Suspect Witness

by Ryshia Kennie

  “That’s it,” he agreed as he sat down. “Bit of competition between the chef and his help.” Josh laughed. “Worse, he’s from the Czech Republic and when he gets excited he reverts to his native tongue. I had to jump in, as all anyone understood was anger. Once I got through to him that he’d flipped languages and no one understood him...” He shrugged. “He switched to English and everything was good.”

  “You spoke to him in Czech? Is that what you’re saying?” Surprise ran through her. It wasn’t a common second language, at least not where she was from. “And you know that how?”

  “Born there,” he said easily. “First generation Czech, too young to remember the place, though. Folks left before I was even talking.”

  She hadn’t expected that. Josh seemed solid, made at home geek, born in America. Now he was telling her he had a bit of an exotic past. Dark hair curled around his ears, and somehow she hadn’t noticed the chiseled planes in his face or the sharp intelligence in his eyes. There had been so much about him that had been hidden by the ball cap and the dark, slightly unflattering glasses. Her heart raced momentarily considering what else she might have missed—who he was and his threat potential. She met his eyes head-on.

  “You never went back?”

  He shrugged. “Once. It’s a long story and the history of the region is boring dinner talk.”

  “So you grew up in the United States, but...” She couldn’t help staring at the new Josh. She looked away.

  “But I speak Czech,” he said easily. “You know how it is when your parents are from somewhere else.” He laughed. “No, I suppose you don’t.” He shrugged. “They spoke Czech at home, to each other, so I got a pretty good handle on the language.”

  “Oh,” she said. Darkness had settled around them. It seemed to draw long fingers into the room, meshing on the edges of the light, threatening to take over. She gave herself a small shake. Her imagination was in overdrive again.

  But she couldn’t seem to help it. She hated this time of day. It made her feel vulnerable somehow. Yet despite the jarring incident in the kitchen, the darkness and this morning’s tragedy, she felt calmer than she’d felt all day.

  He picked up the menu, held it for a minute as if he wanted to say something. His thumb tapped against the glossy cardboard, his fingernail white and well-manicured.

  She supposed that went along with who he was, a citified man. A man whose closest brush with nature would be the boardwalk leading to the caves.

  He opened the menu and glanced briefly over the top of it. “I’m not sure what to choose.”

  Her menu lay in front of her. She picked it up and opened it, glancing through the choices.

  “The problem is I like everything that’s on here.” He lowered the menu and smiled at her.

  She couldn’t help but offer him a tentative smile back. There was so little that was threatening about him, and she’d already deemed him a nonthreat, she reminded herself. She wouldn’t be sitting here with him otherwise. And more than likely, considering who was after her, he would have liquefied her by now if that had been his plan. She shuddered. Liquefy. It was an outrageous word, a movie word—nothing more.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” She lowered the menu and looked at him, surprised for a moment at the knowing that lurked deep in his brown eyes. And just as quickly, that sense of knowledge was gone and his eyes hid nothing more intense than the smile he offered her.

  Keep your distance.

  “What made you come to Malaysia?” He set down the menu. “I mean alone. That must have been difficult.”

  You have no idea.

  She’d hated being alone, and in Singapore she’d stumbled on a woman who had briefly become a friend: Emma. She’d enjoyed Emma’s company in the short time she had been there and had been grateful for a place to stay. But when she’d left, she’d disappeared, leaving only a brief note. Nothing online, nothing traceable. She’d followed that rule, Mike’s rule, to the letter. Georgetown was where she’d made her mistake. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and she willed them away with a mental effort that she’d honed these past months. Tears were counterproductive, and she hadn’t cried since she’d crossed the US border, possibly for the last time. The back of her neck felt hot and her stomach tightened. She took a breath and fought for the feeling of normalcy, for the ability to project the illusion. This time, getting close would only be an illusion and she’d pull away before anything could happen. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

  “No, it’s all right. I’ve just had some bad news.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Nothing that won’t resolve itself.”

  “Good then,” he said. “Man, I’m starved. Did you notice the special of the day? It might be a better alternative than this darn menu.” He shook his head. “Never give a hungry man too many choices, not when they all look good.”

  “No, I...” She shook her head, relieved to change the subject. She hadn’t really looked at the menu. She’d lifted it up, held it in front of her for enough minutes to have read it, but the truth was that she hadn’t even given a thought to it. Less than eight hours ago a man had died in an explosion meant for her. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t get it out of her mind. She blinked. She had to stop thinking about it. Forward was the only option. “I’m not particularly hungry.”

  “Pizza,” he said with a smile.

  She drew in a quiet breath and smiled.

  “Would you like to share the standard, pepperoni, Italian sausage—”

  “Mushrooms,” she finished and laughed. She hoped the laugh had sounded natural. But then she was hypercritical of her acting ability, knowing what failure to put on a good act could mean.

  “Mushrooms,” he agreed. “Goes without saying. You’re in?”

  “Definitely. I’ll share, but nothing large unless you’re hungry.”

