Christmas Witness Protection

by Maggie K. Black

  He ran down the steps and she stumbled after him, barely able to keep her feet underneath her as they pounded downward, spiraling floor after floor, until they burst through another door and came out into a small, dingy parking garage with a low ceiling. A battered-looking black pickup truck sat alone against a concrete wall.

  Noah pressed a key fob and the truck’s headlights flashed. A deep and powerful purr filled the underground space, revealing a far more powerful engine than the vehicle’s exterior let on, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much Mack was looking forward to being reunited with his truck when they reached the safe house.

  There was a hesitation in Noah’s step as they crossed the floor, as if he wanted to wait for her or reach for her but didn’t know if he should. She paused as he made a tactical sweep of the vehicle, then she climbed in the passenger side while he swapped out the license plates. She leaned back against the seat, closed her eyes and breathed a sigh as he leaped in and put the truck in Drive.

  Okay. She’d made it off the ledge, down from the roof and into the safety of the truck. Now all she had to do was lie back and let Noah drive them to the safe house. She felt the vehicle begin to move and heard the sound of a garage door opening and closing. And then the sharp and sudden cold coming through the windows as the truck moved outside.

  “Yeah, good idea, stay in your hood and keep your face hidden.” Noah’s voice hovered on the edges of her consciousness. “There are emergency vehicles everywhere. Then again, I did tell Seth to call in everyone.”

  The truck came to a stop, she heard the rhythmic noise of the windshield wipers working furiously, then the truck started moving again.

  “We’ll be there in about an hour,” Noah said. “Maybe less. Oh, no...”

  “What?” She sat up and opened her eyes.

  “We’re being followed,” he muttered.

  She glanced back. A white police cruiser was trailing them, about three car lengths back. She couldn’t see the driver’s face beneath the hat and bushy beard.

  Not to mention he was wearing sunglasses.

  “Because everyone needs sunglasses in a snowstorm on a cloudy day,” she said.

  “Yup,” Noah said, through gritted teeth. “Not suspicious at all. You think it’s the Ghoul?”

  “He definitely has the build for it,” she agreed.

  Noah pulled off one road and into another, narrower one. A long, empty stretch of Port Lands lay ahead of them. He hit the accelerator and the truck picked up speed.

  “So, your plan is to lose him?”

  “Well, I’m going to try,” he said. “I really don’t want him trailing us all the way to the safe house.”

  He pulled up a ramp and onto the elevated highway. The cop car followed. He gunned the engine and wove between traffic. The cruiser behind flashed its lights and turned on its siren, the sudden cacophony of lights and sound sending a spike of pain through Holly’s skull. The truck drove faster. Her head was pounding worse. The Ghoul signaled at them to pull over.

  “Not going to happen,” Noah said. He reached into his side holster, pulled out his weapon and offered it to her. “Okay, I’ve got a plan. Judging by your bio, you’re an excellent shot. I’m going to pull off the highway onto a hopefully much more empty street near the fairgrounds where the Canadian Exhibition takes place in the summer, and then drop speed. I’ll aim for the stretch where the Ferris wheels and bigger rides normally go, south of the soccer stadium. That whole area should be deserted this time of year. When we’ve got him somewhere more isolated, you’ll shoot out one of his tires. Okay? We’ll make him spin out, then I’ll head back to the highway while you call the crash in with 9-1-1. The goal is the safest possible crash in a deserted area. Got it?”

  “Uh-huh.” Her chin rose. Would he have asked her to make the shot if he’d known she might have a concussion? Probably not. But that didn’t matter. It was a fantastic plan and one she definitely had the skills for. A shot like that she could take with her eyes closed. She checked the gun for bullets, took the safety off and then glanced in the side mirror again. The Ghoul was still on their tail.

  She lowered the window and leaned out, looking back as the truck surged forward. Wind whipped her hair and snow lashed her cheek. The vehicle swerved hard to the left and her stomach lurched. It was like going backward on a roller coaster, only much, much worse. The sound of the siren filled her ears and sent pain pounding through her skull. Her vision swam as the flashing lights hit her eyes. Nausea swept over her, churning her stomach and sending her head spinning.

