Читать книгу Christmas Witness Pursuit - Lisa Harris - Страница 14

The crack of gunfire ripped her out of the darkness. Ears ringing, she opened her eyes then had to wait for her blurred vision to clear. Everything around her spun while a thick dust filled her lungs with each breath.

She searched her surroundings through the haze. She was lying in the back seat of an unfamiliar car. Gray leather seats. A small duffel bag and red scarf beside her. Her gaze shifted to the front passenger seat, where a man slumped behind a deflated airbag, his head tilted at an odd angle while blood seeped through his suit jacket. The window beside him had shattered, leaving shards of glass covering the inside of the car and his body. A wave of confusion engulfed her. They’d clearly been in an accident, but no memories surfaced. Only panic.

Why couldn’t she remember?

She sat up and pressed her hands against her head, trying to block out the pain pulsing through her temples. Pieces of memories fought to rise to the surface, but it was like a puzzle where she couldn’t quite find the right pieces to snap into place. Couldn’t find the answers she should know. Like, what was she doing there? Who was the man in the front seat? She glanced up and caught her dazed reflection in the rearview mirror. And who was she?

The man let out a low groan, turned and tried to grab for her hand. “You need to get out of here. They...they’re after you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath as she pulled away from him, not understanding. “Who?”

“Just...run.”

His garbled words were clear enough for her to understand the stark warning. Still, she couldn’t just leave him.

Could she?

She reached for his wrist, checked his weakened pulse then saw the FBI badge hanging around his neck.

“They’re coming,” he warned again. “Go. Now...”

Shouts escalated outside the vehicle. Another shot ripped through the air. She turned to see a second man dressed in a suit drop to the ground. She froze. Blood pooled onto the pavement beneath the body. She shifted her gaze beyond the downed man to two men, wearing black, running toward the car.

They’re after you.

Go. Now...

There was no more time to think. She undid her seat belt, scrambled toward the door and shoved it open. The car had swerved off the side of the road, so the forested tree line beyond her was now only a few yards away. She had no weapons. No way to defend herself against the men. Her only possible protection, from what she could see, was the trees. She might not remember any details of why she was there, but she knew that the dying man in the front seat was right and the men coming for her had no intention to help her.

She jumped out of the car and fled into the forest. Her lungs felt as if they were going to explode from the cold air, but she had to keep moving. Her boots crunched through the underbrush. There was no real trail, just trees with thick brush beneath them as far as she could see, which meant leaving an untraceable path was going to be impossible.

Just like outrunning whoever was after her was probably going to be impossible.

Shoving the thought aside, she dodged a fallen branch, barely managing to keep her balance as she ducked beneath it. Her head felt as if someone was driving a stake through her temple, but she couldn’t stop running. Not when she could hear the cracking of dry brush behind her as the men pursued her.

She glanced up at the gray sky above her, barely visible through the canopy of branches. She had no idea which direction she was running, but knew she needed to get as much distance between them as she could. If she found a way to lose them, she could head back to the road and flag down a passing car. At this point, she didn’t care where she went. As long as she got as far away from the men as possible.

Fifty yards later she stumbled again over a dead log and tried to catch her balance, but this time she fell facedown onto the hard ground. Blood ran from a scratch on the palm of her hand, but she didn’t even feel the sting. Instead she could hear them behind her, crashing through the brush as they got closer. It would be only a matter of seconds before they found her. There was a thick layer of brush ahead to her right. It would provide her with cover. If she could hide there...

Still on the ground, she crawled through the brush, praying it was thick enough to camouflage her, then lay flat and still against the cold ground. Seconds later her pursuers hurried past, not even half a dozen feet from her hiding place. Her fingers were numb and her lungs burned with each breath as she waited for them to vanish into the forest.

She let out a silent sigh of relief when the men didn’t stop. She’d wait for them to get out of sight then head back toward the road. Unless... She swallowed hard as one of the men stopped suddenly, held up his hand and turned around, suspending her plan. The wind howled above her through the trees. She pressed her body into the slight indention where she lay, willing her heart to slow down.

Keep me hidden from these men, God...

The prayer came instinctively, without hesitation.

“What’s wrong?” the second man stopped and looked back.

The first headed toward where she lay. “I can’t hear her anymore.”

“She can’t be that far ahead. We need to keep going.”

“Just wait a minute.” The first man turned in a slow circle, close enough she could make out the biker patch on his leather jacket. Close enough she was certain he could hear her heart pounding inside her chest.

Panic mushroomed inside her. If they found her now...

“We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

The first man continued to study the terrain a few more moments before finally nodding his head.

She waited until they disappeared into the brush and then slowly counted to twenty before coming out of her hiding place and running in the opposite direction. She might not remember what had happened or even who she was, but one thing was clear. If they found her, they would kill her.

Deputy Griffin O’Callaghan called in the single-vehicle accident and asked for backup and an emergency crew as he approached the wreck south of Timber Falls. A car had spun off the road and landed in the ditch. Two motorcycles sat behind the vehicle, but from a quick observation, neither looked as if it had been involved in the accident. He stepped out onto the road, his boots crunching against the gravel as he walked toward the wrecked vehicle then paused.

A man in a suit lay on the side of the road, shot in the temple. Griffin checked for a pulse then noticed the man’s gun and FBI badge. A second victim lay slumped over in the front passenger seat, once again shot. This was no accident scene. These men had been executed. But where were the drivers of the motorcycles?

