“He told Remi he worked for the Bureau’s hazardous devices unit, but I’ve never met him before either, and I don’t recognize his name. That gives him opportunity and the know-how he’d need to build those devices.” All of which was easy enough to confirm with a few calls, but it was only three in the morning in Washington, DC. His suspicions would have to wait until sunrise.
“You think he’s lying,” she said. “That he’s the bomber?”
“I can’t say for sure yet.” Jonah pushed to his feet. He’d spent the past five months apart from her. He couldn’t keep his distance anymore. “But I’m not discounting the possibility our perp is law enforcement, no. There’s too much at risk to make that kind of mistake.”
“There’s only one problem with focusing solely on law enforcement.” She turned the tablet screen toward him. “The police and the FBI aren’t the only ones with access to this investigation.”
* * *
“THE MAN WHO dragged me up to those falls wasn’t interested in a mistrial for the Rip City Bomber case. He wanted me out of the way, but not to guarantee a win for Rosalind Eyler. I think he wants to prosecute the case himself.” From the moment Jonah had pulled her off that bridge, she hadn’t been able to slow down long enough to process what’d happened in that terrifying hour she’d been abducted. Only the soft sizzling of the dying fire in the stove reached her ears this late at night. Without aches bruising the muscles in her body and her head finally clear of the physical tension between her and Jonah, Madison had the headspace to analytically sink back into this case. Into her safe space. Her comfort zone. “There are seventy-three deputy district attorneys in Oregon, and every single one of their careers would change with a case like this on their résumé. We need to focus our efforts on them.”
Embers cast dim orange shadows across Jonah’s face as he stared down at her. Even in the dark, the concern etched into his expression picked her heart rate up. He’d done nothing but take care of her since the first bombing, despite the hell she’d put him through since she’d read that positive pregnancy test. “We’ve been operating under the assumption that the man who took you and the person who set off those bombs are one and the same. What if they aren’t? What if there’s another threat out there I haven’t seen coming?”
“You haven’t. My kidnapper specifically pointed out I should’ve died in that explosion, but I didn’t. Because of you. No matter what happens, we both know you’ve done everything in your power to keep me safe. I trust that, and I trust you.” She stepped into him as much as her swollen belly would allow and framed his jaw with both hands. “According to the caller taking credit for the bombing, the device in the courthouse was meant for me. I think without Search and Rescue finding a body in that river, we need to consider all the possibilities, but we’ve been looking for motive and now we have one. Narrowing our suspect pool to the other deputy district attorneys in the county gives us the bomber’s motive for targeting me, explains how they could’ve gotten into the courthouse during construction and how they have continuous access to this investigation.”
Silence settled between them as her theory became reality.
“You’re right. They haven’t found a body.” Jonah seemed to tense right in front of her. “But they did find a stash of clothing hidden along the riverbank and footprints coming straight out of the water.”
Air stalled in her lungs. Quick flashes of memory lightninged across her mind. The light green, hate-filled eyes of the man who’d taken her, the feeling of his hands on her arms as he’d tried to force her over the bridge. How much stronger he’d been than her, desperate. He was still out there, still hunting her. Whoever’d built those bombs was intelligent, adaptable and dangerous, and nothing like she’d gone up against before. “He must’ve had a change of clothes, maybe some supplies, waiting for him as part of his escape plan. He’s never going to stop, is he? Not until I’m dead or I give up on everything I’ve ever worked for.”
“He can’t find you, Maddi. Nobody knows you’re here. Not even my team.” Jonah shifted between both feet and latched onto her arms. “I made sure of that when I took the battery out of your phone and put you into protective custody. Even with all the access this SOB has to the investigation and the connection he shares with Rosalind Eyler, he can’t get to you.”
“I hope you’re right.” She smoothed her hand over her hardening stomach. “For both of our sakes.”
“I’ll hold off on accusing Special Agent Jackson of terrorism and focus on the other deputy DAs, but I’m still going to talk to my unit back east and ask some questions about why he’s here and why I’ve never heard of him.” His hands drifted to her wrists, lightly holding her in place. “Who’s next in line to take the case to trial if you’re not able to do it?”
“That choice isn’t up to me.” She’d worked with only a handful of the other deputies over the years within the county’s boundaries, but none of them fit the profile of the man on the bridge. The DA had handpicked her to prosecute this case because of her track record. Ninety-five percent prosecution rate, the highest in the state. The governor had even recommended her to receive the Charles R. English award from the American Bar Association for her distinguished work in the field of criminal justice. “It’s at the discretion of the district attorney, Pierce Cook.”
Jonah’s eyes narrowed on her, hiking her nervous system into overdrive. “This is the biggest domestic terrorism case Oregon has ever seen. Why didn’t Cook want to prosecute the case himself?”
“When I met with him for this assignment, he told me he’s planning to announce his retirement next month, and he wanted the public and the media to see a strong prosecutor dedicated to bringing this case to the finish line.” She’d asked Pierce Cook the same question when he’d brought her into his office the day she’d been assigned this case. She’d met the DA only a few times since she’d come to work for him, but she’d been excited at the prospect of taking on the Rip City Bomber. Now her life—her baby’s life—had been put at risk because of it. A knot tightened in her gut. “I haven’t talked to anyone in my office since the bombing in the courtroom and you taking me into protective custody. He might’ve already had me replaced. The justice system doesn’t stop just because of attempted murder on the prosecutor.”
