Читать книгу The Littlest Witness - Jane M. Choate - Страница 11

TWO

Caleb was grateful that Shelley hadn’t interrogated him about the contents of the envelope, though he saw the questions in her eyes when she read about Ethan’s drowning.

He wasn’t up to explaining his role in the accident that had claimed his baby brother’s life. Not now. Maybe Shelley would chalk up his silence to his concern for his nephew at the implied threat.

Caleb wasn’t ready to relive the horror of that time in his life. He never talked about what had happened that day, the day that had changed his life forever. He shook away the memories and focused on the present.

Though her eyes had glittered with a take-no-prisoners ferocity, Shelley had remained calm and then called a friend at the Atlanta PD and explained the situation.

“One of my operatives will take the envelope to a friend in the Atlanta PD,” she’d said. “He’ll check for fingerprints, though I don’t expect there to be any, especially after it’s been handled by who knows how many people.”

After the operative had shown up to retrieve the envelope, Shelley had hustled Caleb and Tommy out of the guesthouse and into her car.

Shelley Rabb’s brown sedan was boring in the extreme.

Not so the woman, who couldn’t be boring if she tried. Despite the black pantsuit she wore and her understated makeup, she was striking with her sleek dark hair and intuitive gray eyes that seemed to see right through him and strip away the protective layers he’d built around his heart. A smattering of freckles across her nose belied her otherwise professional appearance.

Shelley Rabb was a walking contradiction—understated, graceful, yet athletic, and, given her Secret Service background, lethal when and if the circumstances warranted it. She was no bigger than a minute, but she made up for it in the sheer determination that radiated from her. The severe pantsuit revealed a toned and disciplined body, despite her small size.

It was obvious that she downplayed her looks, another leftover from her years in the Service.

Caleb liked what he saw, but it was the energy she carried with her that caught and held his attention. Her no-nonsense manner coupled with a fresh vitality was like a brisk breeze that swept all other impressions aside.

Her background was evident in the way she moved, her arms swung slightly away from her body, a sign of someone who wore a gun for a living. If anyone looked closely, he’d see the outline of the weapon she carried beneath her jacket, but it wasn’t bad camouflage. Caleb’s own weapon, a Glock, was tucked in the waistband of his jeans with his shirt pulled over it. He missed the heft of his Colt M4A, a mainstay of the Special Forces, but the Glock made an acceptable substitute.

He hadn’t missed her earlier study of him, the shrewd gaze which weighed words and expressions. Nor, he guessed, had his study of her gone unnoticed. It paid to know who you were working with, especially when lives were on the line.

Jake’s recommendation not withstanding, Caleb had done his homework on Shelley. He hadn’t realized that Jake was on his honeymoon until he’d called his buddy and Jake had suggested Caleb contact his sister. From all he’d learned, she was good at what she did. Great at it, if the glowing reports from clients posted on S&J’s website were any indication.

“Rabb delivers the goods,” one client, a CEO of an electronics company, had written.

Caleb returned his attention to the boring, nondescript car and wondered if she had chosen it precisely because it would attract little, if no, attention. A good choice for someone trying to become invisible.

Conversation was kept to a minimum. Caleb had a feeling that it had more to do with the lady’s preference than it did with the SDR she conducted. He’d been on enough protective details to recognize the employment of a surveillance detour route. Though tedious, SDRs were necessary to make certain no one was following them.

They left the city, heading north, thick woods bordering the ribbon of highway. Shelley kept to the speed limit, another tactic, he guessed, to avoid attracting attention. Everything she did was low-key. The flashy moves one might expect from a Secret Service trained bodyguard were conspicuously absent.

His approval rating of the lady climbed steadily. Even so, he wasn’t about to hand over the reins to a woman he’d just met. Shelley might call herself team leader, but when it came to Tommy’s safety, Caleb was in charge.

He refused to compromise on that.

When mile after mile had flown by, Caleb roused himself enough to ask, “Where are we going?”

“A safe house Jake and I bought a year ago. We keep it for clients who need to keep a low profile.”

“You mean clients with someone trying to kill them?” he asked dryly.

“Something like that.”

The heat of the day had abated, if only slightly, and the evening slid into a purple-hued dusk. Caleb glanced at Tommy, saw that the boy’s face was gray with fatigue. Caleb couldn’t deny that he was exhausted, as well. After chasing off last night’s midnight visitor, he’d spent the remainder of the night in Tommy’s room, watching over his nephew while doing some research on the bodyguard.

