Baby On The Run

Then again, he could tell the truth, to a point. He’d been jumped and beaten, and when he regained consciousness, his truck was gone.

“Open your eyes.”

It was Jenna’s voice.

He blinked a few times and found himself looking up at her beautiful face.

“You need to go,” he ordered.

“Can you get up?”

“The men—”

“They’re gone. Come on—stand up.”

“Gone?” he said as she helped him to his feet. He groaned, clutching his ribs.

“They left. I called 9-1-1 and told them I was at Scooter’s Pancake House in Cedar River.”

“What about...the little boy?”

“He’s in the car.”

He blinked to clear the stars from his vision, but it didn’t help much. Safe to say the chief’s thugs had gifted him with a doozy of a concussion. When he reached his truck, Jenna led him to the passenger side.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

“You can barely stand. Get in.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder. A few people inside the truck stop were watching from the window.

As he started to argue, he realized how right she was. Matt was in no shape to drive and they needed to get out of here, quick. The concussion was messing with his judgment. He’d have to rely on Jenna’s acumen for the time being.

Once inside the truck, he closed his eyes. He heard her get behind the wheel, but she didn’t start the vehicle.

He cracked open his eyes. “What...what’s happening?”

“I need to take my contacts out.” She dug through her bag.

“Do it when we’re safe.”

“I’ll do it now, thank you very much,” she snapped.

He’d made her angry. Why? He was trying to protect her, get her away from danger.

She pulled out a small container, and before he could say Miranda rights, she’d removed her contacts and was transformed with the help of large, dark-rimmed glasses. Her auburn hair had been tucked into a ski cap.

“Okay, let’s take care of you. Where’s the first aid kit?” she said.

“I’m fine.” As he said the words, he found himself drifting into that dark place—the place between consciousness and sleep, the place where time didn’t exist. Distant memories flooded his brain, memories of laughter, then anger...

A casket being lowered into the ground.

Sarah.

A gentle hand pressed a gauze pad against the side of his head. “Shh, hold still.”

It was a firm voice, tinged with sweetness and concern. Who was it again? He’d distanced himself from relationships because of his work, his dedication to the job.

He’d attempted commitment with Sarah. And she was dead.

His fault.

There wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t pray for forgiveness.

Shutting down the romantic part of his life was what had made him a good agent, an agent willing to devote all his energy into nailing criminals, men who pretended to be heroes, when they were actually...

He was falling again, floating like a leaf dropping from a tree. Where would he land? Back at her funeral? His remorse strangling him as he pleaded with God for forgiveness?

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Sarah?” he said.

“Almost done.”

“I’m sorry.”

* * *

An hour later, Jenna glanced at her passenger and wondered if she should take him to a hospital. His skin was pale and he groaned in his sleep every few minutes. Plus, he’d been having delusions back at the truck stop when she’d bandaged his head wound.

He’d whispered the name Sarah. His girlfriend? Wife?

“Stay focused,” she said softly. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by her passenger’s nightmares. She needed to strategize what to do next, other than to distance herself from Cedar River.

“Stay back,” Matthew muttered in his sleep.

Jenna suspected he had a concussion and knew the best treatment for that was sleep. She’d learned as much when she’d ended up in the hospital after one of her “falls.”

She clenched her jaw. This was not the time, nor the place, to be thinking about the past. She had two people to protect—Little Eli and...an FBI agent. Which begged the question, why was he working undercover as a janitor at the community center?

“Medic,” he said. He jerked awake, eyes wide, breathing heavily.

“Hey, you’re okay,” she said.

He glanced at her with a dazed expression.

“Just a bad dream,” she said.

He snapped his attention away, as if embarrassed, and directed his gaze to the road ahead.

“Best thing for a concussion is sleep,” she offered.

A moment later he closed his eyes. Wow, that surprised her. She thought she’d get more of an argument, or a lecture about how she should have left him back at the truck stop.

Why didn’t you abandon him, Jenna?

