Family in Hiding

by Valerie Hansen

  “I know. It looks parched compared to home.”

  “Really? I thought we came from Arizona, John.”

  “Right.” He looked contrite. “You’re absolutely right. We need to stay in character all the time or one of us is liable to slip and ruin the whole setup.”

  “You kids remember that, too,” Grace cautioned as she drove the unfamiliar streets, hoping she’d be able to find her way home after dropping off her husband and the older children. She had never had the innate sense of direction that her husband seemed to be endowed with. If familiar landmarks happened to change since the last time she’d been somewhere, she could very easily become disoriented.

  Dylan leaned forward in the passenger seat and pointed out the window. “There’s the store sign. Whoa. It is a big place.”

  “I’ve heard their merchandise is top-notch,” Grace told him. “I’ll be back for you at five. Right?”

  “Right. And I won’t have to worry about lunch. They sell their own brand of hot dogs and soda inside, supposedly at cost.”

  Grace couldn’t help chuckling softly. “You have gone native, haven’t you...John?”

  “When in Rome,” he quipped, stepping down and slamming the door. “Be careful today.”

  “Always.”

  Watching him turn and walk away, Grace was suddenly overcome with a surge of pride she had not anticipated. Dylan was a capable attorney with several college degrees, yet he was approaching this new phase of his life with the kind of enthusiasm and courage she hadn’t seen from him in years.

  In moments she was able to banish most of those tender, appreciative feelings. Most. Not all. She knew it was foolish to let herself look up to this man after all he’d done, yet there was no denying that his character had recently taken a turn for the better.

  She checked the traffic behind her and to both sides as she turned down a nearby alley. In a crowded parking lot like this one, there was no way to anticipate an attack the way they could when at home. And yet, the motorcyclist had still managed to sideswipe Dylan.

  Picturing that reflective helmet visor and imagining the evil stare hidden behind it, Grace shuddered.

  She and Brandon were going to have to go home eventually. And when they did, she planned to make a dash for the house and recheck the locks on all the doors and windows. There was nothing wrong with a little sensible paranoia when you knew somebody was after you.

  * * *

  Dylan’s concerns about work had been for nothing. Once he’d been given a personally conducted tour of the store he was assigned to forklift duty, a task he could manage pretty well one-handed due to the assist knob on the steering wheel. He figured, as long as he took his time and didn’t go racing around on the thing, he’d be okay. By lunchtime he’d mastered the lift levers so well he was actually keeping up with the younger, crew-cut coworker who had been assigned to teach him the ropes.

  One additional thing the marshals had warned about was getting too friendly with people who might inadvertently reveal your idiosyncrasies. That made perfect sense to Dylan, which is why he chose to eat lunch alone, outside on a bench near the loading dock. Trucks came and went as he sat there thinking and wondering about his family while a few other employees stood around smoking and talking in small groups.

  Finally his imagination had caused him so much grief he decided to break down and call Grace. The only phones they had were the ones they’d been given and there were only two numbers in the contact file; his wife’s and the marshals’.

  When Grace answered there was a tremor in her voice. “H-hello?”

  “It’s me,” Dylan said.

  “You scared me to death!”

  “Sorry. I’m on lunch break and I wanted to check on you. How’s it going? Did you get the kids to school okay?”

  “It was fine. The people in the office treated us like VIPs. Are you sure they don’t know our situation?”

  “That’s just regular Southern hospitality,” Dylan told her with a quiet chuckle. “The guys I work with are great, too.” He laughed again. “They can be a little hard to understand sometimes.”

  “I know what you mean,” Grace said. “I had to really work to decipher what the school secretary was saying. It’s a good thing they didn’t tell us to say we were from Georgia or Alabama or one of those states.”

  “I’m sure that’s all taken into consideration.”

  “Right.” There was a hesitation in her reply that grew into a long pause.

  “Grace?”

  “Mary Grace, to you,” she told him sternly. “Where are you, exactly? Can anybody overhear you?”

  “Not with all the noise of trucks unloading.”

  “Okay. Just don’t forget again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He drawled his reply into four syllables to mimic a Texas accent.

  “Keep that up and I’ll have to buy you a Stetson for your birthday,” Grace teased.

  Dylan’s heart skipped several beats. His birthday was in the fall, almost six months away. Was that Grace’s subtle way of promising they’d still be together?

  “Unless you’re wearing prison stripes by that time,” she added, sounding a lot less amused than she had previously.

  “I think the standard jumpsuit is orange, only not nearly as pretty as your hair,” Dylan replied. “Are you really all right? No more problems?”

  “None. It’s been quiet since Brandon and I got home.”

  “When do you have to go get the other kids?”

  “At three for Beth and three-thirty for Kyle. I figured to park myself in the office and wait there, at least for a few days, until we can set up a schedule that suits everybody.”

  “Be careful you don’t chat too much,” he warned.

  “Hey, you’re the one using the wrong names, not me.”