“The DA hasn’t replaced you. Otherwise the bomber wouldn’t have reason to finish what he started. I’ll have Remington and Cove pay a visit to the DA, see if they can come up with a list of names who match your abductor’s profile.” Pulling her into his chest, Jonah threaded one hand through her hair as she set her ear over his heart. Right where he needed her. “We’re going to get through this.”
“How can you be so sure?” Confidence had come easily for her since she’d pulled herself from that fear-filled life she’d been born into, but now... Madison would have to borrow some of his. She’d have to depend on him to get her through this. The muscles down her back stiffened one by one at the thought, but for as long as she’d been fighting to trust and rely on only herself, the panic never came. Because Jonah would never hurt her. Not intentionally. Without him, she would’ve died in that courtroom or in her car when she’d tried to leave the scene. She wouldn’t have made it to the other side of the bridge. She wouldn’t have gotten this far, and the fear she’d hung on to of being in the same situation as her mother—as being trapped by someone who was supposed to care about her—didn’t seem to have quite the same meaning anymore. She counted off the steady beats of his heart and closed her eyes. “He could be right outside these walls, waiting for us to make a mistake.”
“I don’t make mistakes, Maddi,” he said. “Especially not when it comes to you.”
“Smooth talker.” Her mouth tugged into a smile, and suddenly, the past, the divide between them, the fear, none of it seemed as powerful as she’d believed. This moment was for the two of them. Uncertainty and insecurity weren’t welcome, and she was able to
fully take a breath for the first time she could remember since leaving Los Angeles behind. Because of him. Because of his goodness and dedication to put her first. They’d been friends for years, but in that moment, she could imagine him as more. Not only as the father of her baby but also as a partner.
The low-pitched echo of a ringing phone pulled her back into the moment.
“Don’t move a muscle.” He spun her around by the hips, keeping one hand on her as he dipped to reach for the phone, and read the screen. The lines between Jonah’s eyebrows deepened, and an instant tension filtered through the muscles across his shoulders. “It’s Remi.”
She couldn’t read Jonah’s expression. “Why would that matter?”
“I told her I’d catch up with her in the morning. She’d only call me if it was urgent.” He slid his thumb across the screen and put the phone at his ear. “Something’s wrong.”
Worry carved through her the longer he listened. Jonah let his hand slip from her waist, leaving her cold and alone right in front of him. She couldn’t make out Remi’s words, but the moment he locked his gaze onto hers, she knew. Knew something was wrong. Her stomach soured as all the possibilities lightninged through her mind. Another bombing? An assignment gone wrong for his USMS team? Had somebody been hurt or had her abductor gone after another of the deputy district attorneys? Madison interlaced her fingers beneath her baby bump for assurance, but it never came. An invisible earthquake seemed to streak through her the longer she waited for him to answer.
“When?” Jonah checked his watch. “Thirty minutes ago. Understood. I’ll move Madison as fast as I can. I’ll be in touch with a new number within the hour.”
Move her? Move her where? Why would he need to give his boss a new number? He ended the call, then maneuvered around her for the duffel bag he’d set near the door. “Get your clothes from the bedroom. We’re leaving.”
“What is it? What happened?” Her heart shot into her throat the longer he refused to look at her. She watched as he double-timed it to the kitchen and threw a few items from the pantry in the bag but didn’t answer. He’d transformed into the overprotective, quiet, detail-oriented marshal who’d thrown her into protective custody right after the bombing at the courthouse. Madison reached out. “Jonah, stop. Tell me what is happening.”
His pulse beat strong against her fingertips at his wrist, and a hint of the grief he’d hidden behind all these years surfaced. Loosening his grip on the box of granola bars he’d pulled from the pantry, Jonah leveled his gaze on her. “Rosalind Eyler escaped prison thirty minutes ago.”
Chapter Twelve
“How...how is that possible?” Madison stumbled away from him, the pink in her cheeks draining from her face, and her grip fell from his wrist.
“We’re not sure how yet or why. My team headed to the prison the moment the warden informed the marshals service, and there’s an official manhunt in progress for her recapture,” he said. “But the evidence says she’s been working with the bomber bent on removing you from this case. Rosalind Eyler made some kind of deal with the man who tried to kill you. Stands to reason since he’s failed so far, she might be trying to get the job done herself.”
“You think she’s coming here. For me and the baby.” The lack of emotion in her voice grated against his very being. Madison was one of the most hardworking, strategic prosecutors in the state he’d had the pleasure of knowing. He’d watched her win cases with that exact tone of voice interlaced into her arguments, but over these past few days she’d let him see so much more than that. When her internal guards fell away, she was warm, confident and alive. Now the woman standing in front of him had physically, mentally and emotionally prepared herself for the oncoming threat. “I’ll get my clothes.”
