Suspect Witness

by Ryshia Kennie

  “CIA.”

  “No.” The word was small and soft in the vastness of the jungle.

  She seemed paralyzed with disbelief, fright—he wasn’t sure which. He needed to pull her out of it. Shock her.

  “They want you dead.” He took her arm. “I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  She seemed unable to comprehend what he was saying. He went for a figurative slap.

  “Emma is dead.” He didn’t have to qualify with a surname. Her look told him everything he needed to know. She knew who Emma was.

  Her face went pale, paler than it had been only seconds before.

  The words were shocking, but he knew she needed something to galvanize her into action. It was a brutal way for her to find out about the woman who had been an acquaintance—a friend, he suspected. But he didn’t have time to use pretty words or soothe her shattered calm. He had to get her up and get them moving. They’d been discovered and they needed to get the hell out fast.

  She pulled her hand free.

  “Look,” he gritted. “There’s no time to offer proof. You have two choices. Trust me or...” He nodded his head backward where it was obvious only death waited.

  She stood there almost rocking on her heels. He could see the indecision, the unwillingness to trust any further, and he didn’t blame her.

  It had been seconds really that she wavered, although it seemed longer. Suddenly, her indecision was gone. Now he no longer had to tug at her—she was moving alongside him, pushing ahead, running. They were moving along the boardwalk path that had once seemed so civilized, so harmless, so...

  He could hear her breaths, heavy with an edge that bordered on labored. He had her running full-out.

  One minute and then two; he knew it wasn’t physical exhaustion that would take her down quickly but the emotional panic that overlaid it all. She wasn’t trained to deal with a flight-or-fight moment, no matter how much she’d upped her exercise routine.

  Four minutes in they rounded a familiar bend where the walkway’s elevation lowered. His gaze cast down into the jungle, waiting for the break when the jungle met the path.

  He stopped suddenly. They couldn’t run forever. They needed shelter, and that shelter was looming ahead of them in the sweating foliage of the rain forest.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She nodded, panting, and in her glazed, fear-stricken eyes he saw, or maybe hoped he saw something that hadn’t been there before—trust edged with a little desperation.

  He went to ground, dropping to the wooden walkway, pulling her down beside him, their feet dangling over the rich vine-and-brush-layered jungle. Here it was a little less dense. And only a few feet away they could get lost. He would have to carefully follow the walkway above them.

  They were on the other side from where the shot had come. They could hide as easily as their pursuer. He doubted if whoever was after them had any more jungle knowledge than he did. If it was Sid, he suspected from his notes on the man, less. But that aside the man was good and would make up for it in other areas.

  “Jump!”

  She nodded, and with that he pushed off, her hand firmly in his, her body aligned perfectly with his. They landed with a thump. He released her hand as he rolled and was immediately on his feet. He held out his hand; there was no hesitation as she gave him hers. He helped her to her feet and began to jog ahead to where the trees grew thicker, the foliage deeper, where they might be more hidden. Still, the noise of their movements couldn’t be covered. Instead of the thud of hikers on wood, there was the rustle of brush being moved aside and a different sound to their footsteps. He looked up and could see the path directly to his right. The sun was screened by the walkway and shadows were thick in the foliage. But still it felt too open.

  “This way,” he hissed. “To Clearwater Cave,” he said in answer to her unspoken question.

  She didn’t say anything, and he admired the fact that she instinctively knew to be silent, to keep up.

  The cave was where he had the best chance of defending them and where they had the best chance of escape. But that cave was twenty minutes away on a walk. That time would be shortened by a run but through jungle and with her smaller steps and endurance, it was still a good distance away. Overhead there were only jungle sounds—a bird calling for a mate, the thud of a branch dropping to the forest floor—but behind them there was nothing.

  It was over ten minutes before they stood below the cave and another minute before they had climbed the steps and were at the entrance of the cave. Behind them there had been silence more disturbing than the earlier gunshot.

  He held her back with one arm around her waist.

  A minute, two passed.

  He nodded to her and they stepped into the damp coolness, the rustle of bats overhead and the feeling that they had entered another world.

  He silently counted their steps as soon as they passed the entrance and the light began to fade. A generator sat at the entrance to provide light for the tours. It wasn’t running. Instead, there was an uneasy stillness filled with the rustling of the creatures of the dark and the bats. Their presence was everywhere as the darkness closed in, as he and Erin moved away from the entrance and the light faded. He continued to count their steps.

  Twenty.

  Thirty-five.

  Her palm was warm and trusting against his. Briefly, he wondered how much of that was illusion, his want of her trust, and how much was real. It didn’t matter. He shifted his hand, taking a stronger grip on hers. The fetid scent of the other occupants of this cave was oddly comforting, as if the bats stood between them and danger.

  Forty-five.

  They were smaller steps than he had taken before. He’d factored that in the previous night—her steps weren’t as large as his and he was already pushing her to her limits and about to ask for more.

