Читать книгу Baby On The Run - Hope White - Страница 13
ОглавлениеJenna’s hand trembled as she aimed the gun at the janitor’s head. Of course there was no way she could pull the trigger, but she didn’t know what else to do.
I might have seen Jenna North earlier, he’d said to the chief.
The man who’d killed her best friend.
Matthew might as well have opened the truck door and handed Jenna and Eli over to the guy.
“I know you’re scared—”
“Drive,” she interrupted.
“Please put the gun down.”
“Now.” She tapped the barrel against his head, not hard, but hard enough.
With a nod, he started the truck and pulled out of the lot.
She still couldn’t believe what she’d found when she’d gone through his glove box looking for a tissue.
Zip ties, duct tape and a gun.
Who was this man? Had she run from one killer directly into the arms of another?
The trembling intensified, running down her arm to rock her entire body. No, she would not let the trauma of the past consume her; she would not fall apart.
This time she’d save the child.
She had considered fleeing in his truck, but that would have meant driving past the killer police chief.
“I can explain,” Matthew said.
“Just drive.”
“To where?”
Good question. The mall was closed at this time of night, yet she needed a very public place to regroup. And then what?
One step at a time.
“I-90 truck stop.” It was very public and not far away. She wouldn’t spend a minute longer than necessary with this creep. Once away from the janitor, she’d call someone for help. But whom? Patrice, the woman who’d helped Jenna escape Anthony?
Wait—she remembered the slip of paper Chloe had given her with the name of her cousin. That’s it. She’d call Marcus to come get her.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Miss North, but if I’d wanted to do you harm I would have turned you over to Chief Billings.”
“Then you wouldn’t have the pleasure of hurting me.”
He shot her an intense look through the rearview mirror. “I would never hurt you. I want to help.”
“Stop talking,” she ordered as the past taunted her.
I want to help you get better.
She’d believed her abusive husband. Only after she’d left Anthony did she understand how his words had been an insidious and powerful manipulation.
“At least let me call someone for you,” Matthew said.
You need help.
She almost told the janitor to shut up again, but decided to speak the truth instead. “Stop pretending to be my friend. I heard you tell Billings that I was at the center tonight.”
“I had to. Your car was a hundred yards away.”
Her car. She’d never get it back. They’d impound it, making it harder for her to flee the city.
Which meant she’d have to rely on strangers for help until Chloe’s cousin could rescue her.
No, you don’t need rescuing any longer.
The janitor turned left.
“Where are you going? I said take me to the truck stop.” Fear skittered across her shoulders. Was he going to try to overpower her? In front of Eli?
“We’re being followed,” he said.
She snapped her gaze out the back window. Headlights shone through the dark night. “That could be anyone.”
“They’ve been behind us since we left the center.”
“Just get me to the truck stop.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As he drove through town, she scolded herself for trusting him in the first place, but Matthew had seemed like an innocuous sort of man. She’d heard he’d moved to town after serving in the military and that he’d even joined the local church. That in and of itself would have made most people trust him.
Yet Anthony had been a church leader, a pillar of the community—and behind closed doors, he was a monster.
Like Chloe’s husband?
Like the man driving the truck?
Why did Jenna attract violent men? Maybe her stepfather had been right when he’d branded her a stupid and weak girl, a lost cause.
“No,” she ground out.
“Ma’am?”
She snapped her attention to him. “What?”
“You said something?”
She clenched her jaw. This was not the time for the past to taunt her. Making bad choices when it came to romance seemed to be a habit for Jenna, starting with Mike in high school, and then Anthony. It had taken two years and a miscarriage to get away from her abuser. Tonight, three years after her escape, she found herself right back in the eye of the storm.
This time she’d get it right. She’d protect her friend’s little boy.
Her friend. Chloe.
The image of Chloe collapsing on the floor flashed across Jenna’s mind. Still in shock about the loss, Jenna had had no time to process or grieve. Chloe wouldn’t want her to be distracted; she’d want Jenna to put all her energy into saving Eli.
