His Witness, Her Child Page 10

Cold chills coursed down his spine. Maybe her inquiry was innocent, but he didn’t want to take the chance that it wasn’t. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “And a police guard. Who do you have watching her? No one downtown seems to know anything about her.”

  “Like I said, I’ll take care of it.”

  Kit frowned, and if Dillon wasn’t mistaken, her eyes seemed to narrow with suspicion. “When did you become the Lone Ranger?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got to admit the way you’ve cut yourself off from the office in this case is a little extreme. No one seems to know where you’ve hidden the girl and her mother. And now you won’t let me bring in a psychologist. What’s going on here, Reese?”

  He had to come up with something to get Kit off the trail, and he had to do it fast. “I don’t want her testimony compromised. With a girl that young, after she’s talked to two dozen ‘experts,’ I won’t know if she’s telling me what she remembers or what she’s picked up from all the leading questions.”

  “But you can’t just keep her shuttered away until the trial.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the task force is supposed to be a team, damn it. We’re supposed to work together. With you and Harrington grabbing the spotlight, Britt and I are no more than glorified support staff.” Eyes flashing at the injustice, Kit raised her chin and clenched her fists like a suffragette spoiling for a fight.

  Dillon nodded his head knowingly. “Is that what this is about to you, Kit? A share of the spotlight?”

  Temper hovered over Kit like a storm cloud. “Don’t be an ass, Reese. I want Swain off the streets just as much as you do.”

  It was a good save, he’d have to give her that. But was her guilty conscience a result of her ambition, or did it have more to do with a bargain with Swain? Either way, he couldn’t let her find out the little girl she was looking for was huddled in the next room. He had to get her out of here. Pronto. “Well, don’t worry. When Swain comes to trial again, I’ll shed so much of the credit for his conviction your way you won’t have any cause to complain. Now, let me get back to work.”

  Kit shot him a glare and rose from the couch. “Fine. I’ll tell the gang you have everything under control. For now.”

  “The gang?”

  “The task force. I was sent as the ambassador. This visit wasn’t just my idea, you know.”

  Dillon’s gut clenched. If the whole task force was behind Kit’s plan to check out his house, any one of the district attorneys or police detectives could have initiated the idea. Any one of the task force members could be waiting for Kit to report back about her visit, ready to forward Amanda’s whereabouts to Swain. “How did you get so lucky, Ms. Ambassador? Just whose idea was your little visit?”

  She shrugged and breezed past him on her way to the door. “I live on this side of town. I guess everyone figured it wouldn’t be out of my way to stop.” She wrapped her scarf around her neck and chin and pulled open the door. A wave of cold air invaded the room. Pausing on the stoop, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Will you be in the office on Monday?”

  “I don’t know. Tell Fitz I’ll be in touch with him.” He closed the door soundly behind her and slid the lock home. She hadn’t seemed to notice he wasn’t in the house alone. That the child she was looking for was only a closed door away. He should be relieved. But somehow, he couldn’t quite manage it. Muscles cramped in his neck and shoulders. And once again his fingers found the Defender’s grip.

  He walked to the living-room window and peered out between the slats of the blinds just in time to see Kit duck into her car. The engine purred to life. A minute later, the road was deserted.

  But the tension in his neck hadn’t diminished. He stared out the window for a few more minutes, not sure what he was waiting for. But nothing happened.

  Not a thing.

  He let the blind slat fall back into place.

  After retrieving Amanda’s stuffed horse from the cupboard, he strode into the hall. He stopped outside the bedroom door, raised his fist and knocked gently. “Jacqueline?”

  The knob turned and the door fell away from his hand. Suddenly two sets of blue eyes looked up at him out of the darkness of the room. So round. So frightened.

  Tension gripped his neck and shoulders like an iron hand.

  Kit was long gone. From all appearances, his house was as safe a hiding place for Jacqueline and Amanda as it had been before Kit’s visit.

  Then why couldn’t he shake this damned ominous chill?

  Because he couldn’t be sure. And looking into Jacqueline’s and Amanda’s trusting blue eyes, he knew he couldn’t take the chance. “We have to get out of here.”

