Читать книгу Shielding His Christmas Witness - Laura Scott - Страница 12

THREE

Bracing her arm against the wall, Kari hopped on one foot over to the bed. When she’d gotten up earlier to use the bathroom, she’d heard voices. Seeing Marc on the phone had made her see red.

Now that the initial flash of anger had passed, she could admit that she’d overreacted. It was probably better that he’d called his brother, rather than anyone within the police department or FBI. He was right about one thing—his brother would likely do whatever was necessary to help them out.

If only she’d managed to control her temper. The slip she’d made revealing how Vince had taken all their money, most of which had been hers, anyway, hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Then again, she doubted that there was much that passed by Agent Marc Callahan. For some odd reason, knowing he had family, at least one brother, made him seem more human.

Plopping back down on the bed, she lifted her injured ankle and set it gently on the pillows. The ice inside the towel had melted, but she wasn’t in the mood to ask Marc for more.

Later, she’d find the energy to get up and get more ice herself.

There was nothing worse than feeling helpless, than being at someone else’s mercy. But that was the situation she was in, at least for now.

She managed to fall asleep, despite the throbbing in her ankle. The next time she opened her eyes, the sun was shining brightly through the narrow opening between the curtains hanging over the window. Gingerly taking her leg off the pillows, she rolled onto her side and sat up, pushing her dark hair away from her face.

Gathering every ounce of strength, she took another hopping trip to the bathroom, making use of the shower this time. When she emerged fifteen minutes later, she felt better.

Hungry.

She limped over to the bed, threading her fingers through her damp hair, wondering if she should open the connecting door and wave the white flag of truce. There was no reason to be at odds with the man protecting her. Especially considering they would likely be in close proximity for the next five days.

A knock on the door startled her. Not the connecting door, but the main motel-room door. Before she could hobble over to open it, she heard the lock disengage. The door opened, revealing Marc holding a tray of takeout food.

The enticing scent of bacon, eggs and coffee made her mouth water.

“Good morning,” he greeted her cautiously, as if trying to gauge her mood. “I thought you might be ready for breakfast.”

“I am,” she agreed with a tentative smile. “Thanks.”

Marc set the tray down on the table and then pulled a white drug-store bag out from beneath his arm. “I bought a bottle of prenatal vitamins as well as some ibuprofen for your ankle.”

“I’ll take the vitamins,” she said, making her way over to the table. “But nothing else.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then must have decided against it. “Okay. What about coffee?”

“Decaf,” she said with a sigh. She really, really missed regular coffee.

Marc nodded, then crossed over to the small coffee pot located on the dresser to prepare a cup of decaf. Her stomach was rumbling, but she waited for him to return to the table before bowing her head in prayer.

She thanked God for keeping her safe and for the food they were about to eat. She was still new at this prayer stuff, and tried not to fidget beneath Marc’s intense gaze.

He waited until she’d opened her disposable container before digging in to his. She unwrapped her plastic silverware and then dug in to her scrambled eggs.

“Delicious,” she murmured between bites.

A tiny corner of his mouth lifted in what she suspected was his version of a smile. “I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure what you preferred, so I got a little of everything.”

“I love all breakfast foods,” she confessed, nibbling on a slice of toast. “Especially now that I’m not having very much morning sickness.”

Instantly, any hint of a smile vanished. “Listen, I think we need to talk about your ex-boyfriend, Vince Ackerman.”

Her eggs suddenly tasted like papier-mâché. “Why?”

“I don’t remember seeing his name in Detective Barclay’s report.”

She grimaced and sighed. “So what? I don’t see what Vince has to do with anything.”

“Didn’t any of the officers who questioned you ask about him? Do any sort of investigation into his background?”

“Not that I know of.” She was beginning to get annoyed. “They only asked about the robbery details. Then I was only questioned by Detective Barclay and you. No other detectives questioned me. And you were the one who told me that there were almost a dozen bank robberies in a very short time frame. And they all took place after Vince left me. What kind of connection could there be?”

“I’m not sure, but I think we should try to find out.”