Because of the vulnerability in his dulled blue eyes. She couldn’t leave a semiconscious man lying on the cold, wet ground. After all, once the thugs figured out Jenna had diverted them from her true location, they would have returned to the truck stop and done even more damage to Matthew. He was in no position to defend himself.

She’d been in survival mode back at the office, driven by the trauma of her past. The chief’s actions solidified her opinion of law enforcement, and her cautious nature had made her draw the conclusion that Matthew was a serial criminal, not a cop. Even if he was a cop, she knew they had their own code, and the normal rules of civility didn’t apply to them.

Which left her in that same, familiar spot: alone and afraid.

And she couldn’t afford to be afraid, not while Eli was in her care.

If only she had a burner phone to call Marcus again, get Eli safely to his cousin. Deep down, Jenna feared she was the absolute worst choice to protect Eli. She’d failed miserably before. What made her think this time would be different?

Her brain started clicking off options. What about... She glanced at her passenger. Could she risk getting help from the FBI? No, they’d force her to return Eli to his father, a man Chloe had called a monster. She shook off the thought.

The word monster taunted her, reminding her that although she was legally free of him, there were days she still felt like she was under Anthony’s thumb, especially when she’d come home to her Cedar River apartment and find things out of place. She’d be yanked back into the past, experiencing Anthony’s wrath over her unacceptable housekeeping skills. She’d try to shake it off, reminding herself she’d been in a hurry to get to work in the morning and had forgotten to put things where they belonged.

But the fear of punishment was quite real.

Move on, she coached herself.

She needed to think her way out of this current crisis, not be paralyzed by the past. Who could she go to for help? Jenna had been estranged from her family ever since she’d married Anthony, and had never reunited with them after she’d escaped his abuse. Distancing herself from everyone, past and present, had been the best way to put the horror behind her and live a safe life. She was willing to do whatever was necessary to achieve that goal, and starting a new life where no one knew her seemed like the only way.

A new life where she could be a different person. A stronger person.

She reconsidered calling Patrice. The middle-aged woman was devoted to helping victims flee dangerous situations. No, she had already put herself in enough danger for Jenna, although maybe Patrice could offer some advice.

The flash of blue and red lights sparked through the truck’s rearview mirror. Jenna’s heart leaped into her throat.

They’d found her.

THREE

“License and registration, please,” a deep male voice said.

Matt forced his eyes open. He was in the passenger seat, and a uniformed officer stood at the driver’s window.

“I’m sorry, Officer, was I speeding?” Jenna asked from behind the wheel of Matt’s truck.

Jenna North was driving his truck?

“No, ma’am, but your left taillight is out,” the cop said.

“Oh, thank you for letting us know.”

“You’re welcome. I’d still like to see your license and registration.”

Jenna nodded at Matt, who read fear in her green eyes.

“Honey, can you get the registration?” she said.

Honey? Why was she calling him honey? And why did his head feel like someone had used it as a soccer ball?

“Sir, are you all right?” The cop aimed his flashlight into the vehicle.

Matt put up his hand to block the piercing beam. “My head,” is all that came out.

“We’re on the way to the hospital,” Jenna said. “He was mugged and has a head injury.”

The cop nodded, speculative. He started to aim the beam into the back seat.

“Please don’t wake the baby,” she said.

The baby? What have you gotten yourself into, Matt?

“I still need to see your license and registration,” the cop said.

She pulled her license out of her wallet. Matt dug the registration out of the glove box and passed it, and his license, to the officer.

“Did you file a police report about the mugging?” the officer asked, scanning the registration.

“We will, Officer, but I wanted to get him checked out first,” she said in a frantic tone.

Jenna North, development manager of the Broadlake Foundation, was worried about Matt.

What had happened to him?

His mind drew a blank. He’d obviously lost the past few, what, hours? Days? The amnesia had to be related to the headache clawing its way across his skull. He was suffering from a concussion. But how had it happened?

Bigger question—why did he have an urgent need to protect Miss North and...a baby?

