Identity Withheld

by Sandra Orchard

  The dog plopped his curly rump on the ground at the bedroom door and gave her another head-tilted look.

  “Yeah, play innocent.” She affectionately tousled the dog’s ears. “But I’m on to you.”

  The dog raced down the stairs ahead of her, eliminating any last hope of making her escape before being spotted. Tommy raced around the corner from the kitchen. “She’s up!” He disappeared and reappeared as she reached the bottom step. “I made this for you. To feel better.” He presented her with a colorful turkey made of construction paper—the kind she would’ve had her students make if her life hadn’t been ripped away from her. She imagined the Thanksgiving party her students would have had at school this past week and longed for another chance to be a part of that.

  Tears pricked her eyes as she sank onto the bottom step. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” She choked out the words, feeling a little silly at how affected she was by such a simple gesture. While holidays weren’t as big a deal in her family as she would have liked, she hated that she hadn’t been able to be with them to celebrate, not even able to call.

  Tommy patted her knee. “I fell off my bike last week and scraped my arm.” He jutted out his elbow for her perusal. “So I know how ya feel.”

  Rusty planted his rump on the stair and leaned heavily against her, offering his moral support, too.

  She grinned and hugged them both. “Thank you. You two sure know how to make a girl feel better.”

  Mrs. Steele’s beaming face peeked around the corner. “Muffins are ready if you’re hungry.”

  Tommy grabbed Kara’s hand and tugged her toward the kitchen. “C’mon, you’ll love Gran’s muffins. She makes them to cheer me up, too.”

  Kara gulped back the guilt that burbled into her throat at the feel of Tommy’s small hand in hers. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt a child, and he wasn’t going to understand why she’d leave without saying goodbye. She never should have come here.

  Pasting on a smile that she was pretty sure Mrs. Steele saw right through, Kara stepped into the kitchen. At least there was no sign of Jake or his father around. She almost asked after them, but thought better of it. She’d have an easier time coming up with an excuse Tommy and his grandmother would believe than one Jake and his father would.

  “Why don’t you take Rusty out back for a bit?” Mrs. Steele urged Tommy as she set a mug of coffee in front of Kara at the table. “Give Miss Kara a chance to eat her breakfast.”

  Tommy raced for the door. Pausing on the threshold, he turned back to Kara. “When you’re done eating, I’ll show you the tricks I learned him.”

  Kara drew back the mug from her lips, a genuine smile slipping out this time at his misused word. “I’d like that.”

  As soon as Tommy left, Mrs. Steele joined Kara at the table. “How’s your arm today? I can change the bandage after breakfast if you like.”

  Needing to get away as soon as possible, Kara slipped her arm into her lap beneath the table. “That’s okay. It’s fine.”

  Mrs. Steele gave her a motherly smile. “I imagine you’d like to call your family. You’re welcome to use the phone.”

  “I’m a little old to be running to my mother with every little scrape,” she said with a nervous laugh. Mrs. Steele patted her shoulder. “You’re never too old for a mother’s touch. Where do your folks live?”

  “Back east,” she responded automatically, then focused on chewing her muffin. She and the deputy marshal had rehearsed her cover story dozens of times, but her mind was suddenly drawing a blank.

  As if Mrs. Steele sensed how uncomfortable the questions had made her, she carried dishes to the sink and filled it with water. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Okay?”

  Kara nodded, desperately trying to harden herself against the yearning to stay, to be with people who cared about her welfare. Clark certainly hadn’t, and it’d been too many years since Mom and Dad had concerned themselves with what she was up to. Sure, she’d downplayed her need to go into hiding as a temporary measure, but they hadn’t seemed particularly bothered by the prospect of not being able to contact her for an indefinite period of time.

  Mrs. Steele returned to the table and patted her shoulder. “I washed your clothes. By the time Tommy puts Rusty through his paces for you, they should be dry.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. Then I can change for my morning run.” This would be perfect. She’d have her own clothes and just wouldn’t return from her run. Only, dare she put off leaving? How soon would Jake or his dad put in an appearance?