As though Shelley had read his thoughts, she pulled off the road at a bland motel that would never earn a five-star listing. At the registration desk, she asked for adjoining rooms.

Inside, Caleb looked about the cheaply decorated room. A television was bolted to the fake paneling of the wall. Carpet that might once have been a light green was now faded to a sickly yellow. The puny efforts of the room’s window air-conditioning unit scarcely made a dent in the late afternoon heat.

“Burgers and fries okay with you?” Shelley asked.

“Sure.”

Shelley returned within ten minutes and placed a white paper bag, redolent with the smells of grease-laden food, on the room’s one table.

“Thanks,” Caleb said.

“No problem.”

He opened the bag and pulled out a burger, then handed it to Tommy. “Seems I remember you could put away two of these,” he teased, “and still have room left over for a chocolate shake.”

Tommy made no comment but took the burger and began to eat automatically. Though Caleb tried to pull him into the conversation, the little boy only stared at him blankly.

Don’t let him see your pain, Caleb told himself. Keep it casual. So he ate his burger and kept his worry to himself, praying Tommy’s inability to speak was temporary.

Shelley, likewise, said little during the impromptu meal, leaving Caleb feeling as if he was talking to himself. Curiosity about his lovely bodyguard tugged at him. He knew the bare bones of her background. Ex–police officer and Secret Service agent. But he wanted to know who the lady was, why she did what she did. “What made you leave the Service?”

Her jaw slid to one side, as though she was considering her answer. “It was time to move on.”

That told him nothing. From what Jake had relayed to him, she had been on the fast track to the presidential detail, the most coveted job in the Service. There had to be more to this story.

“Do you ever miss it?”

“Sometimes.” She squared her shoulders and, at the same time, lifted her chin, making it clear that she wasn’t going to be expanding upon her answer. “I think we could all do with a rest. I’ll be next door if you need me.”

After her departure, Caleb put Tommy to bed. To combat the sweltering heat, he splashed water on his face. The unending grief was so heavy upon him that he scarcely recognized the features staring back at him in the bathroom mirror.

His eyes appeared sunken in a face churning with torment, scars grafted into the angles and planes. He fought against the desperation that soured his gut and the abject fatigue that threatened to draw him into a black pit.

Caleb pressed his fingers against his nose in an attempt to press back the pain, but some things could not be willed away. No matter how much he might want to. His knees nearly buckled.

Michael.

His brother’s name echoed through Caleb’s mind. “I’m sorry, little brother. I should have been there for you.” His words came in ragged whispers, like worn-out remnants. “I should have been there for you,” he repeated. “I should have been there for Ethan.” He pushed memories of the little brother who had tragically drowned to the back of his mind where guilt couldn’t flay his conscience raw. “I should have...”

Should-haves didn’t count.

* * *

With a sigh of relief, Shelley withdrew to her own room. There was no sense in denying it: Tommy unnerved her. What was she supposed to say to a child who had lost both parents, who stared right through her as though she were invisible?

And what was it about the newspaper clipping that had caused Caleb to withdraw as he had? The death of a brother was horrible, especially when coupled with Michael’s murder, but Ethan’s drowning had been an accident.

Caleb’s eyes had narrowed, his mouth assuming a tight-lipped expression that had warned her to keep her inquiries to herself.

There were too many questions and not enough answers. Later, she promised herself, she’d get the intel she wanted. For now, she, Caleb and Tommy needed rest.

Shelley stretched out on the thin mattress that managed to be both hard and soft at the same time and willed herself to sleep. In this business, you slept when you could because you never knew if it would be the last rest you’d get in who knew how many hours.

Two hours later, she heard it—a faint noise outside her door. The noise could be a stray cat or dog. She listened intently. There it was again. The snick of metal against metal, as though someone were trying to access the card-coded lock without the card.

Grateful she hadn’t undressed, she slipped her shoulder harness back on and clicked the latch. Silently she made her way to the doorway connecting the two rooms, opened the door to Caleb and Tommy’s room, and saw that Caleb was also dressed. He nodded, acknowledging that he’d heard the same noise.

She inched toward the window, did a turkey peek over the sill and saw two men with guns drawn. Crooking her finger, she gestured to Caleb to join her. The grim look in his eyes was confirmation that he understood they were under attack.