  JACQUELINE SET her paisley suitcases on the floor of the living room and pulled Amanda as close as their bulky parkas would allow.

  Dillon stood at his desk, stuffing legal folders into his briefcase. He drew his gun out of a desk drawer. Its silver barrel reflected the overhead lights with a cold gleam. He shoved it into the pocket of his black duster. “Ready?”

  She nodded, not willing to trust her voice.

  Judging from the obvious concern in his eyes, her silence hadn’t fooled Dillon. “You okay?”

  Amanda’s eyes snapped to her face, searching for reassurance, for strength.

  Jacqueline forced a smile to her lips. She didn’t want to broadcast her fear to Amanda. Besides, there was no reason to be afraid. They were leaving only as a precaution. That was what Dillon had explained before she packed their belongings and bundled Amanda and herself for the outside weather. Only a precaution. No reason to panic. She tried her best to lighten her voice, as if their evacuation was nothing more than a mini holiday. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Where are we going?”

  “To a motel. Someplace on the other side of town.” Locking his briefcase and leaving it on the desktop, he scooped up the suitcases and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll load these in the car and take a look around. Wait until I get back.”

  Jacqueline took Amanda’s mittened hand in her own and glanced toward the picture window that looked out on the road. Could someone be out there? Watching? Waiting? A tremor seized her hands. She tried her best to calm herself. As Dillon had said, it might be nothing. Kit Ashner probably didn’t have a clue they were in the house. She probably wasn’t Swain’s source. Most likely, they were abandoning Dillon’s house for no reason other than paranoia.

  But paranoia being what it was, she had to check.

  She stepped toward the edge of the picture window. Clinging to the window’s frame so she couldn’t be seen from the outside, she split the closed slats of the blind with her fingers and peered through.

  The full moon cast a gentle glow over banks of snow. The white bark of a clump of birch trees shimmered with frost. Behind the silvery branches the forest loomed, dark and foreboding and wild. But the road seemed deserted. Safe. No one watching. No one waiting. A sigh of relief escaped her lips.

  Then she saw it. A spark. And then a reddish glow from the edge of the forest.

  The glow of a lighted cigarette.

  A scream lodged in Jacqueline’s throat. She covered her mouth with a hand.

  Could it be Swain?

  She withdrew her other hand from the blind and stepped back from the window. Her breath raged in her ears, its roar competing with the drumming of her heart. Inhaling deeply, she tried to slow her breathing. Tried not to panic Amanda.

  The kitchen door creaked and Dillon’s booted footstep thunked on the floor.

  Dillon. She had to tell Dillon.

  As calmly as she could manage, she lifted Amanda in her arms and walked into the kitchen.

  When Dillon spotted her, his eyes grew wide. “What happened?”

  “Someone’s outside. On the edge of the woods.”

  Cursing under his breath, he strode past her, parted the blind slats as she had, and looked out. “Damn.”

  That single word chilled Jacqueline to the bone. “Is it S
wain?”

  “I don’t know for sure. But I can’t imagine who else it could be.” He let the blind fall back into place. The sharp planes of his face were hard, stark. His black brows slanted low over his eyes. “He’s probably waiting for me to usher you out to the car.”

  Dread sank into Jacqueline like sharp teeth into helpless prey. Amanda tensed in her arms. “What are we going to do?”

  “Let him wait. Come on.” After grabbing his briefcase from the desktop, Dillon spun and strode into the dark bedroom with Jacqueline and Amanda on his heels. He crossed to the double hung window that looked out on the backyard. He pulled up the blind, unlocked the latch and slid the sash and storm window open.

  Cold air rushed into the room, slapping Jacqueline’s heated cheeks and clearing her mind.

  Dillon tossed his briefcase out the window and turned to Jacqueline. “The Meinholz farm isn’t but a couple of miles through the forest. By the time Swain figures out we’re no longer in the house, we’ll be long gone. If everything works out.”

  Please God, let everything work out.

