Hidden Witness Page 4

  “Let’s not celebrate yet.”

  “Celebrate? I’m just happy to not be walking through the woods anymore.”

  “We’re going to stay in the woods. That’ll be safer than walking on the side of the road.”

  “How many cars drive down this road this time of night? I don’t think we need to worry about being hit.”

  “I’m worried about being seen by the guys we left in the woods. They didn’t walk into the area. They had transportation.”

  “What’s the likelihood that they’ll be back at their vehicle and on that road in time to see us walking to town?”

  “Considering that they’ve managed to track us from the mine, I’d say pretty good.”

  “Track us?” She swung around, nearly falling in her haste.

  “Just keep moving,” he replied, snagging the sleeve of the coat he’d lent her and tugging her forward.

  She wanted to run, and she would have, but he held her back.

  “They’re far enough away that we should be okay. Let’s stay calm and careful,” he chided.

  Should?

  She hoped he meant would.

  She didn’t ask. Up ahead, the trees opened into a wide expanse of grass. Moonlight glinted off a guardrail that separated a drainage ditch from the road.

  “We’re going to cross the street and walk in the woods on the other side. Ready?” Mac asked.

  She’d barely had time to nod when he grabbed her hand and took off. They sprinted across the clearing, down into the drainage ditch and up the other side. He didn’t release her as he stepped over the guardrail and darted across the street.

  The wind had picked up, dead leaves skittering across the pavement. There were no headlights, no engine sounds, no tires swishing over the road.

  And then there were.

  High beams cut through the darkness as a car sped around a curve in the road and headed straight for them.

  “Get down!” Mac shouted, tackling her to the ground and covering her with his body. Tires squealed. Gunfire split the air. And she prayed that no one would be killed.

  * * *

  They were being tracked.

  Not just by men on foot who knew how to follow Mac and Anna’s footprints. There had to be a tracking device on Anna. Mac couldn’t think of any other way that they could have been found so easily.

  He waited until the gunfire stopped, raised up just enough to fire his Glock toward the road. A warning shot more than anything, to let them know he was armed, and that he wasn’t afraid to shoot.

  “Take off your pack,” he whispered as he edged up and got a view of the vehicle—an older model Ford Explorer, the license plate hidden by dirt.

  “What? Why?” Anna responded, already shrugging out of his coat.

  “Anything in there you need? Wallet? Money? Keys?”

  “No. Just water and a couple energy bars.”

  “What else are you wearing that could hide a tracking device?” The SUV was rolling back, the engine idling. The driver was waiting for someone. Probably the men who’d been in the woods.

  “Nothing.”

  “No belt?”

  “No.”

  “Phone?”

  “No.”

  “Shoes?” He shifted his attention to her feet.

  “Of course I’m wearing shoes,” she murmured, a hint of fear in her voice.

  “You have a pedometer on one.”

  “Right. Can we get out of here instead of discussing my clothing options?”

  “They’re tracking us. I need to know how so we can stop them.”

  “Okay. Aside from the pedometer, I don’t carry anything when I run.”

  “Your watch?”

  “It’s been on my wrist forever. I don’t take it off.”

  “Okay. Let’s go. If they’re still able to track us, we’ll get rid of the pedometer.”

  “How about we do it now?” She had untied the shoe and was pulling the pedometer off the lace. She tossed it onto the ground, and he grabbed it, flipping it over and looking at the underside. A small tracking chip was adhered to it.

  “This explains a lot,” he muttered, his mind racing for an explanation. He was certain that Anna had been asked to give up everything from her old life. He had to assume the shoe pedometer was new. Something purchased after she had left Boston.

  If that was the case, how had the tracking device been placed on it?

  Someone from the ranch.

  Someone Mac trusted.

  Someone who had betrayed that trust.

  He scowled, tucking the tracking device in his pocket.

  He could hear feet pounding across the grassy field across the street. Their pursuers were closing in.

  “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing Anna’s hand as he belly-crawled through the ditch. South. Away from town and toward the ranch. There were trees close to the road there, and as soon as he thought they had enough cover, he yanked Anna up and into the woods, sprinting hard.

  They were moving fast, dodging trees and ducking through thickets of brambles. Behind them, branches cracked and men cursed, the dense foliage making going difficult.

  A river cut through the valley. He headed there, knowing the water was high and fast enough to keep the tracking device moving. Anna was panting hard, keeping up. Barely. If they didn’t lose their tails soon, they might not.

  When they reached the river, he pulled the tracking device from his pocket and tossed it in. Eventually, the water would destroy it. That was fine. All he needed was a little extra time.

  He veered right, heading north again, following the winding path of the river upstream. There were a few cabins in this area. Tucked into the woods and looking out over the river, they belonged to die-hard fishermen and hunters who spent weeks out in the woods during the spring, summer and fall. They were empty now, their dark facades visible as he and Anna raced past.

