Baby On The Run

“Yes, sir.”

“Please wait outside until we clear the building.”

Matt did as he was ordered and called the police. He had to. It would look suspicious if he didn’t alert the authorities to the break-in. As he was making the call, a squad car and the chief’s car pulled into the lot.

A patrolman Matt recognized as Kyle Armstrong exited his squad car. Chief Billings and Kyle approached Matt.

You’re only the janitor, he reminded himself.

“I was just calling you guys,” Matt said.

“Hey, Matt,” Kyle greeted him.

“You two know each other?” Billings asked.

“We attend the same church,” Kyle said by way of explanation.

Church was no doubt a foreign concept to a guy like Billings. A dirty cop. A killer.

“This is Matt Weller, the night custodian,” Kyle introduced.

Billings extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Matt. Have any idea who pulled the alarm?”

“No, sir. Apparently some guy broke in.” He pointed toward the broken window.

“Some guy? Not mischievous teens?” Billings asked.

Matt opted for sticking to the truth as much as possible. “No, it was a man, sir.” He looked directly at Billings, whose eye twitched ever so slightly.

“Can you describe him?” Kyle asked, pulling out a small notebook.

“About five-ten, a hundred and eighty pounds.” He directed the rest of his answer to Kyle. “He wore a black leather jacket and knit cap. I’m thinking he was pushing forty?”

“Wow, how close did you get to this guy?” Kyle asked.

“Pretty close. He took a swing at me.”

“Are you injured?” Billings said with mock concern.

“No, sir. I grew up the youngest of five boys so I’m pretty good at defending myself.”

“The knit cap perp was inside the building?” Kyle pushed.

“Actually we got into it outside, back by the playground.”

Kyle looked up in question.

“I went out to my truck to get something, and that’s when I encountered the man,” Matt said. “The alarm had gone off—not sure what that was about. He claimed his wife was in the building.”

“His wife?” Kyle said. “But the center was closed.”

“That is correct,” Matt said. “I thought I convinced him to leave, but then he went all Rocky on me.”

The fire crew exited the building. “It’s clear,” the shift captain said.

“Thanks.” Billings turned to Matt. “I’d like you to walk me through what happened tonight. Step by step.”

Of course he did. He wanted to figure out if Matt was telling the truth or creating a story to protect himself, Jenna and the little boy.

“Sure, this way.” He led Kyle and the chief into the community center. By the end of this story, they’d be at Matt’s truck. He hoped they wouldn’t decide to search it, but why would they? Matt wasn’t a suspect. If Jenna stayed down and the little boy didn’t cry, Billings wouldn’t find her.

She’d be hiding right under his nose.

“I was in the back office on break, listening to the hockey game,” Matt said.

They got to his office and the cops poked their heads inside.

“Closed circuit?” Kyle asked, eyeing the monitor.

“Yep. For security.” Matt curled his fingers into his palm to keep calm. “It gives me a view of the main hallway.”

“You didn’t see the suspect break in?”

“No, he probably accessed the building while I was at my truck.” He feigned panic and looked at Kyle. “Man, I hope I don’t lose my job over this—I mean for not preventing the break-in.”

“If he was determined to get in, nothing would have stopped him,” Billings said.

Matt nodded. Was that subtext? A subtle warning?

“Continue,” Chief Billings said.

“So about ten thirty I went out to the truck.” He led them to the back door and swung it open. The three men ambled outside. “It wasn’t parked this close originally, but kids were finishing up basketball when I arrived at six. I figured as long as I was out here I’d repark closer to the building.”

“Besides the basketball league, who else was here tonight, Mr. Weller?” the chief asked.

“A yoga class, line dancing for seniors and the knitting club. They were all gone by nine.”

“Anyone else, perhaps employees working late?” Billings pushed.

Matt wondered if he’d seen Jenna North’s little blue car parked in the overflow lot. He had to play this just right, be as truthful as possible.

“I might have seen Jenna North earlier. She works for a foundation that leases space here.”

“I’ll look into it,” Kyle said.