Jonah ignored the constant buzz of warning at the back of his head and encircled his hand around her arm. Pulling her into him, he forced her to look him in the eye. “She’ll never lay a hand on you. Understand? I give you my word.”
No one was going to take her. No one was going to take their son. No one was going to take his family. Jonah slipped his hands down her arms, waking the nerve endings in his fingers, and a hint of the desire they’d shared notched his body temperature higher.
“I know.” The shallow lines around her eyes softened slightly, just for him, as though she’d been reminded of what they’d shared under the sheets in the same moment. “Make sure the next safe house is as perfect as this one, okay?”
“You’ve got a deal, Counselor.” He smiled, releasing her one finger at a time before she turned toward the stairs. “Grab your clothes and meet me back downstairs as soon as you can. We’re wheels up in five minutes.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” With a half salute, she padded up the stairs and out of sight. Thirty minutes since the prison warden had reported Rosalind Eyler’s escape, but that didn’t mean that was the exact moment the Rip City Bomber had disappeared. Jonah crossed to the section of wall structuring the stairs and pressed the release for the compartment door he’d had built underneath when he bought the place. A thin, pale wood door matching the rest of the wood grain opened, revealing the wall safe behind it. He pressed his thumb into the reader, and the lock disengaged. Rosalind Eyler was one of the most dangerous criminals he’d encountered throughout the decade he’d been a marshal.
He wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
He pulled his backup piece from inside, loaded fresh rounds into the magazine and holstered it under his left pant leg. Closing the safe and the panel door, he hauled the duffel bag filled with their supplies over his uninjured shoulder. They were running out of time. There was no telling what the Rip City Bomber had up her sleeve, but he’d do everything he could to keep Madison out of danger. No matter how long it took. “Maddi, we’ve got to go.”
Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she raced down the stairs with the few items of clothing she’d been able to hold on to. “I didn’t want to go on the run in sweatpants.”
“Yes, your choice of heels and a skirt was a much better option.” He took her clothes as she hit the bottom step and shoved them inside the bag. By the time Rosalind caught word of this place, he and Madison would be long gone, but his heart jerked at the thought of surrendering the house he’d envisioned protecting his family to a serial bomber. Hesitation gripped him hard.
They could go on the run. They could spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders if his team wasn’t able to find Rosalind. They could move from safe house to safe house with the possibility of making a mistake thick in their throats.
Or they could give Rosalind and her partner exactly what they’d wanted all along.
He and Madison could be safe. They could move on with their lives. They could raise their son in a stable home with the love he deserved. Together. He could keep her safe. “Rosalind Eyler and the partner she made a deal with want you off the case.”
She settled warm caramel-colored eyes on him, and every cell in his body hiked into heated awareness. Three days. That was all it’d taken for him to fall in love with her, to envision her as something more than the mother of his child, more than an assignment, a friend. Madison pointed toward the front. “You’re very perceptive. That’s why we’re leaving, isn’t it?”
“What if we didn’t have to leave?” he asked.
“What are you talking about? You told Remi you were going to have me moved to another location.” Her palms pressed to her baby belly, sleek lines and soft curves tugging at a deeper part of him. He loved her. He was in love with her, and there was nothing that was going to stop him from keeping her safe. Even Madison herself. “Now you want us to stay?”
“I want you to walk away from this alive.” Jonah let the duffel bag drop at his feet. He took a step toward her, then another, as pressure built behind his chest. “I want to get to know my son when he’s born in a few months, and I want you to recuse yourself as the
prosecutor on the Rip City Bomber case.”
Ice filled her expression, that automatic guard back in place in an instant, and an immediate wave of cold hit him in the gut. Madison stepped out of his reach, taking the last remnants of heat with her. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Think about it, Maddi. You weren’t pregnant when the DA assigned you to this case. You didn’t have a baby to worry about or know how far Rosalind Eyler would go to keep you from prosecuting her.” He didn’t counter her escape. “She’s scared. You’re the best prosecutor in the state aside from the DA, and she’s desperate to finish what she started, but you’re not the only one at risk anymore. If we walk out that door, our son will know nothing more than fear and a life on the run. He deserves better than that. You deserve better than that.”
“I’m giving him what he deserves by staying on this case, Jonah.” The small muscles in her jaw twitched under pressure. “I’m giving him the future I never had. Prosecuting this case will put me at the front of the line for district attorney once Rosalind Eyler is sentenced, and he’ll never have to worry about when his next meal will be, if we’re suddenly going to get evicted from our house or if we’ll be able to afford shoes for him to go to school. He’ll have everything, but only if I can see this through.”
“Your life—our son’s life—is more important than any job, Madison. Don’t you understand that?” He curled his hands into fists as the truth exploded through him. He couldn’t lose her, couldn’t lose this baby. Not again. He’d tried to ignore it. Chalked it up to the adrenaline over these past few days—to everything they’d been through together—but he couldn’t deny it now. “I want us to raise this baby together, here, in this house. I can tell you I’ve never wanted anything more in my life after what we’ve been through. I can support you and our son. I can make sure you two have everything you need and more. He won’t just not have to worry about where his next meal is coming from, but he’ll have two parents to be there to support him as he grows up.”
The Prosecutor Page 13