No Time to Hide (8 page)

He’d tried to ask her on a date in the mall. Then he’d pointed out the man following her. He said he was taking her to a safe house. But that place had proven to be anything but safe. She had the scratches and contusions to prove it. But who were they really running from? Could he right now be calling Dom’s men to come and get her?

Kerry moved over to sit on the sagging couch. She stared into space while she tried to puzzle this out, fingering her necklace with the locket that her father had given her when she was sixteen. She had to admit the truth. She had no hard, irrefutable proof Cutter was helping her. She did have plenty of doubts. Each scene they’d just been through played through her mind again.

Her mouth suddenly became dry. She felt a tingling down her arms and she wiped sweaty palms on her leggings. She was alone in the middle of nowhere with a man she knew nothing about. This could be the moment of her death. This could be the last place she’d ever see.

She longed for her little apartment, with its bright walls and multi-colored pillows she’d ordered via the online catalogue.

Stupid, stupid. That was just a place. This is your life.

Her headache was now a full-blown panic event.

She didn’t know where they were. She had no means of communicating with the outside world, no way to get help.

It seemed all her running was about to come to an end.

It seemed she had no more time to hide.

Saturday, 9:45 P.M.

Cutter leaned the sledge hammer against the side of the shed that housed the generator. This was really starting to get ridiculous. Here he was exhausted, physically and mentally, and instead of storing up his energy so he could do his job, he was wasting time checking on something that didn’t need it.

He leaned against the edge of the old generator and gave into the feeling of incompetency he always felt when he remembered how his wife had died. He told himself remembering didn’t do any good. Remembering wouldn’t change the fact when he, once the shining star of the U.S. Marshals Service, had desperately needed to be the hero everyone claimed him to be, when they, the team voted most likely to move up to the highest echelons of service, needed to work like the well-oiled machine they were, everything had gone wrong in a way that could never be righted. And it had all started out on a late-summer day not much different than this one had been.

***

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay on this op?” Cutter ran his hand over Helen’s head.

“You’re such a daddy.” She laughed and kissed him lightly. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Better than fine in fact…absolutely perfect.”

Cutter frowned, then laid his hand on her still-flat stomach. He couldn’t believe they had made another person. Even after seeing the tiny sonogram image the obstetrician had given them, which was more black-gray shadow than a picture, he couldn’t believe they were pregnant. He felt the thrill, the fear, and the hope race through him again.

“I don’t know. Why don’t we see if Denver can find a substitute for you today? We can tell him the morning sickness has started to kick in. Then we can go to Washington together. Hole up for the night in some swanky hotel, order in room service, and make love all night long.” He pulled her to him and kissed her hard, pouring all his emotions into the meeting of their lips.

Helen shook her head. “As tempting as the offer is, lover, we talked about this. I don’t want to cut back until I have to. You know how hard it’s been for me. There are still some in our office who don’t think I should be doing the job.”

“I know,” Cutter began, knowing he had already lost this fight.

“We’ve worked long and hard on this case. I’ve put hours and hours of research into it. I can’t give it up all now, when we’re ready to take that bastard down.”

“But…”

She kissed his worries aside. “I know your concern is out of love, but please, it isn’t necessary. I’m going to be wearing all the protective gear. And remember, this guy is a white-collar guy. It isn’t like we’re going to bring in Rambo. Besides do you want little Cutterette here to think her momma is a wimp?”

“That’s Junior you’re talking about there,” he said. “And he’d better know his mamma is one tough woman.”

Helen laughed. “He’ll know. But you’re dreaming if you think this baby is a boy. I’m certain it’s a girl.”

“We’ll just see about that,” Cutter said. He smiled as he thought about a tiny reproduction of Helen. He felt the thrill and fear. Again.

“I know you’re right about the op, but I’d just feel safer if I was going to be there with you.”

“I would, too. But it must be something important for them to call you to DC. Hey, maybe they’re going to give you that promotion you should have had last year.”

“Now I know that’s the wacky hormones talking. They’ll never promote me. We both know that.”

