Witness On The Run

Tala woke up screaming. Her skin crawled with creepy sensations, and blankets were tangled around her ankles. She kicked them aside to free herself, flinging out her hands. She connected with someone, but it wasn’t Duane. It was Cam.

He put his arms around her. “Shh. You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

She stopped struggling and went quiet. It was dark in the room. She could see the pleasant glow of the fire in the hearth. The only sound was her ragged breathing. A sob rose up to her throat. The breakdown she’d been fighting all day caught up to her with a vengeance. She couldn’t prevent the tears from coming, and they were long overdue. She hadn’t cried since she’d left Duane.

Cam stroked her hair and made soothing noises.

She finally calmed down enough to speak. “Walt was in the dumpster. He was dead.”

“It was just a dream.”

“Duane was there, too. He hit me.”

“Did he?”

She heard the edge in his voice and eased away from him. There were tissues on the nightstand, next to a bottle of cold water. She used a tissue and took a soothing drink. Little by little, her tears abated.

“Better now?”

“Yes.”

“Duane is your husband?”

“He was.”

“Are you divorced?”

“Not legally, but I left him.”

“Because he hit you?”

Her stomach clenched with unease. It was a deeply personal question, but they weren’t strangers anymore. They’d passed that point and entered another territory. He’d opened up to her about his wife. She’d wept in his arms.

She’d never told anyone about the abuse she’d suffered in her short marriage. She’d been too ashamed. Her father had raised her to be strong and proud. She wasn’t the victim type. She was a survivor, and a fighter. Somehow Duane had taken that away from her.

Maybe talking about him would help her get it back. He didn’t deserve to be protected. She couldn’t excuse his actions, and she was done keeping his secrets.

“He was abusive,” she said, letting out a slow breath. “Mentally and physically.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

A cold calm passed over her, and she nodded. “He got more violent and controlling as time went on. It was so gradual, I almost didn’t notice it. Or I didn’t want to acknowledge it. Then he snapped, and I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t happening anymore.”

“What do you mean, he snapped?”

“Well, he changed after we got married. It wasn’t a huge transformation, because he’d always had a temper. He’d yell at me and act jealous and get drunk and stupid. I thought it was regular boyfriend stuff. Then we got married, and we moved to a very rural area. He started treating me like his property, instead of his wife. He’d have these dark moods that scared me. He didn’t want me to leave the house without permission. One day, I snuck out to go to the library. When I got back, he hit me.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. I was too stunned to move. He cried and begged me to forgive him. He said he’d never do it again.”

“But he did.”

“Yes.”

“Is he a cop?”

She was startled by the question. “How did you know?”

“Just a hunch. Go on.”

“We stayed together for a few more months. He flew into another jealous rage and hid my purse so I couldn’t go anywhere. I realized things weren’t going to get better. The next time he hit me, I hit him back.”

“What happened?”

She touched her face, remembering. “I bloodied his nose. I don’t think he expected that, and he got really mad. He knocked me out. As soon as I could move, I packed a bag. I left in the middle of the night while he was sleeping.”

“How did you get to Alaska?”

“I stowed away in a trailer.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I wasn’t planning on leaving Canada. I thought the trucker was going south. Instead he went west, and here I am.”

“Are you here illegally?”

She shook her head. “Have you ever heard of the Jay Treaty?”

“No.”

“It allows First Nations people the right to come to the US from Canada and vice versa. There’s really no such thing as an undocumented Indian, but I don’t have my tribal card or any ID to prove my status. I left everything in Canada.’

“I’m glad you escaped.”

“So am I.”

She looked away, contemplative. Cam didn’t seem to think less of her for having an abusive husband. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but a part of her felt responsible for what had happened. She should have been smarter, and more aware of Duane’s true nature. She shouldn’t have rushed into marriage. She should have identified the threat sooner.

Tala closed her eyes to clear the bad memories. Her relationship with Duane was over. She’d left him, and she’d never have to suffer his abuse again.

Unfortunately, she’d traded up as far as personal problems went. Now she had to worry about the other men she was running from.

Goose bumps broke out across her flesh. She’d kicked off the blankets in the throes of her nightmare. Her legs were bare and cold. So was Cam’s chest, she realized with a start. She’d been too distressed to notice that before. The faint glow of the fire revealed an intimate scene. They were in bed together, close enough to touch. He was shirtless, his torso outlined against the pale sheets. She was wearing his flannel without a stitch underneath. She tugged the comforter back into place, flushing.

“I should let you sleep,” Cam said.

“Don’t go,” she whispered. “Please.”