  Fifty.

  Not far enough to be safe from gunfire but far enough to be out of sight in the shadowy darkness. He hugged them as close to the inside railing as they could get, she on the inside, near the rock, and he on the outside, where danger could lurk. He’d considered going directly to their area of least defense because it was also the one that cloaked them the best as no light reached there. But it meant going across the uncharted floor where the stalagmites made walking treacherous. That wasn’t for her.

  A shadow moved in the entrance that was now well behind them. Still, it was a light-filled beacon although the light no longer reached them.

  Josh’s hand went to the Glock. “Get down,” he hissed. “And keep moving.”

  A shot rang out.

  The small flashlight he carried had subtly marked their path not just for them but the killer who was following them. Another shot this time to his left.

  He clicked off the beam.

  A sliver of light cut through the darkness. It wasn’t sunlight and it came from the entrance.

  “Run!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  He could feel her eyes on him and sensed the fear vibrating from her. There was no time for comfort, for consoling. “Go.” He tried to couch as much confidence as he could in his voice. If he could he would have taken her fear and eliminated it like he eventually would their pursuer.

  “Stay on the walkway to the river,” he said in a harsh whisper as he gave her a slight push and then moved forward, placing himself between her and whoever was after them. He could see a shadow at the entrance, the outline of a man. He lifted his Glock and shot—a warning more than anything.

  The answering shots rang out—one, two, three. Josh counted them off so he could time as closely as possible the moment when a reload would be needed. And while he counted he turned and ran, following Erin, heading for the river and their escape.

  Ten shots.

  If h
e’d guessed right, there were five to seven bullets left depending on what kind of magazine the bastard had. His mind reeled with possibilities. He stopped, assessing the situation.

  Nothing. Only silence.

  He moved forward quietly now, waiting, listening. Then he deliberately kicked a rock that pitched forward landing hollowly somewhere ahead of him. Another shot. There were four to six left. He couldn’t be sure. He scuffled his feet, not too much to create suspicion that this might be a diversion, but enough to focus the killer’s attention on him rather than on Erin.

  The silence was too long.

  The bastard was reloading.

  Erin was far enough ahead, out of range. He could hear her moving forward as he’d instructed, but he could no longer see her.

  He leaned down, felt around for another rock, picked up one and then two. He threw one. The stone rattled in a hollow clatter just ahead of him and to his left as it bounced along the cave floor. He hit the ground as another shot fired in the direction of the rock he’d just thrown.

  There was a deathly stillness that seemed strangely alive, as if the cave breathed around him.

  He threw the second rock and began to move forward toward the river. There was an odd whirring like a faint clapping, seeming more distant than it was, as the bats were disturbed and a few began to fly around.

  He bent down, jumping lightly off the walkway and to the floor of the cave. He moved carefully, quietly, picking his way along the treacherous floor, heading to the river and Erin.

  He counted his steps, choreographing them to the night before. He was within fifty feet of the river. Already he could sense it by the increase in moisture in the air and that odd smell that wasn’t quite as dank as the rest of the cave. He stopped, looked behind as something moved to his left.

  A light flickered briefly but long enough for him to pinpoint their tracker. He fired. There was a thud, then the sound of something falling. He’d made contact. At least, he hoped he had.

  Seconds ticked by and there was nothing, only a hollow emptiness, silence so deep that it had him silencing his own movements, listening and looking ahead for Erin.

  Was whoever pursued them gravely injured?

  Dead?

  He moved forward as the cave floor smoothed out and the ceiling lowered. He couldn’t see her. “Be there,” he muttered and hoped that she hadn’t veered off the path, that he hadn’t missed her.

  Where was she?

  “Josh,” she whispered very close to him.

  He reached up toward the walkway, where he could see the dim glimmer of flesh. His fingers brushed against her hand. He could see the whites of her eyes in the dark, in the muted flare of his flashlight as he shone it through his sleeve. And what he saw looked stark and very afraid.

  He gave her hand a gentle tug, felt her nod in understanding as she scooted to the edge of the walkway, dangled her legs over as he reached up and lifted her down. Behind them the silence was somehow more ominous than anything that had come before. He took her hand and they began to pick their way forward. The sound of water dripping overhead and the dank cool feel of the rock intensified as they came closer to the river. He squeezed her hand, trying to transfer courage to her or at the least trust in him. For what he was about to ask her to do, swim in the dark, and finally going underwater. Doing that might take all the courage she had.

  Behind them, there were no shots and Josh wished there had been. Then at least he could have tracked the bastard, known if he was getting closer or had gotten lucky and killed him.

  “Can you swim?” he asked.

  “No. I took lessons, but...”

  “No?” He stopped, and she bumped into him. Lessons. She should be able to swim. Irrelevant. She couldn’t. He redirected his mind from the problem to the solution.

  She clutched his hand so tightly that he thought he would lose feeling. “I can float, but...” Her voice shook.

