Page 59 of Mile High Mystery

“Nevertheless, we feel the danger to the Gregorys is real, and they have agreed to accept our help.”

Zach was going away. Just like that. “I want to see him,” she said. “I need to say goodbye.”

“It would be better for everyone if you didn’t.” Lester stood. “Agent Crispin will drive you to your hotel to collect your things, then to the airport. We’ll talk again next week.”

He left the room without a backward glance. Agent Crispin, who had been standing by the door, walked over to her. He was a man in his late thirties, with short dark hair and chiseled features. The type of agent portrayed on recruiting posters, never a hair out of place or a move out of line. “Come on,” he said. “You don’t want to miss your plane.”

She thought of telling him to get lost. She wasn’t a prisoner. She could refuse to get on that plane, refuse to return to work.

And then what? She’d be out of a job, stuck miles from home and Zach would still be gone. She knew how witness security worked. Once the decision was made, few people looked back. The important thing was to keep Zach and his family safe. She couldn’t do anything to compromise his safety. Even if it meant breaking her heart.

She waited until she was in the shower at the motel before she let herself cry. But she pulled herself together by the time she met up with Agent Crispin again. “You’ll probably get a commendation for this, you know?” Crispin said as they headed to the airport. “What you did, capturing Janelle Chalk, took all kinds of guts.”

Zach did it, she thought. He was the one who swung that log and hit Janelle, even as she was shooting at him. Without him, they might both be dead. But she didn’t say that to Crispin. Talking about Zach hurt too much. She needed to find a way to lock that grief away so that she could still function. She had so much work to do.

Nine months later

MIKECLAUDEDUGcrampons into the ice coating the ledge on which he and fellow Search and Rescue volunteer Dave Mitchell stood. He clung to a rope with one hand and looked over his shoulder at the car that lay on its side on the edge of Cub Creek. A motorist had seen the dark gray sedan hit a patch of ice on the highway above and skid over the cliff and had called 911. Mike had just reported for work when he got the text and headed for Search and Rescue headquarters.

“From here, it’s just a short drop to that clear section of gravel behind the vehicle.” Dave pointed to a spot about fifteen feet below them. “We should be able to secure the vehicle to those trees over there.”

“Looks good,” Mike said. “I’m ready when you are.”

Dave was right—the rappel down was short and easy. Mike was getting more comfortable with the rope work. He had spent a lot of hours these past nine months climbing, both in the gym and outdoors. It was a good way to let off steam and gave him time to process all the changes in his life. The new name, for instance. He was getting used to thinking of himself as Mike, not Zach. He was from the Midwest, newly relocated to northern California, working for a solar energy company. That was his reality now, and he was coming to accept it.

He and Dave secured the vehicle and determined it contained a lone woman driver. She was responsive, though in pain and frightened, trapped in the vehicle, on her back in the collapsed driver’s seat, the powder from the exploded airbag coating her like frost. “We’re going to take care of you, ma’am,” Mike reassured her. “Just stay still, and we’ll have you out in no time.”

Darcy Yates, a paramedic, and Dr. Tim Westmoreland arrived minutes later. Darcy, a petite woman with short, dark hair, climbed in through a busted window and began assessing the woman’s injuries and keeping her as calm and as protected as possible while Mike and Dave began cutting apart the sedan.

Less than ten minutes later, the four of them worked together to transfer the woman—Marian—to a backboard and litter. They maneuvered her out of the vehicle to the ground, then prepared to haul her up. More volunteers arrived to help, and thirty minutes later, Marian was being loaded into a helicopter that had landed in the middle of the highway. The helicopter rose up and away. The volunteers watched it go, then turned away and began to clean up and gather equipment.

“Great job, Mike.” Captain Ray Valdez clapped him on the back. “We’re glad to have you with us.”

“Glad I can help,” he said. Being part of a Search and Rescue group helped him feel comfortable with this new life. That, and knowing his parents were safe.

His mom and dad—now Bill and Sally Claude—seemed to be enjoying their new life. “It’s kind of nice, starting over,” his mother had confided. “We’re never going to forget Camille, but it’s good to try to build a new life now. One that isn’t connected to the Chalk brothers and everything that happened.”

Except that Mike would always be connected to that.

In the early months, he had thought about little else, replaying that night over and over and over again. The last night he had seen Shelby. When he had asked to see her after his interviews with the sheriff and the FBI, he had been told she had already left to fly back to Houston. The news had stunned him. She hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye? The FBI agent, a woman named Rochelle, must have seen his confusion. “She knows you’re going into witness protection,” she said, her voice gentle. “That’s hard enough without prolonging the goodbyes.”

They hadn’t been together long. He told himself he would get over her soon enough. Except that hadn’t happened. He was doing well, rebuilding his life into something better than ever. But there was still an ache when he thought of Shelby. She had meant something to him, and then she was simply gone.

He helped unload the gear at SAR headquarters, then went with Dave and the others for pizza and beer. He was trying to do that more, to be more social and part of the group. He had thought it would be difficult, remembering to give them the background story the Marshals Service had helped him compose to go with his new identity. But he had learned pretty quickly that almost no one asked about his past. They didn’t really care.

As for the Chalk brothers, he hadn’t heard anything from them. He checked the internet for news of them sometimes, but nothing came up. Janelle Chalk had been charged with the murder of Camille Gregory and Todd Chalk and was awaiting trial, but he hadn’t been able to find out anything more. Rochelle had visited once and told him she didn’t think he would have to testify in Janelle’s trial. “We have enough evidence without exposing you,” she had said.

He had asked her about Shelby, and she shut him down. “I can’t tell you anything,” she had said and turned away.

He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. He and his parents were safe. One day, he might even be happy again.

He left the pizza place and drove to the bungalow he was buying on a quiet street on the west side of town. He pulled into the driveway and cut the lights, then sat for a moment, studying the house with its little front porch and brick pillars.

Then a movement on the edge of the light made his heart stop. A woman stood there, silhouetted in the moonlight, a slight figure with hair around her shoulders. Not Janelle Chalk. This woman wasn’t that tall. But Janelle might have cousins. Other Chalk women who saw themselves as assassins.

He started the car again, thinking he would drive away. He’d call his contact at the Marshals Service. Then the woman hurried down the steps toward him. “Zach, don’t go,” she said. “It’s me. Shelby.”

He didn’t remember getting out of the car. He didn’t remember running to her or pulling her close. But there they were, clinging to each other, both their faces wet with tears. He pulled her into the house and turned on the lights. “Let me look at you,” he said. “I can’t believe this is real.” Maybe it was just another dream. One where he held her and loved her, only to wake to find her gone.

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