by Laura Scott
“But don’t you want to find the SUV that was shooting at us?”
“Yeah, I do. Especially since we don’t know how they found us in the first place.” He scowled and executed another turn. “First the safe house and now this? Not a coincidence. There has to be some sort of inside leak and that means being interviewed by the sheriff’s deputies is not an option. Not until I know who we can trust.”
Her mouth went dry at the thought of someone in law enforcement being entangled in this mess. “Do you really think that’s possible?”
He shrugged. “I can’t eliminate the possibility. My top priority is keeping you safe.”
Difficult to argue with his logic, since she wanted the exact same thing. She placed a soothing hand over her rounded stomach and let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up in a crooked grin. “Don’t worry about me, Kari. Right now we need to find a place to hide. Keep your eyes peeled for even the most remote possibilities.”
She stared out the passenger-side window, not sure what he meant. The snow-covered farmers’ fields didn’t offer many hiding spots. The houses were few and far between.
They should have stayed in the city.
“There,” Marc said, his tone rich with satisfaction. “That will work for now.”
She frowned, looking around in confusion. There wasn’t anything around other than a large seemingly abandoned and rather dilapidated red barn located a few yards in from the road. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“I hope so.” He slowed the car and turned into the rutted gravel driveway leading to the structure. The car bounced and jostled as he crept closer. Then he threw the gearshift into Park, but left the engine running.
“I’m going to open the barn doors and you’re going to drive inside, okay?”
“All right.” She unbuckled her seat belt and then awkwardly climbed over the center console to get into the driver’s seat. She fumbled for the button to adjust the seat, moving it forward until her right foot reached the pedal.
Marc worked quickly, opening the doors just wide enough for her to drive inside. The minute she cleared the threshold, he began closing the doors behind her. She watched in the rearview mirror, frowning when she noticed he didn’t close them all the way. He disappeared for several long moments before returning inside. This time, he closed the doors tightly.
Darkness surrounded them, forcing her to turn on the headlights.
Marc opened the passenger-side door and rummaged in the glove box, taking out a flashlight and testing the batteries. “I’m going to see if I can find some sort of tracking device on the vehicle. Sit tight for a few minutes.”
She huddled behind the wheel as Marc examined the car. The task seemed to take forever before he returned. “Okay, turn off the engine.”
She switched off the headlights and twisted the key, shutting down the car. Then she scooted back over to the passenger-side seat, giving him room to get inside.
“Did you find anything?”
“No.”
“Now what?” she asked, trying to read his facial expression in the darkness.
“We wait.”
She shivered, even though the temperature inside the vehicle was relatively warm. At least for the moment. “For how long?”
He skimmed his hand over his short brown hair and let out a sigh. “For as long as it takes.”
Kari didn’t like that answer, but what could she say? Arguing wasn’t going to help. And hiding from gunmen wasn’t exactly her forte. She had to have faith, to trust that Marc knew what he was doing.
She shivered again, and he reached out to put his hand on her arm. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Even through her winter jacket, his touch had the ability to calm her nerves. Not just because he was armed.
But because she liked him. Trusted him. Not only with her life, but with that of her unborn child.
She felt safe in his care.
* * *
Marc wished he knew how on earth they’d been found at the motel. Miles would never put him in harm’s way, and being a detective, his brother was smart enough to make sure he wasn’t followed to the motel. He hadn’t found a tracking device, either, so the only logical possibility was that somehow their location had been traced through the voice-mail message that Marc had left for his boss.
Obviously, returning to the Ravenswood Motel wasn’t an option, but he also didn’t like the fact that the SUV had followed his car. He had no way of knowing if they’d managed to trace his license-plate number.
He’d feel better if they were able to obtain a new car as soon as possible.
For now, however, they were well hidden inside the ramshackle barn.
Even surrounded by darkness and the musty scent of stale hay, Marc was hyperaware of Kari sitting beside him. Her cranberry-vanilla scent reminded him of the upcoming Christmas holiday.
Normally, he volunteered to work over the holiday. He didn’t have a wife or children like so many of the other agents did and keeping busy helped pass the time. Granted, he usually spent Christmas with his mom, Nan and siblings, but that wasn’t the same as having a family of his own.
Oddly enough, the holiday season was about the only time he missed Jessica. At least the early years of their marriage, when they’d cuddled by the fire, sipping hot apple cider and talking about their future.
But then things changed. Not all at once, but little by little over time. At first Jess complained about the hours he spent working, then their arguments became more frequent, especially surrounding his disinterest in attending parties that lasted way into the night.
His mistake was encouraging her to go out without him.
A mistake that had ultimately cost Jess her life, along with the baby she carried. Identifying his wife in the morgue had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Slamming a door against the gut-wrenching memories, Marc forced himself to focus on the present. He needed to figure out how he was going to keep Kari safe while continuing his investigation. He felt Kari shivering beside him, so he reached up intending to start the engine.
