Читать книгу The Reluctant Witness - Kathleen Tailer - Страница 12

THREE

Casey adjusted the volume on the TV set, then sat back. The newswoman was interviewing a large Latino man who was identified as FBI unit chief José Mendoza. He was grim and stone faced and his expression was haggard, as if he didn’t want to accept what was unfolding around him. Crime-scene tape fluttered behind them and red-and-blue police lights lit up the scene and cast shadows around the apartment building’s parking lot.

A blue sedan was parked in the background and a group of men and women wearing FBI jackets surrounded the open trunk. Casey could just make out a thick piece of plastic hanging over the edge that seemed smudged with blood. Her heartbeat increased. That car had to be the one she’d seen racing away from the mountain after Jack Mitchell had been shot. The man in the trunk had to be the other victim the men had loaded inside. She leaned forward, eager to find out more about what was going on.

“Chief Mendoza, I understand that the victim’s name is Milo Denton. Can you tell us anything about him?”

Mendoza shrugged. “I can tell you he was a private investigator from Raleigh. We’ve already notified his family.”

“Was he shot?”

“Yes ma’am, the victim did sustain a bullet wound. We’ll know more after the local medical examiner has a chance to process the scene and complete her investigation.”

“Did anyone hear the gunshots?”

The chief shook his head. “No one has come forward so far. We’re asking anyone with information about this situation to call our FBI hotline.” The number ran along the bottom of the television screen.

“Do you know if he was killed in that car or at another location?” the newswoman pressed, motioning toward the blue sedan.

Casey noticed a look of discomfort cross the man’s face. “We’re not sure yet. It’s too early and I’d only be speculating at this point. You’ll have to give us a chance to do our job and perform a thorough investigation. Once we’re finished, we’ll issue a full report.”

“Of course. Can you tell us who that car belongs to?”

“No comment. Now, if you don’t mind...” He turned to head to the crime scene, but the newswoman followed him.

“Can you tell us how the body was discovered?”

“Anonymous tip.”

“And why is the FBI involved? Have you been called in to aid the local police with the investigation?”

Mendoza grimaced. “I’m afraid that’s all I can say right now. I need to get back to work.”

The newswoman raised an eyebrow but turned back to the camera. “Well, ladies and gentleman, to recap, the body of private investigator Milo Denton was just discovered in the trunk of a car at the Midtown Apartment complex. Apparently Mr. Denton was the victim of gun violence, and both the FBI and local police are investigating at the scene. Be sure to tune in at six for a complete update.”

Casey turned the TV off, disturbed by what she’d heard and more confused than ever. It seemed like the shooters had wanted the body to be discovered. Only they could have known to call in the “anonymous tip.” Who was this Milo Denton, and how did he fit into the puzzle? And why had he been shooting at Jack yesterday?

She turned and dabbed Jack’s lips with the washcloth. There was no use speculating. Answers would come eventually. She rewet the cloth and touched his lips again, wishing she had a proper IV setup so she could give the man the fluids he needed. He was still unconscious, but he didn’t have a fever so far and she knew that she should count her blessings. She reached for her medical bag and began changing his bandages, carefully examining each wound for signs of infection. He was exactly where she expected him to be with his recovery, but she couldn’t stop herself from worrying. What if he died? What would she do with him then?

“Jaime? Jaime, is that you?”

Casey startled at his words. His voice was a mere whisper, but he was waking up and obviously disoriented. “Jaime, it hurts.”

She gently took his hand and ran her fingers over the skin in a soothing motion then squeezed lightly. “Shh. Don’t worry. You’re going to be okay. Just try to rest.”

He seemed placated by her words and drifted off again and she wondered for a moment who Jaime was. It was apparently someone important to him. A girlfriend...or a wife? He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but she’d heard that some law enforcement agents didn’t when they were on duty.

She finished changing the rest of the bandages, then gathered the old ones and leaned back. She was worried about him dying, but she almost had bigger problems if he lived. He was an FBI agent, and FBI agents were experts at discovering the truth. They were trained investigators, and the last thing she needed was someone asking questions about her and Chloe. Still, she couldn’t regret her decision to help him. He definitely would have died if she’d left him in the forest. Somehow she and Chloe would make it through this latest challenge. All she had to do now was figure out how.

* * *

A few days later Jack opened his eyes and groaned. Every muscle in his body seemed to hurt, and pain radiated from each of his wounds. He suddenly became aware of a girl about ten years old leaning over him and touching his lips with a wet cloth. He swallowed hard, his mouth incredibly dry.

“Water...please.”

The girl’s eyes widened when she realized he was conscious. “Aunt Casey! He’s awake! He just said something. Come here, come here!”

A few seconds later the woman he had mistaken for a princess stood before him with a grin on her face. “Hello, Agent Mitchell. Welcome back to the living.” She felt his forehead. “Not a bit of fever. You are definitely on the mend.”

The girl smiled at her aunt. “You did it, Aunt Casey! He’s alive!”

“God did it,” the lady corrected gently. “I just helped out a little.”

Jack was happy to be breathing, but his immediate need was for something to drink. He felt as if he’d swallowed a cup full of sand. “Water...”