  She resisted the urge to ask and instead quickly finished her breakfast and joined Tommy in the backyard.

  Outside, the weather hadn’t improved much over the previous day, foggy and dreary, but at least it wasn’t raining. Tommy handed her the dog’s leash. “Hold him and count to twenty. Then tell him to find me.”

  Kara obliged, fondly remembering games of hide-and-seek with her own dog. When she silently reached twenty, she unleashed the dog. “Seek Tommy!”

  Rusty bounded off, his nose to the ground like a hound dog. A few seconds later, Tommy squealed with delight at being found.

  “You’ve done a good job training him to find you. Would you like me to show you a few other things you could teach him?”

  “Oh, yeah. Daddy grumbles about him not listening. Can you teach me how to make him listen?”

  Kara chuckled. “The most important thing is to be consistent with your commands and the hand signals you match to them, and then always expect him to obey.” She showed Tommy the basic signals for sit, stay, heel and come. His eager questions and desire to try each one made her miss teaching her kindergarten children more than she wanted to. Despite how the situation had turned out, she’d done the right thing. She couldn’t have lived with herself if she hadn’t tried to save that child by going to the police.

  The sound of a car engine slowing sent her into high alert. She peeked around the corner of the house. The car backfired and she nearly hit the dirt. A moment later, a teenage girl skipped out of the house across the street and got into the car, but that didn’t slow Kara’s racing heart. She needed to get out of here before Jake came back.

  “Kara, phone for you,” Mrs. Steele called from the back door.

  Panic streaked through her. “Me?” No one was supposed to know she was here.

  “It’s Jake. He asked me to call him when you got up.”

  Oh. She took the phone, mentally trying to figure out a way to thank him and say goodbye without him realizing it was goodbye.

  “Kara, I’m at your house. I’ll be home soon to talk to you about what we’ve found. Okay?”

  “Was it arson?”

  “Yes, there’s no doubt.”

  “Do they know who? I mean, was it like the other fires you mentioned? Do they think it could’ve been...?” Her voice trailed off. Why was she asking? The fire wasn’t the work of some serial arsonist, even if whoever set it had tried to make it look that way. She knew it.

  “Kara, do you have any enemies?”

  And apparently Jake knew it, too. She swallowed hard.

  “Kara?”

  “No. What kind of question is that? I really appreciate your concern and help, Jake, but—”

  Rusty spat out a ball at her feet and barked.

  “I need to go.” Kara tossed the ball to the other end of the yard. “I’m playing with Tommy and Rusty.”

  “Okay. But promise me you’ll be there when I get back.”

  She stared at the phone, unable to get the lie past the lump in her throat. Finally, she hit End and whispered, “Bye,” at the dead line. She left Tommy with a lame explanation, returned the phone to Mrs. Steele and fetched her still-damp clothes from the dryer before rushing upstairs to change.

  She never should’ve p
ressed Jake with questions about the fire. All she’d succeeded in doing was make him suspicious. He was a good man. She hated to lie to him, but telling the truth wasn’t an option.

  Turning toward the bed, she startled at her reflection in the dresser mirror. She stepped closer, traced Jake’s name embroidered on the left side of the jacket she wore. Had she imagined the appreciation she’d seen in his eyes as he’d surveyed her last night?

  In another life, maybe he, instead of his mother, would have given her the jacket to wear.

  No! She had no place for that thought. She yanked off the jacket, sending pain blazing down her arm in her rush. The heart flutters she got every time he looked at her were nothing more than a natural case of hero worship. He’d saved her life. Of course she’d find him attractive. Kind. Endearingly protective.

  She glared at herself in the mirror. “Stop it.” Hadn’t Clark, let alone her father’s fleeting concern, taught her anything? She didn’t have time for such silly notions. Jake would be driving back from Hadyn any second, probably with the sheriff in tow, and she couldn’t be here when he got back.

