Witness Pursuit

A ball of fear rose in her chest.

No, she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

She had nothing with which to defend herself, nor did she have her phone to call for help. But she was a smart woman and would use her best weapons: her wits and her words.

She took a quick breath for strength. Wait, she remembered she had her emergency house keys in her side pocket. Locking herself out last month had become a blessing after all. She launched into chatter mode to distract him.

“I can’t believe they want a CT scan,” she started. “I told them I didn’t hit my head. I can see just fine and I know my own name.”

“So what happened?”

“I’m a klutz. I fell off a trail. Can you believe that?” She deftly reached into her jacket to palm the keys. “I mean, I’ve lived here forever and Dad used to take us hiking, and you’d think I’d be an expert with all my experience, but I wasn’t paying attention and went over the side of the mountain. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Why weren’t you paying attention?” he asked.

She slipped the keys between her fingers, thinking she could jab him in the eye if necessary. “I was scared,” she said.

“Of what?”

“I’d found an unconscious woman at a rental house and there was all this blood.” She shuddered.

“Was she dead?”

“I have no idea, but me and blood? Not a good mix. Last year my brother was attacked by a guy with a knife and there was blood everywhere, all over the kitchen, and I completely freaked out. I guess that’s what happened today. I took off and lost my footing and fell off the trail. Quite embarrassing if you think about it.”

She hoped she could convince him she hadn’t seen his face at the cabin. She certainly didn’t want to get into hand-to-key combat.

She clutched the keys tighter. “Have you ever done anything dumb? It would make me feel a whole lot better if you had.”

“Nothing comes to mind.”

The doors opened and he wheeled her out of the elevator. Jumping off and running didn’t seem like the best plan, since he was much taller than Cassie and therefore a lot faster. She strategized her next move as she chatted away.

“I’m going to get a huge lecture from my family, but what else is new?” she said, laying it on thick. “I’m the flaky one. This won’t surprise them one bit. The woman probably fell and hit her head, yet I freaked and tore off like a scared cat. Oh well, at least I wasn’t totally irresponsible, because I called 911 for help.”

She pretended to be relaxed, not easy considering Shovel Man’s hands were pushing her from behind—hands of a killer hovering dangerously close to her throat.

Dear Lord, give me wisdom and courage to know how to convince this man he does not have to take another life.

My life.

That’s when she spotted a fire alarm on the wall. Perfect.

She suddenly sat up and sniffed. “Wait, do you smell that?”

“What?”

“I smell smoke!” She hopped off the bed and yanked the alarm.

She took off running and glanced over her shoulder. Shovel Man stood there with a quizzical frown.

“Hurry!” she shouted. She had to keep up the pretense that she thought he was an orderly, not a killer.

Staff rushed out of rooms and flooded the hallway, puzzling over the alarm. Shovel Man was no doubt puzzled, as well. But at least she was away from him.

She shot another quick glance behind her.

He’d disappeared.

Relief settled in her chest, but only for a second. If he could disappear that quickly, he could reappear just as fast. Or worse, what if he was working with a partner who was waiting outside in a car to whisk Cassie away? Shovel Man could have given his partner Cassie’s description: short with blond hair, wearing a bright blue jacket.

As she marched toward the exit, she shucked her jacket, wincing in pain from her injured arm.

Once outside, she tossed the jacket onto a bench and practically sprinted into the parking lot.

But where should she go? She didn’t know which of these strangers she could trust, and didn’t have her phone to call for help.

Across the parking lot she spotted the one place she knew she’d be safe, Nate’s truck. Which meant he had to be close. Scanning the parking lot, she didn’t see Nate, only frantic employees and patients being herded out of the north side of the building.

Feeling badly about causing the commotion, she waved down an orderly who was arriving for work. “It’s a false alarm. I pulled it because someone’s after me. Tell them they don’t have to evacuate the building!”

She ran off, hoping he’d relay the message before too many patients were inconvenienced. Head down, she motored toward Nate’s truck and tried the door, but it was locked. She climbed into the flatbed. It seemed like the best place to hide.

Truth was, she felt safe because it was Nate’s truck. Eventually he’d have to return to it, and he’d find her.

The reality of what just happened shot a chill down her spine: Cassie had faced off with a suspected killer. Her hands started trembling, then her arms and legs. She gasped for breath, determined to stay conscious.

* * *

Nate shoved down the panic threatening to pull him off course.

Cassie was missing.

He clenched his jaw and retraced her steps through the hospital, hoping to find a clue as to where she’d gone.

Hoping to find her safe and sound in a hospital room.

Instead, it was like she’d vanished in the mist.

The hospital alarm suddenly clicked off. Through the ominous silence, his fear grew louder, more insistent: She’s been taken against her will. She’s been killed and her body will be found in a laundry bin.

He had to stop these torturous thoughts and think like a detective–turned–chief of police.

“Why’d the alarm go off?” he asked into his radio.

“I’m checking, sir.”

Nate had locked down the cabin crime scene, called the lab tech and brought Officer Ryan McBride to the hospital to get checked out. He’d been assaulted and suffered a head wound. Nate assumed from the guy who shoved him off the trail.