  “And a small salad,” he added.

  She nodded gratefully. She hadn’t had pizza in months. Not that it hadn’t been available, but she hadn’t done more than go to school and return to her small apartment to eat and sleep before starting the routine again the next day. She’d stayed low, stayed off the streets. That was until just a week ago when she’d begun to go out a little, lead a normal life, think the heat was off.

  She’d been mistaken.

  She looked up and met his straightforward, almost honest gaze. He was exactly as she’d originally judged him to be—safe. There didn’t seem to be anything nefarious or dangerous about him.

  She toyed with her napkin and then dropped it. She needed to take charge, take the lead.

  “Have you booked any tours?” she asked as she set her menu aside. But before he could answer, the waiter was at their table requesting their orders.

  “Medium pizza.” Josh listed the ingredients. “And a Greek salad.” Josh smiled at her. “Greek is good?”

  “Of course,” she said with more cheer in her voice than she was feeling. “How did you know?” The words slipped out. She drew in a breath. That was unacceptable and could lead to mistakes.

  “Know what?”

  “Which salad I like.” She shook her head, giving herself a mental shake, as well. “Of course you didn’t. That was a ridiculous thing to say.”

  “I’m sorry, I should have asked.” Josh’s lips pressed together and he cracked his knuckles as if overcome by a case of nerves.

  “It’s all right. No worries, really.”

  “Doesn’t everyone like Greek?” Josh asked and there was a look of puzzlement on his face.

  Geeky and safe, she thought with not so much emphasis on the first as there had been when she’d first seen him.

 
Instead, the word safe seemed to ring in her mind, and for once in her long flight she had the odd sense of coming home.

  * * *

  DESPITE WHAT JOSH thought of the actions that had brought Erin to this place, there was something that drew her to him. Maybe it was the self-deprecating smile on her face that he found sexy or her lips that were full and beautifully kissable.

  He shouldn’t be thinking about her like that, like anything but an assignment. But it had been a long time since he’d been in a relationship that was anything but a one-night stand. This assignment had ridden tight on the back of another that had taken him through central Europe. There had been no thought or time for women or clandestine affairs. There was no time for such now.

  A look behind him confirmed that the older couple to their left and one table behind were finishing their desert. The accent in their voices, mannerisms and the bits of conversation he caught indicated that they came from northern England. The man had a pallid look to him but a strong jaw line that spoke of someone who could be relied on in a pinch. He watched as they spoke and how they gestured. Married, he guessed with accuracy that rarely failed. Longstanding, he also suspected from the way they sat in long, easy moments of silence. To his right, two men were focused only on each other, and as he watched, one’s hand covered the others. They had been the ones with the ultra-conservative luggage and now their conversation was intense, every look, every movement, focused on each other. He’d ruled them out earlier as no threat.

  “Were you planning to go to the caves tomorrow?” he asked, turning his attention back to her.

  “I suppose,” she said. “No.” She shook her head with a smile. “Definitely. Why else would I be here? I’m sorry. I was distracted.” She threaded the fingers of one hand through those of the other.

  You’re not too sure about any trip, because that’s not why you’re here.

  Her thinly arched brows met slightly closer together as she turned her attention back to him. The eyebrows were only part of her disguise but an effective part. Past girlfriends and keen observation had him recognizing a cosmetically altered brow. It was an obvious attempt to make the natural arch of her brows into something else.

  She leaned forward, her body language encouraging him, and he knew immediately that her thoughts were aligning with his. She was setting him up to be the temporary boyfriend, the smokescreen, taking her out of the role of single woman traveling alone. It was all becoming too easy. Of course, this could all be the proverbial calm before the storm.

  “Shall we?” he asked as he slid the payment folder to the center of the table.

  “I really wish you’d let me...”

  “Gentleman’s prerogative,” he said with a slightly suggestive smile.

  Ten minutes later they were at her door. He bent down, meaning to give her a friendly kiss on the cheek. Instead, she put her hands lightly on his shoulders and turned her head, kissing him full on the lips—a closed-mouth kiss but a kiss just the same.

  “Good night, Josh,” she whispered as she turned and unlocked the door.

  Bravo, he thought. She’d taken charge of the situation, stepped in and made the first move, placing him in position to be the boyfriend she needed. It was a brilliant strategy and damn fine work for an amateur. And he tried not to think of how much willpower it had taken not to do more than just kiss her. He had been tempted like he hadn’t in a very long time. He imagined what she would taste like, what her curves would feel like against him instead of the teasing brush that had been reality.

  Instead, he continued to pretend he was a naive tourist and whispered, “Good night,” before turning and heading back the way they had come.

  Chapter Ten

  The rock gleamed, stark and impenetrable by the light of Josh’s flashlight. It was just before midnight and his watch alarm would rouse him to announce the beginning of a new day in less than five hours.

  For a second he took in the caves through the eyes of a tourist. Clearwater Cave, at over one hundred miles in explored length, was once thought to be the longest cave in the world. The sheer grandeur of nature’s beauty carved in rock was awe inspiring even at midnight by the light of a flashlight. But natural beauty and inspiration were not what he was looking for.