Chief Billings eyed Matt speculatively, and he broke eye contact in his effort to act submissive and nonthreatening.

Innocent.

That’s when Matt noticed the back window of his truck was cracked open. Matt needed a quick redirect to get them away from Jenna and the child.

“We got into a fistfight over here.” Matt led them to the other side of the truck. “Actually, there was one other thing about the knit cap guy.”

Billings’s eyes flared.

“He had a scar above his eyebrow here.” Matt pointed to his own forehead.

“That could help,” Kyle said.

“I yelled at him to stay away from the building. He yelled back that his wife was inside, which made no sense. Then he threw a punch. That’s about it.”

“That’s a lot,” Kyle said, jotting notes furiously.

The chief kneeled, analyzing something on the ground.

“What is it, sir?” Kyle asked.

“Found a cigarette butt. I’ll bag it.”

Except Knit Cap Guy hadn’t been smoking, which meant Billings was trying to throw the investigation off course.

“Can you tell us anything else, Matt?” Kyle said.

“No, sorry. I’d better go fix the front door, and I should probably call Mrs. Harris, my boss.”

“If anything else does come to mind, please call me directly.” Billings handed him a business card.

“Will do. Thanks.”

Matt led the cops back to the front of the building, and the knot in his gut uncoiled as they got farther away from the truck, from Jenna and the little boy.

He called Lucinda Harris and explained the situation as he watched the fire trucks pull away. She was worried about Matt and told him to finish cleaning up the mess and leave early. A good thing, since he was desperate to check on Jenna and the child.

The chief and Kyle were still out front, assessing and speculating.

Matt went inside and found a piece of wood from the storage area to cover the broken window. He secured it in place and swept up the mess. He wanted to play the role of night custodian a little longer, until the cops left the premises.

And then he needed to get to Jenna and the child. Let her know everything was okay.

He started flipping off main lights. Through one of the community room windows, he noticed the two police cars pulling out of the lot.

After jogging to the back of the building, he got his jacket out of the office, locked the building and headed to his truck. He grabbed the door handle, but it was locked. Fearful of being found, Miss North must have locked the doors. He tapped twice, blowing on his chilled hands, and glanced over his shoulder out of habit.

The door unlocked with a click. He climbed into the front seat. “They’re gone.”

He felt the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head.

TWO

Jenna’s hand trembled as she aimed the gun at the janitor’s head. Of course there was no way she could pull the trigger, but she didn’t know what else to do.

I might have seen Jenna North earlier, he’d said to the chief.

The man who’d killed her best friend.

Matthew might as well have opened the truck door and handed Jenna and Eli over to the guy.

“I know you’re scared—”

“Drive,” she interrupted.

“Please put the gun down.”

“Now.” She tapped the barrel against his head, not hard, but hard enough.

With a nod, he started the truck and pulled out of the lot.

She still couldn’t believe what she’d found when she’d gone through his glove box looking for a tissue.

Zip ties, duct tape and a gun.

Who was this man? Had she run from one killer directly into the arms of another?

The trembling intensified, running down her arm to rock her entire body. No, she would not let the trauma of the past consume her; she would not fall apart.

This time she’d save the child.

She had considered fleeing in his truck, but that would have meant driving past the killer police chief.

“I can explain,” Matthew said.

“Just drive.”

“To where?”

Good question. The mall was closed at this time of night, yet she needed a very public place to regroup. And then what?

One step at a time.

“I-90 truck stop.” It was very public and not far away. She wouldn’t spend a minute longer than necessary with this creep. Once away from the janitor, she’d call someone for help. But whom? Patrice, the woman who’d helped Jenna escape Anthony?

Wait—she remembered the slip of paper Chloe had given her with the name of her cousin. That’s it. She’d call Marcus to come get her.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Miss North, but if I’d wanted to do you harm I would have turned you over to Chief Billings.”

“Then you wouldn’t have the pleasure of hurting me.”

He shot her an intense look through the rearview mirror. “I would never hurt you. I want to help.”

“Stop talking,” she ordered as the past taunted her.

I want to help you get better.