  “Have we lost them?” she panted, her breath wheezing out, her body trembling. He wanted to stop and let her rest, but they needed to get to get to town. He had planned to call the ranch and ask for help, but he had no idea who had planted the tracking device. It could have been a guest, but he suspected it was someone a lot closer to home.

  “I hope so.” He slowed, his hand wrapped around Anna’s, his mind buzzing with adrenaline. He had been in situations that were just as dangerous and faced off with more determined enemies. He had never done it with a civilian by his side.

  “Have you ever thought of lying for the sake of making someone feel better?” she muttered, the words panting out.

  “No. Now, how about we keep quiet until we’re safe?”

  She didn’t respond.

  He took that as a good sign.

  The sounds of pursuit had faded. He hoped that the tracking device signal had lasted just long enough to throw their pursuers off and send them running in the wrong direction. Once he made it to town and contacted someone in the sheriff’s office, he could make plans. He didn’t know where he and Anna were going, he didn’t know how long they were going to be there, but they weren’t spending the night in Briarwood or the ranch. And they weren’t contacting the Justice Department with their whereabouts. Not until Mac made certain there wasn’t a leak in the system.

  Or proved that there was.

  He couldn’t think of any other way Anna’s location had become known. Someone who had the information had been paid well to give it away. Mac needed to find out who if he was going to keep Anna safe.

  FOUR

  Briarwood looked like the stereotypical small town—shops standing shoulder to shoulder on a two-lane main street. Old houses on pretty lots. Fences. Sidewalks. A library. School. Diner. Bakery. A few small businesses that catered to the town’s eclectic interests. Yarn. Crafts. A feed store. A small doctor’s office stood at one
end of town. At the other end, a used car lot, a bar called the Watering Hole and a run-down trailer park.

  Once a week Annalise and the ranch’s head cook went to town for supplies. While they were there, they went to the local grocery store, visited the library for books, ate at the diner once in a blue moon. During the past six months, Annalise had come to appreciate the easy pace of Briarwood. She’d come to know the people. She had begun attending church every Sunday morning, riding in with the van of people who came from the ranch.

  She had never been to the sheriff’s office.

  She hadn’t thought she would have a reason to.

  She had been told that the local sheriff would be aware of who she was and why she was in town, but she had never verified it. There had been no need. She had been so far away from everything she had known, so far away from that horrible night, the gunfire, the blood, that she had sometimes been able to forget that she was the target of a man who had money and power at his disposal.

  She shouldn’t have forgotten.

  She should have been on her guard every minute of every day.

  And she would be.

  Once they reached the sheriff’s office. Once she was safe.

  She told herself that was going to happen.

  She had been through tough times before. She had made it through with determination, hard work and faith. This was no different.

  “We’re almost there,” Mac said, his breath puffing out in a white cloud. The temperature had dropped, the wind whipping the grass that edged the two-lane road leading to town. The trees were sparse, the way lit by intermittent streetlights. In the distance, more lights gleamed from porches and windows, the soft glow beckoning them forward.

  “You’ve been saying that for forty-five minutes,” she responded.

  “Your teeth have been chattering for the same amount of time. I was trying to keep you moving.”

  “You didn’t need to worry. I’m not stopping until we get to the sheriff’s office. I want these guys caught. Once they’re behind bars, they might decide that giving up the name of the person who hired them is better than spending twenty years in jail.”

  “And you think that’s going to be Moreno?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder, his head cocked to the side as if he had heard something.

  “It’ll be one of his thugs. But thugs talk, and a connection with Moreno will only make the state’s case stronger.”

  “I like your optimism,” he said.

  “It’s not optimism. I defended a few cases like Moreno’s before I started working for...” She stopped herself before she could give more information. Mac knew some things. He didn’t know it all. For his safety, and for hers, that was for the best. Once they reached the sheriff’s department, he could go back to the ranch and his life. She would go to whatever safe location the Justice Department decided on.

  Just until the trial.

  Which could be next month or next year.

  She hadn’t cared about the timeline when she’d been talking to the new prosecuting attorney for the state. Richards had died on the courthouse steps, taken out by the man he had been trying to put away.

  “For the FBI,” Mac completed her thought, then grabbed her hand and pulled her up beside him. “Once we walk out of the woods, we’re in the open. There are houses, cars and business that we could use as cover, but I don’t want to risk more lives.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “The old church is just through the trees. Do you remember it?”

  “Brick. With a bell tower and cemetery.” She had to pass it each time she came to town.

  “There’s a shed at the back of the property. I want you to wait there while I get the sheriff.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I don’t joke about life-and-death matters.”

  “I’m not hiding in a shed, Mac.”

