Star Witness

by Lisa Phillips

  She fired off rounds, one after the other, while they grappled for the weapon. Aaron had to keep it away from being aimed at Mackenzie and not get shot himself, but he managed it. Finally he had control of the gun, his elbow pinning Eva to the floor.

  Chairs and tables slid across the room to the lowest point. Metal shrieked as it contorted, and drywall cracked and broke apart around them. Aaron glanced at Mackenzie and a sharp right hook slammed into his temple. Sparks filled his vision and he was pushed aside as Eva scrambled to the door and ran.

  Aaron shook off the daze. They had to get out of there now.

  He worked his way to Mackenzie and grabbed her hand. “Come on!”

  * * *

  Mackenzie ran with every bit of strength she could muster through the center’s maze of halls. She glanced back. Eva was running in the other direction. The floor rumbled, and Eva fell through, screaming.

  Mackenzie turned back just as Aaron jumped a hole where the floor had fallen away, hauling her with him. Twice they had to backtrack for a way out that was clear of debris. Aaron pulled her along, his speed giving her an extra boost so she took oversize steps.

  Air rushed down the hall and whipped at her hair. Aaron’s step faltered, and he turned. The look on his face went from intense concentration to wide-eyed. The floor began to shake, and yet another boom of thunder rent the air.

  Another bomb?

  “Secondary explosion.”

  Mackenzie didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until he answered her.

  The floor splintered beneath her feet, and then she was falling. Aaron’s grip tightened until it almost crushed the bones in her hand. They dropped through the floor into the basement.

  Mackenzie slammed into the concrete and her ankle buckled beneath her weight. She cried out, but the sound was muffled with the roar of the explosion. Aaron hauled her up, and they kept moving forward. His hand was outstretched as he felt their way through. It was the boiler room.

  The building shuddered and fell around them, encasing them in a concrete tomb. Aaron shoved her through a door, into another room sided by thick cinder block walls. Mackenzie stumbled and fell.

  With her free hand outstretched, she scrambled around and watched as Aaron fell under the weight of the water heater. His head hit the concrete, and the heater slammed onto his lower body. Ash rained down on her, the hot air from the explosion all around them, sucking the moisture from the room.

  Mackenzie collapsed.

  TWENTY-TWO

  God, help us. Mackenzie scanned the dark of the space they were in. The building creaked and groaned, and she heard the distant sound of sirens and people shouting. Help was here. They just had to last long enough to be dug out. But how long would that take? She scrambled to stand under the highest point, which was barely above her head.

  “Help! We’re trapped in the basement!” She screamed until her voice broke and then crumpled to her knees, coughing. “You have to help us.”

  Aaron moaned and shifted under the weight of the water heater. Mackenzie winced. When she’d first purchased it, it had taken two men to muscle the thing off the cart and into place. A moment that had marked the building of her new life; now it was all destroyed.

  Mackenzie crawled to him and brushed a smudge of dirt from his forehead. It smeared. “Aaron.” She whimpered. “You have to wake up.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Aaron, I need you to wake up.”

  A groan came from deep in his throat.

  “I’m right here, Aaron. Someone will get us out, I can hear them. Only you have to stay with me. Don’t leave. I can’t do this without you. That...that’s not life.”

  He grunted and shifted as though he was trying to fight the pain. Maybe he shouldn’t do that. “Lie still. They’ll get us out, okay?”

  Life without him would be...desolate and empty. Like it was down there in the boiler room, nothing but smoke and rubble and the remnants of something that used to be great. She refused to drown in despair. That wasn’t going to help them get out of there. Instead Mackenzie picked her way to the nearest wall and felt around.

  “Call for help.”

  She rushed back to his side. “Aaron.”

  He grunted and held up his phone.

  There was a deep crack in the screen and no power. Her stomach turned over. What good was technology now?

  All around them were beams of wood and bits of what used to be the walls of her building, and the concrete walls of the basement. “It’s going to take them forever to dig us out of here.”

  “Don’t have forever.”

  She moved back to him and crouched low so her face was close to his. Her heart broke at the stark pain in his eyes. “Tell me.”

  “Can’t breathe.”

  The heater wasn’t on his upper body, so his back was clear. Had he fallen wrong? Circling around his head, she went to his other side.

  There was a pool of blood beside his torso.

  She looked, but couldn’t find where it was coming from. At least it wasn’t a lot of blood. But if he couldn’t breathe, that didn’t mean anything good. Right?

  “Aaron—”

  “Back to me.”

  She did as he asked, coming back around so he could see her face. Her eyes were full of tears, but she didn’t hide them. One spilled out and tracked down her face. She swiped away the grit.

  “Talk.”

  “You want me to distract you?”

  The nod of his head was the slightest of movements she’d have missed if she wasn’t looking right at him.

  She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I don’t know what to say.” How precious it was, just to be able to breathe. Air was something easily taken for granted, but the ability to simply inhale oxygen was a gift.

