Hidden Witness Page 8

  He grabbed the key ring and thumbed through the keys and key fobs, sliding one after another along the cold metal ring until he removed one marked Ford Escort. 2014. Black.

  “Let’s go.” He led her back outside, his body humming with adrenaline, his mind shouting a warning.

  Time was running out.

  They needed to get off the lot and away from town.

  Now.

  He stopped near a small SUV. Maybe a few years old with a ding in the fender.

  He pressed the button on the fob, and the doors unlocked.

  “Get in,” he commanded, opening the driver’s door and nearly shoving Anna inside. She scrambled across the console, dropping into the seat and reaching for the belt. He heard it snap closed as he turned off the automatic headlights. There was no sense in announcing the fact that they were driving off the lot by having the lights on. He turned on the engine. It purred to life smoothly and effortlessly. He braced himself, expecting to see strobe lights, hear a police siren and a voice calling out for them to get out of the vehicle. The area remained dark, the road clear. If River was heading in their direction, he was doing it slowly.

  Mac pulled onto the road, flicking on the windshield wipers as a few drops of rain splattered the glass.

  “We did it,” Anna breathed as the used car lot faded into the distance.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” he responded, glancing in the rearview mirror as he neared a curve in the road. Headlights appeared and then disappeared, a lone car heading in their direction. River? A deputy? The hired hit men?

  Or just someone from town out for a late-night drive?

  “Actually, we are. And I will be forever grateful for that.” She reached over and turned up the heat, holding her hands in front of the vent. They were shaking violently, her fingers blue-tinged from cold.

  “You’re nearly frozen,” he muttered, turning the vents in her direction.

  “I’ll warm up soon enough.” She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “At least I don’t have to worry about being shot while I’m doing it.”

  He glanced in the rearview mirror again, saw the lights in the distance, heading their way. He didn’t have the heart to point them out. Not now. Not until he was certain they were being followed.

  SIX

  Annalise dozed off.

  At least, she thought she had.

  One minute, she was holding her hands toward the warmth streaming from the vent. The next, she was sitting in a cold car, staring at a windshield splattered with icy rain.

  “What happened?” she muttered, expecting Mac to answer.

  Only Mac was gone, the driver’s seat empty.

  Her heart jumped to her throat, and she sat up straighter, looking ahead, behind, to either side of the car. Trees. Trees. More trees. All of them glistening with a thick sheen of ice.

  She glanced at her watch, but the numbers meant nothing. It was nearly midnight, but she had no idea when they’d left the used car dealership or how long she had been sitting in the car alone. She had no idea how long Mac had been gone, but she doubted it had been long. She couldn’t believe he had left her alone at all!

  Unless something had forced him to.

  She didn’t know where Mac had gone, but there was no way he had left her alone without a good reason.

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened. Maybe Mac had pulled off the road because they were being followed and then gone to confront whoever was in the vehicle behind them. Worse, maybe he had used himself as a decoy to lead danger away from her.

  Thinking about that, about Mac facing potential assassins to keep her safe, bothered her. She had always tried to take care of her problems, to not burden other people with her worries and fears. She had known, from spending time with her mother, from watching the way her illness affected friendships and romances, that most people wanted to be around for the good times and not for the bad ones.

  Her marriage had proven that.

  Gabe had told her he had turned to other women because she had been too clingy, too needy, too anxious and overwrought about building her career, having children and maintaining their relationship. He had felt overwhelmed by her needs, and he had wanted to be with someone who didn’t hold on so tightly.

  She hadn’t believed him.

  Not then.

  She had called it what it was: the deepest kind of betrayal.

  And she had called him what she had seen him as—a self-absorbed liar and cheat.

  Years later, though, she had realized there may have been something to what he had said. She had always craved stability. She had wanted the neat, tidy home with the neat, tidy love. She hadn’t wanted messiness. She hadn’t wanted the highs and lows that had filled her childhood. Maybe she had been so desperate for that, she had clung too hard, tried too much to make their marriage perfect.

  Since her divorce, she had tried even harder to be independent and to rely on herself. Now, she had no choice but to rely on Mac. He had the ability to keep her safe. He had proven that. But, she didn’t want him to sacrifice his life to do it. Thinking about him out in the icy weather, facing off against men with guns who wouldn’t hesitate to shoot filled her with dread. If he was in trouble, she couldn’t just sit in the car and hope for the best. She had to do something to help.

  She opened the door, shivering as it knocked against ice-coated pine boughs and sent cold drops of water into the car and onto her head. The world was a winter wonderland, the woods white-coated and shimmering. It reminded her of Christmas cards her mother would buy and hang from the fireplace mantel in their threadbare living room. They’d shared a tiny apartment in a not-so-nice section of Boston. The building had once been a huge Victorian home that had housed a large family, servants and staff. Their apartment had been a walled-in section of the third-floor attic area. Most of it had once been the maid’s quarters. Aside from the tiny bedroom she had shared with her mother, there wasn’t much to the place. A living room with a fireplace. A small kitchen and just enough room for a two-person table and chairs. A bathroom that had been carved out of a closet and had such a tiny shower, water had always sprayed the entire room.