  Holly braced her elbow on the window frame and forced herself to focus on the vehicle behind them. Anne had said the symptoms would get worse if she didn’t stop and rest. She’d warned Holly that she’d be oversensitive to motion, noise and light. But nothing had prepared her for this.

  The truck swerved again. She gritted her teeth. She could do this. She had to. All she had to do was make the shot, stop the Ghoul and then she could close her eyes and rest.

  “Now!” Noah shouted. He tore down a deserted strip of road between empty exhibition buildings. The lights and siren were like a barrage beating against her senses. “Fire!”

  He yanked the wheel so swiftly that the truck spun. Help me, God! The gun slipped from her fingers, tumbled through the window and out into the snow. Unconsciousness swept over her. And the last thing she remembered before she passed out was Noah shouting at her to fire.

  SIX

  “Holly! Corporal! Now!” Noah yelled.

  He glanced from the bearded Ghoul in the rearview mirror to the archway signaling the end of the fairgrounds ahead. The plan had worked perfectly so far. Now all it was missing was a bullet. He’d known the plan was beyond risky, to shoot out the tire of a criminal masquerading as a cop in a downtown Toronto street. It would take an expert driver and a sharpshooter. Thankfully, he had one of the best shots in the country on the seat beside him.

  “What are you waiting for?” he shouted. “Take the shot!”

  Only then did he dart a glance at the soldier beside him. Holly was curled up on the seat with her head slumped against the door, almost like she was sleeping. His heart stopped. She had one arm wrapped around her head. The other fell across her body as if she was trying to shield herself from an unseen or invisible enemy. His gun was nowhere to be seen. And of all the horrors and things Detective Noah Wilder had seen in his life, none had ever scared him quite as much.

  He grasped the steering wheel with one hand and reached for her with the other, brushing her neck for the beat of her pulse, and felt the warmth of her breath on his fingers.

  Thank You, God! She was still alive and breathing.

  The Ghoul’s cop car behind him was closer now. The lights were flashing and the siren was blaring. The vehicle lurched forward, ramming into them and slamming its bumper against the truck. Noah grabbed the wheel with both hands and fought to keep it on the road. Holly cried out in pain, and he felt visceral pain shooting through his own body. She wrapped her arm tighter around her head.

  “Holly!” His voice rose. His eyes darted rapidly from the car in the rearview mirror to where Holly lay on the seat beside him. “What’s going on? Where’s my gun?”

  “Dropped it.” Her voice was muffled. “Sorry.”

  “Where?”

  “Out the window.” Her eyes were closed, but her voice sounded pained and exhausted to the point of tears. “I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, not even knowing why he was comforting her. “I’m really sure it’s not your fault. And when we’re stopped I can grab Mack’s gun from the back. But now I’ve got to do some fancy driving. Just...hold on. Hold on!”

  His jaw set. The car behind shot toward them again. The memory of how the last bump had impacted Holly moved through him. No, he wouldn’t make her feel that pain again. He shouted at the car’s hands-free syste
m to dial Liam. His phone rang, sending rock-and-roll music through the cab.

  “Liam!” He shouted his colleague’s name the second the phone clicked. “Update!”

  “Westbound on the 401 in the collectors.” Liam’s voice shot back, without so much as a hello. “Seth’s safe and well. No sign of trouble.”

  “Wish I could say the same,” Noah said. A big-box hardware store loomed ahead on his left. Thankfully, it was still closed. He cut across the two lanes of traffic and sped through the parking lot, dodging the sole car parked there. Tires screeched as the Ghoul missed the turn. Okay, Noah had bought himself a few seconds, until the Imposter turned around and caught up again. “Going to head east to the DVP, take 404 north and then double back around.”

  He heard Liam pray and Seth demand to know what was going on.

  “And Holly?” Liam asked.

  “Injured.” It was the simplest answer for now. “Conscious but out of commission.”

  And in need of a doctor.

