Page 40 of Love on the Run

“Don’t count on it. Believe me, people will remember her face. We know Foster has cops working for him, and someone will pass on a little information for the right price. All it takes is one person mentioning that she stopped for gas in Nowheresville, and it’s all over. They’ll be back on her trail.”

“I hope you’re wrong. But I’ll get her to give a statement today. Then we’ll call the Feds.”

“Okay. In the meantime, watch out.”

“Right.” Jake hung up. He glanced back and saw Callie still frozen on the couch, hiding behind her hair, as she seemed to do when she didn’t want to talk. He was keenly aware of a desire to hold her, to tell her everything would be okay.But he restrained himself, knowing it was hardly a professional reaction.That realization brought up the more problematic thought that his attitude toward Callie was quickly becoming something a lot more than professional. And that was dangerous.

But whatever his personal feelings, nothing changed the fact that Callie needed someone on her side.Watching her sit huddled on the couch, as if she was trying to hide from the whole world, made him wonder if he really was her only friend. How could a person like Callie not make plenty of friends? Unless she’d been prevented from doing so by Foster. She had told him she had no real family, certainly no home to return to.She’d admitted to picking a direction at random.It was pure chance she’d ended up on the side of a road in Montana. By rights, he never should have met her.

He headed back to her. “That was my pal at the LAPD. He was amazed you got away from Foster the first time. He doesn’t think you could do it again. If you want to be safe, Callie, you have to go public with what you know. Then he has no reason to go after you.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” she said slowly. In truth, Jake had already convinced her. But she was gathering the strength to actually speak the words.

“So,” said Jake. He knelt on the floor in front of her so he could see her face, still hidden by hair. He reached out to gently sweep it behind her ear, almost scared to touch her. “You think you can go through with this?”

Callie watched him, felt the tenderness in the gesture. “Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve thought about. Malcolm kept me scared for so long, I think I just lost my sense of proportion. You’re saying that if I go in now, before he knows what’s going on, there’s no way he can touch me, right? Especially once the FBI gets involved.”

He smiled, encouraging her. “You’ll be perfectly safe. Guarded twenty-four hours a day.” Starting right now, he thought.

“I won’t have to change my name, will I?”

“You mean go into the witness protection program? I doubt it. That’s usually only for the really big fish—the Mafia and international crime rings. Foster sounds like he thinks he’s big, but compared to some, he’s just a blip on the screen.”

“Says you.”

“Says me. I used to track these guys down, honey. Give me some credit.”

“I give you lots of credit,” she gave him an awkward smile. “After all, you got my story with no trouble.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” he said easily, thinking of how resistant she’d been, so convinced she had to stay silent. “You’re tougher than you look.”

“That’s not saying much.”

“Yes, it is.” He stood up then. “Let’s go, tough girl. The sooner, the better.”

“Okay.” Callie also rose. She tried to smile with confidence, as if preparing for a scene. “Let’s do it.”

Callie got dressed and ready to go in record time, afraid she’d lose her nerve otherwise. Jake was waiting at the door. He let her walk in front of him so he could close the door behind them. He was glad she couldn’t see his expression. When she finally decided she had the strength to tell the truth, she’d looked so beautiful and alive that all he wanted to do was kiss her. Again.

* * * *

They reached the station in no time, and Callie was grateful at how well everyone took it when Jake introduced her and explained what the situation was. Jake sat down with his two deputies, Kyle and Garrett, telling them what had happened so far. Kyle dutifully entered Jake’s statement into his report on the computer. Then Callie started to tell her story, haltingly at first, but then with increasing speed, relieved to get it out. The men didn’t press her, only asking questions when she needed to clarify a point. At the end of her narration, Kyle sat back and whistled. “Wow. If you hadn’t told me that yourself, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Well, it’s official now,” Garrett said. “At least the information is recorded. Now we have to call the Feds and find out exactly who over there needs to hear Miss Reed’s story too.”

That sounded like a bureaucratic nightmare to Callie, but Jake put his background to good use—again—and started by calling up an old colleague. He soon got the name of some agents at the FBI who would most likely be working on Malcolm Foster.

All through the process, Jake didn’t leave Callie’s side, and the whole business didn’t take as long as she thought it would. Of course, this was nothing compared to what was coming. After a conversation with a few lower-level agency people, Jake had gotten an actual FBI agent on the phone, and he got an assurance that someone could come to Hazelton in forty-eight hours or less to take Callie into federal custody. Callie spoke briefly with the agent, a woman named Helena Decker, who was obviously very keen to meet her.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Miss Reed, you’re the break we’ve been looking for on this case. Over and above the murder charge, we’ll be slapping several dozen other indictments on this guy, for everything from trafficking to jaywalking.”

“And once I give my statement, I’m done?” Callie asked nervously.

“Yes, at least until the trial—or trials—at which you need to take the stand. But if you’re asking whether we intend to charge you for anything, the answer is no.”

“So it will be you who comes out here to get me?”

“Myself or my partner, Agent Quinn. Believe me, Miss Reed, we both look forward to meeting with you.”

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