  Sometimes, Annalise missed it. The smell of furniture polish that her mother had used to try to improve the look of their ancient coffee table. The scent of bleach that was used to scrub the subway tiles in the bathroom. Her mother’s cheap perfume.

  She missed her mother.

  They’d had plenty of good times mixed with the bad. Plenty of highs mixed with the lows. It hadn’t always been easy, but they had made it work. If she were here, Annalise’s mother would be out of the car and eager to help. Despite her mental illness, she had been strong and determined, intelligent and kind. Annalise wanted to be nothing less than those things. She wasn’t going to cower in safety while someone was in danger.

  She surveyed the area, trying to figure out how the car had gotten into the woods and where Mac had headed after he had parked it. She didn’t see a road. No sign of the highway they’d been on when she’d fallen asleep. There were no footprints visible in the ice that coated the ground. He hadn’t just disappeared. Something had made him leave the vehicle here, and something had forced him to abandon it and her.

  No. Not her.

  She didn’t believe he would do that.

  Not by choice.

  The temperature had plummeted, icy rain turning to soft white flurries. She circled the car, making sure to keep it in sight as she tried to find a path or a road or some sign that Mac had been there. Nothing. It was as if he had been a figment of her imagination, as if he had never existed except in her dreams.

  She knew that wasn’t possible.

  She hadn’t imagined the race through the woods with him, the mine collapse, the sheriff’s office. She certainly wasn’t imagining the S
UV parked under the boughs of a pine tree.

  Where had he gone?

  She didn’t dare call out. She was too afraid of who might hear. They were being hunted by assassins and searched for by the sheriff. If she was found before she found Mac, would he survive? Would she?

  She frowned, widening the circle she was making around the car, scouring the ground and the trees, searching for footprints, broken branches, anything that would give her a hint as to where he had gone.

  When she finally spotted both, her heart jumped. All she had to do was follow the trail to him. It sounded easy enough, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be. Snow continued to fall, filling in footprints and she moved through the trees. If she wasn’t careful, she would lose the trail and forget the way back to the SUV. Her stomach churned at the thought. It was cold. She wasn’t dressed for the weather. It would be easy to die out in the wilderness. She couldn’t wait at the SUV and hope for the best. She could freeze in the vehicle just as easily as she could freeze outside.

  But, the pit in her gut was saying that she should have waited.

  Leaving shelter and wandering through unknown territory, hoping to find Mac? Probably not the best idea she’d ever had. Wasn’t it best to hug a tree? Stay in one place? Wait to be found?

  She stopped, allowing herself to stand still, soft flakes of snow drifting through the tree canopy and settling on Mac’s jacket. She turned a slow circle, looking for signs of civilization. There were no lights. No cleared land that she could see.

  How deep was she in the forest?

  How far from the road?

  Her toes were already frozen, her feet like lead blocks attached to her ankles. Returning to the car might be the better option.

  “What would Mac do? Keep going forward? Head back to the vehicle?”

  “He wouldn’t have left the vehicle in the first place,” he said, his voice so surprising she screamed and jumped back, bumping into a tree and causing icicles to shower down from its branches.

  “Where did you come from?” she demanded, whirling to face him.

  His shoulders were coated with snowflakes, his hair covered with a layer of ice. He was scowling at her through the darkness, his eyes flashing with irritation.

  But to her, he looked like Christmas morning and birthday surprises all rolled into a six-foot-four package of joy.

  “The cabin. I wanted to make sure the area was clear before we walked there together,” he replied, still scowling. “I would have left you a note, but I didn’t have anything to write with. If I’d known you were going to wake up and wander around on your own, I would have woken you up and had you come with me.”

  “I should have stayed with the vehicle. I was...”

  “What?”

  “Worried about you. It seems silly now. You’re plenty capable of taking care of yourself, but I thought maybe you’d gotten into trouble or were trying to lead Moreno’s thugs away from me.”

  “And, you thought you’d come save the day?”

  “Something like that,” she admitted. “Like I said, it seems silly now.”

  “Not silly. But, it’s dangerous to leave the vehicle when it’s this cold out. Especially out in the woods. It’s easy to get lost on a night like to night.”

  “I realized that right before you found me.”

  “Come on. The cabin isn’t far.”

  He hooked an arm around her waist and tugged her into his side. She fit well there, her arm just under his shoulder, her hand finding its way around his back. If she’d wanted to, she could have leaned her head against his shoulder, but, of course, she didn’t. They were on the run from people who wanted her dead. They were hiding from the sheriff until they knew whose side he was on. They were in the middle of snow-shrouded trees, walking on ice-covered ground, shivering. This was not the time to be thinking about Mac as anything other than what he was: a guy who had gotten involved in her troubles and was stuck with her until they could find a way out of them.