  He swerved back onto the highway, ignoring the honking of angry drivers and praying with every move he made for the safety of those around him.

  He heard another whispered prayer and then, “What do you need?”

  “I need this cop car off my tail,” Noah said. “Especially before anyone gets hurt or some other emergency vehicles decide to leap into the chase.”

  Early morning commuters now clogged the road into the city. He prayed the road out would stay empty. Liam and Seth seemed to be arguing, but he wasn’t sure about what.

  “Tell me the Imposters don’t have the ability to mobilize an army of emergency vehicles to close the road ahead,” Noah said.

  There was a beep.

  “Of course they can,” Seth said, and Noah realized he was now on speakerphone. “The question is whether or not they would. My guess is no. Too high a risk of being seen. Not much ability to blend into the crowd.”

  The Ghoul was back behind him now, about three cars away and gaining fast. In a few minutes he’d reach a major junction. Whatever he was going to do, he had to decide by then.

  “Give me the make, model, license plate and description of the car,” Seth said. “Fingers crossed, its onboard computer is connected to the internet. I’m going to try to triangulate satellite footage against the Imposters’ usual internet trails and see if I can access the car’s computer.”

  A slow-moving car loomed ahead. Noah swerved around it. Beside him, Holly stirred and whimpered under her breath. Noah prayed. He could feel sweat building at the back of his neck.

  “What’ll that do?” Noah asked.

  But in a moment he had his answer in the rearview mirror. The siren and lights behind him stopped. Instead, the horn began to honk and the windshield wipers flew. The car slowed.

  “I’ve only bought you a few moments,” Seth said. “That’s all. It’s a pretty light show. No more.”

  Maybe, but he’d take it. Noah swerved off the highway, darting onto a wide suburban road on his right. Then he cut north, weaving his way through a maze of new subdivision buildings under construction, their snow-and-ice-covered streets deserted in the morning light.

  A second call buzzed through on his phone. It was Anne.

  The one person who might know what was wrong with Holly.

  “I’ve got to go,” Noah said. “I’ve got another call coming in. Thanks for your help.”

  “Still on for meeting at the safe house?” Liam asked.

  “Hopefully. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Go with God.”

  “You, too.” Noah glanced in the rearview mirror. He’d managed to buy himself a few more moments, but he still hadn’t managed to shake his tail. The road ahead disappeared into a steep, tree-lined slope leading into some woods. He switched the truck into four-wheel drive and prayed Mack had good snow tires. He hit the button and answered the doctor’s call. “Anne!”

  “Noah!” Her sensible, strict voice filled the truck. “Where are you? Why are you shouting?”

  The truck left the road. Then he was driving up and up, into the trees, over dirt and snow. The vehicle jolted. Holly cried out in pain.

  “Tell me you’re not in a car with Holly right now!” Anne’s voice rose.

  “A truck, actually.” The track disappeared into the woods. Tree branches buffeted the paneling in a series of smacks, thuds and high-pitched squeals as they scraped against the paint. “Outrunning a really bad guy.”

  Oh, Mack, I owe you big.

  “How’s Holly?” Anne asked.

  “Not good,” he said. “Semiconscious.”

  Anne sighed, the sound loud and exasperated. “What were you thinking, taking her anywhere? She needs to rest!”

  “Place she was resting was under threat by bad guys, too,” he said. “It’s been that kind of day.” He glanced at the rearview mirror. No cop car. Nobody following. He gritted his teeth and focused on steering. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She didn’t tell you?” Worry and even more exasperation filled Anne’s voice.

  “No, she didn’t,” he said. Had she tried to? “What don’t I know?”

  “I can’t divulge—”

  “Anne!” His voice rose. “She’s a witness in a major investigation! She’s clearly in pain. She’s been in a car accident, she’s been kidnapped and now we’re on the run. In what until recently was a high-speed chase.” Not to mention she’d dropped his gun. “So please, tell me what I need to know to help save her life.”

  There was a pause, one longer than he liked.

  “She thinks I have a concussion,” Holly murmured, her eyes still closed. “Little one.”