  Dillon climbed out the window and reached back through. The moon’s glow illuminated the planes of his face. Despite the tension evident in the lines around his eyes and mouth, he gave Amanda a smile and a wink. “Come on, darlin’. I’ll bet you never left the house through a window before.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Jacqueline placed her baby in his arms. Amanda wrapped one arm around his neck and clung.

  “Now I have to help your mommy, darlin’.” He pried her arm loose and set her in the snow next to him.

  Amanda looked up at Jacqueline. Trembling visibly, she bit her bottom lip and folded both arms around Dorsey.

  Jacqueline lowered herself out the window. Dillon’s hands closed around her waist, so strong, so steady. He guided her to the snowdrift below.

  The outside air was cold, deathly still, and spiked with the scent of burning wood. A dog barked in the distance, the sound brittle in the cold air.

  Dillon lifted Amanda back into his arms. Locking her hands around his neck, she encompassed her stuffed pony in the hug and buried her face in his shoulder.

  With a tilt of his head Dillon motioned Jacqueline to follow. He spun and strode off through the snow.

  Jacqueline grabbed the briefcase from the snow and followed, struggling to keep up with his rolling stride. Snow crunched under her boots, the sound loud as firecrackers in the still night.

  Please, God, don’t let Swain hear.

  They ran across the backyard and plunged into the forest. Moonlight filtered through the naked branches, puddling in pools on the snow. Dillon picked and dodged between trees and brush. His stride didn’t hesitate. Didn’t slow. His shoulders blocked her view of the path ahead.

  She focused on the ground in front of her. Concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other. The snow slipped under her boots, icy from the repeated freeze and thaw of late winter. She grasped a bush to retain her balance. Wild raspberry. The thorns snagged the fabric of her glove and dug into her hand.

  She straightened and moved on, struggling to keep up with Dillon. A branch cracked under her foot. The pop of sound cut the quiet night.

  She held her breath.

  Dillon stopped and glanced over his shoulder. His dark gaze rested on her for a heartbeat, then scanned the naked branches, the snow dappled with moonlight. He dipped his hand into the pocket of his duster and withdrew the gun. They stood dead still. Waiting for the snap of a twig. A rustle of movement. Some warning that Swain was near.

  Stalking.

  Jacqueline drew a breath of icy air into her lungs. If he hadn’t already heard them moving through the trees, he would surely hear the pounding of her heart.

  An owl’s screech splintered the silence.

  Nothing. Nothing but an owl.

  Ahead of her, Dillon resumed his ground-eating pace. Amanda bounced on his hip with each stride. Her stuffed horsey bobbed in the circle of her arms, its plastic eyes reflecting the light of the moon.

  Jacqueline struggled to keep up. The cold air froze the inside of her nostrils with each breath, making her throat and ears ache.

  She pushed on.

  They had to hurry. They had to put distance between them and Swain. No amount of distance would be enough.

  Dillon halted.

  Jacqueline peeked around his shoulders to see why. They had reached the crest of a hill. Still heavily wooded, the ground sloped away severely in front of him.

  The snow on the slope reflected patches of moonlight like polished glass, stretches of it packed into white ice. It would be treacherous. Slow going. But they had no choice but to go forward. They certainly couldn’t turn back.

  “Be careful, Dillon,” she whispered.

  He nodded. Grasping tree trunks with his free hand to keep from falling, Dillon started down the slope.

  They inched down through the trees. Despite the chill in the air, sweat trickled down Jacqueline’s back and between her breasts. At this pace, if Swain had discovered their escape, he could catch up to them easily. Clinging to the thin trunk of a sapling, she turned and glanced up the hill.

  Branches clawed into the moonlight. Shadows shimmered in and out of the trees like ghosts. Could one of those shadows be Swain? Could he have already found them?

  She turned back to the trail in front of her and hurried to catch up to Dillon and Amanda. The sky seemed to glow brighter through the trees ahead. A field. Maybe a farm.

  A place they could call for help.

  Finally they reached the edge of the forest. A cornfield stretched in front of them. Stubble from last year’s crop protruded through the snow in rough rows. All open.

  No cover.