  “You’d rather walk through town and risk being shot or having someone else shot? This is a small town. There isn’t much space between houses. One stray bullet and a kid could die. Or an elderly person—”

  “Any loss of life would be tragic. You don’t have to keep trying to convince me,” she muttered. His reasoning was sound, but she didn’t love the idea of hiding in a shed while he went for help. Having him risk his life to save hers wasn’t something she was comfortable with.

  “What if you hide in the shed, and I go for the sheriff?” she whispered as they stepped out of the forest and into a field of tall grass and shrubs.

  “They’re after you. Not me.”

  “I’m pretty certain they’re after both of us now.”

  “I don’t think they know who I am. Even if they do, shooting me is going to accomplish nothing. They may follow me to try to find you, but they aren’t going to take me out.”

  “I like your optimism.” She repeated his words and was surprised when he met her eyes and smiled.

  “It’s not optimism. It’s weighing options and finding the least risky one. If you stay in the shed and stay quiet, we should both be safe.”

  “Why would I leave?”

  “Why does any person do anything that might harm them? Because you think you have a better plan? Because you’re worried that I’m not coming back? Because you hear people moving through the yard and think they’re onto you?”

  She could imagine being influenced by any one of those things. She was prone to going her own way and making her own decisions. She knew how to take advice at work. She had been mentored by some great defense attorneys. But in her private life, there had been no one to tell her what to do or give her advice since Gabe had left.

  “I’ll stay in the shed because I couldn’t live with myself if anyone else was hurt because I didn’t.”

  “Was someone hurt because of you?” he asked as they moved through the field and walked up a gentle hill. The church was sitting at the top of the rise, long grass hissing quietly in the breeze.

  “No,” she said, but in her heart, she didn’t believe it.

  She had heard the car tires squeal. She had seen the car speeding around the corner. She still wondered if she could have saved Richards. If she had shouted a warning, tackled him, screamed, would that have made a difference in the outcome?

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Okay what?”

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”

  “Talk about what?”

  “Whatever it is you think you could have done to save the men who died.” They had reached the crumbling asphalt that had once been the church parking lot. Sprigs of grass jutted out from the broken pavement. Life springing from unlikely places.

  “I didn’t take you for a mind reader, Mac.”

  “I know what it feels like to watch someone die. I know how hard it is to not replay it, add to it, put more time in for reaction and heroic deeds.” He answered matter-of-factly, his tone even and emotionless.

  If they had been anywhere else, if he had been anyone else, she would have asked him if he was okay. If the past still haunted him. If the lives he hadn’t been able to save made him want to live with more passion, with more purpose, with deeper conviction.

  But they were running from men who wanted her dead. He wasn’t the kind of guy who ever showed strong emotions. She doubted he wanted to share his story.

  And they were heading past the cemetery, across the parking lot and into what had once been a playground for church kids. Now the swings hung listlessly, the slide covered with debris. Beyond it, an overgrown field gave testimony to ball games and church picnics. She couldn’t see a shed, but Mac seemed to know where he was heading. Through the field, back to the edge of what had once been cleared ground. Now it was dotted with sapling trees and briars.

  Annalise didn’t see the shed until they were right in front of it. The aluminum siding w
as dented and rusty, the painted double doors peeling. There was a padlock hanging from a chain between the metal door handles.

  “It’s locked,” she pointed out, as if Mac wasn’t capable of seeing that for himself.

  “Yes. It is,” he agreed, taking a multipurpose tool from his pocket and bending over the lock.

  Seconds later, the chain fell away and the door creaked open. Something scurried in the dark interior, the sound sending cold fingers of fear up Annalise’s spine.

  “Was that a rat?” she murmured.

  “Probably not.”

  “That is not reassuring.”

  “You have men with guns chasing you, Anna. Would you rather face them?”

  “Maybe,” she replied.

  “No,” he corrected. “If there’s an animal in there, it’s not going to bother you.”

  “There you are with that optimism again,” she muttered.

  “I’m stating a fact. Go inside. I’ll have to lock you in. There’s a window. My grandparents attended this church when I was a kid, and I used to help my grandfather mow the grass. If I don’t come back—”

  “How about we stick to optimism?”

  “If I don’t come back, you’ll be able to climb out the window. Just be careful. If you see lights, find a way to hide. If they look in the window and see you...”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they don’t.”

  “Good. You’re sure you’re okay with this plan?”

  “What if I’m not?” She leaned into the shed, trying to see through the darkness.

  “Then we’ll come up with a new plan.”

  “Really?” She swung around to face him and found herself looking into his eyes. He was risking a lot to help her. No amount of money was worth his life. She wanted to tell him that he should leave her there and go back home. That she could figure things out and find a way back to Boston, but she had no money, no transportation and no way to get out of town.

  She slid out of his coat and thrust it into his chest. “Better put this on. It’s cold, and if you become hypothermic, we’ll both be in trouble.”

  “The shed isn’t heated.”