Читать книгу Christmas In Hiding - Cate Nolan - Страница 12
ОглавлениеBy the time he reached the hotel, Jackson was envisioning dinner. He could have stopped to pick up something for them, but he decided to indulge his witness and let her choose. Maybe that would put them on a better footing.
The lobby was mobbed with Christmas revelers, so Jackson ducked around back to the lesser-used elevator bank. He squeezed in with a couple of bellhops and a room-service cart. The news was playing on the elevator television screen, and Jackson immediately recognized the scene from this afternoon.
He could just barely make out the news anchor’s voice over the chatter. “In other news, the Christmas season took a dangerous turn this afternoon when armed robbers tried to mug a woman exiting an office building in midtown. The woman escaped unharmed but her companion is hospitalized with a knife wound. Police are asking anyone with information about a late-model, dark blue SUV to contact the number showing on the screen.”
So that was the story they were giving out. Innocent mugging. Jackson shrugged. It wasn’t like they could reveal the truth that the assistant United States attorney responsible for prosecuting the biggest drug cartel of the past decade had almost been abducted on a Manhattan street. Not good PR for New York or the Texas justice system.
Jackson was turning his focus back to dinner plans when another conversation caught his attention.
“Dude, look.” One waiter nudged the other and pointed at the screen.
Jackson glanced up in time to see a quick flash of Christine Davis’s face on the screen. Uh-oh—someone would not be happy that picture had been released.
“The blonde? Nice.”
“No, man. The car. See the car? That looks like the one I saw parked right outside on 55th when I went for my smoke break.”
“I thought you stopped smoking.”
“Forget that. The car I saw. It looks like the one they showed in the picture. Even had the same dent.”
Jackson froze. Ben said the car had a dent. He looked up, but the news had moved on to another story.
“You think there’s a reward?”
The first guy hesitated. “A reward is nice, but not if it costs me this job.”
“I thought you were on break. It’s not like you were sneaking out or something. Talk to the boss.”
“Yeah. Let me just deliver this burger to 1408 first.”
Jackson fiddled with his phone, pretending to read a message, then reached over and pressed a different button to get off at the floor below Callie’s.
He took off down the corridor, through the fire exit and up the flight of stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He dashed down the hall and flashed his badge at the man standing guard. “Inside. We’ve got trouble.”
The marshal took one look at Jackson’s face and started defending himself. “No one saw her, sir.”
“What?”
“The room service. I placed the order and I accepted the food. She stayed in the bedroom. No one saw her.”
“That’s not the problem, and it’s not your fault.” Jackson wanted to kick something. The only person at fault was him for leaving her. How had they managed to find her again already?
He burst into the room, calling to Callie to grab everything. “We’re leaving.”
“Again?” She sighed. “Can’t we wait until I finish eating?”
“No. Staying to finish could cost your life.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”
“I just rode up in the elevator with hotel staff who recognized the car that was used this afternoon. It’s parked outside the hotel.”
She looked confused. Little wonder.
“Which means that somehow they know that you’re in the hotel.”
Jackson began searching the hotel room for anything to use as a disguise. When he returned to the main room, Callie was still standing there looking dumbstruck and on the verge of tears.
“Look, Ms. Martin. You can think about this all you want later. Right now, we need to disguise you and get you out of this building before they figure out where in the hotel you are.”
He asked the other marshal for his coat and hat and shoved it at her. “Here, take this. Turn it inside out and stuff your hair up into the hat. Where’s your scarf? Wrap it around your face.”
He watched impatiently as Callie did as he’d directed. “Make sure there’s no hair showing and let’s go. We can’t disguise anything else now. We have to get moving.”
He turned to the marshal. “Once we’re clear, say five minutes, call it in. If anyone else shows up or asks about her, tell them—” He looked down at the tray. “Tell them she went out to dinner.”
Jackson opened the door and scanned the hallway. “Come on.”
He took her by the hand and led her down the hall away from the elevator. “We’re taking the stairs.”
“Fifteen flights?”
He stopped long enough to recognize the panic settling over her. “No,” he reassured. “Down four and then I’ll wait for an empty elevator.”