He looked over his shoulder. There was a sleeping child in the back seat. Whose? Jenna’s? No, she wasn’t married, didn’t have a boyfriend or even date, if you believed the locals. She was a transplant from Tulsa with a generous heart, a woman who used her social and financial talents to raise money for the Broadlake Foundation.

“Please wait here,” the cop said and left them alone.

Jenna turned to Matt. “They’re going to find us. What do we do?”

She could tell him what was going on, for starters.

“Matthew?”

The way she spoke his name made it sound like they were close, like they knew each other outside of working in the same building. Sure, he might have imagined dating someone like Jenna, a lovely woman determined to help people. Only he didn’t remember ever grabbing coffee with her or chatting outside of work. He was on the job and, even if he weren’t, he’d made a promise to himself to avoid romantic entanglements.

“What’s he doing?” she said, eyeing the rearview mirror.

“Patience,” he said. “He’s running the registration. It’s procedure.”

He closed his eyes, fighting back the anxiety taunting him. He’d have to confess his condition because he needed her help to navigate through the temporary amnesia. Matt sensed she needed his help as well.

“Aren’t you worried?” she asked.

He opened his eyes, but couldn’t admit the truth: that he was terrified because he’d lost a chunk of time.

“No, of course you’re not worried, you’re FBI,” she muttered and studied the rearview.

She knew the truth? Which meant what—that she was helping with the investigation? Was that possible? Because he didn’t remember her being ruled out as a suspect.

He needed to remember.

“He’s coming back,” she said, sitting straight.

The officer, who Matt realized was a state trooper, stepped up to her window and passed her the licenses and registration. “The closest medical facility is St. James Healthcare. I’ll escort you.”

“We wouldn’t want to take you away from your duties, Officer,” she said.

“You’re not. Follow me.”

She closed the window and sighed. “Now what?” she asked Matt. “Should I ditch him?”

“Ditch him?” he repeated in a sarcastic tone.

“Bad idea, huh?”

“Pretty bad, yeah.”

“What if he called Billings? What if he’s on their payroll? What if they’re waiting at the hospital? What if—”

“Slow down, speedy. You’re making my headache worse.”

“Sorry, sorry.” The squad car passed them and she followed. “I wish I could get ahold of Marcus.”

“Who’s Marcus?”

“Chloe’s cousin. He’s supposed to help.”

“Ma’am?”

“What?” She shot him a quick glance.

“Chloe...?”

“Mrs. McFadden,” she said. “You remember.”

Mrs. McFadden—sure, he knew her. She was on the development board and helped with fund-raising events. All roads to the money-laundering investigation led to Mrs. McFadden’s husband, Gary, but they didn’t have enough to build a case. They’d even considered that his wife might be involved.

“Matthew?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m having some...memory challenges.”

“Oh.”

He heard the disappointment in her voice, as if she’d been relying on him to protect her and the child. But that hadn’t been his assignment. His assignment was to work as a custodian in the foundation office, be invisible and gather information. Keep an eye on nighttime activity, determine if they were not only laundering money for the cartel but were also distributing drugs out of the community center.

“Blows to the head can do that,” she offered. “Don’t freak out. It’s usually temporary.”

“How would you know that?”

She shrugged. There was more to it, but she wasn’t sharing. Why would she? She was stuck with a helpless man and...a child.

“So, the child is Mrs. McFadden’s?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Where is Mrs. McFadden?”

She gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled fingers.

“Miss North?” he prompted.

“Jenna, call me Jenna,” she said, with slight irritation in her voice.

“Okay, Jenna. Why is Mrs. McFadden’s child in my truck?”

“She asked me to protect him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Chief Billings killed Chloe,” she blurted out in a pained voice.

He glanced out the passenger window and fisted his hand to stop his fingers from trembling. Men like Matt didn’t tremble, and they didn’t let fear run rampant. Yet this was the first time he’d awakened with a chunk of his life missing, like it had never happened, and he was forced to rely on a stranger to fill in the blanks.

