Shielding His Christmas Witness

A PROTECTOR FOR HER CHILD

Days away from testifying in a bank robbery and murder case, witness Kari Danville’s safe house is breached, forcing her to run for her life. Scared, alone and pregnant, her only hope for survival rests in the protection of FBI agent Marc Callahan. With everyone in uniform a suspect, Marc goes rogue to keep her alive. Deep in hiding as the holidays approach, the vulnerable mother-to-be proves a dangerous distraction. But Marc can’t lose another witness on his watch. As the Christmastime trial draws near, the killer stalks ever closer. And Marc must find a way to shield Kari—and her unborn baby—long enough for justice to be served.

“Let’s go, but stay to my left, okay?”

They left the motel, keeping close to the building as they rounded the corner to the back.

Kari didn’t say much once she was safe inside his car, and he drove away from the motel, although he could tell she was watching the road behind them for any sign of the SUV that had shot at them. He hated knowing she was so afraid.

He headed for the interstate, but they were on the freeway for barely ten minutes when bright headlights gained on them from behind. Marc tensed when he realized the vehicle was an SUV.

The same one as before? How was that possible?

He hit the gas, determined to put distance between them.

“Gun!” Kari shouted. Sure enough, he could see the narrow barrel of a gun poking through the passenger-side window just like it had earlier.

“Hang on,” he said, pushing the speed limit as much as he dared.

“Not again! Please, not again!”

Kari’s desperate cry stabbed like a hot poker in his gut. He’d promised to keep her safe.

He couldn’t bear the thought of failure. Of losing another witness.

A pregnant witness.

LAURA SCOTT is a nurse by day and an author by night. She has always loved romance, reading faith-based books by Grace Livingston Hill in her teenage years. She’s thrilled to have published sixteen books for Love Inspired Suspense. She has two adult children and lives in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with her husband of thirty years. Please visit Laura at laurascottbooks.com, as she loves to hear from her readers.

Shielding His Christmas Witness

Laura Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

All the prophets testify about him, that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.

—Acts 10:43

This book is dedicated to my cousin Carol Goodfellow. Carol, thanks for always being supportive of me and my books. Love you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

A muffled thud startled Kari Danville, pulling her out of a sound sleep. She froze, heart racing as she blinked in the darkness, straining to listen.

Silence.

She placed a protective hand over her slightly rounded abdomen, trying to tell herself she and her baby were safe. The noise she’d heard was not someone trying to get inside the safe house. It was only her imagination going into overdrive.

Special Agent Marc Callahan promised no one other than the bank-robbery task force members knew she’d been moved here. And there was an officer stationed right outside. Kari forced herself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. No reason to think the serial bank robber she was now scheduled to testify against in a week’s time had sent his buddies after her.

The sound of shattering glass made a mockery of her attempt to remain calm. Kari reacted instinctively, leaping out of bed and grabbing her phone as she quickly shoved her feet into running shoes.

She had to get out of here. Now!

Thankfully, she’d been sleeping in a pair of thick stretch pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Yanking a sweatshirt over her head wasted a precious moment, but then she quickly made her way over to the window. The sash lifted easily enough, but removing the storm window was difficult. Willing her fingers not to shake, she finally managed to pry the window out of the frame.

She threw her leg over the sill. At eighteen weeks along, she was still fairly flexible, but she couldn’t help worrying the short drop would somehow harm her baby. Halfway out the window, she heard the bedroom door bang open.

No!

She tumbled to the ground at the same time she heard two muffled bangs. Something whizzed past her head.

He was shooting at her!

Her ankle twisted as she landed hard, but she ignored the throbbing pain as she sprinted through the cold winter night, crossing the snow-covered ground in order to reach the protective shadows of the evergreen trees behind the safe house.

Lord, keep me and my baby safe in Your care!

The prayer helped her to remain calm. Where should she go? She needed to call for help, either Detective Monique Barclay or FBI agent Marc Callahan, but didn’t dare stop long enough to use her phone. She had to assume the gunman had followed her footprints in the snow to the small wooded area. From there, the bare areas on the ground around the trees helped hide her trail.

What if the intruder wasn’t alone? Her chest squeezed with fear at the thought of others being somewhere outside, lying in wait for her.

She reached the shelter of a cluster of trees along the edge of the property, but kept going, stepping carefully to avoid leaving footprints. Her breath created puffs of condensation that she feared the gunman might be able to see, so she lifted the edge of her sweatshirt to cover her mouth.

The house where she’d been staying was located at a quiet and secluded dead-end street. Hugging the shadows, she made her way around to the front of the house. There was a policeman sitting in a squad car outside the house. If she could get to him, he’d be able to drive them to safety and call for backup.

