Christmas Witness Pursuit. Lisa Harris
they want to me alive?” she asked. “I’m a witness to a murder. Aren’t I better off dead to them?”
“That’s an obvious assumption, but there are things that don’t add up.”
“Like?”
Griffin searched for the words to clarify what he was thinking. “What if you have information they want? Something that would make you worth more to them alive than dead?”
“Like what? Because at this point even if that were true, I can’t remember the murder, let alone any information I might have.”
“True, but they don’t know that. Just think about it. There were two men after you, but three helmets on the bikes. And on top of that, they never shot at you. They killed the agents and they were shooting at me.”
“I’m not convinced you’re right, but until I get my memory back, I have no way of knowing.”
“I’m sorry.” His parents’ house appeared in the distance as the snow began to fall heavier. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“What I do know is that they found me once and I’m sure they can find me again. I’m the only witness in a case that could put Jinx behind bars for the rest of his life. That’s pretty strong motivation on his part to get rid of me.”
He didn’t miss the fear in her voice as she spoke, making him regret he’d ever brought it up. “Forget all of that for now. All we really need to do is to focus on keeping you safe.”
“And when the storm passes?” she asked.
“We’ll get you to Denver. But it won’t be easy for them to trace you here.”
“Are you sure? What’s to stop them from finding me here just like they found my escort?”
“The sheriff’s office is going to be on alert, and I’ll also make sure our ranch hands are on the lookout for anything suspicious.”
Beyond that, all he could do was pray it would be enough to keep her safe.
Griffin’s phone rang, interrupting their conversation. He checked the caller ID and opted to answer on his cell instead of through the car’s speaker system.
Thirty seconds later he ended the call. “That was the FBI.”
“Why do I have the feeling this isn’t going to be good news?”
“Because it isn’t.” His frown deepened. He wished he could find a way to lessen the blow. “Jinx was in the process of being transferred to a new facility, so he’d be near the courthouse for the trial.”
“Griffin...what happened?”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Jinx escaped.”
It didn’t matter that she couldn’t remember Jinx Ryder’s face, or even all the details of what she’d witnessed. Tory knew enough about the situation to realize her life was in danger. Now that Jinx had managed to escape from custody, there was a good chance he’d come after her himself. And that terrified her.
“Would you like more bread?”
Tory jumped at the question clearly posed at her and looked up at the basket of garlic bread Griffin’s mom, Marci, was holding. She wondered how long the older woman had been waiting for her to answer.
Tory grabbed a piece then passed the basket to Griffin. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Marci’s smile seemed genuine, just like everything else about his family. “This entire situation has to be unsettling for you.”
“I just can’t stop jumping at every shadow.” She glanced across the room as if to prove her point, but the reaction was automatic. “I’m convinced he’s going to come after me himself.”
“Not any time soon.” Griffin’s dad, Jacob, looked up from his bowl of stew. “I’ve lived in these mountains my whole life, and I’ll be the first one to tell you that he’d be a fool to try to find you in this kind of weather. I know every inch of this ranch, and trust me, even I’m still planning on staying right here in this house until the weather clears.”
Tory could hear the wind howling against the side of the house, giving her a tangible reminder of the storm now brewing outside. But Jacob’s words failed to take the edge off her fear. Jinx had managed to call a hit on her FBI transport before escaping from custody. She had no doubt that if he wanted to, he could find a way to make it through the storm and come after her here, as well.
“And when the storm’s over?” she asked. “He’s not going to stop until I’m silenced.”
“I say we worry about that when the time comes,” Marci said.
“You’re right.” Tory drew in a deep breath while trying at the same time to shake the fear that had taken hold. “I’m safe for now, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your generosity. All three of you.”
“We’re happy to help,” Griffin said.
She forced herself to finish eating the rest of her stew—a family recipe that called for elk meat hunted on their land, she’d been told, passed down from Griffin’s great-grandmother. While she sure would have enjoyed the meal if circumstances had been different, at the moment it was tasteless.
Marci stood from the table as soon as everyone had finished and caught her son’s gaze. “Why don’t the two of you go relax in the other room while your father and I clean up? You both look exhausted. I have some cobbler with berries from our summer garden and vanilla ice cream, if you’re interested.”
Tory scooted her chair back from the table. “Let me at least help clean up first.”
Marci waved away her request. “You go relax. I insist. Besides, I have the world’s number-one dishwasher right here beside me.”
Jacob’s brow crinkled when he laughed. “How did I know that was coming?”
Tory looked to Griffin.
“It’s not worth arguing with them,” he said. “They always win.”
“While you’re at it,” his mother continued, “try not to think too hard about what you can’t remember. Doctor’s orders.”
Tory smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Go on into the living room,” Griffin said. “I’ll bring you some of the dessert.”
She nodded, feeling spoiled but too tired to argue, and went to stand in front of the Christmas tree. She breathed in the scent of fresh pine from the lighted green tree that no doubt had come from the ranch. White lights flickered against multicolored glass ornaments. She’d hoped that sitting around the table with his family would jog her mind and bring up memories of Christmas dinners, birthday parties and anniversaries from her own past. She had to have experienced those things at some point growing up.
But whatever those memories were, they were still lost for the moment.
Two minutes later Griffin handed her a bowl of cobbler with ice cream and stood beside her at the tree. “You seem deep in thought. What are you thinking about?”
“The one thing I can’t forget.” She couldn’t help but shake her head at the irony as she took a spoon from him. For someone who’d lost most of her memories, there was one she couldn’t shake. “He’s out there, Griffin. And his escape ups the stakes. He’s going to come after me himself.”
“Maybe, but if I were him, I’d forget about any witnesses and simply flee the country.”
“Don’t you think that’s easier said than done?”
“Probably.