Runaway Witness

by Maggie K. Black

  Building campfires was something he’d always enjoyed—gathering materials, balancing the kindling just so, moving step by step, until he finally got to watch the fire burn.

  But he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to do it as much as he liked. His family had never gone camping as a kid. Instead, family holidays mostly involved going to very fancy places, where everything was uncomfortable and he wasn’t allowed to touch anything, let alone get his hands dirty. His mother had tried her best to make it fun for the three of them. But even something as simple as swimming in the pool was under constant scrutiny by his father for “splashing too much,” “just standing there wiggling his hands” or “not looking like he was having fun.”

  But hadn’t that been his whole life? Being extra careful to keep up appearances and pretending very hard to be someone he wasn’t just to get by?

  Iris still hadn’t emerged by the time the fire was ready to light, and he found himself lingering a long moment, watching as her shape passed back and forth past the windows. He even went as far as pressing his palms to his knees and standing up to go knock on the camper door before coming to his senses and sitting back down.

  If he missed her so much when she was a few feet away, how was he going to manage when the team figured out their extraction plan and she left his life for good?

  His phone told him it was nearing midnight. He frowned. It also showed that the phone hadn’t actually been charging while they’d been driving, and the battery was now lower than ever. He fished a gas station receipt and lighter from his jacket pocket, set the paper alight and then nestled it inside the campfire. He blew on it gently and watched as the blue and orange flames spread to the twigs and brush around it. Then he sat back and let the snow fall on his face and the smell of smoke and pine fill his lungs.

  His phone pinged with a message. It was Liam, telling him to get somewhere alone and then call him ASAP.

  The sound of the door opening turned his attention back to the camper. Iris stepped out, holding the battery-operated lamp, and now he could see just how battered, scraped and damaged the walls of the camper had gotten since he’d found her less than six hours ago.

  Iris stood there for a moment, bathed in the light of the lamp in her hand. In the other, she held a bottle of water. She’d changed her clothes and was now dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a soft blue turtleneck sweater under a puffy winter coat. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was the most beautiful and fascinating person he’d ever seen in his life, even if he’d never be able to tell her that.

  She walked toward him and it was like the heat of the fire grew with every step she took. His legs ached to stand, and his arms ached to open and pull her into his chest.

  His phone pinged again, with a message from Liam that was just one word long: Important.

  He typed, One second, and slid the phone back into his pocket.

  She handed him the water, waited until he’d taken a long swig and then pulled a granola bar from her jacket pocket and handed it to him, too. Grateful, he unwrapped it and took a bite.

  “Tell me you’ve eaten and drunk something, too,” he said.

  “I have,” she said. “I’ve been trying to recreate the map from memory. But it’s no use. For weeks, I’ve had options and been able to make a plan. Now the best I can do is shoot off into the dark and hope I land somewhere safe.”

  Or she could give up running altogether, let him bring her in and then let Jess help her build a new life. He finished the granola bar in two bites, stuffed the empty wrapper in his pocket and took another swig of water. He debated telling her that Seth had a copy of the map right away, but instead decided it made more sense to wait until after he’d talked to his team. He’d tell her very soon, just not right now.

  She frowned, and he found himself patting the log beside him, wiping the snow off with his glove as he did so.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You’ll figure something out.”

  He’d figure something out, too.

  She stayed standing with her arms crossed over her chest. Her gaze moved from the fire to the trees and then the dark skies above. “I can’t stop thinking about the stuff Bud said.”

  He almost laughed. Iris was the most stubborn person he’d ever met, in all the best ways. When she grabbed hold of something, she never let it go until she’d worried it to death.

  “What stuff?” he asked. “You mean, that he called you naive and foolish?” She nodded. “But why? Those four months we spent hanging out together, I heard people call you way worse. I mean, I’ve practically heard you called every bad name in the book. It took a whole lot of self-control not to grab each and every one by the scruff of the neck and make them apologize to you. But I followed your lead, and you always rolled with it.”

  Her gaze fell on his face, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to look at her without feeling something catch in his chest.

  “Because maybe what Bud said is true,” she said. “Maybe I am naive. And foolish. Because I really cared about you. Like a lot.”

  She walked over to the far side of the firepit, cleared off a log and sat. The fire danced between them. She rested her elbows on her knees and looked at him through the flames.

  “Your friendship meant everything to me, Mack,” she said. “You were my favorite person on the planet. I spent more time with you than anyone. And you fooled me. And if I’m not able to see when someone I’m that close to is tricking me, then maybe Bud’s right and I really am foolish and naive.”

  “Don’t.” He stood suddenly, even as he felt his phone ringing again in his pocket, demanding his attention. “Just stop it with all that. It hurts me to see you sitting there beating yourself up, and it hurts even worse to know it’s because of me.”

  She looked up at him, her words seemingly frozen on her tongue.