  Gently, he unpeeled her fingers from his. “I’ll do the swimming for both of us.”

  Her breath was soft, hitching in the bleak darkness. Behind them a killer might still lurk and there was no time to bolster her courage. They had to get out of here, fear or not.

  He took a breath, his mind checking off the options, the alternatives. There was none. There was only one thing to do.

  He squeezed her hand as they turned around a large boulder, the final marker that told him they were there. His hand felt along now in the darkness. He flicked on his flashlight as they were now shielded from the entrance and from the killer by distance and the twists and turns they had taken to get here.

  If his calculation was right, they would soon be within a few feet from where the cave floor opened up and the underground river began.

  Around them the damp, dank walls seemed to almost breathe a collective sigh. Beside him, he could hear Erin’s soft, almost hitching breathing. His hand went to her arm and in the process brushed the soft rise of her breast. He felt the rapid beat of her heart, and the warm, sweet scent that was distinctly her seemed to surround him. He couldn’t help it—in this microsecond lull of safety, he pulled her tight against him, pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was hard and deep as his tongue explored her mouth, and she clung to him, her heart pounding against his. Behind him he could hear the steady drip of water, see nothing but darkness and smell the musty scent of water too long in an enclosed space.

  He broke the kiss, his hands on her shoulder. “Hang on to me and don’t let go no matter what happens.”

  He bent down and felt her hands on his shoulders and her legs close around his waist. “It’s underwater. Take a deep breath when I tell you.”

  One minute was what he had timed for this first leg. An eternity for anyone who hadn’t practiced holding their breath for any length of time, especially in a situation where fear made the body crave more oxygen. He ran a hand along her forearm. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  He felt her draw in her breath and her slight weight press against his back. He took a breath. Turned and nodded to her before he jumped in with her clinging to his back.

  The initial push into the water was more difficult than he’d thought. Suddenly her weight seemed heavier, more than he anticipated, and his shin scraped against rock. Pain sliced through him, stabbing up his leg, and he hoped it was nothing serious.

  Water closed over his head as they went under.

  The water was surprisingly warm as they sank. Warmer than he remembered it being the previous night. He began making powerful strokes, pushing them upward and forward. His lungs began to burn as they pushed toward the point where he knew that they would begin to ache for lack of oxygen. He hoped she could hang on until they broke the surface.

  He counted seconds as he had done when he had run the first trial of this water escape. He allowed for an extra few seconds, knowing he was swimming slower with Erin on his back.

  Twenty-one.

  Twenty-two.

  Twenty-three.

  Water pressed heavily on him and now her weight seemed so light as not to be there. The only reassurance that she was still there was her arm that was around his neck and pressing so hard that it hurt. He reached up and brushed her forearm with his hand, a silent warning to change her grip. She shifted her arm, taking the pressure off his throat.

  Twenty-four.

  Twenty-five.

  They were just beneath the surface now. He was within half a minute of reaching his endurance and that meant she was at the end of hers.

  Thirty.

  Thirty-one.

  He’d mentally counted out forty when he forced them above the surface to where they were out of the main interior of the cave, into the quiet subsidiary that led through tight rock, another turn that was completely under the rock and then out into another cave area and finally c
lose to the entrance of the resort and hopefully safety.

  She gasped, her grip on him tight as he surfaced. He wanted to ask if she was okay, but he could only tentatively squeeze one hand and suck in a silent breath as he took long, sure strokes, floating and pushing forward in turns, as the water seemed to close in around them, insulating them from the danger that lurked behind. Ahead he could see light and hoped nothing was there to meet them or they would be screwed. His mind ran through the options.

  His muscles screamed now with the extra weight. Swimming had never been his forte. She shifted, and he gritted his teeth, expecting her to lose her grip and slide off. He prepared for rescue. Instead, her grip tightened.

  She was every bit as tenacious as he, he thought with an inward smile. They’d make it out. All he had to do was keep swimming. Behind them there was a disturbing silence filled only by the lap of water.

  There was no going backward, no turning to face anyone. There was only escape in that slash of light ahead of him. From there he needed a plan and he kept swimming, his mind on a plan of action that would get her the hell out of here.

  “Take a breath. We’re going under one more time.”

  Her answer was a tightening of her grip on his shoulders.

  “On three.”

  Water closed around them as tight and as urgent as his thoughts. He had to move fast, get to the resort and get her out. But two things stood in the way of that: the gunman behind him and the woman on his back. Of the two things, it was the woman he was most concerned about. A life-and-death matter was one thing, but when they emerged from this cave how would he convince her that he was the only way to safety?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Erin clung to his back, one hand now fisting his shirt, her other arm around his neck. Was she holding too tight? Would she choke him? Should she let go, and if she did would she drown? They were crazy thoughts, uncontrolled, and she couldn’t stop them. The thoughts, the fear, all of it ran rampant through her.

  Her eyes were pinched shut.