She’d believed her abusive husband. Only after she’d left Anthony did she understand how his words had been an insidious and powerful manipulation.

“At least let me call someone for you,” Matthew said.

You need help.

She almost told the janitor to shut up again, but decided to speak the truth instead. “Stop pretending to be my friend. I heard you tell Billings that I was at the center tonight.”

“I had to. Your car was a hundred yards away.”

Her car. She’d never get it back. They’d impound it, making it harder for her to flee the city.

Which meant she’d have to rely on strangers for help until Chloe’s cousin could rescue her.

No, you don’t need rescuing any longer.

The janitor turned left.

“Where are you going? I said take me to the truck stop.” Fear skittered across her shoulders. Was he going to try to overpower her? In front of Eli?

“We’re being followed,” he said.

She snapped her gaze out the back window. Headlights shone through the dark night. “That could be anyone.”

“They’ve been behind us since we left the center.”

“Just get me to the truck stop.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As he drove through town, she scolded herself for trusting him in the first place, but Matthew had seemed like an innocuous sort of man. She’d heard he’d moved to town after serving in the military and that he’d even joined the local church. That in and of itself would have made most people trust him.

Yet Anthony had been a church leader, a pillar of the community—and behind closed doors, he was a monster.

Like Chloe’s husband?

Like the man driving the truck?

Why did Jenna attract violent men? Maybe her stepfather had been right when he’d branded her a stupid and weak girl, a lost cause.

“No,” she ground out.

“Ma’am?”

She snapped her attention to him. “What?”

“You said something?”

She clenched her jaw. This was not the time for the past to taunt her. Making bad choices when it came to romance seemed to be a habit for Jenna, starting with Mike in high school, and then Anthony. It had taken two years and a miscarriage to get away from her abuser. Tonight, three years after her escape, she found herself right back in the eye of the storm.

This time she’d get it right. She’d protect her friend’s little boy.

Her friend. Chloe.

The image of Chloe collapsing on the floor flashed across Jenna’s mind. Still in shock about the loss, Jenna had had no time to process or grieve. Chloe wouldn’t want her to be distracted; she’d want Jenna to put all her energy into saving Eli.

Chloe was a young mother who’d become Jenna’s best friend in town after they’d met on the development committee for the foundation. They’d joined an exercise dance class and regularly gone out for pie afterward. They had the same sense of humor, the same view on life.

It seemed they had other similarities as well—their bad choices in men.

The janitor made a right turn, heading in the opposite direction of her requested destination.

“Hey.” She tapped the barrel of the gun against his head.

“Look, trust me or don’t trust me. I don’t care,” he said. “At least let me lose the tail before I drop you at the truck stop.”

“You can drop the knight-in-shining-armor act. I’m not buying it.”

“Then shoot me.”

She snapped her gaze to the rearview mirror. He pinned her with fierce blue eyes.

“Shoot me or let me lose them. Your choice,” he said.

She glanced nervously at Eli. She couldn’t pull the trigger with a baby in the car.

Who was she kidding? She couldn’t pull the trigger, period.

But this creep didn’t have to know that.

“Fine, lose them,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He sped up, and she jerked back in her seat. She glanced beside her at Eli. The motion hadn’t disturbed him from his restful slumber as he sucked on his Binky and clung to his bear.

The janitor navigated down side streets and back up an alley. She clutched the gun grip to stay grounded, but wished it were something else, something spiritual. Her fingers automatically went to the base of her neck, remembering the dove charm she’d worn as a child, a charm that symbolized the Holy Spirit.

A charm she’d ripped off and thrown away as a teenager after she’d lost faith in an absent god.

She thumbed the silver ring on her right hand instead, the braided knot given to her by Patrice, who’d taken Jenna in and helped her heal after she’d left Anthony. The interwoven strands of silver represented connectedness, a reminder that Jenna was never alone, that she could always call on Patrice and the guardian network for support.

Matthew pulled onto the expressway. They were leaving town and heading in the right direction.

“We’re good,” he said.

“Hardly,” she muttered.

“Listen—”

“Don’t speak!” she said, louder than she’d intended.