She wondered what it was like to go through life being suspicious of every little thing. Not the way she wanted to live, that’s for sure.

“You can do whatever you like. Personally, I wish that idiot hadn’t chosen my window to demand the money. And that the customer hadn’t jumped him, jerking his hoodie aside and revealing the tattoo.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” Marc said, obviously sensing her irritation. “It’s my job to anticipate the worst-case scenario, every single time.”

“I get that. But I don’t think Vince is involved.”

“What did he do for work?” He finished his eggs and bacon, then started in on the hash browns.

“He was a salesman.”

Marc frowned. “What did he sell?”

“Party supplies, trinkets. You know, the kind of thing you might see in corner drugstores.” She lifted a brow. “Not exactly the bank-robber type.”

“Probably not. But we also don’t know who Terrance Jamison’s accomplices were. I can’t ignore the remote possibility that Vince was one of them.”

“I guess, but I can’t see him doing something like that.” Although simply talking about what Vince was capable of ruined her appetite. She dropped her half-eaten piece of toast back into the container. “What exactly are you suggesting? That Vince used me to case the bank? That he actually went out to every city where his buddies targeted a bank for the sole purpose of getting one of the tellers to fall in love with him? To propose marriage? That doesn’t even make sense.” She huffed out a breath. “I’m telling you, the timing is off. He left me days before the first bank was robbed. And from there it was almost another two weeks before my bank was robbed.”

“True.” Marc took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “How long were the two of you together?”

“Four months,” she murmured. “Don’t even say it. I know that’s not enough time to get to know a person, but we met at a corner café and he seemed nice, normal, courteous...” Her voice trailed off. Saying the words out loud made her feel like a fool. “I honestly never thought he’d up and disappear along with all the money in our joint account.”

“How old is he?”

She grimaced. “Twenty-eight, two years older than me.”

“Where did he grow up?”

What was with the twenty questions? “Here in the area—why does it matter? He’s gone. His phone has been disconnected, so I don’t have a way of contacting him, even if I wanted to.”

Marc eyed her over the rim of his cup. “Would it surprise you to know there isn’t a Vince Ackerman aged twenty-eight who grew up in the Milwaukee area?”

She stared at him in shock. “How do you know?”

“I did a background check. The only Vince Ackerman in the area is forty-one years old.”

That didn’t seem possible. Vince might have lied about his age, but no way was he forty-one.

If he hadn’t lied about his age, then he must have lied about his name. Or his background. Nausea swirled in her stomach. Just when she’d thought things couldn’t get any worse. No doubt the man she’d naively trusted had lied about everything. Including his feelings toward her.

“I’m sorry,” Marc said, reaching out to cover her hand with his. “I’m sure this isn’t easy to hear.”

Yeah and wasn’t that the biggest understatement of the year? The gentleness of his hand was reassuring and when he let her go, she missed his warmth. “No, it’s not. But none of this means Vince was involved in the bank robbery. Why take all the money out of our joint account if that was part of his plan?”

“Why not? Easy money,” Marc said with a shrug.

She swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over her belly in an effort to soothe herself as much as her baby. Stress wasn’t good for either of them. Whether Vince was involved in the bank robbery or not didn’t matter. She’d already decided to move on with her life.

Once Terrance Jamison was convicted of robbing her at gunpoint and killing the bystander, he’d probably give up the rest of his cohorts in crime in order to get a lighter sentence.

At least, that was the plan.

So why did she feel as if the threads holding everything together were beginning to unravel?

And that Agent Callahan was the only one with the ability to keep it together?

* * *

Marc watched the myriad of expressions cross Kari’s face, trying to squash a flash of empathy.

He knew, only too well, what if felt like to be betrayed by someone you loved.

Rising to his feet, he stacked their empty breakfast containers and tossed them in the garbage. When he heard the phone ringing from inside his room, he quickly unlocked the connecting door and rushed over to answer it.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Miles said. “I’m sitting outside the lobby of the motel. What room number are you in?”

“Eight—it’s connected to number seven. You have the phones?”