  God, You made our bodies, You made Aaron’s. Heal him. Don’t let him die.

  “Macken—”

  “Okay, okay.” She smiled for him. “I don’t really know what to talk about.”

  “You’ll think...of something.”

  She laughed. “Hey! That’s charming. Well, I’m about to talk your ear off, so you’d better get ready, buster. Let’s see...” She bit her lip. She had never told anyone else what she was about to tell him. “Well...sometimes, I still play music.”

  “Know that.”

  “I also write songs. I’ve been writing them all down in this notebook...that was in my office. I guess it’s destroyed now, but I have a lot of them. Songs, that is. I don’t know...I mean, I used to only sing songs other people had written for me. That’s just how it works when you’re a ‘star.’ I hate that word. Anyway, writing down my thoughts helps me process what’s going on. Especially back when I didn’t have anyone to talk to.”

  She clenched and unclenched her fingers. “It just seemed so natural to put them to music. What I was feeling, what I wanted to say to God. Things I was learning.”

  “Sing.” His voice was a whisper.

  Mackenzie didn’t think about it.

  “The air is still, silence all around.

  But You are there.

  My heart cries, ‘Lord come and save me.’

  You are there.

  The final curtain falls, flowers fade and clouds come in.

  You are the light that breaks the night, bringing morning.

  The Son that gives His life, bringing freedom.

  Jesus, You are there.”

  She kept singing, wondering why she had spent so many years trying so hard to please a God who simply loved her without demands. Sabine was right that she’d been too stubborn to listen.

  Well, no more.

  Mackenzie had nothing to atone for. God had forgiven her—she just hadn’t found the courage to accept it enough to forgive herself. B
ut she would, because she could be free of that burning, gnawing need to make up for the girl she’d been.

  Thank You, Lord.

  She looked down at Aaron and the sound died on her lips.

  “Aaron?” Mackenzie touched his shoulder and shook him gently. “Aaron, are you awake?”

  Eyes closed, his lips parted to expel a breath.

  “Aaron, don’t do this. You have to wake up.”

  * * *

  Aaron couldn’t move. His whole body was numb. Why was that? And why was he floating? From what sounded like the end of a tunnel someone was singing. The voice was full and rich and very familiar.

  She sang of light and morning.

  Of life.

  If he could wake up, he would tell her that he loved her. See the smile on her face when he did, knowing it would surprise her.

  For as long as he could remember, he’d been living a shadow of a life. Going through the motions but keeping his heart guarded so closely that he didn’t feel anything. Not even his brother ever truly got through.

  What he needed was...Mackenzie. That was who was singing. Her sweet voice warmed him where there had been only cold and pain. Love rushed through his cells and awakened every part of him to the fact that he was completely hers.

  If he could only wake up, then everything would be all right.

  God, I want to be with her. Was it was even possible? You brought me this woman to love. So I know You can get us out of here.

  So that he could love her, because that was what he was born to do. Mackenzie was made for him and him for her. He’d never believed in that stuff before, but he wanted to accept it. There was nothing else he could do except trust God.

  In his personal life, or his professional life, it was the same—he simply needed to trust God for all things.

  Aaron felt as though he was being lifted. Pain tore through his body, and he groaned.

  “Aaron?”

  He blinked. The rotors of a helicopter beat above his head. Wheels scraped concrete, and he blinked again. Mackenzie’s face was right there. He tried to smile but everything hurt too much.

  She touched his face, her skin so soft. He closed his eyes.

  “Stay with me.”

  He needed to tell her. Aaron tried to summon all the strength he had, but it was hard. “Love you.”

  “Stay with me, Aaron.”

  His lips formed the words. “Love you.”

  And then there was nothing.

  * * *

  Mackenzie’s foot tapped a staccato beat on the tile floor. National news played at a low volume on a small TV tucked in the corner of the ceiling in the hospital waiting room. People passed by the door, going about their business. Nurses, doctors. Across the room an elderly couple sat in silence, holding hands. The hum of noise was like a swarm of bees, relentless and threatening to drive her insane.

  Mackenzie squeezed her fingers together, wrung her hands until the joints in her fingers ached. After firefighters had made a way through the rubble of the center, they had found her and a barely breathing Aaron just in time. Movement had erupted, people suddenly rushing and shouting instructions, and she was escorted to an ambulance so they could check her out. But what was the point if he wasn’t okay?

  Aaron had been freed from under the water heater, and the decision had been made to airlift him to the closest hospital because there was no time to lose.

  Barely hanging on.

  Those words would stay with her for the rest of her life.

  Mackenzie went with him, which meant she got to see that one glorious moment when he’d opened his eyes. The words he had mouthed set her heart to flight, but then his heart had stopped beating and the paramedics had to shock him back to life. It was the most gut-wrenching thing she’d ever witnessed in her life.