Well, not a complete stranger. He’d done a background check on all the foundation employees to help identify which ones were the most likely to be involved in the money-laundering activity. Matt still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that all roads led to the small, quaint town of Cedar River, Montana, known for its world-class scones and snow sports, headquarters of the international and altruistic Broadlake Foundation.

His supervisor had gotten Matt a job as the night custodian, and during the day he continued surveillance at the hot spots in town. They suspected money was being filtered through the foundation in the form of donations, only they couldn’t determine who was orchestrating the mystery deposits into the accounts. Everyone had been suspect, even the town’s police chief, who was on the governing board.

If what Jenna said was true, it confirmed Chief Billings’s involvement. Matt didn’t remember seeing the murder, but Jenna had.

Which meant she was a key witness—and her life was in serious danger.

He’d always sensed wariness about Jenna, even though she covered it with a bright smile and polite manners. His job required him to pay attention to the little things, the way her shoulders jerked at unexpected sounds and how she’d clenched her jaw when a drunk, homeless man wandered into the center and refused to leave. Matt had come to her rescue that night, escorting him outside and waiting for Kyle to take the belligerent man into custody.

Something had happened to Jenna North that didn’t show up on a routine background check. Yet it seemed like she’d lived an unremarkable life before moving to Cedar River.

He tapped a closed fist against his knee. How could he remember details about Miss North’s background but couldn’t remember what happened to him in the past...what? How much time had he lost?

“Can you please tell me what happened tonight?” he said.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

He closed his eyes. “The Avalanche were winning. I was in my office listening to the game.”

“You don’t remember Chloe screaming?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Or finding me outside with Eli?”

“No. I need to figure out how much time I’ve lost.”

She recounted what happened in the last hour, starting with her friend being strangled, Jenna asking Matt to drop her at the truck stop and then her coming to his rescue after he was assaulted in the parking lot.

“That’s pretty much it,” she said.

Not quite. “I left you at the truck stop when I knew you were in danger? That doesn’t sound like me.”

“A misunderstanding.” She hesitated. “I thought you were a serial killer.”

He shot her a look of disbelief.

“What? You had a gun, zip ties and duct tape in your glove box.”

“The gun and zip ties are for work. I used the duct tape to fix a broken hose.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” she said.

“Trusting doesn’t come easy for you, does it?”

“I trusted Chloe,” she said quietly.

Silence stretched between them.

“Why were you working undercover at the community center?” she asked.

How much should he tell her? He knew she needed enough information to make good decisions.

“We think a drug cartel is laundering money through the foundation,” he said. “By taking a job at the center and assimilating into the community, my goal was to discover who’s involved.”

“Assimilating into the community?”

“Through work, volunteering, attending church.”

“That seems hypocritical, to pretend to attend church.”

“I wasn’t pretending. I enjoy church.”

“Whatever.”

He’d upset her but wasn’t sure why. He’d figure that out later. In the meantime, he’d call for backup. He searched his pocket for his phone but came up empty.

“Your phone’s in the console,” she said.

He looked at her.

“You dropped it when they attacked you.”

“Thanks.”

“And here, you’ll probably need this.” She pulled his gun magazine out of her pocket and handed it to him.

He took it, trying to figure out why she had it.

“I thought you were a serial killer, remember?” she said.

“Right.” He pulled the gun out of his waistband, shoved the magazine in place and put it in the glove box.

“You’re not keeping it on you?”

“It’ll raise questions in the hospital and I don’t want to jeopardize my assignment.”

“Oh, right.”

Matt called his supervisor, pressing the heel of his palm against his temple to ease the pain. It went to voice mail. “It’s Weller. I was assaulted and need backup. Send an agent to St. James Healthcare in Butte. I’m with a woman and child who need our protection.” He pocketed his phone and leaned against the headrest.

“You don’t have to take care of us,” Jenna said.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re not your problem.”

“No, you’re not my problem. You’re my responsibility.”