“Of course,” Casey answered. “Let’s get you up a little bit first. Chloe, you put the straw up to his mouth once I lean him forward so he won’t choke.” She put her arms behind his back and gently lifted him forward, being careful to stay away from his shoulder wound. It hurt to move, but it felt so good to take a drink from the straw that he ignored the pain. He finished and Casey let him gently lie back down on the floor.

He looked around the small room and took in his surroundings. There was a small fire in the grate, and the rest of the room was obviously a log cabin with rustic yet comfortable furnishings. His eyes returned to the two ladies that were watching him closely. “Where am I?”

“You’re sharing our cabin,” the lady answered. “My name is Casey, and this is my niece, Chloe.” She paused. “I found you in the woods. You had been shot, so I brought you here to try to help you.”

Jack soaked in the information and searched for the memories. Bits and pieces of information flitted around in his brain. The last thing he clearly remembered was Stevens aiming his weapon at him and the bullet knocking him to the ground, and then a princess hovering over him. He looked back at Casey. She was definitely his princess. He remembered the clear blue eyes, but little else about how he had ended up on the floor in this cabin.

He looked around again, considering the bucolic setting. All in all, it was probably a good thing that she had brought him here. His life was obviously in danger, and Stevens could have very well finished him off for good if he had shown up in a public place in his current condition. He was clearly unable to defend himself. Still, he wondered why the woman hadn’t taken him to a hospital like most people would have done. He turned back to Casey and decided it was time to get some answers.

“Why not a hospital?”

The woman’s blue eyes quickly darted away for a moment, and Jack instantly knew that something wasn’t quite right.

“The nearest hospital is quite a distance away and I wasn’t sure you’d make it. You had lost a lot of blood.”

Jack mulled over her answer. He didn’t think she was lying, but she was definitely hiding something. His brain seemed foggy and he felt very weak and disoriented, but his investigator instincts told him that there was more to the story than she was telling him.

“How long have I been here?”

“Four days. You’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness, which is to be expected.”

He looked around at his makeshift bed. They had given him a pillow and blankets, and he was lying on a green braided carpet. “Why am I on the floor?” he asked.

“Because you weigh a ton!” Chloe blurted, then shyly shrank back. The two women shared a laugh, and Casey tugged on Chloe’s braid affectionately and received a smile for her efforts. Casey’s expression seemed somewhat relieved that the conversation had shifted and Jack noticed that her posture seemed tense. Yes, something definitely wasn’t right here, but he didn’t get the sense that he was in any danger with them. On the contrary, they had saved his life.

“We tried to get you to the couch, but you passed out and we just couldn’t manage to get you up there,” Casey said. “You’re a pretty big guy, Agent Mitchell. You’re lucky we got you in as far as we did.”

“Jack,” he corrected. “Please. Call me Jack.”

“Well, Jack, now that you’re awake, do you want us to help you up to the couch? It might be more comfortable.”

“No, not right now. I’m okay right here.” Just that small bit of conversation had tired him out and he felt himself becoming drowsy.

Casey noticed and felt his forehead again, then picked up the cup he had used and leaned back. “Okay. Chloe, let’s let our friend get some more rest. Can you throw another log on the fire? I’m going to go back outside and chop the rest of that wood.”

Jack felt a little strange to be lying on a floor out of commission while a woman was outside chopping wood, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. This whole scenario seemed strange and out of place, and he couldn’t seem to make sense of any of it. A host of questions floated around in his mind, but for now, he let sleep consume him.

The next time he awoke Casey was sitting by his side and gently changing his bandages. It was obviously later in the day and the evening sunlight was barely coming through the windows. The pain was a little less severe, but still throbbed at even the smallest movement. At least his head seemed clear and he was able to think straight for a change.

“Aspirin. Do you have any aspirin?”

Casey nodded. “Sure thing, Agent Mitchell...ah, Jack.” She reached for a bottle that was on the end table, took out two tablets and helped him hold his head up enough to take them with water from a straw. “They’re actually a little stronger than aspirin and might make you a little drowsy.” Jack raised an eyebrow but didn’t question her about the pills. He had so many questions at this point that what type of pain medicine she was giving him was pretty far down the list.

“So you’re the one who stitched me up, right?”

“That’s right.”

“What was the damage?”

“You got shot four times. Your leg injury missed the bone and is just a flesh wound. With some physical therapy you should heal up quite nicely. The gash on your forehead is the same. There was a lot of blood, but no bone damage. The one on the side there is a testament to God’s grace—it just missed your vital organs by a hair. Your shoulder wound also missed the bone, but I had to dig out the bullet.” She held up a little bag that was sitting on the end table. “I saved it for you as a souvenir.” She gave him a soft smile. “All in all, it’s amazing that you weren’t hurt any worse. I was really worried that you’d go into shock because of all of the blood loss or that you’d have internal bleeding, but you’ve pulled through amazingly well.”

He wrinkled his brow. “Are you a doctor?”

Casey shook her head. “No, but I’ve had some medical training.”

“Enough to operate on my shoulder and take out the bullet?”

“Apparently.” She put the bag back on the table and moved as if she were going to get up, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her escape. Her expression was guarded.