Eli’s eyes popped open and he started to cry. “Shh, I’m sorry, little one,” she said, fearing she was the wrong person to be caring for a child.

To appease him, she sang a song, one her mom had sung to her when she was little. The little boy’s eyes widened with curiosity, and then his eyelids blinked slowly and finally closed.

The car grew eerily silent as they left town and continued on the expressway. She liked the silence, embraced it. It gave her time to think.

About fifteen minutes later, the janitor exited the expressway, pulled into the truck stop and parked.

She removed the gun magazine and pocketed it, opened the truck door and hurled the gun into the snow-covered field bordering the lot. Shouldering the diaper and messenger bags, she unbuckled the car seat.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” he said.

She ignored his mock concern and lifted baby Eli out of the car. The little boy still clung to his bear for comfort.

Whether Chloe’s cousin came to pick her up or Jenna called a taxi, she’d need the car seat for Eli. She grabbed it with her other hand.

“For what it’s worth, I’m a cop,” he said.

She froze and glared at the back of his head.

“Not local,” he continued as if he anticipated her fear. “I’m undercover FBI.”

“Sure you are.” She shouldered the door shut and marched away from the truck. Did he think her that gullible?

Thick, wet snowflakes swirled around her as she crossed the parking lot. There were a dozen trucks and cars in the lot. Good, the more people around the safer she’d feel.

Once inside, she placed the car seat by the door. She considered what to do with the magazine of bullets. Maybe she should have kept the weapon to defend herself and Eli. She’d learned how to use a firearm after she’d escaped Anthony.

No, the thought of shooting someone made her nauseous, and it didn’t feel right disposing of the magazine in a public place where it could end up in the wrong hands.

Instead, she decided to ditch her cell in case they could track it, and tossed the phone into the garbage can. She carried Eli to a nearby pay phone and called Chloe’s cousin, but it went to voice mail.

“You’ve reached Marcus. I’m not here. Leave a message.”

“Hi, Marcus. You don’t know me, but I’m Jenna, a good friend of your cousin Chloe’s. She told me to call you. There’s been an emergency and I need your help. It’s about Chloe’s son, Eli. Anyway, I’m calling from a pay phone, but I’m not sure how long we’ll be here. I guess I’ll keep calling. Thanks.”

What a message to leave a stranger. Would he even take her seriously?

She couldn’t worry about that now.

As she headed into the twenty-four-hour store, a list of what to do next formed in her mind. First, she had to change her appearance. She bought a local football team knit ski cap to cover her dark hair. She’d tuck it up into the cap until she got the chance to color it.

After making her purchases, she would take her contacts out and replace them with her thick-rimmed glasses to further mask her identity. But what about Eli? Her gaze drifted to a pink child’s ski cap. Disguising him as a girl would certainly throw someone off at first glance. She bought some cheap makeup, something she rarely wore, and scissors for cutting her hair. She wished they had hair dye, but that would have to wait until she found a drugstore.

Her panic about not being able to protect Eli was subsiding. She’d made it safely away from the office, away from a corrupt killer cop.

She was proud of herself for getting this far.

Thanks to Matthew the janitor.

“A guy with zip ties, duct tape and a gun in his glove box,” she muttered.

I’m undercover FBI.

She briefly wondered if he was being honest and her trauma had blinded her to the truth. No, why would an FBI agent keep duct tape in his car? He’d tried to explain, but she hadn’t let him.

Peeking out the store window, she spotted Matthew talking on the phone as he picked up his weapon from the snow-covered field.

Movement suddenly drew her attention left.

The two men from the community center got out of a black car. She gasped and ducked behind a display of snacks, clutching Eli securely against her chest.

What if they came into the truck stop and saw the car seat by the door?

Seconds stretched like hours.

Stop hiding like a coward!

With a fortifying breath, she went back to the counter and peeked out the window.

The cashier stepped up and blocked her view. “May I help you?”

Jenna glanced around her into the parking lot.

The twentysomething cashier with long blond hair also glanced outside. Just as...