Helen chewed on her bottom lip. “You know, I meant what I said last month. We can leave the service any time you want. We’ll be fine.”

“I know, baby. But you love the job. I do too. I just don’t handle the politics too well.”

She smiled. “Nobody handles the politics. Most people just let it roll off their backs, though. You take it personally.”

“Hey, I’m just a personable kind of guy. You know, in touch with my feminine side and all that.”

Helen smiled. “Buster, the only feminine anything you’d better be comfortable touching is me.”

They both laughed.

“Seriously, though, let’s just see how things go, okay?” she asked. “Let’s see what the top dogs want first. Then, after the little one is born, we’ll talk again. We don’t have to make any decisions now. Who knows, maybe we’ll both want to leave. Right now, all I can worry about is taking care of the business at hand, okay?”

Helen hugged him tightly. “We have good people backing us up. Even though we complain sometimes, we know what we do does make a difference. Don’t we?”

Cutter hugged Helen back. “You’re right. Make sure you stay close to Denver and keep your head down. Johnson is new to the team. You’re not used to working with him.”

“I will. And who knows, maybe when you get back, we can have a double celebration, huh?”

***

Cutter remembered he had smiled at Helen as he walked out of their apartment that morning. Then he’d headed for the Buffalo Niagara Regional Airport and his flight to DC. When he’d landed at DCA, both the director and deputy director were waiting for him with the news that Helen had been killed in action. The memories of that conversation rolled through his mind like the scenes of a particularly nightmarish movie. One in which he had remembered every line.

Cutter didn’t remember much else. He knew, only because Denver had told him, he’d been taken to a government helicopter and flown back to Buffalo. He didn’t remember anything else.

Cutter knew the next time he had seen Helen, what was left of both her and their child, had been in a casket. She had been buried with full honors, and he had been given a medal honoring her service. Oh, and he had been offered a promotion. He had turned down the promotion and instead offered his resignation. Denver had recommended he take some time to grieve and think everything over. Well, he had taken time all right. And six weeks later, the Boston Marathon bombing happened. Personal problems and wants were put on hold. The service needed every able-bodied man and woman on active duty.

So back he went, digging through the muck and mire of the human condition the marshals dealt with daily.

He had caught the creep Helen had been after, who had gotten away when the bullets had started flying. It had taken eleven long months, and he had been certain the revenge would taste sweet. But the revenge he’d so sought had been bitter and cold. And when he had actually considered killing the man rather than turning him over to the judicial system, Cutter realized he’d almost crossed a precipice that would have changed him forever. He knew he could never forgive himself for almost taking a life out of revenge.

When he realized nothing separated him from the men and women he was trying to bring to justice, that he was no different than men like Dominic Giancarlo and Kerry’s father, Cutter turned in his resignation from the service.

Cutter rubbed his face. But he was beginning to feel like Kerry was different. That was just one more reason why he needed to get her into someone else’s hands. Get her in a new secure position. Get her anywhere but in Helen’s house. Get her out of his life.

He headed back to the house. It was too late to go to Smokin’ Bob’s tonight. He didn’t want to risk an already shaky suspension system on their vehicle going over the track in the dark either.

Maybe, if there was a God in heaven who looked after idiots, Kerry would be asleep by now. Cutter didn’t bother to offer that thought as a prayer. In his experience, God wouldn’t listen anyway.

***

Saturday, 10:15 P.M.

Kerry sat silently on the soft sofa cushions. While showering, she had tried to go over her options. None of them were good. She lined up the facts in her mind.

Dom was a murderer, but one who hadn’t been jailed for that crime, despite her testimony. Instead, he’d been found guilty of tax fraud, which had meant nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Dom would see that as a badge of honor. Now, Dom was about to be paroled, unbelievably, for good behavior in three days.

Once he was out of jail, Kerry knew he’d stop at nothing to get revenge on her for testifying against him. Her only protection had been staying hidden. She’d believed the government, who’d promised she’d be safe after her testimony, would give her that. Considering the fact two of her last new identities hadn’t held up, Dom was obviously better able to deliver on his promise than the government. That meant Dom or his father was paying someone inside the witness security program to provide them with her information.