“Do you have my gun?”

“I do, but I unloaded it and put it away. I didn’t want Chloe to get curious.”

He loosened his grip. That made sense. Children and guns didn’t mix. “What about my satchel? It was black leather with a silver buckle. Do you have it?” He tried to remember what had happened to it. Had Stevens taken it? A foggy memory seemed to suggest that, but he couldn’t be sure. All he could really remember was the fire in Stevens’s eyes right before he had pulled the trigger.

Casey shook her head again. “No. I didn’t see a satchel anywhere around when I found you.”

That was disappointing. No, it was devastating. The laptop and papers he’d discovered were the only lead he’d found. He’d been desperately hoping that they held evidence that would actually support his theories. Now he was virtually back to square one in his investigation. No, worse than square one, because this time he didn’t even have a partner to watch his back—or shove a knife in it.

He grimaced as he remembered Stevens’s betrayal. His partner’s reprehensible acts caused a wave of anger to surge within him, and he fisted his hands and tried to sit up. Casey reached over and gently pushed him back down. “I don’t think moving around right now is a really great idea.”

“I need to get that bag,” he said roughly.

Casey nodded. “Okay. I can go look for it later, but right now you need to rest. You can’t go gallivanting around the countryside until you’ve healed up. If it’s still there now, it will still be there in an hour or so. Right? I promise I’ll go look for it when I go out in a few minutes.”

Jack groaned as pain shot through his wounds, and he quit moving. He closed his eyes for a moment while he regrouped, then opened them again and glanced at the way he was dressed. “Where did these clothes come from?” He was clad in gray shorts and a navy T-shirt—neither of which he recognized.

“This cabin belongs to a friend of mine, and you two are about the same size. He had some spare clothes in a drawer, so I borrowed them for you. I know he won’t mind.”

Jack took the information in. He knew he was asking a lot of questions all at once, but he just couldn’t help himself. “You said I’ve been here four days, right?”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Four days, and you still didn’t want to call an ambulance?” He paused, but didn’t get a reply. “Does anyone else know I’m here?”

Jack could see the hesitance in her eyes. When she answered, her voice was shaking. “No. We don’t have a phone and we live in a very remote area.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and she rushed on with her explanation. “Don’t get the wrong idea. You’re not a prisoner. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll drive you down the mountain and take you to a hospital or wherever you want to go.”

He reached over and grabbed her arm. “What if I said I was ready now?” He wasn’t really. He still needed to discover the extent of his partner’s betrayal and talk to his unit chief before he showed his face in public. Jack also knew he was in no condition to travel anywhere, yet he wanted to know her response just the same.

She looked a bit surprised but finally shrugged. “Then I’ll drive you down. Just let me get my coat.”

A moment passed, then another as he gauged her reaction. Finally he sank back. “I doubt I could make it to the car yet. I’d better stay a couple more days.” He squeezed her arm, then released her. Although he knew something wasn’t right about her situation, he was pretty sure she meant him no harm. In fact, it was obvious that he would have died if she hadn’t come to his aid. She was definitely hiding something, but whatever her secret was, she’d risked it by taking him in, with nothing to gain from helping him.

“Thank you, Princess, for everything you’ve done. You saved my life.”

She looked at him and their eyes met. “You’re welcome.”

He had never seen such striking eyes outside of a storybook. They were such a clear blue that he felt like he was looking at a warm summer sky. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail again, which only served to accent her high cheekbones and full lips. He guessed that she was in her late twenties, which seemed odd to him because most women in their twenties that he knew didn’t live out in the middle of nowhere with a young girl. What was she doing out here? And where were Chloe’s parents?

“How long have you been living here?” he asked, and was immediately alerted when her eyes darted away again.

She seemed to be considering something, because eventually she made a decision and looked back at him with determination written all over her face.

“Look, Jack, I might as well tell you up-front. We value our privacy out here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to recuperate, but please don’t ask a lot of questions. I won’t lie to you, but I won’t answer you, either. Okay?”

Jack studied her carefully. He didn’t believe for one minute that her reticence was due to privacy concerns, but he could be patient if he needed to. If he paid close attention, both Casey and Chloe would probably let bits of information slip in normal conversation. Being an investigator was too ingrained in him to just let this mystery go. And that meant he had to try to ask at least one more question.

“Can you at least tell me your name?”

She looked surprised. “I already told you. It’s Casey.”

“Casey what?”

“Just Casey is fine.”

Jack leaned toward her, then grimaced as pain shot through his shoulder. “Look, I’m not trying to give you a hard time or be rude, but you must realize that I’m an FBI agent, and your behavior is suspicious, even for a woman who values her privacy.”

“I can’t help that, Jack. I’m not a princess and I’m not a puzzle. I’m just a woman who enjoys a quiet life who’s trying to make her way through the world.” She gave him a smile that told him the subject was closed, then picked up the old bandages and disappeared. He watched her go, more intrigued than ever.

What was her story? Better yet, what was her full name? And most importantly, what had happened that made her feel she had to hide? She was brave enough to rescue a stranger and perform surgeries to save his life. So why did she seem so afraid?