The two thugs from the community center jumped Matthew.

“Whoa,” the girl said.

“I need to use your phone.”

“There’s a pay phone—”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

* * *

Matt couldn’t leave Jenna North at the truck stop without knowing she’d be okay.

He called in to give his boss an update. “She’s a part of it now.”

“You don’t know that,” his supervisor, Steve Pragge, said.

“Billings is after her.”

There was a pause, then, “Not our problem. You need to get back to town and be ready for your shift tomorrow.”

“And leave an innocent woman and child at the mercy of a killer?”

“If you’re that worried, I’ll send someone to bring her in.”

“I doubt she’ll go willingly.”

“Then you bring her in. As long as you’re back at work tomorrow night.”

“I’m not sure she’ll come with me either.”

“What’s the problem?”

“She doesn’t trust cops.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say here, Weller. This woman is a complication. You’ve got a job to do.”

His boss ended the call, and Matt considered the subtext to Pragge’s words. He expected Matt to stay on task, return to Cedar River and leave Jenna behind.

Not happening.

Matt wondered what had made Jenna do the about-face from trusting Matt to being terrified of him. The way she’d threatened him with the gun...

The gun. She’d retrieved it from his glove box. Since she probably had little if any experience with firearms, he could only guess what conclusions she would have drawn about someone who casually carried a handgun in his vehicle.

He went into the field to search for his gun and realized he wasn’t angry that she’d tossed it. In fact, he respected her for the move if she thought him dangerous.

Scanning the area with a flashlight, he wondered how to convince Jenna to accept his help. He couldn’t arrest her, because she hadn’t done anything wrong—although technically she had kidnapped a child. Instinct told him to keep her out of the system, or the chief would find her for sure.

He found the gun, shoved it into the back of his waistband and turned.

Something smashed against his head.

He fell to the cold, hard snow, and blinked to clear his vision.

He was being dragged across the parking lot toward the Dumpster.

As they released him with a jerk, two men started kicking Matt. Was this a random mugging or had the chief’s men found him? Did Billings suspect Matt knew more than he was saying?

“Where is she?” a man asked, delivering a kick to Matt’s stomach.

“Who?” he gasped.

A solid boot jammed against his neck. He grabbed the guy’s ankle and yanked.

The guy went down.

Matt scrambled to his feet.

The second guy snapped a cord around Matthew’s neck, cutting off air. After surviving two tours in Afghanistan, dodging IEDs and defending innocents, he was going down like this?

God, if I’m done, I’m okay with that. But please protect Jenna and the child.

With a sudden release, he was shoved headfirst into the metal Dumpster, then yanked back and thrown onto the pavement. Drifting in and out of consciousness, all he could think about was Jenna, her colorful green eyes and lovely smile.

“Jenna North,” the husky guy said, his face close to Matt’s. “Where. Is. She?”

“Hang on, he’s calling,” the other guy said. “Yeah... Where? On our way. Let’s go.”

“What about the janitor?”

“Forget him. We’ve got a location on the woman.”

On Jenna? They knew she was inside? Matt struggled to get up. One of the guys kicked him twice in the ribs for good measure.

Matt coughed and clutched his chest. With blurry vision, he watched the men cross the lot.

He had to get to her. Had to warn her.

Struggling to get up, his head spun and he collapsed on the pavement. He coached himself to breathe, to think past the throbbing headache long enough to help Jenna.

An innocent woman protecting an innocent child.

“Matthew?”

He looked up. Vivid green eyes sparkled down at him. Jenna.

No, they’d find her; they’d kill her. “You need to...”

What? Be taken into FBI custody? Why? He was in no shape to protect her, and by the time backup arrived, the thugs would have surely found her.

“My keys.” He dug into his jacket pocket and fished them out. As he offered them to her, they slipped through his trembling fingers. “Take the truck. Get out of here.”

He heard the keys scrape against the pavement. Good, she was taking his advice. Looking out for herself and the child.

A few seconds passed, maybe minutes—he couldn’t be sure. What he did know was that if the cops found him, they’d ask questions, risking his cover.