Chloe was a young mother who’d become Jenna’s best friend in town after they’d met on the development committee for the foundation. They’d joined an exercise dance class and regularly gone out for pie afterward. They had the same sense of humor, the same view on life.
It seemed they had other similarities as well—their bad choices in men.
The janitor made a right turn, heading in the opposite direction of her requested destination.
“Hey.” She tapped the barrel of the gun against his head.
“Look, trust me or don’t trust me. I don’t care,” he said. “At least let me lose the tail before I drop you at the truck stop.”
“You can drop the knight-in-shining-armor act. I’m not buying it.”
“Then shoot me.”
She snapped her gaze to the rearview mirror. He pinned her with fierce blue eyes.
“Shoot me or let me lose them. Your choice,” he said.
She glanced nervously at Eli. She couldn’t pull the trigger with a baby in the car.
Who was she kidding? She couldn’t pull the trigger, period.
But this creep didn’t have to know that.
“Fine, lose them,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He sped up, and she jerked back in her seat. She glanced beside her at Eli. The motion hadn’t disturbed him from his restful slumber as he sucked on his Binky and clung to his bear.
The janitor navigated down side streets and back up an alley. She clutched the gun grip to stay grounded, but wished it were something else, something spiritual. Her fingers automatically went to the base of her neck, remembering the dove charm she’d worn as a child, a charm that symbolized the Holy Spirit.
A charm she’d ripped off and thrown away as a teenager after she’d lost faith in an absent god.
She thumbed the silver ring on her right hand instead, the braided knot given to her by Patrice, who’d taken Jenna in and helped her heal after she’d left Anthony. The interwoven strands of silver represented connectedness, a reminder that Jenna was never alone, that she could always call on Patrice and the guardian network for support.
Matthew pulled onto the expressway. They were leaving town and heading in the right direction.
“We’re good,” he said.
“Hardly,” she muttered.
“Listen—”
“Don’t speak!” she said, louder than she’d intended.
Eli’s eyes popped open and he started to cry. “Shh, I’m sorry, little one,” she said, fearing she was the wrong person to be caring for a child.
To appease him, she sang a song, one her mom had sung to her when she was little. The little boy’s eyes widened with curiosity, and then his eyelids blinked slowly and finally closed.
The car grew eerily silent as they left town and continued on the expressway. She liked the silence, embraced it. It gave her time to think.
About fifteen minutes later, the janitor exited the expressway, pulled into the truck stop and parked.
She removed the gun magazine and pocketed it, opened the truck door and hurled the gun into the snow-covered field bordering the lot. Shouldering the diaper and messenger bags, she unbuckled the car seat.
“You sure you’ll be okay?” he said.
She ignored his mock concern and lifted baby Eli out of the car. The little boy still clung to his bear for comfort.
Whether Chloe’s cousin came to pick her up or Jenna called a taxi, she’d need the car seat for Eli. She grabbed it with her other hand.
“For what it’s worth, I’m a cop,” he said.
She froze and glared at the back of his head.
“Not local,” he continued as if he anticipated her fear. “I’m undercover FBI.”
“Sure you are.” She shouldered the door shut and marched away from the truck. Did he think her that gullible?
Thick, wet snowflakes swirled around her as she crossed the parking lot. There were a dozen trucks and cars in the lot. Good, the more people around the safer she’d feel.
Once inside, she placed the car seat by the door. She considered what to do with the magazine of bullets. Maybe she should have kept the weapon to defend herself and Eli. She’d learned how to use a firearm after she’d escaped Anthony.
No, the thought of shooting someone made her nauseous, and it didn’t feel right disposing of the magazine in a public place where it could end up in the wrong hands.
Instead, she decided to ditch her cell in case they could track it, and tossed the phone into the garbage can. She carried Eli to a nearby pay phone and called Chloe’s cousin, but it went to voice mail.
“You’ve reached Marcus. I’m not here. Leave a message.”
“Hi, Marcus. You don’t know me, but I’m Jenna, a good friend of your cousin Chloe’s. She told me to call you. There’s been an emergency and I need your help. It’s about Chloe’s son, Eli. Anyway, I’m calling from a pay phone, but I’m not sure how long we’ll be here. I guess I’ll keep calling. Thanks.”