  “First of all,” he said, “I’m really, really good at what I do. I’m a professional actor, I guess you’d say. I step into a new life, take on a new persona and pretend it’s who I am. It’s what I do and it’s what I’ve done for a very long time. Even before I became a cop, I had a lot of practice at editing myself and pretending to be who my father wanted me to be. So, there’s that.”

  Her chin quivered slightly, and then it rose.

  “Second,” he said, “I’ve never lied to you. I was really vague about some details. But I never actually lied to you—”

  “So you really do know what it’s like to go to bed hungry?” she asked.

  Oh, why did she have to choose now of all moments to jump in, and that of all questions to ask him?

  “Yes, I did.” But not for the reasons you thought.

  “And you really did come home to find your dad had stolen every cent you earned at your part-time job and sold your car?”

  “Yes.” But not in the way you’d expect.

  “And you really were beaten up and punched by school bullies?”

  “Yes, I really was,” Mack cut her off. “And most important, I really did want you to get to know me—the real me. As much of me as I could show you safely, and then more than that. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, Iris. It’s just that there’s a whole lot wrong with the world. But you don’t focus on the bad stuff. You’re like someone who walks into a junkyard and only sees the perfectly restored classic hiding inside the wreck. You see who people could be. And that’s not foolish. That’s special. That’s worth everything. Because most people never have anyone who looked at them the way you do. Ever. I know I never did.”

  And it hurt more than she’d probably believe to know she’d never look at him like that again.

  His phone was ringing persistently. Whatever Liam wanted, he wasn’t about to wait a moment longer. Mack pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen and then up at Iris. The reception was weak and he needed higher ground.

  “I’ve got to
take a phone call,” he said, “and that means I need a few minutes of privacy. But I don’t want you to have to leave the fire and go back into the cold camper. So I’m going to walk up the hill, just far enough that you won’t overhear me, but where I can get a stronger signal and still look down and keep an eye on you. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded and stretched out her hand for the water bottle. He handed it back to her. “I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Okay,” he said. There wasn’t anywhere really for her to go. “I won’t be long.” He put the phone to his ear as he walked away and pressed the button.

  “Hello, Mack here,” he said. “I’m sorry. I needed a minute. I was dealing with something important.”

  “Understood,” Liam said, and everything in his voice implied he just wished they’d spoken sooner. “Are you alone?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at where Iris sat beside the fire. “I will be,” he said. “One moment. I’m going to try to get a better signal. Also, to warn you, the phone wasn’t charging, so it might cut out on us. Fortunately, Iris has a phone as well and there should be a charger in the camper.”

  He walked up the hill, looking back over his shoulder every few moments at the soft glowing light of the campfire. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “I’ll start with the good,” Liam said, “and then move on to the bad when you’re confident you can’t be overheard.”

  “Okay.”

  “Local RCMP raided Crow’s Farm ten minutes ago,” Liam said. “They got on it fast. Huge operation. They made eighteen arrests, including Corvus and Eddie, and are now securing the facility.”

  Mack sent a prayer of thanksgiving to the dark skies above.

  “Yeah,” Liam said. “The local guys are loving us right now. Also, Seth said to let you know he’s now eighteen percent through Iris’s map and so far only about a quarter of the data is bad news.”

  “Okay. And what’s the problem?”

  “Oscar Underwood has been granted bail,” Liam said. “He’s being released in a few hours.”

  “What?” Mack glanced down the hill; Iris had turned toward his shout. He gritted his teeth and strode faster. “How? Why?”

  “They reduced the charges,” Liam said. “No more kidnapping. No more forcible confinement or threats of violence. He’s now just being charged with a bunch of labor violations.”

  Mack let out a long breath like someone had just knocked the wind from his lungs. He leaned back against a tree and looked up at the sky. “How can they do that? Iris already has Underwood’s Jackals after her! They destroyed her homeless center. Just think of how much more of a threat Underwood will be to her life outside of prison, especially with the resources at his disposal.”

  “Well, she’s the one who ran from witness protection and won’t let you take her in,” Liam said. “Maybe the fact prosecutors knew she’d disappeared had something to do with their decision.”

  It was something Mack himself would have probably said, if he’d been on the other side of the conversation. But still Mack felt something shoot through him, hot, protective and fierce. “You are not going to blame Iris for this.”

  “Whoa, I didn’t say I was blaming her,” Liam said. “Personally, I don’t blame her one bit for not wanting to return to witness protection after what happened. I’ll be the first to admit that if I was in her shoes, I’d try to strike out on my own. I was just dropping a hypothesis. You and I also both know that local Toronto police were turning a blind eye to Underwood for months. Maybe he was bribing them and still is. I don’t know, and neither do you.” He sighed loudly. “But you know the way this works. The best way to get that man behind bars where he belongs is to get Iris to fully cooperate with police, and that means getting her back within witness protection.”

  “I know.” Mack closed his eyes. Even if he and Iris testified to the Jackal attack earlier that evening at the diner—which now felt like years ago—unless they caught the men and proved Underwood hired them, they had nothing.