Once they reached the eleventh floor, Jackson kept her hiding in the hallway until an empty elevator arrived. He pulled her into the corner, shielding her from view as other guests got on. When they reached the fifth floor, they got off and he led her through a maze of conference rooms and down a series of escalators until they came out in a back alleyway onto 54th Street. He was tempted to swing around the block and take a look at the car, but it wasn’t worth risking his witness. A sudden peal of sirens in the distance told him the call had been placed. Now to make good their escape.
A line of cabs was waiting, but Jackson didn’t want to leave a trail from the hotel. Grabbing Callie’s hand, he dashed through traffic, crossed the street and ducked into the lobby of another hotel. He turned to face her. Callie was gasping for breath.
“It’s okay. We’ll get a cab from here to the airport.”
She looked upset, on the edge of breaking down. Once he had them settled in a cab, he wrapped an arm around her and rested her head on his shoulder. “Hang on,” he whispered. “We’re almost clear.”
By the time they arrived at JFK, Callie had recovered her color and some spunk. Jackson led her into the terminal, where they ducked into a shop to buy some tourist gear and cheap reading glasses. He sent her into the bathroom to fix up while he called to arrange a rental car.
His phone rang just as the car arrived. A quick glance at the display revealed his boss on the line.
“Walker here.” He juggled the phone while he traded car keys for a tip. He considered moving to another space, but Callie should be out soon. He’d use his badge if necessary to keep the space.
“I hear you stopped by to see Ben.” John Logan’s voice held more understanding than censure.
“Sir. I don’t like operating blind. Just wanted some answers.”
“Which is why I’m calling. Figured you couldn’t come in for an update.”
“I’m better off on the move.”
“Agreed. The car was abandoned.”
Jackson listened as his boss filled him in on the details, then blew out a breath of frustration. “Any sign of them?”
“Nothing.”
Jackson didn’t like the sound of that. Were they still searching the hotel for Callie? He didn’t think they could have been followed, but it wasn’t likely the thugs had just given up.
Jackson stared into the distance, watching the planes take off and land. There was a pattern to it, a rhythm. Most things had one. Few occurrences were random, including today’s attack. “What are you thinking?”
“Someone found her and wanted to send a message. Take her or take her out.”
Jackson chewed on that for a minute. He didn’t like the taste. “You don’t think she’s involved?”
“Callie Martin?” His boss sounded surprised. “Nope. I don’t think so. You do?”
Jackson was relieved his concern wasn’t dismissed out of hand. “I haven’t talked with her long enough to form an opinion. It just seems likely.”
There was a long pause. “You aren’t the first to question it, but most change their mind after getting to know her a little better.”
Jackson acknowledged his superior’s unspoken advice to give her time. He still intended to stay alert—and not just when looking for the bad guys.
“Let me know when you’re settled in. I’ll see to backup.”
“Will do, thanks.”
As Jackson disconnected the call he turned and found Callie standing behind him. How much had she heard? Enough to be suspicious—and angry—based on her expression. She walked silently to the car, climbed into the backseat and settled against the door, all without looking at him.
Jackson put away his phone and climbed into the front. He turned the key in the ignition, put the car in gear and headed west.
Miles rolled away under the wheels of the rental car while Jackson mulled over his conversation with Ben at the hospital. Something was nagging at him, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly it was.
He glanced at his witness in the backseat. She made him uneasy, too. He’d protect her, but he wouldn’t be fooled. You didn’t last long in witness protection if you let the witness burn you.
As the hours passed, the hum of the tires on the blacktop began to lull Jackson. Fatigue burned his eyes and the lane lines started to blur. He needed sleep. Coffee would have to do. The last sign had indicated a rest stop in twenty miles. He had to be pretty close to that now.
Traffic had been light and there was no indication anyone was trailing behind them. He’d varied speed enough and watched the cars carefully as they passed, so he was 100 percent confident no one had followed him. Still, when he saw the exit, Jackson skipped using the turn signal and waited until the very last second to make an abrupt turn into the rest-stop parking lot. There was no sense in advertising his plans. He pulled in close to the rest station and turned to check on Callie. The slow rise and fall of her chest and her gentle, even breathing told him she was deeply asleep, as she had been ever since they’d left the airport. He probably should wake her and see if she needed to go inside.