“And extra cash,” Miles replied. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”

It was actually less than that when he heard a sharp rap on his door. Marc opened the door and stepped back, allowing Miles to come in and giving him a brotherly slap on the back.

Miles handed him the bag containing the phones. Marc opened them up and began the tedious process of activating and charging them. They were decent smartphones, with the usual bells and whistles, for which he was grateful.

“Where’s your witness?” Miles asked, gesturing toward the open doorway between their rooms. “Is she pretty?”

Marc stifled a sigh. “We’re not in high school anymore,” he answered drily. “She’s a witness, not a potential date.”

Miles flashed a knowing grin. “Hey, no reason she can’t be both, right?”

Marc shook his head, annoyed by his brother’s antics. Girls had generally flocked to Miles instead of him, probably because Marc had always been über-responsible, even back then.

“I’m surprised she didn’t come over to meet me,” Miles continued.

“She twisted her ankle pretty bad,” Marc said. He finished activating the phones then plugged them in, scowling when Miles crossed over to Kari’s room.

“Hi, I’m Miles Callahan,” he heard his brother say. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Kari Danville,” she answered in a bemused tone. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Marc had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out at his brother. So what if Miles was flirting with Kari? It wasn’t as if Marc was interested in a personal relationship.

Considering her pregnancy and past history with her ex-fiancé, he doubted she was, either.

“Marc didn’t tell me how pretty you are,” Miles said with a wink.

“Then we’re even, since Marc neglected to tell me how much of a flirt you are.”

“I’m not,” Miles protested, putting his hand on his chest in protest.

Yeah, he was. Marc hid a smile as he joined them. “Miles was just leaving, weren’t you?”

His brother cocked an eyebrow in his direction. “Uh, yeah, sure.” Miles grinned. “Do you want me to tell Mom you’ll be there for brunch on Sunday? Or do you think the trial will keep you away?”

Marc narrowed his gaze, giving Miles a warning glare. Since their father’s murder six months ago, they always tried to get together for church service followed by Sunday brunch. Maybe he hadn’t felt God’s presence at church, but he always attended anyway. Their mother and Nan expected it. “Not sure, but either way, I’ll let Mom know my plans. Thanks again for your help.”

“Suit yourself.” Miles threw one last smile over his shoulder at Kari. “Nice to meet you, Kari. Hope I see you again sometime soon.”

Kari didn’t look too impressed. “I doubt it but it’s been nice to meet you, too.”

“Ouch,” Miles muttered, joining Marc in his room. “Shot down in a ball of flames.”

Marc wasn’t about to waste an ounce of pity for his brother. “Your ego will survive. Take down my new number, in case I need some more help.”

Miles jotted down the information, then slipped the scrap of paper into his pocket. “You know, it’s been two years since Jess died. It’s okay to start dating again.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?” Marc countered, having no intention to discuss his personal life, or lack thereof, with anyone. Even his closest brother. “I’ll be in touch, okay?”

“Sure thing.” Miles opened the door and stepped outside, tossing one more parting shot over his shoulder. “Kari’s pretty. I like her.”

I like her, too. But of course, he didn’t say anything of the sort. Instead he closed the door behind his brother and dragged a hand through his hair.

He knew better than to let Miles get to him. At some point in the last few months, each of his siblings had attempted to play matchmaker.

Efforts that had always backfired.

He was too busy with work to have anything leftover for a relationship, anyway. Hadn’t that been the main reason Jessica had cheated on him? Because he was too intense, too serious, too responsible.

The antithesis of fun.

He glanced at his watch, realizing it was almost time to either check out or pay for another night. Considering Kari’s ankle, he thought it was probably better to stay put. They hadn’t been followed here, and it wouldn’t hurt to give her a chance to rest.

The sound of a muffled thud came from her room and he wasted no time in barging over there to see what was going on.

Kari stood on one foot, her injured foot tucked up as if she were a dark-haired stork, staring morosely at the bucket he’d filled with ice a few hours ago. It was lying upside down on the carpet. He ignored the water and bits of ice to reach for her. “Are you all right?”

“You mean other than being a klutz? Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, leaning against him.

