Suspect Witness

“Maybe, maybe not.” He coughed, the sound deep and achy in the silence between them. “Word’s out that the Anarchists will do anything to ensure their leader, Derrick Reese, doesn’t serve time. Maybe if I put in a word with the sheriff’s office we could have this thing escalated to a federal level. We could live with that.”

“I can’t.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb. “If we don’t do that, if you run, that only makes you guilty of a crime.”

“I can’t. I’ll run. Can you help me?”

“Erin. Are you out of your mind? Did you hear what I just told you? If I can get to the feds, if you admit everything, they can keep you safe.”

“They’ll want me to testify,” she repeated, her heart thumping.

“Of course.”

“Under oath?”

“Under oath,” he agreed. “Erin, what is this all about? Who are you protecting?”

Silence hung between them.

“Who was it, Mike? Who turned me in?”

He took a long drag on a hand-rolled cigarette, his thick brows drawing down over narrow eyes.

“Word has it that only this morning that no-good boyfriend of yours squealed louder than a pig facing a luau.”

“Steven,” she whispered. And despite everything, the betrayal still hurt. She couldn’t trust anyone, not with the truth, not with who was really the witness.

Smoke curled around them and her nose tickled. She wanted to sneeze but instead she coughed.

“Mike, I can’t give you details. Just trust me. I have to run. I need to disappear.”

“Erin?”

“Mike. Please, can you help me? It’s life or death. Please, just trust me.”

He stood there looking at her for a long time before he nodded. “For how long?”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “As long as it takes.”

“Come.” He motioned with one hand. She followed him and together they worked out a plan.

She shuddered. She ached to go home, to where it all began—San Diego. And she knew she might never go home again.

She opened her eyes and for a moment she froze, thoughts of home driven from her mind.

“The children,” she murmured. She would have stayed for them, if it had been necessary. But the children were safe. She’d made sure of that. The principal had corralled many of them before they’d exited the building. The ones who had managed to slip outside were under the watchful eyes of two senior teachers.

She’d miss them, even the troublesome ones. Her life had become one of loss, of regret—it was what she hadn’t expected of a life on the run, or more aptly what she hadn’t thought of until the reality hit.

Focus, she reminded herself as the cab swung onto the congested street that she called home. Overhead, signs advertising products of the East and West vied for attention as the cab pushed farther into the crowded streets, and she wondered if this had been an error in judgment. Should she have gone directly to the airport? Were they on her trail even now? Or did they think her dead?

They.

She had been running from the faceless they for too long.

She could see the Victorian elegance of a former British mansion, the timeless beauty of its stone exterior a sign that she was almost home. She took courage from the familiar sight as the building pushed its stately presence into a world that seemed to be fighting for space. It was as if it refused to relinquish the hold it once had had, standing rock solid as the world around it changed.

The cab swung around the corner and the landscape changed again. If there was anything she loved about Georgetown it was how the old laced its presence through the new, how British traditions merged with Malay. She had purposely taken an apartment relatively close to the school within the hustle and bustle of daily life in Georgetown. Her apartment was a low-slung building in a cluttered section of the city where shops and open-air stalls dotted the landscape and fronted the more traditional brick-and-mortar buildings behind them. She’d loved this area from the first moment she’d laid eyes on it.

Not today.

Today, even under the brilliant afternoon sun, it seemed flush with shadows. On the sidewalk a man walked in a djellaba as his leather sandals skimmed easily across the concrete. His wife walked by his side in her traditional burka, her face and her thoughts hidden from the world by a layer of cloth and a veil. It wasn’t an uncommon sight in Georgetown. Yet today, despite the fact that he held her hand—it all seemed to take on a sinister edge. Erin turned away to look out the opposite window.

The cab pulled over, and as she opened the door, the scent of curry intermingled with the smell of sewer. It was familiar and had begun to remind her of home, of here. After two months Georgetown felt comfortable, safe. Had, she thought with regret.

“Could you wait, please?” she requested as she stepped out of the cab.

Inside the apartment building, the narrow hallway with its faded morning glory wallpaper was empty. Only the chatter of a television set coming through one door and the clunking of the ancient washing machine down the hall broke the quiet. She stopped at the dark wood door at the end of the hallway. For a minute it was as if she wasn’t here, as if this nightmare had never happened.

Daniel, she thought, and a sob hitched deep inside her and threatened her control. She took a deep breath. She needed to focus on running, but she could only think of Daniel. He was one of the few friends she’d made in Georgetown, and he’d still be alive if she hadn’t loaned him her car. He hadn’t asked to borrow it any more than he’d asked to die. It had all been her fault.

Her fault. Those two words kept reeling through her mind.

Stop it, she told herself. Just stop it. Now wasn’t the time for recriminations or even grieving. She had to get out before she jeopardized someone else’s life.

Erin reached for the knob and hesitated. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip. She looked down at the key in her hand. This time when she reached she touched the heavy brass knob, but then dropped her hand and took a step back. A small knot of white tissue lay on the floor. She worried her fingers against her palms, staring at that tiny piece of tissue.

“Erin.”

She jumped, bit back a shriek and swung around.

“Yong, you scared me.”

“There was someone asking for you earlier today. Did they find you?” the apartment owner asked. His face was downcast, and his slight shoulders slouched as they always did. “I’m sorry. After he left I opened your door just to do a check. We’ve had to replace some of the locks in the building.” He shrugged. “I didn’t go in, but I wanted to make sure your lock was working, that it couldn’t be easily compromised. Besides, I’m sorry if he was a friend of yours, but I didn’t like the look of him. And a double check is never a bad idea.”

She unclenched her hand and took a step back. “I thought someone had been here.”

“I thought you might.” He smiled. “The old tissue in the door frame trick. Not a bad idea for a single woman. Not that we have much trouble with break-ins but you never know.” He cleared his throat, the sound raspy and raw in the narrow hallway. “Just glad you haven’t needed it.”

“Thanks, Yong. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“No trouble,” Yong said, but his eyes narrowed and he took a step closer. “You’re all right?”

“Fine. Thank you.” She turned the key over in her hand.

“That doesn’t sound fine to me. Remember, like I’ve said, you need anything. I have daughters your age. But you know that. You met one of them.” He hesitated. “You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”

“I’m sure.”