“Ms. Martin?”
She muttered something in her sleep and huddled deeper into the seat.
He didn’t like leaving her alone, but he’d do neither of them any good if he fell asleep at the wheel. Hopefully, he’d be back and on the road without her ever noticing he’d been gone.
After a quick stop in the restroom, Jackson stocked up on coffee and candy bars. He was just exiting the building, ripping open a candy bag with his teeth, when a bloodcurdling scream echoed across the parking lot.
Callie! Jackson dropped the coffee. Candy pieces scattered in his wake as he ran for the car.
* * *
“Ms. Martin, Callie, Callie, wake up.”
The words came from a great distance. Callie felt the hand on her arm and screamed again. “Let go of me!”
“Callie.” The voice was gentler now, closer. “Callie, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”
She could barely hear his words over the thrum of her racing heart, but the soothing tone helped ease her terror. It was a dream. He said she was only dreaming. Oh, praise the Lord—it was all a dream.
As her fear ebbed, Callie’s memories rushed in. Screams rose in her throat again, but she cut them off with a sob.
“That must have been some dream.”
She buried her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes as if she could erase what she saw. It wasn’t a dream, not really. It was her living nightmare. She’d been reliving the night Rick was killed.
“Are you okay?”
She lifted her head and looked around, noticing for the first time that they were in a parking lot. The back door of the car was open, and Jackson was crouched beside her.
She nodded in answer to his question and raised one of her own. “Where are we?”
“Somewhere in the middle of Ohio.”
Which meant they’d driven through New Jersey and Pennsylvania while she’d been sleeping. “Is that where we were going?”
He shrugged. “I was just driving until the sun came up.”
It dawned on her that he’d been driving all night while she slept. “Do you want me to drive for a while so you can sleep?”
There was only the barest hesitation, but she caught it.
“No, thanks. I thought we could find a hotel, pull in and catch a nap for a while.”
The last thing she wanted to do was sleep again.
He returned to the driver’s seat, and she took the passenger side. They sat for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, until Jackson broke the silence.
“Do you want to talk about it, the dream?”
“Not really.”
“It might help to talk. Get it out of your system.” He winced. “Sorry, not a good choice of words.”
“I understand.” And she did. She just wasn’t anxious to relive the experience a second time tonight. “Maybe some other time.”
“Do you have these dreams often?”
“No.” She paused. “I haven’t had one in weeks. Not since I settled in New York. I felt safe there, I guess.” She could hear the defeat in her own voice. Safety was an illusion. “We should probably get going again, right?”
He didn’t answer. She could tell he wasn’t going to let it drop, but she couldn’t deal with any more of it tonight. She had to change the subject.
“I fell asleep before I could ask you about Ben.”
“That’s okay—you were exhausted.” And angry.
“How is he?”
“Fortunate to be alive. The knife missed anything vital. He’s just weak from blood loss.”
“Thank you, Lord.” Callie fiddled with the latch on her seat belt. “Did he explain what happened?” And would Jackson tell her if he had? Callie hadn’t forgotten the snippet of conversation she’d overheard. Did he really think she was involved in yesterday’s attack?
“Just that as he walked out of the building with the assistant US attorney and the DEA agent, one person knifed him while another tried to snatch Christine. Quint managed to hold on to her.”
“But someone identified the car?”
“Apparently there was a security camera on the building. They got a still from that. It matched the car they found outside the hotel, but no one was inside.”
Callie collapsed back into the seat. “If they attempted to grab the attorney, why does everyone think they’re after me?”
The silence stretched so long Callie began to fear Jackson wouldn’t answer. She watched his fingers on the wheel, reading the tension in his grip. Finally he eased up. “Ben thinks they mistook her for you, you both being tall and blonde.”
Callie wanted to be offended that the woman who’d been so harsh could be mistaken for her, but she could see Ben’s point. They had similarities, especially in heavy winter clothing. With a sinking heart, she mouthed the words she feared. “Do they want me dead or alive?”