  He had to concede the point. “Okay, you win. Just check the street carefully from inside the house before you step out, will you? Promise?”

  “Have you had more problems?” she asked.

  Dylan shook his head. “No. Not yet, anyway. I imagine, if there was real trouble, it would hit us before we were aware of any danger.”

  His jaw clenched when his wife said, “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of,” and bid him a terse goodbye.

  She was right. They could be in terrible jeopardy before they even noticed. That was why the Witness Protection Program was so necessary.

  It was also why they had to be on guard every waking moment. Undoubtedly powerful people already knew what a danger Dylan’s testimony would be to their positions, not to mention the very good chance that they’d end up in prison as a result of his inside information.

  These people had to be influential as well as malevolent or they never would have been able to outwit the authorities and maintain such a lucrative business.

  Some business, he mused. They had systematically ruined lives—and he had helped them do it. That was the hardest, most personally painful fact he’d had to acknowledge. Still, those events had brought him here, to a new life and perhaps even to the salvaging of his broken marriage.

  Was that fair? he wondered. Shouldn’t he be facing punishment instead of seeing rainbows behind the rain? Was he really forgiven the way the Bible claimed was possible?

  Time would tell. There had already been negative consequences from his former actions and there would undoubtedly be more to come. As Dylan saw it, his penance was going to be served when he stood up in court and helped put kidnappers and baby stealers behind bars, hopefully with long, long sentences to keep them there.

  And in the meantime? He got to his feet, dumped his trash in a nearby rubbish can and headed back to work. In the meantime all he had to do was to carefully pretend to be a regular working guy with no bounty on his head.

  He gave a wry smil
e and mumbled, “Piece of cake,” while continuing to scan his surroundings for would-be assassins and wondering if he’d ever feel safe again.

  NINE

  As the first week passed, then the second, Grace began to fall into a fairly comfortable routine. The children seemed happy enough, considering, and to her shock, Dylan actually acted as if he was enjoying his new lifestyle.

  She wished she could say the same. It had been a long time since she’d had to keep house by herself and the rear yard was such a mess she hated to allow the kids to play out there. They didn’t seem to notice the difference between this place and the manicured lawn, neat ornamental shrubs and lovely blooms they’d had surrounding their home in Missouri, but Grace certainly did. This backyard had only one good thing going for it. It was fenced. Other than that there was no comparison.

  The first few days in Houston she’d kept busy organizing the house and memorizing various routes she could travel when picking up Dylan and the children. Nobody had cautioned her to avoid being too predictable but it seemed logical to make random changes and choose alternate paths to and from her daily destinations.

  Nevertheless, the days began to drag by and Grace found herself wishing that school would soon be out so she’d have more than little Brandon’s company during the long summer days. To her dismay, she was actually looking forward to hearing the kids squabbling!

  Dylan had promised to accompany her to the end-of-the-year concert and awards ceremony in which their two eldest were to perform this coming Friday evening. If he had not agreed to go, Grace wasn’t certain she’d have wanted to attend. She still left the house with trepidation every day and, like a wise old mama cat who kept moving her vulnerable newborn kittens, she didn’t relax until she had her whole family in one place again.

  The most sensible arrangement was to wait for Dylan in the store’s parking lot for about an hour every weekday instead of going home after she picked up the kids. She’d quickly found a cool, breezy spot where she could watch the loading dock and see him the instant he appeared. Hot Texas afternoons made the wait tedious. This one was no exception.

  “I wanna wear my pink Sunday dress on Friday,” Beth announced as Grace pulled up and stopped in their familiar, shady spot.

  “Your teacher said you should have on a white blouse and dark skirt or slacks so all of you will look the same.”

  “But I want the pink dress.”

  Grace figured this was as good a time as any to remind the girl that she no longer owned the fancy dress. “Beth, honey, we left those clothes behind. Remember?”

  “Yeah, like my BMX bike,” her older brother grumbled, making a sour face.

  “And my whole house and almost everything I loved, too,” Grace said, regretting her brusqueness. “So knock it off. Both of you.”

  She might have said more if she hadn’t been distracted by a revving engine. The power-packed sound was coming from near the rear of the store. Then, suddenly, a low-slung, red muscle car fishtailed out from behind a semitrailer and headed straight for her.

  Grace tensed. She had only seconds in which to react.

  Frantic, she turned the key in the ignition. The engine coughed. Died. “Come on, come on.”

  The van started on the second try. Grace slammed it into reverse. Floored the gas and manhandled the wheel to swerve behind a heavy cement base that supported one of the store’s massive, overhead light poles.

  The powerful car roared past them, missing one corner of her front bumper by mere inches.

  “Whoa, nice driving Mom!” Kyle was beaming and bouncing up and down on his knees on the seat.

  If she hadn’t been so shocked and frightened she might have appreciated his compliment a lot more.

  Who or what was that? Were they showing off or was their behavior much more ominous?

  Grace let the van idle and clenched her jaw while she eyed the far reaches of the busy parking lot. Dylan had been right. With so many variables and unknowns, an attacker could be on them before they even knew he was coming.