What a message to leave a stranger. Would he even take her seriously?
She couldn’t worry about that now.
As she headed into the twenty-four-hour store, a list of what to do next formed in her mind. First, she had to change her appearance. She bought a local football team knit ski cap to cover her dark hair. She’d tuck it up into the cap until she got the chance to color it.
After making her purchases, she would take her contacts out and replace them with her thick-rimmed glasses to further mask her identity. But what about Eli? Her gaze drifted to a pink child’s ski cap. Disguising him as a girl would certainly throw someone off at first glance. She bought some cheap makeup, something she rarely wore, and scissors for cutting her hair. She wished they had hair dye, but that would have to wait until she found a drugstore.
Her panic about not being able to protect Eli was subsiding. She’d made it safely away from the office, away from a corrupt killer cop.
She was proud of herself for getting this far.
Thanks to Matthew the janitor.
“A guy with zip ties, duct tape and a gun in his glove box,” she muttered.
I’m undercover FBI.
She briefly wondered if he was being honest and her trauma had blinded her to the truth. No, why would an FBI agent keep duct tape in his car? He’d tried to explain, but she hadn’t let him.
Peeking out the store window, she spotted Matthew talking on the phone as he picked up his weapon from the snow-covered field.
Movement suddenly drew her attention left.
The two men from the community center got out of a black car. She gasped and ducked behind a display of snacks, clutching Eli securely against her chest.
What if they came into the truck stop and saw the car seat by the door?
Seconds stretched like hours.
Stop hiding like a coward!
With a fortifying breath, she went back to the counter and peeked out the window.
The cashier stepped up and blocked her view. “May I help you?”
Jenna glanced around her into the parking lot.
The twentysomething cashier with long blond hair also glanced outside. Just as...
The two thugs from the community center jumped Matthew.
“Whoa,” the girl said.
“I need to use your phone.”
“There’s a pay phone—”
“I’ll give you twenty bucks.”
* * *
Matt couldn’t leave Jenna North at the truck stop without knowing she’d be okay.
He called in to give his boss an update. “She’s a part of it now.”
“You don’t know that,” his supervisor, Steve Pragge, said.
“Billings is after her.”
There was a pause, then, “Not our problem. You need to get back to town and be ready for your shift tomorrow.”
“And leave an innocent woman and child at the mercy of a killer?”
“If you’re that worried, I’ll send someone to bring her in.”
“I doubt she’ll go willingly.”
“Then you bring her in. As long as you’re back at work tomorrow night.”
“I’m not sure she’ll come with me either.”
“What’s the problem?”
“She doesn’t trust cops.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say here, Weller. This woman is a complication. You’ve got a job to do.”
His boss ended the call, and Matt considered the subtext to Pragge’s words. He expected Matt to stay on task, return to Cedar River and leave Jenna behind.
Not happening.
Matt wondered what had made Jenna do the about-face from trusting Matt to being terrified of him. The way she’d threatened him with the gun...
The gun. She’d retrieved it from his glove box. Since she probably had little if any experience with firearms, he could only guess what conclusions she would have drawn about someone who casually carried a handgun in his vehicle.
He went into the field to search for his gun and realized he wasn’t angry that she’d tossed it. In fact, he respected her for the move if she thought him dangerous.
Scanning the area with a flashlight, he wondered how to convince Jenna to accept his help. He couldn’t arrest her, because she hadn’t done anything wrong—although technically she had kidnapped a child. Instinct told him to keep her out of the system, or the chief would find her for sure.
He found the gun, shoved it into the back of his waistband and turned.
Something smashed against his head.
He fell to the cold, hard snow, and blinked to clear his vision.
He was being dragged across the parking lot toward the Dumpster.
As they released him with a jerk, two men started kicking Matt. Was this a random mugging or had the chief’s men found him? Did Billings suspect Matt knew more than he was saying?
“Where is she?” a man asked, delivering a kick to Matt’s stomach.
“Who?” he gasped.