There was a small bag next to a woman’s red winter scarf in the back seat and the side door was open. He worked to put the pieces together. Whoever had been in the back was, more than likely, either a prisoner being transported or a witness being protected.

He grabbed a file off the front floorboard and quickly scanned the contents. There were no names, just instructions on the transportation of a witness to Denver and a court case number. He folded the papers and shoved them in his back pocket as he took a step away from the car and noticed the bullet casings scattered on the scene. There were bullet holes in the front passenger door, one of the tires had been shot out and a window was shattered.

A disturbing picture began to play out in his mind. The men on the motorcycles had shot the agent in the front seat either during or after the crash. The second agent had then taken a bullet trying to protect the witness in an apparent shoot-out. The witness had run, but the two hit men had gone after her.

Griffin moved away from the car toward the tree line, where he quickly found three sets of footprints leading into the forest. The witness was probably going to end up running in circles then being shot by the men after her. Or getting lost and freezing to death in the storm that was about to hit this part of the country. Neither scenario was acceptable because, either way, she’d be dead.

Like Lilly.

His stomach clenched at the unwanted memories that rushed to the surface. He shoved them aside, forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand. This was not the time to dredge up the past. Instead he updated the sheriff’s office on his status as he headed into the woods after her. He moved quickly but purposefully, studying the ground until the three sets of tracks he’d been following stopped and seemed to converge around one spot.

Griffin paused again. Something had happened here. His father had always taught him that tracking was like learning to read, a challenge that had always fascinated him. They’d spent hours out on the ranch training to interpret the terrain as they identified animals, studied the surroundings and traced their travel routes. Today he was praying his skills would help him save a woman’s life.

He squatted down, ignoring the blistering cold. Two people had continued south after stopping. A third had doubled back before taking a new path toward the main road. It had to be the witness.

Griffin found her heading for the main road about a hundred yards south of the wreck. There was still no sign of the motorcyclists, but he knew he couldn’t let his guard down. He had no doubt they were still out there. He held up his badge as he ran to catch up with her. Shouting at her to stop wasn’t an option. It would only lead whoever was out there straight to her. But losing her wasn’t an option, either. He chased her another ten feet then hurried to stop in front of her.

He held up his hands so she could see his badge. “Ma’am...don’t scream. Please. I’m a sheriff’s deputy and I can keep you safe.”

She stumbled backward. He’d seen the accident aftermath and knew she had to be terrified. And, with her escorts dead, she probably had no idea who she could trust. He needed that person to be him.

“I know someone’s trying to find you,” he rushed on to say. “I’m here to help.”

She hesitated then nodded. “They killed those men.”

“I know. We’re going to head to my car,” he said, “then I’ll take you directly to the sheriff’s office in Timber Falls.”

“They were FBI?” she asked as they started walking.

“Yes.” He placed his hand on her arm, wondering why she didn’t already know the answer to her question. “Do you know who killed them?”

“I’m guessing the same people who are after me, but I have no idea who they are.”

“You’re okay now. I’m going to get you somewhere safe.” He picked up the pace slightly, his senses on high alert, knowing it was just a matter of time before her hunters realized she’d doubled back to the road. Letting them find her wasn’t an option. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

He stopped for a moment, confused. “Wait... You don’t remember your name?”

She glanced up at him with those big brown eyes and long lashes of hers, giving him a brief moment to study her while he waited for her to answer. Five-foot-five, maybe six, dark hair past her shoulders... She had a lost look in her eyes that pulled at that familiar spot in his heart, making him want to protect her all the more. Her only visible injuries were a scrape on her hand and a bruise forming at her temple. But maybe he was missing something.

She shook her head. “I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t remember.”

“What about today’s date?”

“It’s... I don’t know. What is it?”

“December tenth.” He’d caught the panic in her voice as she struggled to answer. “What can you remember?”

Her eyes avoided the scene in front of them. “Nothing before the accident. The man in the front seat had been shot. He told me to run. That they were coming after me.”

“Okay...” Griffin wasn’t sure if her loss of memory was a sign of something more serious but, for now, he just needed to get her out of there alive. “Don’t worry about that right now. Do you hurt anywhere?” he asked.

“My head, but that’s all. That and, of course, the fact that I can’t remember my name or why I’m here.”

“Do you remember how many were chasing you?” he asked as they finally emerged onto the main road. He could see his car ahead of them and still no sign of the men who’d been after her.

“Two,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

Her answer surprised him. There were three helmets on the bikes. She could be wrong, though it seemed to be the events after the crash that she could remember—like the dead bodies at the scene and the men chasing after her—but not events or things that had happened before the accident, including her name. Either she’d hit her head or was experiencing some kind of dissociative amnesia from the trauma. But the whys didn’t matter right now.

He clicked the key fob as they approached his vehicle and unlocked his car, then headed toward the motorcycles. “Go get inside. You’ll be safe.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Sunlight broke through the gray clouds above them as he quickly searched the tree line for the men. If he hadn’t had to worry about the woman, he would have gone after them. However, for the moment, his number-one priority had to be to get her to safety. The problem was that he still had no idea where the men were. And that had him worried. Not only were they armed, he’d be outnumbered if they showed up. That meant ensuring she wasn’t hit in any cross fire would be difficult, so he had to slow the men down. He stopped next to the two motorcycles and quickly jerked out the spark plug wires on each bike.

But he was running out of time. He could now hear the men crashing through the underbrush without even bothering to quiet their steps. A bullet hit the side of his squad car. He ran back to his car and jerked open the driver’s-side door. A searing pain shot through him as the second bullet hit its mark.