  Silence stretched between them, the quiet rustle of frozen foliage and muted thump of their feet the only sounds. It could have been any other night, and they could have been any other people walking through a snow-shrouded wood together. And, if they had been, if they weren’t on the run, would she feel differently about Mac? Would she still want to move closer, or would she want to step away?

  After her divorce, she’d had no interest in dating or relationships. She hadn’t wanted to be hurt again. She hadn’t wanted to be disappointed. She had told herself there was no room in her life for romance or dating, and she had believed it.

  Did she still?

  “You doing okay?” he asked.

  “Probably better than you. I haven’t been outside as long.”

  “I’m good. I’m used to working outside in all kinds of weather.”

  “What’s going to happen at the ranch if you’re not back in the morning?”

  “I won’t be, and the ranch will be fine. I’ve got a great manager and a good crew. Things will run smoothly until I return.”

  “I hope so. I’d feel terrible if it didn’t.”

  “Why? You didn’t cause this. You’re just a victim of it.”

  “And, you have no reason to be a part of it.”

  “I was paid to keep you on the ranch and keep you safe. This is part of that.”

  The woods were thick, tall pine trees mixed with broad-trunked cedar and elm. A winter cocoon housing slumbering animals and wandering nocturnal creatures, the forest was a fantasy of ice, snow and greenery. For the first time since she had been pulled off the trail and attacked, she felt distanced from the threat, safe from the men who were after her.

  “I appreciate it, Mac, but you know I would understand if you stepped back and let me deal with things alone.”

  “And, you know I’m not going to do that.”

  “I guess I do,” she said, her arm still wrapped around him. She could have moved. They were walking at an easy pace, squeezing between trees together and causing snow and ice to fall from the branches. It would have been easier to walk single-file, to march ahead without touching, but he was as comforting as a velvet blanket on a cold night.

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have left the SUV to find you. I would have assumed you had abandoned me.”

  “I guess that would have been a reasonable assumption. Look. We’re here.” He made the announcement as if they had reached a destination. All she saw were more trees.

  “Is it an underground cabin?” she asked.

  “No. Just one the woods are trying to consume. I haven’t been out here in years. Some of the undergrowth needs to be cut back.”

  “Right.” She still didn’t see anything.

  “To the left. Behind the two slender evergreens.”

  “There are a million skinny evergr...” She saw it, the sharp edge of an exterior wall. The steepled roofline.

  “I searched the perimeter. It’s clear. For now.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Everyone in town knows my grandfather owned land out here. In the decade prior to his death, he didn’t hunt or fish much, but that doesn’t mean people have forgotten that he used to.”

  “So, our time here is limited?” she commented as they walked around the side of the A-frame cabin.

  “There was never any chance that it wasn’t. All we need is a few hours to sleep and to come up with a plan. If we get that, we’ll be fine. We have the SUV. I can return to the ranch, get my ID, and we can be on the road by first light.”

  “Heading where?”

  “That’s what we need to figure out,” he responded, reaching past her to open the door. It creaked inward like a prop in a horror movie, the interior dark as pitch.

  Mac must have seen the anxiety in her face.


  He smiled into her eyes, flashing dimples that she had noticed one too many times. “I’ve already been in. No bears. No raccoons.”

  “No men with guns.”

  “None of those, either. Come on. Let’s get inside before we both freeze.” He gave her a gentle nudge, and Annalise stepped over the threshold into darkness.

  * * *

  Mac moved through the cabin in the dark, reaching the far wall and the shelves that he had helped his grandfather install two decades ago. A small kerosene lamp had been there ever sense. A few candles. A metal waterproof box with matches. He found that, opened it and took out a striker and match. He found the kerosene lamp next. He knew his grandfather, and he knew it would be filled with fuel. Andrew Davis didn’t believe in taking chances. He believed in thinking ahead and preparing for anything.

  Mac didn’t think he had been prepared for losing his wife of fifty-five years. Her illness, the cancer treatments, the long and painful journey to accepting that Ada wasn’t going to get better had taken its toll, but Patrick had still maintained the orderly, well-prepared life he had always aspired to.

  Mac held the lamp and struck the match, a ritual he had learned years ago when he’d camped with his parents and siblings. Back then, living in Texas had meant Houston life. Lots of people and activity spread across flat land and golden fields. He had never imagined living on Sweet Valley Ranch. He had never once considered becoming a cattle rancher.

  He struck the match and lit the wick, adjusting the flow of fuel so that the flame danced happily. The cabin was exactly the way Mac remembered. One room with a loft. A wood-burning stove the only source of heat, the ventilation system butting up through the crosshatched ceiling. There were several windows boarded up the day his grandfather had walked away for the last time. Not because Patrick hadn’t planned to return, but because he had wanted to keep men and animals out while he was gone.