asked. She could hear rustling sounds as he moved around.
“Hiding in a tree house,” she whispered.
There was a long pause. “A tree house?” he echoed in surprise. “Where?”
“I’m not sure. I went through several neighbors’ yards to get away.”
More background noises. “Stay where you are, understand? Don’t contact anyone else. Wait for me... I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“Okay.” She didn’t want to disconnect from the call, wanting, needing human contact. But she forced herself to push the end button before sliding the phone back into the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt.
She shivered and once again placed a protective hand over her belly. “We’re going to be all right,” she promised her unborn baby. “God is watching over us. He’ll make sure Agent Callahan finds us and takes us someplace safe.”
Kari closed her eyes, struggling to hold on to the thin thread of hope.
Truthfully, her life had fallen apart shortly before the bank robbery. Discovering that her fiancé had suddenly vanished had been difficult enough, but then she found out Vince had also cleaned out their joint bank account, taking every last dime they’d been saving for their wedding. Angry and destitute, she’d taken her modest engagement ring to a jeweler, only to be told it was fake and completely worthless.
Finding out she was pregnant was an even bigger shock, but after the first wave of hopelessness had washed over her, she’d decided to treat this baby as a blessing. Yes, the baby’s father had abandoned her, but obviously she was better off without Vince Ackerman. She still had her job at the bank, and her boss had been kind enough to grant her a leave of absence in order to testify at trial. When this mess was over, she would be able to provide a loving home for her baby.
The same way her mother had raised her.
Kari huddled in the corner of the tree house, wondering if it was time to tell Agent Callahan she was expecting. Not that her condition mattered to him one way or the other; all he needed was for her to testify at trial. A trial that had been moved up to the first week of December after her name was leaked to the press.
If only she hadn’t gotten such a good look at the bank robber’s yellow-gold eyes and intricate chest tattoo. If only she wasn’t a graphic artist, noticing every detail of the tattoo to the point she’d been able to draw an exact replica of the complicated design. Of course it was Terrance Jamison’s fault that he shot and killed a bank patron, increasing the charges against him.
She hadn’t known until Agent Callahan showed up later that day that any bank robbery was a federal crime. Or that Jamison and his cohorts were believed to be responsible for almost a dozen heists that took place in a two week time frame. The robbers had hit hard and fast, sending them soaring to the top of the Milwaukee FBI’s most wanted list.
The FBI had only one of the bank robbers, Terrance Jamison, in custody, but the Feds and local police suspected there were at least two others involved, maybe more.
But Jamison wasn’t talking.
Knowing that his friends had found her location at the safe house made her both upset and angry. It wasn’t just her life at stake. She desperately needed Agent Callahan to do a better job of protecting her.
For her sake as well as her baby’s.
* * *
FBI agent Marc Callahan jammed his key into the ignition, hardly able to comprehend that the location of the safe house had been breached.
First Kari’s name had been leaked to the press, now this. Only a few people knew where he’d stashed her. His key witness should have been safe.
Punching the gas, he shot out of his underground parking garage and up onto the street, anxious to reach the safe house as soon as possible. Had Kari Danville imagined someone breaking in? Trying to kill her?
No. To be fair, she didn’t seem the type to give in to hysterics. When he’d watched the tape of the bank robbery, he’d been impressed by her cool head and logical thinking. The way her artist’s eye had picked up every intricate detail of Jamison’s chest tattoo had been an added bonus, making her a very credible witness. The fact that she’d gotten a glimpse of the tattoo at all had been a freak accident—one of the bank patrons had foolishly decided to rush at Jamison during the robbery. Jamison fought him off, but the customer had grabbed on to his hoodie, dragging it to the side enough to reveal the tattoo. Of course Jamison shot the bystander, killing him. Despite the customer’s efforts, Jamison had managed to get away with a significant amount of money.
Fortunately, they’d been able to apprehend Jamison shortly afterward, thanks to Kari’s drawing of the tattoo. A sharp patrol officer had pulled Jamison over on a routine traffic stop. At the time he was no longer wearing the hoodie, just a tank top, which enabled the officer to recognize a portion of the tattoo and to arrest Jamison. Unfortunately, the perp wasn’t talking, so they didn’t have any leads on his accomplices.
Time was running out, since Jamison’s attorney had convinced the judge to expedite the trial.
Which brought him back to the present situation. How had Kari been found? A mistake on her part? Or a leak from inside?
And how was it that the press had gotten her name? A fluke...or was it something more sinister? Too many questions, not nearly enough answers.
He clenched his jaw so hard it ached. No way was he going to lose another witness.
Not this time. Not on his watch.
Marc pulled up in front of the safe house and parked behind the squad car. The area looked deserted, but he approached carefully, his gun drawn as he peered inside the vehicle. The officer was slumped against the center console, halfway lying on the passenger-side seat, clearly dead.
He scowled, his gut clenching at the needless loss of life and swept another gaze over the area. Kari Danville hadn’t been exaggerating after all. She’d been smart enough to get away. Hiding in a tree house no less.
Spinning around, he headed back to his car. There was no point in going through the house; his main priority right now was to find his witness.
After executing a tight U-turn, Marc reached for his phone and called Kari.
“Hello?” Her voice was a thready whisper of sound.
“I’m on my way, but I need your help. Can you see any landmarks? Something to clue me in as to where to find you?”
“Give me a minute.” The phone went silent for an incredibly long moment. He drove down the street located east of the safe house, searching for any sign of a tree house. “The tree house is in the backyard but I can see there are two houses on either side of me. One is a Cape Cod with white siding and black trim. The other is a ranch home in dark brown. I think the ranch has Christmas lights out front—I can see a red and green glow.”
“That’s good,” he said encouragingly. “What about the house where the tree house is located? What can you tell me about that?”
“The angle makes it hard to see. Almost as if the tree house was built in a way to hide the occupants from being seen from the house. It’s small, but I can’t quite make out the color. Maybe white, or something light. The roof is dark. That’s all I can tell you.”
Great. If the tree house was located in the backyard, then he wouldn’t be able to see it from the street.
Not necessarily a bad thing, since no one else could see it from the road, either.
“Agent Callahan?” Her soft voice dragged him from his thoughts.
“Yes?”