She smirked and looked away. Why? She didn’t know anything about Matt. She didn’t know how he’d failed Sarah.

“I’d like to find Chloe’s cousin to help us, not be taken into FBI custody,” she said.

“I’m trying to keep you safe.”

She shook her head, unconvinced. Man, what had happened to this woman?

A few minutes later they exited the highway, and she turned into the hospital parking lot. “Do you want me to drop you at the main entrance?” she offered.

“No, we should stick together until help arrives.”

She found a parking spot, turned off the vehicle and tried to hand him the keys.

“Keep them. Just in case.”

“I can’t take your truck.”

“For my peace of mind.”

With a curious frown, she got out of the car and retrieved the sleeping child. His head rested on her shoulder as she carried him through the parking lot.

“Want me to carry him?” he offered.

“You’ve got a concussion. You shouldn’t be carrying anything.”

Good point, which just went to show that his brain was muddled. As they approached the hospital, the state trooper joined them. “I’ve gotta go. When you’re done being treated, call this number.” He handed Matt a business card. “They’ll send someone to take your statement.”

“Thanks,” Matt said.

The cop turned to Jenna. “Ma’am, don’t worry. They’ll take good care of your husband.”

When Jenna didn’t correct the “husband” remark, Matt glanced at her. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. Why? Because she was worried about Matt’s condition? No, something else was going on.

“Thanks again, Officer,” Matt said, and motioned Jenna inside.

Once they were seated in the waiting area, he noticed her hand trembling as she stroked the little boy’s back.

“It’ll be okay,” Matt offered. “Help’s on the way.”

No reaction. She didn’t nod, shrug or even roll her eyes. She continued to stare straight ahead with a dazed look on her face.

“Jenna?”

She seemed lost in another world, as if she was having a flashback, and not a good one. He touched her arm that held the boy against her shoulder. She didn’t look at him. The child was asleep, sucking on a pacifier and clinging to his stuffed bear.

Matt slid a chair in front of her and blocked her view. “Jenna, look at me.”

She blinked, and her wounded green eyes connected with Matt’s. It felt like he’d been slugged in the gut.

“You’re okay,” he said.

“I...I don’t like hospitals.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“To make you not like hospitals?”

She took a deep breath, opened her mouth and closed it again. Then she said, “I got hurt.”

The way she articulated those three words reminded him of a little girl who’d fallen on the playground. But Jenna wasn’t a little girl, and he suspected she’d suffered a lot worse than a skinned knee.

“You’re not hurt now,” he said, gently squeezing her shoulder. “You’re A-okay.”

She was more than okay in Matt’s eyes. This woman was strong, smart and determined to do the right thing, to protect her friend’s child.

“I won’t be okay until this little boy is safe with his cousin.” The fear in her eyes turned to anger.

“I understand, but I need to ask you something. What about the boy’s father? I mean, at this point you could be accused of kidnapping.”

“His mother begged me to protect Eli, especially from Gary. What would you have me do, hand him over to an abusive father?”

“Of course not, but there are laws and procedures for cases like this.”

“What about the law for murder? Or does that not apply to cops? The police are obviously involved, so excuse me if I don’t have much faith in the law.”

“If Chief Billings killed—”

“If? You don’t believe me?”

“I do, but we need more than your word. In the meantime, we have to protect you and the little boy. My people can help.”

“Cops won’t help me.”

“The chief is one bad cop out of what, twenty on the Cedar River Police force? That doesn’t mean they’re all bad.” That I’m bad.

“Chloe’s husband is wealthy. I’m sure he can make them bad by throwing money at them.”

“You’re awfully cynical for such a young woman.”

“Well, at least I’m not dead.”

That comment stopped him cold. Was she referring to her friend or herself? Had someone threatened Jenna’s life, putting her in the hospital?

“Mr. Weller?” a nurse said from the examining room door.

He put up his hand, indicating he’d heard her. Matt studied Jenna. “Will you come in with me?”

She looked at him but didn’t answer.

“I don’t want to leave you and the child alone,” he said.