  That conclusion was more than sobering. It was chilling. Especially right now when her heart felt as though it was about to pound its way out of her chest.

  * * *

  Dylan had to admit he was tired by late afternoon. He’d managed to keep up with the other warehousemen but he felt every one of his thirty-two years near the end of his shift. There was a lot to be said for genuine physical labor, he mused, picturing himself working out at his athletic club and realizing that his body-building routine had not begun to match the daily rigors of this job.

  He’d moved the last bin on his list and was sitting in an aisle aboard the forklift, taking a well-earned break before receiving another assignment. Earphones connected him into the router who kept inventory and made certain that customers of the warehouse store were never disappointed by spotty merchandise distribution.

  Some of the others on his crew had stepped outside for a smoke while his partner, Mac, had popped over to the snack bar for a soda.

  Dylan yawned. Stretched. Decided to stand for a moment to try to work kinks out of his muscles.

  Raising both arms overhead he thrust them as high as he could and took a deep breath. Glanced toward the high ceiling. Saw slight movement out of the corner of his eye.

  Someone in the distance shouted, “John!”

  In the split second it took Dylan to realize that the warning was meant for him, he saw a stack of cardboard boxes on the top shelf start to move.

  They teetered for a moment, then passed their center of gravity and began to fall as if in slow motion.

  Dylan was directly below them, hemmed in on one side by aisles of merchandise and on the other by the forklift. There was no time to run.

  Acting solely on instinct he leaped toward the largest box on the floor beside him, crashed against its side and plummeted in through the wide-open top like an Olympic swimmer entering a pool for a race.

  Several of the heavy cases of canned goods careened off the sides of the lift and followed him into the enormous container of softer merchandise.

  Dylan had the breath knocked out of him.

  Lying still and wondering how the full boxes on the top shelf could possibly have fallen, he took inventory of his body, pleased to note that he was all in one piece.

  At least he hoped so.

  * * *

  Grace had barely regained her composure after the near miss in the parking lot when her cell phone startled her anew. Her hands were shaking as she dug it out of her purse. Dylan had made it a habit to call during his lunch break but it was far too late in the afternoon for that. He’d be clocking out in a little more than an hour and the only others who had her number were the kids’ teachers.

  “Hello?” She had to clamp her free hand over her other ear to mute the children’s whiny voices. “I’m sorry. What? I don’t think I heard correctly.”

  “I said, can you come to the store as soon as possible, Mrs. Appleby? There’s been a slight accident. We’d like to send your husband to the hospital to be checked out but he’s refusing treatment. Maybe if you ask him, he’ll agree to go.”

  Eyes wide, insides roiling, Grace slipped the van into drive. “I’m already here. Shall I pull up to the loading dock or come in the front door?”

  “The dock will be fine, ma’am. I’ll watch for you.”

  “Okay.” With the slim little cell phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, she wheeled into an open spot next to the elevated platform for the loading dock and screeched to a halt. “I’m here.”

  “Good. We’ll be right out.”

  All the children had sensed her anxiety and were clamoring for answers. Grace focused on Kyle. “You’re in charge. I’m going to leave the car running to keep you cool. Lock the doors and keep the windows rolled up most of the
way. Understand? Don’t touch anything else and see that you don’t open the doors until I get back with your father.”

  The boy scrambled over the back of the passenger seat and slid into the place usually reserved for Dylan. “Is Dad okay?”

  Grace fisted the phone and passed it to the boy. “I don’t know. The man who called said they’re sending him home, so it can’t be too bad.” She got out, slammed the door and pointed to the locks. To her relief, Kyle and Beth both followed directions.

  Wheeling, Grace hurried up a concrete stairway, one palm sliding up the metal railing. Her body shook, her heart hammering so hard she could feel her pulse behind her eyes and in her temples. Her worst fears had always been for Dylan’s safety. Now, they had been realized.

  The moment she saw him walking toward her she was so relieved she had to grab the railing for a moment to keep her balance. A young man wearing the same light orange vest that designated all the store’s employees had hold of Dylan’s elbow and seemed to be guiding him.

  Grace didn’t hesitate to step directly in front of her husband and cup his face in both hands. His cheeks were flushed but his eyes seemed to focus well, although there was mistiness to his gaze.

  His hands closed around her wrists. Nobody moved.

  Finally he said, “I’m okay, Mary Grace. It was just a little accident.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way home.” Turning her bodily, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and bid his coworker a brief, casual goodbye. “See you tomorrow, Mac.”

  “Only if your head’s on straight by then,” the crew-cut young man countered with a grin. “You know what the boss said.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Nodding and guiding his wife back through the door, Dylan increased his pace.

  “What is it?” Grace asked. “Why are we in such a hurry?”

  “Because you and the kids are too exposed while you’re here. And because I’m not totally sure what happened to me today.”

  She signaled to Kyle to unlock the van doors and slid behind the wheel while Dylan took over the front passenger seat.