It could be Cutter or someone in his office. It could be nothing more than a secretary. In either case, Kerry quickly reached the same conclusion. What could she do about it?

She wasn’t brave enough to run and try to hide on her own. Her father had tried that. Dom’s men had found him before he even got out of New Jersey. And her father had had skills and contacts she could only imagine. How long would she, with no skills, with no true ability to outthink such evil, be able to last on her own?

A million times over the last year, Kerry had fantasized about standing up to Dom. She had dreamed she was strong enough to face her own death without fear. Each time, reality had intruded and she had scurried away like a mouse in a house full of cats.

Deep inside, she believed she was a coward. That’s what had led her to the government in the first place. She had been too afraid to do anything else.

So, even if Cutter was leading Dom straight to her, Kerry knew she wouldn’t be striking out on her own. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t plan for a worst case scenario.

After her shower and while Cutter was still out, she scoured the cabin for a weapon. She needed something small enough she could hide it, preferably in her shoe or her bra, yet deadly enough to disable someone so she could run. She looked around, but all she found was a small paring knife. She hid it inside her purse, but doubted it would be of any use. She was certain she wouldn’t be brave enough to actually use it.

Kerry picked up her sketch pad and flipped through the pages.

She loved this story. It was about a woman, a super woman actually, who was never afraid of anything. She was almost finished with the storyline for this manuscript. Not that she would ever be brave enough to send it in to an editor. She had tried that once before, when she had been engaged to Dom, before her father’s death.

She had been unable to stick around long enough to find out if the editor she’d queried had been interested. And she had never been brave enough to send in another story.

She sighed and stretched out on her bed, feeling fatigue rack her body. She wished she had someone to trust. She wished she knew if she could trust herself.

Cutter’s face and eyes as he had led her away from the mall that morning appeared clearly in her mind. The eyes had been what had pulled her in first, she realized. They were green with flecks of brown in them. They were…kind. They were the type of eyes that made her feel safe and protected. Kerry wished she could be courageous enough to trust what she saw in Cutter’s eyes.

No. She’d once believed Dom had gentle-looking eyes. She knew a man could train his eyes to lie about any number of things. And some lies were more deadly than others.

She shivered in the cooling night air of the cabin as she battled the memories. Winning the battle over them was a major victory. She was almost relaxed enough to sleep when Cutter returned.

She sat still as a mouse on the sofa, listening to him move around the dark cabin. She heard his slight grunt as he pulled out a sleeping bag. The sound of the zipper being opened sounded like a shocking rip in the tiny cabin, and she flinched. There was a rustle. Oh God, was he removing his clothes? She held her breath in trepidation, then expelled it slowly, trying not to make a sound, when all became quiet.

“Are you awake?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. I…you said you wanted to take a look at my shoulder. I looked after my shower. It really isn’t much more than a scratch.” She felt like a blathering idiot. Could he tell she was nervous? Would he know what she’d been thinking?

“No. I do want to look at it. The last thing we need is an infection setting in. All it takes is for one piece of something to be imbedded under the skin,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go into the bathroom.”

He flipped a switch and a small lamp sitting on a table beside the couch threw a wide swath of light into the room.

She saw he hadn’t removed his clothes. He was still fully dressed, but his shoes were off. She felt even more ridiculous, but he smiled at her and motioned for her to return to the bathroom. He stopped and picked up one of the bags he’d earlier put on the counter and followed her inside.

“I guess the easiest thing is for you to sit on the toilet seat,” he said.

She did as he suggested, then turned, facing the tub so her back was to him.

“I need you to take off your shirt so I can see the shoulder.”

She heard hesitation in his voice. She firmed her resolve and pulled her shirt over her head. She wasn’t ashamed. She wasn’t even really nervous…much. She just tried to sit there quietly and tell herself he was treating her like a doctor or a paramedic would. The cooling, steamed air of the bathroom touched her skin like a caress and she shivered slightly in response. She knew some signs would be obvious. She hoped he wouldn’t comment on them.