She watched Jackson take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He glanced over at her before answering. “I can’t honestly say.” He took his hand from the wheel and reached over to cover hers. “But I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep them from getting to you.”
She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. “Thank you.”
The silence was broken only by the hum of the tires on the highway. Callie chewed on her lip. “So we assume they’re still after me.”
“Apparently so.”
She sagged against the seat, trying to absorb the implications. “Then what do we do now?”
He jerked his head toward the road. “For the time being, we keep driving.”
“Doesn’t really sound like much of a solution,” she muttered.
“Ms. Martin—”
“Call me Callie, please. With all the time we’re spending together, Ms. Martin seems too weird. That’s what my students call me.”
He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to be mistaken for a five-year-old.”
Callie didn’t even crack a smile. “Why would they go to all this trouble if not to kill me?”
Jackson shrugged again. “They could have been trying to send you a message. Let you know they could find you.”
Callie shuddered. “They sure made their point.”
Jackson turned the car on and pulled back onto the highway. “Ms. Martin, Callie, it really would help me to protect you if you could tell me about your dream, tell me what happened.”
“I thought it was all in my file.”
“The facts are there. I need to understand you, know how you feel.”
“What, to see if I was involved?” Callie tossed that out just to see how he reacted. It seemed everyone’s first impression was to think she was a part of this.
“You seem pretty calm about such an accusation.”
Callie bit her lip to fight back tears. “I’ve had lots of practice.” She swallowed hard. “It’s everyone’s first reaction. Apparently no one can believe that someone could be completely in the dark about what her boyfriend was up to.”
“But you were.”
“I was.”
“Tell me.”
So finally, she did. Maybe because she desperately wanted him to believe her, she told him each harrowing detail. About how she’d been lonely so she kept dating Rick long after she’d known better. How she’d gone along to gigs with his band, helping out as a backup singer whenever needed. How despite everything, they’d drifted apart because they wanted different things from life. How she’d finally broken up with him—even before she learned about his lies and deceptions.
And then there was that final night. Rick had begged her to sing with them. Said he needed her, and the kids who would benefit from the fund-raiser needed her. She’d always been a soft touch for a child in need and he’d known it.
She recalled how they’d performed a first set, and then the guys had taken a break to go outside for some air.
Callie stopped there. She buried her head in her hands and prayed for the strength to get through this retelling, for the wisdom to find the words that Jackson needed to hear, for the courage to continue her fight for justice.
“I was chatting with one of the families from my school. They’d come into the cantina for dinner. The family had twin girls who’d been in my class several years ago. I sat with them, catching up about everything the girls were doing.
“After a while, it hit me that the guys had been gone a really long time. It was getting awkward to still sit there because the family was ready to leave. So I decided to go find Rick.”
A sob escaped her lips as she got to the next part. “I stopped in the ladies’ room first.” She looked up at him through tear-drenched eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped in there first?”
Jackson reached back across the seat and squeezed her hand. Callie realized he had pulled off the road again and was sitting, facing her, giving her his undivided attention.
“I was almost to the patio door when the first shot sounded. I didn’t realize what it was at first, fireworks or something. I wasn’t expecting gunfire. But when I pulled back the door, I was suddenly face-to-face with a man holding a gun. He turned and waved it at me, then blasted it off at Rick.” She twisted the scarf in her hands, wringing it, wrapping it around her hand, over and over. “He fell at my feet.”
Such simple words. He fell at my feet. They didn’t begin to capture how it felt to watch the life flow out of him, to watch as the recognition in his eyes faded away into a blank stare. Chaos had erupted around her, with federal agents bursting in and capturing the gunmen. That was all a hazy memory. She’d had eyes only for Rick. She’d stood there like petrified wood as his blood pooled around the pointy toes of her favorite boots.
Callie ripped the scarf off her hands and yanked the car door open. She had to get out, get away from the memory. She paced along the deserted highway, only vaguely aware of Jackson trailing behind her.
“Callie.”
She turned around. His arms were open, and she fell into them. He wrapped his coat around her and held her close while she cried.
When the sobs finally lessened, she lifted her head. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you the story tonight. This happens every time. They keep telling me it will get better with time, but it never does.”