He was braced, his stance that of a warrior ready to defend what was his. The idea of running was foreign to him. At the same time, they couldn’t afford a gun battle, not with Tommy in the room. Protecting an innocent child was what mattered now.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” Her words sounded overly loud to her sensitized ears. “I’ll go first.” She pointed to the bathroom window above the toilet, indicated she would climb out, that Caleb should pass the sleeping Tommy to her. She wondered if Caleb’s broad shoulders would fit through the narrow window, but there weren’t a lot of options.

Another nod.

When she was on the ground, Caleb handed Tommy to her, then climbed out himself, angling his shoulders to make it through the opening. Once they’d made their escape, she pointed to the car, which she’d parked at the back of the motel.

Quietly, the threesome stole through the Georgia night. When they reached her car, Caleb started for the driver’s seat.

She shook her head. “I’ll drive. You see to Tommy.”

A shout from the front of the motel alerted her that whoever had followed them had discovered they had escaped.

There was no more need for silence. Shelley yanked open the car door and slid behind the wheel. Caleb secured the seat belt around Tommy.

“You up for this?” she shouted as Caleb buckled himself in the passenger seat.

“Are you?”

“We’ll see.”

A black SUV with tinted windows, a cliché, Shelley thought contemptuously, rounded the corner. She punched the gas, took the driveway out of the parking lot and sped into the night. At the same time, she said a silent prayer, asking for the Lord’s protection and help. She knew she couldn’t do this on her own.

When she didn’t immediately see the SUV behind her, she allowed herself a small sigh of relief.

Then she saw it.

Another SUV, black like the first. She didn’t bother hoping it was just a high school boy and his date out for a late night drive. No, this was the backup vehicle, and it was heading straight for them.

At that moment, the first SUV reappeared in her rearview mirror. A real-life car chase was nothing like what was portrayed on television. There was no dramatic music, just the relentless knowledge that the enemy was closing in. And unlike on television, there would be no hero riding to the rescue. If she were to get Caleb and Tommy out of this, she had to depend on herself. And the Lord.

“Make sure your seat belt is pulled tight. Then hold on.” Breath hissed between her teeth even as cold sweat trickled down her back, signaling her body’s response to stress. The reaction was physiological. Over the years, she’d learned to use it, releasing anxiety while allowing her to function at peak performance.

Shelley didn’t bother making sure Caleb complied with her orders. She was up to her neck in crocodiles, or, in this case, SUVs, and needed all of her attention for the road.

The driver of the second SUV would expect her to slow down, perhaps to turn away. She did neither. Instead, she laid down some tread until the car was nearly adjacent to the SUV, the first in hot pursuit.

Tommy let out a startled cry.

It was a life-and-death game of chicken, one she was determined to win. Her smaller vehicle didn’t have size or power on its side, but it had maneuverability, and, in this instance, that trumped size.

She didn’t let up on the gas but punched it until she was mere inches from the second vehicle. She spared a glance in the rearview mirror and saw the first bearing down on her.

Good.

Close enough that she could see the startled expression on the driver’s face, she nearly smiled. Would have, if the circumstances hadn’t been so dire. At the last minute, she veered sharply, shooting the car around the SUV. Sweat, cold only moments ago, now burned through her shirt and blazer.

Shelley held her breath. Could she make it? She pushed that from her mind. She had to make it. Caleb and Tommy’s lives, not to mention her own, depended upon her doing just that.

“Don’t let up now,” Caleb said. “Keep going.”

Tires left pavement, bumping along the uneven ground, kicking up hunks of dirt and grass, until, with a twist of the wheel, she muscled her way back onto the road.

A screech of tires and the inevitable crash told her that her ploy had worked, the first vehicle ramming into the second with a satisfying crunch of metal and glass.

A grunt from Caleb and small sob from Tommy had her checking her rearview mirror once again. At Caleb’s grim nod, she refocused on the road. They weren’t out of the woods yet.

“Hold on,” she shouted once more.

After she let up on the gas, she spun the wheel, then executed a perfect J-turn, one even her driving instructor at the Service would have given her full marks for.

While the occupants of the two SUVs scrambled out of their ruined vehicles and managed to get a couple of shots off, she came out of the one-eighty and had the car pointed in the direction she wanted to go.

She gunned it. With a squeal of tires and the spit of gravel, it shot forward.

“Jake was right,” Caleb said. “You’re the real deal.”

Shelley didn’t waste time responding. They’d managed to escape their attackers this time. But what about the next?

The fight wasn’t over. It had just begun.