Christmas In Hiding. Cate Nolan
Ben’s voice melded with Jackson’s.
The two men shrugged as they simultaneously asked the same important question. It would have been funny if the situation weren’t so grave.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Jackson urged.
Ben frowned, trying to push past the pain. “I remember coming out of the elevator, crossing the lobby. I told Christine to let me go first, but she pushed past and went into the revolving door.” Ben made a wry grimace. “She was annoyed because Callie had no answers. Said she was in a hurry. I went through the side door. That guy from DEA, Quint, followed me.”
Ben shifted, focused on breathing for a minute, then continued. “Someone was waiting. I took a knife. Quint must have seen them making a grab for Christine because he shoved me aside and lunged at her. Probably saved my life, too, because the minute he got his hands on her, the car took off, and the guy who’d stabbed me disappeared into the crowd. I never even saw him.”
That was not what Jackson wanted to hear. “Did you get a look at the car?”
“Quick. As I was falling. Dark blue, tinted windows.” He closed his eyes for a minute, apparently drawing on his training to try to dredge up a memory. “There was a dent in the right rear bumper. Some sort of decal right above it. White and blue. I couldn’t read what it said. Maybe Quint saw something else.”
Jackson would check, but from the report he’d gotten earlier, Mr. DEA hadn’t seen anything. He’d been totally focused on keeping hold of Christine Davis, the assistant US attorney.
“Any idea how they found her here?” Ben asked.
“Callie?” Jackson shook his head. “So you think it was her they were after?”
“Has to be. If they knew she was there, they would have expected her to be coming out with me. With Christine in that winter coat, hat covering her head, all you’d see was the blond curls. Easy to mistake.”
“Still doesn’t explain how they found her,” Jackson muttered. “Unless someone tracked Christine or Quint.”
“Possible, but we went to a lot of trouble to avoid it. That was the whole reason for bringing them here rather than taking Callie to them. Seemed safer. You came up with them, didn’t you?”
Jackson nodded. “We took separate flights from San Antonio and Austin into Atlanta but got stuck on the same connecting flight because of weather delays. Never acknowledged each other in the terminal or in the air and we made sure to take cabs to different hotels. No one would have had any reason to suspect we were together unless they knew.”
Their gazes met and held, neither wanting to be the one to say the words, admit that one of their own must have leaked information.
Ben finally broke the silence. “Get her out of town.” He swallowed hard, as much from the pain of betrayal as from physical injury. “Don’t tell anyone. Just go.”
“There’s one other possibility,” Jackson offered.
Ben shook his head slowly. “Nope. Makes no sense.”
Jackson didn’t respond.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Jackson demanded.
Ben rolled his eyes. “Because I know you. She’s not in cahoots with them.”
“You still want to say that? You’re lying in this hospital bed because someone stuck a knife in you.”
“They were trying to get to her.”
“So you say. How do we know they weren’t trying to help her escape?”
Ben gave him a look of disgust.
“Why wasn’t she with you anyway? Why did you have Christine instead of Callie?”
Ben closed his eyes briefly. “Christine had come down really hard on her. Basically accused her of withholding evidence. Made all sorts of threats. She had Quint there giving his best DEA glare, trying to intimidate her.”
“Did it work?”
“Depends on your point of view. Poor kid was shaking in her boots. But she didn’t have any information to give.”
Jackson leaned back in the chair and studied Ben’s expression. Had his mentor gone soft?
Ben shrugged self-consciously. “I wanted to give her some time to settle down. It’s been real hard on her. So I left her in the office and took Christine and Quint down. I figured I’d ask them to lay off terrorizing the witness—at least until the holidays were past, you know?”
Jackson nodded. He knew. That was just the kind of thing Ben did. Going above and beyond to be sure his witness was not only safe physically but emotionally, too.
Jackson was careful with his words. “That doesn’t mean she wasn’t involved.”
“Gut instinct says she’s innocent.”
Jackson snorted. “Is that your healthy gut speaking or the one that was knifed?”
Ben laughed weakly. “Good one.” He closed his eyes.
“You’re tired and I’ve got to get back to my witness.” Jackson stood and rested his hand lightly on Ben’s shoulder. “Take care. Don’t worry—I’ll keep her safe until you come back.”
When Jackson turned to leave, Ben grabbed his sleeve. “Seriously, man.” He paused, dragged in a breath. “Don’t go into this thinking she’s guilty. If you do, you might make a mistake that costs her life.”
Jackson looked down at his friend. He couldn’t say the words, but he nodded his promise.
As he made his way back to the hotel, Jackson replayed the scene in his head. Ben was right, of course. He had to keep an open mind. Honestly, it didn’t matter at all to WITSEC if she was innocent or guilty. She was a protected witness who could provide testimony to convict the real bad guys. For that reason alone, she had to be kept safe.
It was a job he took very seriously.
By the time he reached the hotel, Jackson was envisioning dinner. He could have stopped to pick up something for them, but he decided to indulge his witness and let her choose. Maybe that would put them on a better footing.
The lobby was mobbed with Christmas revelers, so Jackson ducked around back to the lesser-used elevator bank. He squeezed in with a couple of bellhops and a room-service cart. The news was playing on the elevator television screen, and Jackson immediately recognized the scene from this afternoon.
He could just barely make out the news anchor’s voice over the chatter. “In other news, the Christmas season took a dangerous turn this afternoon when armed robbers tried to mug a woman exiting an office building in midtown. The woman escaped unharmed but her companion is hospitalized with a knife wound. Police are asking anyone with information about a late-model, dark blue SUV to contact the number showing on the screen.”
So that was the story they were giving out. Innocent mugging. Jackson shrugged. It wasn’t like they could reveal the truth that the assistant United States attorney responsible for prosecuting the biggest drug cartel of the past decade had almost been abducted on a Manhattan street. Not good PR for New York or the Texas justice system.
Jackson was turning his focus back to dinner plans when another conversation caught his attention.
“Dude, look.” One waiter nudged the other and pointed at the screen.
Jackson glanced up in time to see a quick flash of Christine Davis’s face on the screen. Uh-oh—someone would not be happy that picture had been released.
“The