  She pulled on her clothes and raced downstairs. “Mrs. Steele, thank you so much for everything. You’ve been so kind.”

  “Oh, dear, you say that as though you’re leaving.”

  “No, no, just going for a run.” She cringed at the telltale heat she felt creep up her neck. “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you giving me a place to stay and—” she motioned to her clean clothes, the muffins on the counter “—everything.”

  She let herself out the front door so she wouldn’t have to face Tommy and Rusty again. Then, lifting the hoodie over her head, she turned north toward the highway and ran.

  * * *

  Jake found the sheriff on the sidewalk in front of what was left of Kara’s house. “I need to get home. The marshal’s going to give me a call once they clear an access to the cellar.”

  “Do you still think we’re looking at the same guy who set the fires in your district?”

  “From what I could see so far—” Jake buried his hands in his jacket pockets, not ready to float any other theories just yet “—yeah, I think so.”

  “I’m not so sure. I guess you heard about the gunman getting away last night?” At Jake’s nod, the sheriff continued, “Makes me even more convinced that your first take on our victim was right. I don’t think she’s as innocent as she wants us to think.”

  “Because she happened to be in the same coffee shop?” Jake strained to keep his hammering heart from sounding in his voice.

  “No, because we found her phone buried in the bathroom trash can. She’d pulled the battery. Clearly she didn’t want us tracking her.”

  Jake’s gut twisted at the memory of the panic he’d seen in her eyes. Didn’t want the cops or the gunman tracking her?

  He squinted at a guy sitting in a blue sedan parked across the street, looking their way. “Hey, do you know that guy?”

  The sheriff followed his gaze to the other side of the street. “No,” he groused, but before he got two strides toward the car, the guy climbed out and headed their way.

  “Excuse me. I’m looking for this woman.” He held up a folded copy of that morning’s Hadyn newspaper. A picture of Kara at last night’s fire graced the right-hand quarter above the fold.

  Jake fisted his hands, wishing he could strangle the byline-happy reporter who’d snapped the pic...right after he figured out whether this guy should be first in line.

  “Do you know where I can find her?” The trench coat–clad guy asked, pushing shades he didn’t need higher up his nose. “I understand she lived here.”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “Hal Walker, private investigator.” He handed the sheriff his card and another to Jake.

  The sheriff barely glanced at it. After all, anyone could print up a business card claiming to be anyone. “What’s your interest in Miss Grant?”

  “I believe she has information that may be of value to my client.”

  “Who’s your client?” Jake interjected.

  The P.I.’s gaze shifted to Jake, his head cocked. “Hey, aren’t you the firefighter in the picture with her?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “Afraid not. Just met her at the scene last night. Who’s your client?” Jake repeated.

  “I’m sorry, that’s confidential.”

  Jake bristled. Yeah, he could just imagine why. An irate ex-boyfriend or husband or whatever creep was after her, that she didn’t want to admit to, wouldn’t want his personal P.I. giving out his name.

  “What kind of information are we talking?” the sheriff asked, clearly thinking he might dig up a motive for the fire.

  “Information about pictures she took.”

  “When was that?” the sheriff pressed.

  “A few months ago. So do you know where she’s staying?”

  The sheriff tipped back his cap as he scrutinized the guy. “Sorry, no.”

  “Was Sue living here when she took the pictures?” Jake fished.

  The sheriff shot him a confused look, but the supposed P.I. didn’t appear fazed by the bogus name. He shook his head and said, “No, she moved after that.”

  The reporter hadn’t bothered to find out what Kara’s name was before going to print with his story. And apparently this P.I. wasn’t surprised to hear her going by an alias...if he knew what her real name was in the first place.

  Jake was beginning to wonder if he knew.

  “Can I see other ID?” the sheriff asked as a hundred other questions Jake would like to ask raced through his mind.