  Beyond the field and across a country road, an old red cow barn nestled in the hillside.

  “Is that the farm you were talking about?”

  Dillon nodded. “First we’re going to have to get across the field. We’re going to stick out like a tin roof on a sunny day against that snow.”

  He was right. The moonlight that had assisted them in making their way through the shadows of the forest would now highlight them against the snow as effectively as a spotlight’s glare.

  “Couldn’t we just stay in the trees? There’s bound to be another farm or house.”

  He shook his head. “That’s the problem. There isn’t. Not for several miles. The Meinholz place is our best bet.” He shifted Amanda to his other arm. “We’re going to have to run for it.”

  Jacqueline pushed from her mind the image of their backs illuminated like targets against the white snow, and nodded. “I’m right behind you.”

  “If you hear gunshots, I want you to run in a zigzag.”

  Jacqueline swallowed the hard lump of fear in her throat. “Zigzag, got it.”

  “And Jacqueline?”

  “Yes?”

  “We’re going to be okay.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, a reassuring smile lifting the corners of his lips.

  Even though she knew he couldn’t promise anything of the sort, at that moment she believed him. With all her heart. “I know. Now run. I’m right behind you.”

  After one last smile, Dillon ran out of the forest’s shadow in the direction of the barn. Bobbing with each stride, Amanda held on tight.

  Jacqueline set out after them. Her boots crunched over bits of frozen cornstalk. She skidded on the icy snow. She caught her balance before falling and pushed on.

  Ahead of her, Dillon settled into a smooth, ground-covering stride, his black duster furling out behind him like a cape, stark against the white snow.

  By the time they’d reached the halfway mark, Jacqueline’s lungs burned and her head ached. The briefcase in her fist was as heavy as if it were made of solid lead. But she couldn’t slow down, couldn’t let up. Stopping now might make the difference between life and death. They had to reach the farm. She pushed herself faster.

  The red barn loomed closer. Jacqueline glanced over her sho
ulder as she ran. A shape hovered on the edge of the field. Dark against the snow’s white glow. An evergreen tree?

  The shape moved. A man.

  “Dillon.”

  Up ahead, Dillon lengthened his stride in an all-out sprint. He neared the edge of the field and the ditch by the side of the country road.

  Please, God, let him reach cover before—

  A crack split the air.

  Dillon dived into the ditch.

  Jacqueline’s heart lurched into her throat. Her baby.

  Chapter Nine

  Jacqueline scrambled across the snow. She had to get to her little girl. She had to.

  She raced over the edge of the ditch and into a tangle of sumac. The gnarled branches tore at her hair and parka like frantic fingers. Dillon’s hand closed over her upper arm.

  “Amanda! Is Amanda—” She scrambled to free herself from the branches.

  “She’s all right.”

  Jacqueline exhaled. Tears flooded her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks.

  Amanda was safe.

  She lifted her daughter from Dillon’s arms, pressing her sweet trembling body against her breast. She kissed her tear-streaked little face. So warm. So alive.

  Thank God. Amanda was safe.

  Dillon took the briefcase from her clenched fist. He stared at his arm and then back at Amanda. His face drained of color.

  She followed the direction of his gaze. The shoulder of Dillon’s duster was torn and frayed. A moment passed before Jacqueline realized what she was seeing. A bullet hole. The bullet had just missed Dillon. And her little girl.

  Her heart slammed so hard against her ribs that shock waves turned her stomach.

  Dillon reached into his pocket and pulled out his gun. “Meinholz has a phone in the barn. Take Amanda and run.”

  “Without you?” Panic crashed through her.

  He gave a curt nod, his focus on the lip of the ditch. “I’m going to stay here and see if I can slow Swain down.”

  He was planning to confront Swain. Alone. “No. Come with us. We—”

  “I’ll be right behind you. As soon as I make sure Swain isn’t behind you, too.” He met her eyes for a whisper of a second before turning his eyes back to the flat field stretching beyond the lip of the ditch. “If I’m firing at him, he’s going to have to take cover. He won’t be able to get a shot off while you’re running to the barn.”