  But how would he explain all this to Iris?

  “Jess and I are going to head up to your location by helicopter,” Liam added. “There’s an extreme cold weather alert hitting tonight. We still need some time to sort things at our end and then the flight’s a few hours, but we should be there before five in the morning.”

  “Thank you,” Mack said. He just prayed he’d convince Iris to return to witness protection by then. “The picture of the map I sent Seth had photos from the homeless center taped around it. Some of those people were found in the Oscar Underwood raids, but others weren’t, and Iris is extremely worried about those that are still missing. They’re also firsthand witnesses to who the Jackals are and what they did. Maybe Seth can find them.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Liam said. “Look, I know you’re in a difficult situation. But we’re all behind you and we’re all praying for you.”

  An engine sounded in the night. Mack turned and ran toward the campfire. No, no, it can’t be! The truck’s headlights were on. It was leaving, pulling the camper behind it.

  “She’s running!” he shouted.

  “You’re kidding!” Liam exclaimed.

  “No!” Mack pelted through the snowy trees down the hill so fast he nearly tripped, watching helplessly as the camper’s taillights disappeared into the trees. “She left me.” He gasped a breath and looked around the campsite. The empty water bottle lay on the ground by his feet. “She took off and left me here. She’s gone.”

  * * *

  “Hands on the wheel,” said the slender, red-masked Jackal as he held a knife to her throat. “Nice and steady.”

  She gritted her teeth and prayed for help, trying to block out the sharp prick of the blade against her skin. The Jackal’s face mask was even more crude up close, with a grotesque painted mouth full of jagged teeth. It had been the knife to the throat that had kept her from screaming.

  She’d been walking back to the camper when he’d caught her, leaping out from the shadows and clasping one hand over her mouth while the other held the knife. Then he’d forced her into the vehicle and told her to drive.

  Help me, Lord! Please help Mack find and rescue me!

  She didn’t know what hurt worse, the knife at her throat, the fear in her chest or the fact Mack probably thought she’d just run off.

  But he would know she hadn’t left him, right? He had to know she was in trouble and there was no way she’d just take the truck and run, despite the fact they’d been firing words back and forth at each other ever since escaping Crow’s Farm. They hadn’t been fighting exactly. They’d been doing something else entirely that she couldn’t quite understand.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, keeping her voice low and measured.

  The Jackal didn’t answer. He had to have gotten there somehow, which meant he had a vehicle stashed somewhere and there was probably at least one more Jackal in the area. But for a moment there was nothing but the sound of the sides of the truck and camper scraping against tree branches. To her left, she could see the vast, empty blackness of the frozen lake spreading out between the trees.

  Dear Lord, how can I alert Mack? How can I escape this?

  “What do you want?” she asked. She scanned the figure beside her in the darkness, searching for any form of human connection with the man beneath the mask. He might not feel like giving her answers but being quiet was never one of her strong suits. “How did you even find me? Was there a tracker on the camper? Or on the truck? When was it installed? Or did an actual person tip you off? Who?”

  He shifted in his seat, like even the sound of her voice irritated him. The knife blade moved away from her skin for just a second before she could feel the cold of it brushing against her throat again.

  “You really need to learn to mind your own business,” he said, “and to keep you
r mouth shut.”

  Well, he might have kidnapped her, but she’d apparently struck a nerve. She wondered why.

  “Don’t see that happening,” Iris said. If her voice rattled him, then she was going to keep talking. Back when Mack had volunteered at the homeless center, she’d heard him tell the youth that their voice was one of the strongest weapons they had. And she would use hers for all she was worth. Now what else could she do? He had a knife. She had a great big powerful truck.

  “If you keep talking, I’ll cut your throat,” he said, and something wavered in his voice.

  “You do that, and I’ll crash the truck,” she said. “So, I don’t think so. Also, I’m pretty sure you want me alive. Because ever since I first ran into you guys a few hours ago, you’ve never tried to kill me.”

  She held her breath and waited a moment. Her heart pounded fearfully as she prayed her instincts were right.

  Then slowly, he shifted, moving the knife over to the side of her throat.

  Okay, so maybe that confirmed her hunch that he wanted her scared, silent and compliant, but not actually dead. She took as deep a breath as she could, calming her spirit and asking God for help. Then she turned back to the red-masked Jackal, and that’s when she realized he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.

  “Whatever’s going on,” she said, “and wherever Underwood wants you to take me, you don’t have to do it. You can walk away and find a better path. It’s not too late for you.”

  He swore under his breath, almost a snarl. “I’d shut up if I were you.”

  Yeah, but he wasn’t her. “What do you really want?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Where are you taking me?” she pressed. “How did you find me?”

  Still, no answer.

  “I get it, Oscar Underwood wants me to disappear so that I don’t testify at his trial,” she said. “But I’m not the only person who knows about his crimes.”