  The P.I. obliged by handing over a driver’s license, and as the sheriff studied the card, the P.I. said, “Could you tell me where she works? Maybe I could—”

  The sheriff gave him back his license. “Nope. Can’t help you.”

  “Well, if you see her again, could you at least pass along my card? Tell her I’d like to talk to her.”

  Jake fingered the business card in his pocket. Yeah, Hal could count on it, but somehow Jake doubted she’d be interested in talking.

  * * *

  Kara’s heart pounded as she neared the truck stop, and not from the sprint she’d taken to get there. She slowed her pace and surveyed the parking lot. The day Ray had brought her to Hadyn, he’d driven a tan Explorer. There wasn’t one in sight. Her chest deflated. With Jake on his way home to talk to her, it was unlikely she’d get away with nursing a coffee at one of the tables all day until Ray showed up...if he showed up.

  She skirted the vehicles and slipped in the side entrance. Burly looking guys filled the stools at the counter, and a few looked her way with an uncomfortably familiar glint of recognition in their eyes. She pulled her hood a little tighter and scanned the faces of the remaining patrons. Ray wasn’t among them.

  “Can I get you a coffee?” a waitress asked, holding up a pot.

  “Uh, no, thanks. I was just—” Kara pointed toward the convenience store adjoined to the other end of the small restaurant and kept walking. If one of the guys back there was Ray’s colleague, come in his stead, surely he’d follow her. Aside from a customer talking to the cashier at the checkout counter, the convenience store was empty. The customer wasn’t Ray, but he seemed vaguely familiar. She came around the next aisle so she’d be able to see him from the front without drawing attention to herself. Only he turned her way at the exact wrong moment, their gazes colliding.

  Her heart slammed into her ribs. Oh, no. She ducked her head and edged back down the aisle. It was Jake’s brother. It had to be. She recognized his face from the photographs in the Steeles’ home. And Mrs. Steele had told her he was a c
op—ex-FBI, too. She pretended to be interested in the bottles in the back fridge, forced her breathing to slow.

  What seemed like an eternity later, the bell over the door jingled his exit.

  She closed the refrigerator door, almost collapsing against it in her relief. Except now she really couldn’t hang around here waiting for Ray. As soon as Jake figured out she wasn’t coming back, he’d likely enlist his brother’s help to find her. An ex-FBI agent wasn’t likely to forget a face like hers. Why couldn’t God have given her an unmemorable oval-shaped face?

  So what did she do now? Surely the bad guys would think she’d fled town by now, as any person with half a brain would have done. But if Ray had been compromised, this was the only place another marshal would know to look for her.

  He’d specifically told her not to contact the marshal’s office. But if she tried calling the number she had for him again, and the bad guys had gotten to him, with the right connections, they’d pinpoint her location in seconds. Unless...

  She glanced out the store window. A trucker with California plates on his rig was filling up at the pump. If she borrowed his phone to make the call and he then headed south, the phone’s pings off passing cell phone towers would lead the bad guys on a wild-goose chase.

  She hurried out the door and was so busy keeping her eye on the trucker that she barreled into someone else.

  “Whoa, there,” he said in deep voice that sent a shiver down her spine. If his body hadn’t been found floating in the river last week, she would’ve sworn the voice belonged to the creep she’d photographed selling that poor child.

  “Excuse me. I’m sorry,” she said, without making eye contact.

  “Hey, you’re the gal from the fire. How are you?”

  She backed away. “Wh-what?” If this guy was from the marshal’s office, she was supposed to ask, “Do you like fiddle music?” But—

  He pulled out a newspaper he’d had tucked under his arm. “Your picture made the front page.”

  Oh. No. She felt the blood drain from her face. “Yes, I’m fine. Th-thank you for asking.” She rushed toward the trucker. This couldn’t be happening. If she didn’t get hold of Ray fast, she wouldn’t be able to show her face anywhere without being recognized.