A solid boot jammed against his neck. He grabbed the guy’s ankle and yanked.
The guy went down.
Matt scrambled to his feet.
The second guy snapped a cord around Matthew’s neck, cutting off air. After surviving two tours in Afghanistan, dodging IEDs and defending innocents, he was going down like this?
God, if I’m done, I’m okay with that. But please protect Jenna and the child.
With a sudden release, he was shoved headfirst into the metal Dumpster, then yanked back and thrown onto the pavement. Drifting in and out of consciousness, all he could think about was Jenna, her colorful green eyes and lovely smile.
“Jenna North,” the husky guy said, his face close to Matt’s. “Where. Is. She?”
“Hang on, he’s calling,” the other guy said. “Yeah... Where? On our way. Let’s go.”
“What about the janitor?”
“Forget him. We’ve got a location on the woman.”
On Jenna? They knew she was inside? Matt struggled to get up. One of the guys kicked him twice in the ribs for good measure.
Matt coughed and clutched his chest. With blurry vision, he watched the men cross the lot.
He had to get to her. Had to warn her.
Struggling to get up, his head spun and he collapsed on the pavement. He coached himself to breathe, to think past the throbbing headache long enough to help Jenna.
An innocent woman protecting an innocent child.
“Matthew?”
He looked up. Vivid green eyes sparkled down at him. Jenna.
No, they’d find her; they’d kill her. “You need to...”
What? Be taken into FBI custody? Why? He was in no shape to protect her, and by the time backup arrived, the thugs would have surely found her.
“My keys.” He dug into his jacket pocket and fished them out. As he offered them to her, they slipped through his trembling fingers. “Take the truck. Get out of here.”
He heard the keys scrape against the pavement. Good, she was taking his advice. Looking out for herself and the child.
A few seconds passed, maybe minutes—he couldn’t be sure. What he did know was that if the cops found him, they’d ask questions, risking his cover.
Then again, he could tell the truth, to a point. He’d been jumped and beaten, and when he regained consciousness, his truck was gone.
“Open your eyes.”
It was Jenna’s voice.
He blinked a few times and found himself looking up at her beautiful face.
“You need to go,” he ordered.
“Can you get up?”
“The men—”
“They’re gone. Come on—stand up.”
“Gone?” he said as she helped him to his feet. He groaned, clutching his ribs.
“They left. I called 9-1-1 and told them I was at Scooter’s Pancake House in Cedar River.”
“What about...the little boy?”
“He’s in the car.”
He blinked to clear the stars from his vision, but it didn’t help much. Safe to say the chief’s thugs had gifted him with a doozy of a concussion. When he reached his truck, Jenna led him to the passenger side.
“I’ll drive,” he said.
“You can barely stand. Get in.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder. A few people inside the truck stop were watching from the window.
As he started to argue, he realized how right she was. Matt was in no shape to drive and they needed to get out of here, quick. The concussion was messing with his judgment. He’d have to rely on Jenna’s acumen for the time being.
Once inside the truck, he closed his eyes. He heard her get behind the wheel, but she didn’t start the vehicle.
He cracked open his eyes. “What...what’s happening?”
“I need to take my contacts out.” She dug through her bag.
“Do it when we’re safe.”
“I’ll do it now, thank you very much,” she snapped.
He’d made her angry. Why? He was trying to protect her, get her away from danger.
She pulled out a small container, and before he could say Miranda rights, she’d removed her contacts and was transformed with the help of large, dark-rimmed glasses. Her auburn hair had been tucked into a ski cap.
“Okay, let’s take care of you. Where’s the first aid kit?” she said.
“I’m fine.” As he said the words, he found himself drifting into that dark place—the place between consciousness and sleep, the place where time didn’t exist. Distant memories flooded his brain, memories of laughter, then anger...
A casket being lowered into the ground.
Sarah.
A gentle hand pressed a gauze pad against the side of his head. “Shh, hold still.”
It was a firm voice, tinged with sweetness and concern. Who was it again? He’d distanced himself from relationships because of his work, his dedication to the job.
He’d attempted commitment with Sarah. And she was dead.
