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