  Movement at the door caught her attention, but it wasn’t the doctor. Sabine led Doug into the room. His hands were bandaged from digging at the rubble in an attempt to burrow down to the last place he’d seen them.

  Mackenzie stood. Her legs were stiff from sitting for so long, and they gave out. Sabine yelped and Doug lunged for her. Mackenzie managed to grab his forearms, avoiding his injuries, but he still winced. “Sorry.”

  Doug helped her sit. “Don’t apologize. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

  “Yes.” Sabine settled on his other side, looking around him at Mackenzie. “How are you doing?”

  “Bruises on my knees and some scratches, but nothing more than feeling as if I got pummeled. Not like—”

  Doug lifted his elbow, and she grasped it like a lifeline. He gave her a small smile. “Have the doctors told you anything?”

  “I’m not a relative, and I’ve asked for an update so many times they’ve started ignoring me. As far as I know, he’s still in surgery.”

  Eric tore through the door. “Mackenzie, thank God you’re okay.”

  He swept Mackenzie up in a hug. She held on even tighter, reveling in the feel of strong arms around her. A sob worked its way up in her throat.

  “I thought you were in jail.”

  “My office got a package. Proof that my partner was the mole responsible for every file that was leaked. He was colluding with Eva, so he was the link between her and the Carosas, too. I still had a lot to explain to them before they would believe me, but when Doug called and told them what happened to Aaron, they let me come.”

  “So you’re not free?”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s mostly just paperwork from this point.” His eyes strayed over her shoulder to where Doug was, and something passed across his features that she couldn’t discern.

  “But—”

  Eric gave her one last squeeze and then released her. “I’ve already seen the doctor. I figured it couldn’t hurt to have a federal badge in their faces to make them cough up some information, so I went straight there. They’re sending someone in right away.”

  Mackenzie sucked in a breath and nodded. “Thank you, Eric.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  True to his words, a white haired man in blue scrubs strode in. “I’m Dr. Palmer.”

  He shook Eric’s hand. “I understand it was a water heater that fell on him?”

  Mackenzie nodded. The doctor turned back to Eric. “The weight crushed his left patella, and he has multiple fibula and tibia fractures. He’ll need further surgeries to repair the damage since we had to stabilize him first. The injury to his torso was more extensive—”

  Eric gasped. “More?”

  Mackenzie’s breath evaporated.

  “I’m afraid the shard of wood was long. It entered his right side just below his ribs and cut through his diaphragm, puncturing his lung. We repaired that damage, but all in all you’re talking about months of downtime in order to heal. Aaron has a long road ahead of him, but I’m confident he will recover.”

  “But not fully.” Doug’s words were somber.

  The doctor gave them a small conciliatory smile. “We won’t know for some time. Right now, Aaron is stable. The nurse will let you know when he’s ready for visits, as long as you keep it short.”

  Mackenzie stepped away from the huddle. She’d been so happy just knowing he was alive. What if he didn’t recover all of his mobility? She squeezed her eyes shut. He might never be able to be a solider again.

  God, give him comfort. Give us the words to say. Help him through this.

  She stumbled back and sank hard into a chair.

  An hour later she walked into a dimly lit hospital room. Monitors beeped a steady rhythm to mark each heartbeat, each breath. Eric turned away, but she’d seen the sheen of tears in his eyes. He crossed to Mackenzie and squeezed her forearm as they passed each other in the doorway.

  Aaron’s face was too pale, his finge
rs too cold. She held his hand between both of hers, trying to give him some of her heat, and leaned down and put her lips to his forehead. The last words he spoke to her played in her head.

  “I love you, too.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Aaron eyed the small cream-colored plastic pitcher. Condensation beaded on the outside, making his mouth dry just looking at it. He swallowed, tasting fuzz and an odd chemical. His chest was wrapped with layer upon layer of bandages. It was as if he had a flak jacket on. The pain was dull but present enough that he wasn’t going to try to move anytime soon.

  If only the water was closer.

  He stretched out his hand for the pitcher but couldn’t get near enough to grab it on the high table beside his hospital bed. He grunted, testing the limit of his reach without moving the rest of his body.

  Useless. Just like he was now. Just like he’d caused Franklin to be.

  If he twisted, bent or leaned the wrong way, he knew his chest would be on fire. He wasn’t even going to think about his legs, except for flexing his toes every so often just to make sure there was some sense of functionality.

  They were still there, and he could feel them, which meant things could have gone a lot worse. He’d seen army brothers who were amputees and had more than a ton of respect for how they dealt with it. Mostly, Aaron was just thankful to be alive. He wasn’t going to think about what could have happened if the water heater had landed anywhere other than on one of his legs.

  The damage to his torso from the wood was enough that even an inch difference and he wouldn’t be lying here. How could he be anything other than overwhelmed with thanks to God for still having, at least, his life? After so many years of taking it for granted, it seemed strange to be grateful just to be able to breathe in and out. Life itself was a gift. Why hadn’t he noticed that before?