  Oh, Anne did, did she? And when was anyone going to tell him this?

  “Yes, I think Holly might have a mild traumatic brain injury,” Anne said.

  What? Yes, he’d realized she had a headache, but he’d never realized she had an actual brain injury! Pain, worry and frustration swelled up inside him like colliding waves. And Holly hadn’t told him? And she’d instead climbed out a window and run across rooftops? He glanced at her. She’d shifted position on the seat now and was curled up into an even smaller ball. She looked infuriatingly peaceful, vulnerable and beautiful, with only the crease between her eyes to show the pain she was in.

  “Do you really, Holly?” he asked. “Did you actually climb out a window onto a ledge, into a snowstorm, knowing you could have a brain injury?”

  Holly nodded. “Just a mild one, though.”

  She had to be the most infuriatingly driven and stubborn person he’d ever met. She’d told him not to baby or coddle her. She’d pushed his hug away, making him feel foolish and confused about why he’d even been hugging her like that in the first place. So he’d let her take off along a ledge three stories off the ground, climbing walls and jumping rooftops in the snow. And all that time she’d potentially had a far more serious injury than he’d realized.

  * * *

  The trees thinned out ahead, and he found himself on a small rural highway. He drove west, scanning the rearview mirror. He’d lost his tail. The Ghoul was gone.

  “Holly. You. Need. Rest!” Anne dropped each word like a gavel. Then her voice softened. “Noah, I’m not shocked that she pushed herself or that you weren’t aware of how badly she was injured. The symptoms can be intermittent and mild at first. I’ve known people who’ve taken hours or even a day to realize what they actually have is a concussion. And by that point they’ve made themselves so much worse than they would’ve been if they’d just rested earlier.”

  “What do I do?” Noah asked. His eyes scanned Holly’s form. She’d gone quiet again, but he assumed she was still listening.

  “Holly needs to rest,” Anne said. “It’s that simple. She just needs lots and lots of rest, in a quiet and dark place, for a couple of days at least, and then after that sh
e can ease herself back into life. Slowly. It might be days before she can safely drive a car or read anything on a computer screen.”

  Or fight off a villain. Or fire a gun.

  Or identify the Imposters’ mug shots or work with a sketch artist to help catch the cyber terrorists who were about to sell hundreds of stolen witness protection identities online.

  “Got it,” he said. Help me, Lord. What do I do?

  “And it goes without saying, she needs to be seen by a doctor who can actually diagnose her,” Anne said.

  And there was only one doctor he trusted now, above all others.

  He turned north. “I’m bringing her to you.”

  * * *

  Noah and Anne’s conversation floated around the edges of Holly’s consciousness, filtering through the haze of pain. But thankfully, the siren, lights and the painful, unending jolts of the truck climbing through the woods had stopped.

  Maybe Anne was right. Maybe she had pushed herself too hard. But that was the only way she’d ever known how to be. Taking it easy was such an anathema she wouldn’t know how to do it if she tried. Had she actually made herself worse? Fear rose up inside her, giving her a deeper sense of helplessness than she’d ever felt before.

  Help me Lord. I’m feel so scared and so stuck. I’ve never felt this weak before.

  She was never truly stuck. Not for real. There was always a way out, if she just pushed herself hard enough, and made smart decisions. It was a mantra she’d lived by for as long as she could remember, and one that had helped her through everything from changing high schools five times in four years, to surviving basic training, to even dealing with the prospect of testifying against General Bertie in the parliamentary inquiry about the weapons he’d illegally bartered away.

  It was how she’d always felt as soon as she was old enough to realize how her beautiful and strong-willed mother had totally given up her life to follow her equally strong and talented father around the world. It had been love at first sight for her parents—at least how her mother told it. When the award-winning horticulturalist had met the dashing soldier home between deployments, it had taken her less than a week to decide it was love, pack up her life and follow him around the globe. And the whirlwind romance had made them happy, for a while, until not having a life of her own had slowly driven her and Holly’s dad further and further apart.