Kari took cover behind a huge oak tree, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. From her position she could see the police car parked beside the curb. She frowned, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rising in alarm. The vehicle looked empty, no shadow indicating a person was seated behind the wheel. No sign of condensation on the windows, either. Where was Officer Wallace? Was he outside making rounds?

Or had something happened to him?

Kari swallowed hard and stepped softly through the brush, going from one tree to the next in a direction far from the so-called safe house. She needed to keep moving. To get as far away from the gunman as possible.

She stumbled and fell to her knees. The cold, wet snow made damp patches on her pants. A sob rose in the back of her throat, but she relentlessly pushed herself upright, wiping her snowy hands on her hips. She swept her gaze over the area, searching for someplace to hide.

The sound of a branch snapping in half echoed through the night, spurring her into action. There was a shed up ahead, but that hiding spot was too obvious. She needed something better.

But what?

She crossed several more backyards in a zigzag pattern, choosing those that were already trampled with kid-sized footprints. She lost track of how many blocks she’d passed when she saw it. A long rope ladder dangling from a thick tree branch. Tipping her head back, she noticed there was a small tree house made out of mismatched wood, nestled in the branches.

Without giving herself time to change her mind, she grabbed the rope and quickly ascended the swaying ladder to the platform of the tree house. Once she was safely inside, she pulled up the ladder behind her, hoping and praying that if the assailant went past, he wouldn’t notice.

The interior of the structure was dark, the gaps in the wood frame letting in the frigid air along with a tiny sliver of moonlight. For the first time since waking up to the sound of an intruder, she felt a modicum of safety. Kari pulled out the disposable phone she’d been given and quickly searched for the emergency contact information she’d been provided. Agent Callahan’s number came up and she quickly placed the call.

“Callahan,” he answered gruffly on the second ring.

She nearly wept in relief. “It’s me, Kari Danville,” she whispered. “I need your help. Someone found me and tried to kill me.”

“What?” Agent Callahan’s harsh voice made her wince. From the moment they’d met, there was something about his stern demeanor that put her on edge. Oh, he was handsome enough, tall with dark hair and strikingly green eyes. His broad shoulders gave her the impression he worked out a lot, too. But she’d found it difficult to warm up to a man who never smiled.

“Where’s the officer guarding your house?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The squad car is still out there, but I didn’t see anyone inside.”

“Where are you?” he asked. She could hear rustling sounds as he moved around.

“Hiding in a tree house,” she whispered.

There was a long pause. “A tree house?” he echoed in surprise. “Where?”

“I’m not sure. I went through several neighbors’ yards to get away.”

More background noises. “Stay where you are, understand? Don’t contact anyone else. Wait for me... I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Okay.” She didn’t want to disconnect from the call, wanting, needing human contact. But she forced herself to push the end button before sliding the phone back into the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt.

She shivered and once again placed a protective hand over her belly. “We’re going to be all right,” she promised her unborn baby. “God is watching over us. He’ll make sure Agent Callahan finds us and takes us someplace safe.”

Kari closed her eyes, struggling to hold on to the thin thread of hope.

Truthfully, her life had fallen apart shortly before the bank robbery. Discovering that her fiancé had suddenly vanished had been difficult enough, but then she found out Vince had also cleaned out their joint bank account, taking every last dime they’d been saving for their wedding. Angry and destitute, she’d taken her modest engagement ring to a jeweler, only to be told it was fake and completely worthless.

Finding out she was pregnant was an even bigger shock, but after the first wave of hopelessness had washed over her, she’d decided to treat this baby as a blessing. Yes, the baby’s father had abandoned her, but obviously she was better off without Vince Ackerman. She still had her job at the bank, and her boss had been kind enough to grant her a leave of absence in order to testify at trial. When this mess was over, she would be able to provide a loving home for her baby.

The same way her mother had raised her.

Kari huddled in the corner of the tree house, wondering if it was time to tell Agent Callahan she was expecting. Not that her condition mattered to him one way or the other; all he needed was for her to testify at trial. A trial that had been moved up to the first week of December after her name was leaked to the press.

If only she hadn’t gotten such a good look at the bank robber’s yellow-gold eyes and intricate chest tattoo. If only she wasn’t a graphic artist, noticing every detail of the tattoo to the point she’d been able to draw an exact replica of the complicated design. Of course it was Terrance Jamison’s fault that he shot and killed a bank patron, increasing the charges against him.

