Lisa Phillips - Witness In Hiding

Wait. Was she wearing colored contacts? Maybe everything that drew him to her was fake. Jude’s stomach churned at the idea he’d been duped. This beautiful, innocent-seeming woman was clearly a fraud. He’d been right to be suspicious, and now he was harboring a criminal.

“What do you want, Zoe? Or is that even your real name?” He didn’t like the hard edge to his voice, but what did she expect after she lied to him? At least she had the decency to wince. Jude was out of patience. “Either start talking or get out.” A thought occurred to him. “You ran out of the Laundromat. You left. You could have gotten away clean. Why are you in my car? And how did you get in it without being seen, since those cops pulled up right beside it?”

“They were inside,” she said. “They didn’t see me, and neither did anyone else.” Why did it seem like she didn’t know if that was good or bad?

“You should’ve stayed and talked to the cops. They need your statement.”

She shook her head then, and a fresh tear rolled down her face. “I can’t talk to the cops.”

“You witnessed a crime.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to testify. They can’t make me if I don’t want to tell them anything.”

Jude frowned. Why was she in his car if she didn’t want to talk to the cops? He was law enforcement. “Sure, they can’t force you to say anything, but isn’t the right thing to tell them what you know? It could help catch that guy.”

Her gaze flicked away.

“He knew you.” When she didn’t say anything, Jude said, “He used your name.”

* * *

He had. And this man, Secret Service agent Jude Brauer, had heard it. When she’d run out the back door she’d only gone two steps before she ducked to the side and hid behind the Dumpster. If movies were to be trusted, Jude would run past her, expecting her to be ahead of him. Hardly anyone thought to check right where the chase started.

And so she’d hidden, the same way she’d been hiding for three weeks now—right under their noses.

Zoe should be miles away by now, but she was out of options. Her final plan—the fake passports Moose had made—was out of reach now. Zoe had no one to turn to. She was out of ideas.

Enter Jude Brauer.

For whatever reason she didn’t much want to ponder, Zoe had crept from that hiding spot and around the building to the imposing car with government plates. He’d looked at her with so much compassion, and she hadn’t been ready to let that go.

As soon as the coast had been clear, she’d booked it across the lot, not really sure what she’d been expecting to do. And then she thanked God a million times his car had been unlocked. She’d been able to hide. God might not like her right now, but she knew when thanks were due.

His car. That phone call. For a few minutes everything she’d been through had washed away and she’d actually felt...safe.

He held out his hand from the front seat of his SUV. Zoe stared at it. She wasn’t agreeing to anything; she wasn’t trusting him, but she had to do something.

So she put her hand in his. Strong, warm fingers closed around hers. His eyes glowed with approval. Attraction wasn’t something she could deal with right now, so she pushed the feeling aside. Safety meant so much more.

“It’s nice to meet you, Zoe. I’m Jude.”

“Hi, Jude.”

He let go, but the feeling didn’t dissipate. Inside this car she actually felt safe. It was so foreign she almost didn’t recognize it. Some part of her had seen him in that hallway and just...known. Either way, she knew she’d done the right thing.

It didn’t mean she was trusting him, but Zoe had to face the fact that she seriously needed help. Moose was dead. That guy, the one who had been chasing her for three weeks, so close she’d almost been able to feel his breath hot on her neck...he’d shot Moose and let her live. He must have been given orders to keep her alive, but why? Silencing her would mean the truth died with her. She had nothing but questions—and no way to find answers.

Echoing her thoughts, Jude asked, “So, what now?”

Zoe shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“Why do I think you don’t just mean you have no idea where we should go right now?” His lips curled into a smile. “Maybe I meant coffee, or dinner.”

Zoe set her hand over her queasy stomach as the image of Moose falling to the floor played through her mind. “I don’t think I’m going to eat for a week after that.”

“I know what you mean.” His face turned grim.

“Is that woman okay?”

Jude nodded. “We do need to talk. You’re obviously in trouble, or you need help. I’d like to know why.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” The words burst from her lips, the need to defend herself as strong as it always had been.

“I’m not saying you did. What I meant was, why would you turn to me?”

“You were there.”

He waited. Then said, “And?”

Zoe shrugged. It wasn’t the connection. There was one, but that wasn’t it. She hadn’t known before she got in the car that being in here with Jude Brauer would feel so...safe.

“You have to talk, Zoe. You have to tell me something so I know how to help you.”

“What about getting back to work? That’s the excuse you gave Mrs. McAffrey.”

“It wasn’t an excuse. I am working—it’s why I was at the Laundromat. To talk with Moose.”

Her arm on the duffel bag tightened on a reflex. Jude’s glance went to it, not missing a single thing. Why couldn’t she have been better at this cloak-and-dagger, superspy stuff?

Zoe sighed. “That’s why I can’t talk to the cops. They’ll think I had something to do with Moose’s business.” Technically, they wouldn’t be wrong. No, she wasn’t a regular customer. She didn’t know, or want to know, who his usual customers were. But she had hired his services. If Jude wanted to question her about Moose, she wouldn’t have anything to tell him. She hadn’t transacted anything with Moose before he died. The introduction had been conducted through a third party, and today was only the second time she’d even seen the man.

Jude studied her. Great. He probably thought she was a criminal. “How did that shooter know you?”

Zoe measured her words. “I’ve seen him before, several times over the past three weeks. Usually just out the corner of my eye, or on the street. Today was the closest he’s come, and look at what happened.”

She’d always been able to slip away, and yet it seemed like he’d known exactly where she would be today. Had Moose, or the man who’d introduced her to him, sold her out? No, Moose had come out and confronted the man with a shotgun. The man who made the introductions had been killed in a drive-by the week before.

Zoe rubbed her hands down her face. That random “accident” suddenly didn’t seem so random. Had this whole thing been a setup?

Jude didn’t let up. “He didn’t hurt you. Does he have other plans for you?”

She lifted her gaze to his. “I don’t know.”

That was the truth—ish. Zoe did know why the man wanted her, she didn’t know what he was going to do with her.

Jude sighed, then started up the car.

“Are you taking me to the police, or turning me into your people?” She’d come so close to actually getting herself and her son and sister out of this. Instead, this was the end of the line. Unless she could somehow convince Jude she hadn’t done anything to warrant being turned in.

Could she talk about it? That night had been so harrowing she didn’t even know if she could say it out loud.

“I’m not taking you in,” he said in a tight voice. Trying to convince himself?

Zoe glanced out the window, relieved he wasn’t pushing her. If she asked, would he drive her where she wanted to go? There was only one way to find out. “Take the next exit.” Zoe needed to hold her son. “Please.” Her voice sounded small even to her own ears.