Christmas In Hiding. Cate Nolan
began to lull Jackson. Fatigue burned his eyes and the lane lines started to blur. He needed sleep. Coffee would have to do. The last sign had indicated a rest stop in twenty miles. He had to be pretty close to that now.
Traffic had been light and there was no indication anyone was trailing behind them. He’d varied speed enough and watched the cars carefully as they passed, so he was 100 percent confident no one had followed him. Still, when he saw the exit, Jackson skipped using the turn signal and waited until the very last second to make an abrupt turn into the rest-stop parking lot. There was no sense in advertising his plans. He pulled in close to the rest station and turned to check on Callie. The slow rise and fall of her chest and her gentle, even breathing told him she was deeply asleep, as she had been ever since they’d left the airport. He probably should wake her and see if she needed to go inside.
“Ms. Martin?”
She muttered something in her sleep and huddled deeper into the seat.
He didn’t like leaving her alone, but he’d do neither of them any good if he fell asleep at the wheel. Hopefully, he’d be back and on the road without her ever noticing he’d been gone.
After a quick stop in the restroom, Jackson stocked up on coffee and candy bars. He was just exiting the building, ripping open a candy bag with his teeth, when a bloodcurdling scream echoed across the parking lot.
Callie! Jackson dropped the coffee. Candy pieces scattered in his wake as he ran for the car.
* * *
“Ms. Martin, Callie, Callie, wake up.”
The words came from a great distance. Callie felt the hand on her arm and screamed again. “Let go of me!”
“Callie.” The voice was gentler now, closer. “Callie, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”
She could barely hear his words over the thrum of her racing heart, but the soothing tone helped ease her terror. It was a dream. He said she was only dreaming. Oh, praise the Lord—it was all a dream.
As her fear ebbed, Callie’s memories rushed in. Screams rose in her throat again, but she cut them off with a sob.
“That must have been some dream.”
She buried her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes as if she could erase what she saw. It wasn’t a dream, not really. It was her living nightmare. She’d been reliving the night Rick was killed.
“Are you okay?”
She lifted her head and looked around, noticing for the first time that they were in a parking lot. The back door of the car was open, and Jackson was crouched beside her.
She nodded in answer to his question and raised one of her own. “Where are we?”
“Somewhere in the middle of Ohio.”
Which meant they’d driven through New Jersey and Pennsylvania while she’d been sleeping. “Is that where we were going?”
He shrugged. “I was just driving until the sun came up.”
It dawned on her that he’d been driving all night while she slept. “Do you want me to drive for a while so you can sleep?”
There was only the barest hesitation, but she caught it.
“No, thanks. I thought we could find a hotel, pull in and catch a nap for a while.”
The last thing she wanted to do was sleep again.
He returned to the driver’s seat, and she took the passenger side. They sat for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, until Jackson broke the silence.
“Do you want to talk about it, the dream?”
“Not really.”
“It might help to talk. Get it out of your system.” He winced. “Sorry, not a good choice of words.”
“I understand.” And she did. She just wasn’t anxious to relive the experience a second time tonight. “Maybe some other time.”
“Do you have these dreams often?”
“No.” She paused. “I haven’t had one in weeks. Not since I settled in New York. I felt safe there, I guess.” She could hear the defeat in her own voice. Safety was an illusion. “We should probably get going again, right?”
He didn’t answer. She could tell he wasn’t going to let it drop, but she couldn’t deal with any more of it tonight. She had to change the subject.
“I fell asleep before I could ask you about Ben.”
“That’s okay—you were exhausted.” And angry.
“How is he?”
“Fortunate to be alive. The knife missed anything vital. He’s just weak from blood loss.”
“Thank you, Lord.” Callie fiddled with the latch on her seat belt. “Did he explain what happened?” And would Jackson tell her if he had? Callie hadn’t forgotten the snippet of conversation she’d overheard. Did he really think she was involved in yesterday’s attack?
“Just that as he walked out of the building with the assistant US attorney and the DEA agent, one person knifed him while another tried to snatch Christine. Quint managed to hold on to her.”
“But someone identified the car?”
“Apparently there was a security camera on the building. They got a still from that. It matched the car they found outside the hotel, but no one was inside.”
Callie collapsed back into the seat. “If they attempted to grab the attorney, why does everyone think they’re after me?”
The silence stretched so long Callie began to fear Jackson wouldn’t answer. She watched his fingers on the wheel, reading the tension in his grip. Finally he eased up. “Ben thinks they mistook her for you, you both being tall and blonde.”
Callie wanted to be offended that the woman who’d been so harsh could be mistaken for her, but she could see Ben’s point. They had similarities, especially in heavy winter clothing. With a sinking heart, she mouthed the words she feared. “Do they want me dead or alive?”
She watched Jackson take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He glanced over at her before answering. “I can’t honestly say.” He took his hand from the wheel and reached over to cover hers. “But I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep them from getting to you.”
She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. “Thank you.”
The silence was broken only by the hum of the tires on the highway. Callie chewed on her lip. “So we assume they’re still after me.”
“Apparently so.”
She sagged against the seat, trying to absorb the implications. “Then what do we do now?”
He jerked his head toward the road. “For the time being, we keep driving.”
“Doesn’t really sound like much of a solution,” she muttered.
“Ms. Martin—”
“Call me Callie, please. With all the time we’re spending together, Ms. Martin seems too weird. That’s what my students call me.”
He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to be mistaken for a five-year-old.”
Callie didn’t even crack a smile. “Why would they go to all this trouble if not to kill me?”
Jackson shrugged again. “They could have been trying to send you a message. Let you know they could find you.”
Callie shuddered. “They sure made their point.”
Jackson turned the car on and pulled back onto the highway. “Ms. Martin, Callie, it really would help me to protect you if you could tell me about your dream, tell me what happened.”