She hadn’t known until Agent Callahan showed up later that day that any bank robbery was a federal crime. Or that Jamison and his cohorts were believed to be responsible for almost a dozen heists that took place in a two week time frame. The robbers had hit hard and fast, sending them soaring to the top of the Milwaukee FBI’s most wanted list.

The FBI had only one of the bank robbers, Terrance Jamison, in custody, but the Feds and local police suspected there were at least two others involved, maybe more.

But Jamison wasn’t talking.

Knowing that his friends had found her location at the safe house made her both upset and angry. It wasn’t just her life at stake. She desperately needed Agent Callahan to do a better job of protecting her.

For her sake as well as her baby’s.

* * *

FBI agent Marc Callahan jammed his key into the ignition, hardly able to comprehend that the location of the safe house had been breached.

First Kari’s name had been leaked to the press, now this. Only a few people knew where he’d stashed her. His key witness should have been safe.

Punching the gas, he shot out of his underground parking garage and up onto the street, anxious to reach the safe house as soon as possible. Had Kari Danville imagined someone breaking in? Trying to kill her?

No. To be fair, she didn’t seem the type to give in to hysterics. When he’d watched the tape of the bank robbery, he’d been impressed by her cool head and logical thinking. The way her artist’s eye had picked up every intricate detail of Jamison’s chest tattoo had been an added bonus, making her a very credible witness. The fact that she’d gotten a glimpse of the tattoo at all had been a freak accident—one of the bank patrons had foolishly decided to rush at Jamison during the robbery. Jamison fought him off, but the customer had grabbed on to his hoodie, dragging it to the side enough to reveal the tattoo. Of course Jamison shot the bystander, killing him. Despite the customer’s efforts, Jamison had managed to get away with a significant amount of money.

Fortunately, they’d been able to apprehend Jamison shortly afterward, thanks to Kari’s drawing of the tattoo. A sharp patrol officer had pulled Jamison over on a routine traffic stop. At the time he was no longer wearing the hoodie, just a tank top, which enabled the officer to recognize a portion of the tattoo and to arrest Jamison. Unfortunately, the perp wasn’t talking, so they didn’t have any leads on his accomplices.

Time was running out, since Jamison’s attorney had convinced the judge to expedite the trial.

Which brought him back to the present situation. How had Kari been found? A mistake on her part? Or a leak from inside?

And how was it that the press had gotten her name? A fluke...or was it something more sinister? Too many questions, not nearly enough answers.

He clenched his jaw so hard it ached. No way was he going to lose another witness.

Not this time. Not on his watch.

Marc pulled up in front of the safe house and parked behind the squad car. The area looked deserted, but he approached carefully, his gun drawn as he peered inside the vehicle. The officer was slumped against the center console, halfway lying on the passenger-side seat, clearly dead.

He scowled, his gut clenching at the needless loss of life and swept another gaze over the area. Kari Danville hadn’t been exaggerating after all. She’d been smart enough to get away. Hiding in a tree house no less.

Spinning around, he headed back to his car. There was no point in going through the house; his main priority right now was to find his witness.

After executing a tight U-turn, Marc reached for his phone and called Kari.

“Hello?” Her voice was a thready whisper of sound.

“I’m on my way, but I need your help. Can you see any landmarks? Something to clue me in as to where to find you?”

“Give me a minute.” The phone went silent for an incredibly long moment. He drove down the street located east of the safe house, searching for any sign of a tree house. “The tree house is in the backyard but I can see there are two houses on either side of me. One is a Cape Cod with white siding and black trim. The other is a ranch home in dark brown. I think the ranch has Christmas lights out front—I can see a red and green glow.”

“That’s good,” he said encouragingly. “What about the house where the tree house is located? What can you tell me about that?”

“The angle makes it hard to see. Almost as if the tree house was built in a way to hide the occupants from being seen from the house. It’s small, but I can’t quite make out the color. Maybe white, or something light. The roof is dark. That’s all I can tell you.”

Great. If the tree house was located in the backyard, then he wouldn’t be able to see it from the street.

Not necessarily a bad thing, since no one else could see it from the road, either.

“Agent Callahan?” Her soft voice dragged him from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Should I climb down to meet you someplace?”

“No, stay where you are. Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” The last thing he wanted was for her to leave the sanctuary of the tree house. He was surprised she’d even suggested it, especially since the temperature outside was below freezing. Hopefully, the structure would provide her some shelter from the wind. He couldn’t help admiring Kari’s strength and determination. “I’ll call again when I find the two houses you mentioned.”

“Okay, thanks.”