  “I hope to hell this is all redundant information,” he muttered. So far he’d marked off the pathway, checked out both Deer and Wind Caves with the intent of ending this night’s tour here, at the one cave that could circumvent trouble better than either the walkway—too visible—or the jungle—too impenetrable.

  The mouth of Clearwater Cave loomed large, a hollowed black monolith that was intimidating by the light of day, never mind against the backdrop of the night sky. The system went on for miles with individual caves linking up to others giving the illusion of a singular cave. While he’d been here before on another assignment more than four years ago, he had only explored these caves virtually. The assignment had been over within hours, the targets easily disposed of.

  The light grazed the rough rock, gray-brown and dense with the wear of time. Like the two caves that had come before, this one had walkways that made it easy for the amateur to explore with the added safety of a guide. What would make escape more difficult were all the places off the walkway, the nooks and crannies that could hide a killer.

  In other circumstances he would be impressed by the magnitude of it all. The cave was as massive and awe inspiring as the brochure had promised. He shone his flashlight into the dark depths, but the light couldn’t touch the outer reaches of the cave. It was that large. He returned the light to the walkway. He skimmed a hand along the rail that kept the tourists safely away from the vast middle of the cave where rough rock outcroppings and stalagmites made exploration treacherous.

  A snake slithered along the railing. The flood of light had disturbed its nighttime hunt, and its slim length gleamed an eerie blue black in the artificial light. Josh pushed forward, ignoring the cave-racer snake, a nonpoisonous variety that fed mostly on bats. The information rattled through his mind even as he passed the reptile. The only snakes he was interested in were those of the warm-blooded variety.

  His flashlight skirted over the walls where insects crawled through crevices. Other creatures hid there, as well, but nowhere that his light hit was there a crevice large enough to hide a man. The light swept the walkway and across into the main part of the cave where stalagmites and craters peppered the cave floor, which was slick with bat guano. It was there where the danger would hide, and it was also there where they could escape if need be.

  He needed a handle on all exit points no matter how difficult an exit it might prove. The only thing he didn’t plan to check was walking out. For that would involve getting through thick jungle and climbing limestone cliffs. It was an arduous trip that only the fittest would attempt. It wasn’t an option easily scouted, and it wasn’t one he planned to take, not with a woman who had no experience rock climbing.

  He bent down, grabbed the top of the railing and swung over. He landed with a small thump on the soft mat of the cave floor. The light continued to skim over time-smoothed rock, musty with the damp that had settled like a second skin. The dank blackness thickened and surrounded him as he stepped tentatively along the slick floor, the bat guano feet deep in places.

  At the back of this cave was a river, one he hadn’t needed to check out on the one previous visit, for that had been a different kind of assignment. The river was part of a convoluted underground water system that was thought to have created the caves. More important, it was a probable escape hatch. One he hoped they wouldn’t need.

  Ahead there was a deeper, impenetrable blackness, one that wasn’t touched by the moonlit-streaked night that was faltering the farther he was from the entrance. The darkness seemed to draw tight around him, the silence continually broken by the squeaks of thousands of bats.
r />   He slipped and caught his balance. The light shifted wildly, skirting across the rock.

  “Damn it,” he muttered through clenched teeth. He could easily lose his balance, slide and fall into what was basically a giant bat toilet. The smell, considering it all, wasn’t bad. Instead, it was a dank, rich, slightly fetid scent. He’d smelled worse on other assignments in other places. Much worse. And for a second he remembered the spoils of war, and the horror of rotting corpses in the midst of insurgencies in poverty-ridden countries.

  “Fifty,” he muttered, counting off his steps. Each was approximately a two-foot advance into the cave. According to the map, the first access to the underground river would be a matter of following the wooden walkway along the perimeter of the cave.

  He stopped and switched off the light. There was a different sound now, a feeling to the vast emptiness that hadn’t been there before. He switched on the light and peered into the blackness. There was nothing beyond where the sliver of light from the flashlight splashed. He turned around. The entrance was more than one hundred feet back, where the last of the evening light had vanished. There the moon shone down and provided some light, some reprieve. The darkness, the hollow rock that held so much unseen life, all of it was a challenge that ran a sliver of fear along his backbone and made his whole being come alive.

  “Sixty-three.” He counted off his steps under his breath, his attention focused again on the immediate surroundings. The cave was off-limits this late at night. Tourists were to keep away from the caves at these hours. They were dangerous, and they’d all been given a copy of the rules, printed in tourist pamphlets and reiterated by resort staff. It had been clear from the beginning. People had died in these caves by not following the rules. It was the standard mantra, and it worked. The mass of people believed and followed rules, fearful of the consequences of noncompliance. It wasn’t that people hadn’t died, but the dangers were not as excessive or as common as tourists were led to believe. But it worked for the majority. Traveling in safe groups and staying at a safe resort was enough adventure for the average city dweller.