“Here, let’s get you back on the bed to elevate your ankle.” He had to fight the urge to lift her into his arms again, making do with anchoring his arm around her waist and helping her close the gap to reach the bed. He found it hard to believe Kari was pregnant, but maybe it was too early for her to show.

He hadn’t suspected Jess was three months along, either.

“I was trying to get more ice for my ankle,” she said, stretching out on the bedspread.

“I’ll get it,” he assured her. “Are you sure you can’t take some ibuprofen?”

“I’m sure.” She tilted her chin stubbornly. “I don’t want to take anything that might harm the baby. Besides, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

He shook his head, knowing that couldn’t be true. The skin around her ankle was not only swollen but beginning to turn back and blue as bruising set in. He’d picked up an elastic bandage from the drugstore, along with her vitamins, but he didn’t want to use it yet. Better to keep icing it, for now.

“You and your brother seem close,” she said as he pressed a towel over the wet spot in the carpet.

He glanced up in surprise. “Yeah, I guess. Miles is just a year younger than me, and there’s two and a half years between him and Mitch.”

“How many brothers do you have?” she asked, her brown gaze curious.

“Four brothers and a baby sister,” he answered, wondering why he was sharing his personal life with her. Maybe because he knew from reading her file that she was all alone in the world. As much as he’d kept to himself over the two years since Jessica’s death, he’d always known his family was a phone call away and would drop anything to help him.

The way Miles just had.

“Six in total,” Kari echoed in awe. “It must be nice to have so many people in your family.”

“Yeah, they’re not nosy, bossy, meddling or annoying at all,” he said drily.

“Sounds wonderful to me,” she said in a soft, wistful voice.

“They are, most of the time,” he agreed, silently acknowledging that he wouldn’t give up his family for anything. They were the reason he’d taken a position here at the Milwaukee branch of the FBI, when there were other, more prestigious places to work.

He finished cleaning up the mess, then tossed the towels on the bathroom floor before picking up the empty ice bucket. “I was thinking we should stay here another day,” he said. “Give your ankle some time to rest.”

“No complaints from me.” Kari smiled and he knew his brother was wrong. She wasn’t just pretty.

She was beautiful, especially when she smiled.

“We’re safe here, right?” she added, her brow puckered in a tiny frown.

He pulled himself together. “Yeah, we should be. I’ll get some ice, then go to the lobby to pay for another day.”

“Sounds good.”

He left the motel room and approached the cubicle housing the ice and vending machines. Spending another day here was good for Kari, but not necessarily for investigating the source of the safe house break-in. Although he was fairly sure he’d hear from his boss any minute.

A confrontation he’d rather avoid.

He swept his gaze over the small motel parking lot, taking note of anything out of place. There wasn’t so much as a new car parked in the lot, and the traffic on Highway WW seemed light for a Thursday morning.

Satisfied, he carried the ice bucket back inside. After filling a clean towel with ice chips, he draped it over her ankle.

“Be back in a few minutes,” he said, turning to retrace his steps. When he opened the door, he paused as a dark SUV complete with tinted windows came flying down the freeway exit ramp, going through a red light. Then he caught a glimpse of the barrel of a gun through the open passenger-side window.

No! They needed to move.

Now.

He barged back inside the hotel. “Kari, grab your stuff. We need to get out of here.”

To her credit she didn’t argue. She sat up, tossed the ice pack aside and then grabbed her vitamins. Instead of putting her shoes on, she carried them, wincing as she limped toward him.

He grabbed the laptop computer and his keys. They exited the motel and jumped into the car.

Marc hit the gas and sped out of the parking lot.

Despite his sixty-second head start, he could see the SUV was hot on his tail.

How had they found him? Not through Miles.

His boss? He didn’t want to believe it.

“They’re gaining on us,” Kari whispered, as she struggled to get her left foot into her shoe.

Crack!

The sound of gunfire had him planting his foot to the floor, pushing the car engine as fast as it would go.

Another gunshot echoed and he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

He couldn’t bear the thought of failing Kari and her baby. He had to figure out a way to keep them safe from harm.

Because there was no way he could cope with another death on his conscience.