The phone went dead and he had the insane urge to call her back, to keep her on the line. Which was ridiculous since he needed to concentrate on finding the Cape Cod and ranch home she’d identified. Blazing Christmas lights were an added bonus.

Driving up one street and down the next had stretched his patience to the limit, when he abruptly found them. She’d been right about the Christmas decorations; the brown ranch had red and green spotlights outside shining on the birch trees in the front yard. On the other side was the white Cape Cod she’d mentioned. And nestled between them, a small house with either gray or light blue siding.

Marc pulled over to the side of the road and threw the gearshift into Park. Kari had run farther than she’d realized, since this place was a good ten blocks from the safe house. He glanced around, making sure no one else was lurking nearby.

The area seemed quiet, peaceful and deserted, not entirely surprising considering it was nearly three o’clock in the morning.

He grabbed his phone then slipped from the car, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him. He walked up the driveway of the white Cape Cod, before making his way across the snow to the backyard of the grayish-blue house.

There was a huge tree located dead center of the grassy area. It wasn’t until he was directly underneath it that he could make out the roughly constructed tree house.

How on earth had Kari noticed it?

He called her phone, smiling grimly when he could hear a low buzz from up above. Smart girl, she had her phone on vibrate.

“Agent Callahan?”

“I found your tree house,” he said in a hushed tone. “How did you get up there, anyway?”

“There’s a rope ladder. Stay back. I’ll climb down.”

He disconnected from the call, slipping his phone in his back pocket. When the rope ladder appeared through a square opening in the base of the tree house, he waited until it hit the ground before grabbing it with both hands and holding it steady. He felt the tension on the rope when she began climbing.

When she was close enough, he stepped back, giving her room to maneuver. She stepped off the ladder, then stumbled sideways as her legs gave out.

Marc instinctively reached out to catch her in his arms. “Easy, you’re safe now.”

Her entire body shook; her fingers curled into his black leather jacket as if holding on for dear life. “I know. But I twisted my ankle climbing out the window,” she confessed.

He tightened his grip on her slender frame, biting back a flash of frustration intermixed with anger. This poor woman shouldn’t have had to climb out a window and then run for her life in the snow and cold. Of course, a good cop shouldn’t have been shot, either.

None of this boded well for the upcoming trial.

She let out a squeak of surprise when he swept her into his arms. “What are you doing?” she asked, her arms clamping tightly around his neck.

Ignoring the obvious, he swiftly retraced his previous route between the two houses, carrying her to the street. When he reached his car, he gently set her down, waiting until she was steady before releasing her.

“I could have walked,” she protested, leaning against the vehicle in a way that took weight off her left leg.

He shrugged and opened the passenger-side door. “Walking on a bad sprain delays healing,” he muttered, wondering who he was trying to convince. Once she was safely inside the car, he shut the door and then jogged around to the driver’s side.

For some odd reason her cranberry-vanilla scent seemed to cling to his clothing. He gave himself a mental head-smack to snap himself back to reality.

He hadn’t been this acutely aware of a woman in a long time. A full two years had passed since his wife’s death in a terrible car crash. He’d locked his emotions away in a deep freeze; no reason for the ice in his heart to melt now.

Kari Danville might be pretty with her chocolate-brown hair and deep brown eyes, but she was also his witness. Once the trial was over and she was relocated with a new identity, he’d never see her again.

A fact that suited him just fine.

“Where are we going?” Kari asked, breaking the strained silence between them.

He cleared his throat. “Somewhere safe.”

She scowled and crossed her arms defensively across her chest. “Yeah, that was what you said two days ago.”

Knowing she was right didn’t make things easier. “I know.”

“I don’t understand. How did they find me?” she demanded. “I thought no one knew where I was staying?”

The same question had been badgering him since the moment he’d answered her call. And he hated to admit the implication of the night’s events was staggering. “If you haven’t called anyone—”

“I haven’t!”

“—then there must be a leak somewhere.”

Her mouth opened, shut and then opened again. “What department? The police? The FBI?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, trying to hide the weariness in his voice. “The bank-robbery task force has both Milwaukee Police detectives and FBI agents involved. Either way, I intend to get to the bottom of this.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” she murmured. “No logical reason that anyone working within law enforcement would attempt to protect a bank robber.”

He was inclined to agree. “You’re right, but I don’t have any other explanation. Do you?”

“No.” She turned away, staring out the window in a way that made him frown. Had he imagined the flash of guilt in her eyes? Was she hiding something?

Trust didn’t come easily, especially when it came to women. His wife’s secret had killed her, leaving him reeling from the extent of her lies.

“Kari, tell me the truth. Did you call anyone other than me?” he asked.