His fault.
There wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t pray for forgiveness.
Shutting down the romantic part of his life was what had made him a good agent, an agent willing to devote all his energy into nailing criminals, men who pretended to be heroes, when they were actually...
He was falling again, floating like a leaf dropping from a tree. Where would he land? Back at her funeral? His remorse strangling him as he pleaded with God for forgiveness?
“It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Sarah?” he said.
“Almost done.”
“I’m sorry.”
* * *
An hour later, Jenna glanced at her passenger and wondered if she should take him to a hospital. His skin was pale and he groaned in his sleep every few minutes. Plus, he’d been having delusions back at the truck stop when she’d bandaged his head wound.
He’d whispered the name Sarah. His girlfriend? Wife?
“Stay focused,” she said softly. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by her passenger’s nightmares. She needed to strategize what to do next, other than to distance herself from Cedar River.
“Stay back,” Matthew muttered in his sleep.
Jenna suspected he had a concussion and knew the best treatment for that was sleep. She’d learned as much when she’d ended up in the hospital after one of her “falls.”
She clenched her jaw. This was not the time, nor the place, to be thinking about the past. She had two people to protect—Little Eli and...an FBI agent. Which begged the question, why was he working undercover as a janitor at the community center?
“Medic,” he said. He jerked awake, eyes wide, breathing heavily.
“Hey, you’re okay,” she said.
He glanced at her with a dazed expression.
“Just a bad dream,” she said.
He snapped his attention away, as if embarrassed, and directed his gaze to the road ahead.
“Best thing for a concussion is sleep,” she offered.
A moment later he closed his eyes. Wow, that surprised her. She thought she’d get more of an argument, or a lecture about how she should have left him back at the truck stop.
Why didn’t you abandon him, Jenna?
Because of the vulnerability in his dulled blue eyes. She couldn’t leave a semiconscious man lying on the cold, wet ground. After all, once the thugs figured out Jenna had diverted them from her true location, they would have returned to the truck stop and done even more damage to Matthew. He was in no position to defend himself.
She’d been in survival mode back at the office, driven by the trauma of her past. The chief’s actions solidified her opinion of law enforcement, and her cautious nature had made her draw the conclusion that Matthew was a serial criminal, not a cop. Even if he was a cop, she knew they had their own code, and the normal rules of civility didn’t apply to them.
Which left her in that same, familiar spot: alone and afraid.
And she couldn’t afford to be afraid, not while Eli was in her care.
If only she had a burner phone to call Marcus again, get Eli safely to his cousin. Deep down, Jenna feared she was the absolute worst choice to protect Eli. She’d failed miserably before. What made her think this time would be different?
Her brain started clicking off options. What about... She glanced at her passenger. Could she risk getting help from the FBI? No, they’d force her to return Eli to his father, a man Chloe had called a monster. She shook off the thought.
The word monster taunted her, reminding her that although she was legally free of him, there were days she still felt like she was under Anthony’s thumb, especially when she’d come home to her Cedar River apartment and find things out of place. She’d be yanked back into the past, experiencing Anthony’s wrath over her unacceptable housekeeping skills. She’d try to shake it off, reminding herself she’d been in a hurry to get to work in the morning and had forgotten to put things where they belonged.
But the fear of punishment was quite real.
Move on, she coached herself.
She needed to think her way out of this current crisis, not be paralyzed by the past. Who could she go to for help? Jenna had been estranged from her family ever since she’d married Anthony, and had never reunited with them after she’d escaped his abuse. Distancing herself from everyone, past and present, had been the best way to put the horror behind her and live a safe life. She was willing to do whatever was necessary to achieve that goal, and starting a new life where no one knew her seemed like the only way.
A new life where she could be a different person. A stronger person.
She reconsidered calling Patrice. The middle-aged woman was devoted to helping victims flee dangerous situations. No, she had already put herself in enough danger for Jenna, although maybe Patrice could offer some advice.
The flash of blue and red lights sparked through the truck’s rearview mirror. Jenna’s heart leaped into her throat.
They’d found her.