Kari stopped him by covering his hand with hers. “Don’t,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t think running the car in an enclosed space is a good idea.”
The softness of her hand was momentarily distracting. His emotions had been in a deep freeze for years, so why were they thawing for Kari now? He gave himself a mental shake and pointed through the windshield. “See the open spaces up in the loft? They’re enough to prevent the exhaust fumes from building up to a dangerous level.”
“I’d rather not take any chances with the baby,” she protested.
He didn’t necessarily agree, but dropped his hand from the key and turned toward her. “All right, then scoot closer and lean against me as much as you can. Staying close together will maintain our body heat.”
The console between the seats prevented them from getting too close, but he managed to get his muscular arm around her slim shoulders, sharing a bit of body warmth. She held herself tensely at first, but then relaxed enough to rest her head against his shoulder.
“How long do we have to stay here?” she asked.
“As long as we can stand it.” The coldness of winter would push them to move before he liked, considering the longer they could remain hidden, the better off they would be. The Washington County Sheriff’s deputies would be on the lookout for them over the next twenty-four hours, along with the SUV that had been shooting at them, but Marc hoped to slip out of the county before that happened.
Of course, the deputies here would likely put all the surrounding counties on notice, as well. And even though they were victims, he knew the police would still want to question them.
“Marc? Is t
here any way for me to avoid testifying in court?”
He frowned at her question. “Listen, Kari, I’m going to keep you safe, okay?”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I know you’re going to do your best, but I just wondered if my testimony was really all that critical to the case.”
He understood why she wanted out of this mess, but refusing to testify? He swallowed a surge of unease. “Yes, we do need your testimony. Jamison’s tattoo was a major factor in his arrest. You’re our key witness. Not only did you see the tattoo, but you drew it so that the officers could recognize it. I know you’re scared, especially after everything you’ve been through, but we need you to do this, Kari. We need you to testify against Jamison.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “I know. I just thought...” her voice trailed off.
He wished he could see her expression clearly. “Taking you off the witness list doesn’t guarantee that you’d be safe. I believe Jamison’s accomplices would still come after you in an attempt to silence you once and for all.” He hated making her more afraid, but she needed to understand the full extent of the danger she faced.
“Okay, I get it. I’m in danger either way.” Her voice held a note of defeat and he wished he could think of some way to cheer her up.
“I made a mistake at the motel. I called and left a voice-mail message for my boss, Special Agent in Charge Evan White. I don’t think Evan betrayed me, but he might have mentioned my location to someone else within the bank-robbery task force.”
“I can’t believe someone within the group is involved in this,” Kari murmured.
“I don’t like it, either,” he admitted gruffly. “But regardless, we’re on our own now. I’m severing all ties to the task force. The only other thing we need to do is ditch this car—then we’ll be safe.”
“I like the sound of that,” she agreed.
A companionable silence fell between them. Marc couldn’t help being impressed by Kari’s resilience after the close call with the black SUV. There weren’t too many women who could take something like that in stride.
Kari’s breathing deepened and he realized she’d fallen asleep. The only two things he knew about pregnancy was the tendency toward morning sickness and fatigue. He was glad she was able to rest, but after a couple of hours, she began to shiver in the cold.
“I think it’s probably safe to get back on the road,” Marc said. He twisted the key in the ignition, ignoring her immediate protest. “I’m heading out to open the barn doors now. Can you crawl back in to the driver’s seat?”
“Y-yes.”
Marc climbed back out of the car and strode toward the heavy barn doors. He pried them open about a foot, peering out to make sure there were no cops around. Dark clouds swirled overhead, bringing the threat of snow.
There were a couple cars on the highway, but nothing too alarming, so he widened the opening enough so that Kari could drive through.
When she’d pulled clear of the doorway, he closed the barn and returned to the car.
Marc continued to make his way southeast, searching for a safe place to stay. As the car ate up the miles without any sign of the police, he began to relax. Kari’s stomach rumbled loudly and he realized the hour was well past lunchtime.
“We’ll get something to eat soon,” he said. “But I want to find another motel first.”
“I understand.” She held her hand over her stomach, an unconscious protective gesture he noticed she used often.
Less than an hour later, he saw a sign advertising a lodge called the Cottage Grove Motel. There was a fast-food restaurant located nearby, so he pulled in and they ordered lunch to go.
When they reached the motel, he checked in and asked for connecting rooms. The clerk was able to accommodate his request, and soon they were seated inside at a small table ready to eat their lunch.
Marc hesitated when Kari bowed her head to pray, then followed suit. He found himself silently thanking God for protecting them, feeling a connection to his faith for the first time since Jessica had died.
Eating the simple meal didn’t take long and when he finished cleaning up the remnants, he found Kari doodling on the motel stationary. He watched her for several moments while her drawing took shape.
“Wait a minute, is that me?” he asked in surprise.
She grimaced. “Yes, although I’m not very good at portraits.”
“I disagree. You’re very good—the level of detail is amazing.” She’d captured everything—his eyes, his facial structure, even the faint scar above his right eyebrow, a gift from Miles, who’d pushed him onto a coffee table when they were young.
“Thanks, but there are a lot of people who are much more talented than I am.”
He wasn’t so sure about that, but then was struck by an idea. “Wait a minute, can you draw Vince for me?”
She dropped the pencil and pushed the paper aside. “Why would I want to do that? I told you, he’s not involved in this.”
“You’re right, it’s not likely he’s involved, but he still stole money from you. I’d like to at least figure out his real name.”
Kari sat for a moment, then abruptly pushed up from the small table with an agitated motion, standing lopsided as she avoided putting weight on her injured ankle. She picked up the paper and pencil. “I’d rather forget about him. Excuse me.” She limped through the connecting door to her room, leaving him staring after her in confusion.
Why didn’t she want justice? Why not hold Vince Ackerman, or whatever his name was, accountable for his actions?
Then again, maybe just the thought of seeing him again was too upsetting for her.
Unpacking his computer, Marc tried to focus instead on the immediate threat of the gunmen in the SUV. He needed a new vehicle and to figure out where the leak was coming from, before there was another attempt on Kari’s life.
But deep down, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to find the man who’d hurt Kari and bring him to justice.
FIVE
Kari sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the sketch she’d done of Marc Callahan.
He didn’t seem to understand that she didn’t want to find Vince. Didn’t want him to know about the baby for fear that he’d try to get visitation rights. The last thing she needed was a constant reminder of how foolish and naive she’d been.
It just didn’t seem possible that her ex was involved in the bank robberies. Although, if he was, being arrested and tossed in jail would be to her advantage.
She swung around to sit propped up against the headboard, elevating her injured ankle. It was still painfully swollen and looked terrible. She hoped she hadn’t torn any ligaments or anything else serious enough to need surgery.
Picking up her notepad, she began sketching the tattoo she’d glimpsed on Jamison’s chest. It was easier to draw than to describe in words—a cobra curled around a samurai sword dripping with blood, along with a grotesque mask of a warrior with slanted but vacant eyes.
She wondered what the tattoo meant to Jamison. A badge of courage? A medal of honor? Or something else, like being part of a gang, or a group of warriors? Had Marc and his task force found anyone else with a similar inked drawing?
If so, he hadn’t shared that information with her. Not too surprising, considering she was a witness and not privy to inside information related to the ongoing bank-robbery investigation.
Kari closed her eyes, her mind flashing back to the day Jamison had approached her window. It was late September and hot outside, yet he’d been wearing a sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over his head, and she remembered feeling a shiver of apprehension at the time, sensing something wasn’t right. Since so many people used electronic banking, the place wasn’t very busy, especially at closing time on a Monday. Her window had been the only one open,
and the young man in his early twenties had just left her station when Jamison approached.
At the time, it seemed everything happened so fast. The robber had told her he had a gun and to hand over all the high-denomination cash in the drawer. She remembered pushing the panic button that gave off a silent alarm, before pulling out the money he’d demanded.
The young man must have heard something, because suddenly he shouted and grabbed Jamison’s arm, pulling the hoodie over to the side with enough force that the zipper came down, revealing the tank top he wore underneath. The tattoo was high on his shoulder, in plain sight.
Jamison shot the kid, grabbed the money and bolted out the door, disappearing from the bank before the police could arrive.
She’d given him all hundred-dollar bills, so he’d gotten away with a fair amount of cash. Still, it was a far cry from the hundreds and thousands of dollars you often heard about in these types of robberies.
The samurai sword and cobra tattoo was their only clue other than Jamison himself. She’d heard that Jamison wasn’t talking to the authorities, and again, she thought about the tattoo. If he was in some sort of samurai-warrior gang, it could be that he’d rather do jail time than rat out his accomplices.
Kari opened her eyes, trying to rein in her whirling thoughts. The young man who’d grabbed Jamison had died from the gunshot wound to his chest. She prayed for his family, whoever they were, every night. He shouldn’t have grabbed Jamison, shouldn’t have died in a misguided attempt to help. But there was no denying that Jamison would have likely eluded the police if she hadn’t glimpsed his tattoo.
Thinking about the young man who’d died that day made her pick up the paper and pencil she’d taken from Marc’s room. With sure strokes, she sketched Vince’s face. If there was any possibility, no matter how remote, that he was involved, she wanted Marc’s task force to find him.
And if Vince wasn’t involved, she’d hope and pray he had no interest in her or their baby.
When she finished the sketch, she slid out of bed and hobbled over to the doorway between their rooms. She noticed he was talking on the phone.
