Elisabeth Rees - Safe House Under Fire

“Before he finds me,” Lilly said. “Because if I’m dead, then he walks free, right?”

“Right,” said Goldie. “But that’s why we’re here. We won’t let him find you.”

The color had drained from Lilly’s face, and David gently patted her hand, which was cold and clammy. “As soon as Henderson is in custody, you’ll be safe. He’s worked alone ever since his accomplice was murdered ten years ago, so he’s the only threat we need to neutralize.”

“What happens now?” she asked him. “Do I have to go into witness protection?”

“Yes, just for a short while.”

She put her head in her hands. “What about Astrid?”

“Can she stay with relatives until you return home?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Lilly said. “Astrid saw this man’s face when he attacked us today. Won’t that make her a target too?”

David caught sight of his partner’s stony expression. This was a complication that neither of them had anticipated, and Goldie led David by the arm into the kitchen.

“Astrid is a witness to attempted murder,” Goldie whispered. “She saw Henderson’s face during the gun attack and that puts her in the firing line. He’ll want her eliminated too. You know he never leaves a loose thread.”

The last thing David wanted to do was look after a teenage girl, especially one who would undoubtedly push all his buttons and remind him of his most serious failures as a father. But what choice did he have? Astrid was now in as much danger as her mother.

Lilly appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Astrid has to come with me,” she said. “I won’t go without her.”

David noticed that a bruise was appearing on Lilly’s forehead. “I agree. Can you both pack some things? Enough for a week to start off.”

“Astrid’s not going to be happy,” she replied. “She’ll kick against it, but please try to understand that she’s only fifteen. She’s a child.”

Chloe had been only a couple of years older than Astrid when the car in which she’d been traveling slammed into a tree and damaged her young brain. She had been just seventeen when forced to learn to walk and talk again, to use a knife and fork, to regret not listening to her father.

“Astrid may be a child,” David said. “But she can follow orders and do what I ask. I’d like your support in ensuring she complies with my rules.”

He saw Lilly’s jaw clench, her nostrils flare. This clearly wasn’t going to be easy.

“I’m Astrid’s mother, and I’ll make the decisions on what rules she follows.”

David took a deep breath. “From what I’ve seen of the interactions between the two of you so far, it doesn’t appear that your daughter respects your authority.”

“Of course she does,” Lilly retorted.

“No, she doesn’t. She’s willful, disobedient and challenging, and I need her to understand that I don’t tolerate backchat, not when your lives are in my hands.”

Lilly blinked fast, her dark lashes moving so quickly that he almost expected to feel a breeze.

“You don’t have kids, do you, David?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am, I do—two daughters, both now in their twenties. Sarah is a lawyer in Philadelphia and Chloe currently lives in Penn Hills.”

Lilly’s expression was one of surprise. “And did you demand total obedience from them, as well?”

I wish I had , thought David. Maybe Chloe would now be a doctor like she planned, instead of residing in an assisted living complex .

“Let’s stick to the current situation here,” he said, sidestepping the question. “Go talk with Astrid, pack your bags and we’ll discuss details afterward.”

Lilly stalked from the kitchen, but not before he heard her mutter under her breath, “Control freak.”

David leaned against the kitchen counter. He’d rather be accused of being a control freak than a weak parent. And no matter how hard he tried to understand her reasoning, Lilly was a weak parent, allowing Astrid the freedom to dress like a ghoul, speak like a brat and get her own way.

In order to keep them both alive, he would have to insist that Lilly follow his parenting rules from now on. No exceptions.

“No way,” Astrid said, removing her neatly folded clothes from the suitcase and placing them back in the drawer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Lilly sat on her daughter’s bed. Despite Astrid’s insistence on being grown-up and independent, her bed was filled with her childhood teddies. Lilly picked up a white fluffy bear, Astrid’s favorite stuffed toy. She had always called him, simply, White Bear.

“I’m not asking you to do this, I’m telling you,” Lilly said, still stinging from Agent McQueen’s criticism that Astrid didn’t respect her authority. That just wasn’t true, at least not all the time. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Mom, this is crazy. People only go into witness protection programs in the movies. We live in boring Oakmont, remember?”

Lilly wondered how Astrid could have forgotten her terrifying ordeal so quickly. That morning’s school run was anything but boring.

“Somebody tried to hurt us today,” she said. “I mean really hurt us. And you have to admit you were scared.”

Astrid swallowed and Lilly saw the fear momentarily return. “Yeah, I was scared, but we’re okay now, and the guy was probably high on drugs or something.”

“I already explained this to you, honey,” Lilly said. “He deliberately targeted me because of something bad that happened at the bank, and he’ll come back. We need to leave town until he’s caught, and then we’ll be able to come home.”

“How long will it take?”

“I don’t know, but we should take enough clothes for a week.”

“A week? Seriously? It’s Kaitlyn’s sixteenth birthday party on Saturday night. I can’t miss that. And what about school?”

Lilly stroked the soft fur on White Bear. “I know this is hard, but we have to make sacrifices. Our safety is more important than a birthday party or missing a week of school.”

Astrid flopped on the bed next to her mother. “Are you sure that this FBI guy isn’t exaggerating? He seems kinda repressed, like he’s full of trapped gas or something.”

Lilly couldn’t help but laugh at this fitting description of Agent David McQueen. It was then that she noticed him standing at the slightly open door, listening to their conversation, his head cocked to the side as if amused. Or annoyed. When her gaze met his, he held it for a few seconds, saying nothing.

She tried to imagine this buttoned-up man parenting two daughters, but couldn’t envisage him playing with toys or reading books, especially while wearing his dark suit and tie. Given that his children were now adults, she guessed that his age would be somewhere in the midforties, a good ten years her senior, yet he could pass for a much younger man. With a full head of curly brown hair, smooth tanned skin and a neatly trimmed beard, he was attractive without being too polished or high-maintenance. He had an outdoorsy look that was most definitely Lilly’s type. Not that it mattered anyway—romance was a thing of the past for her, and her sole focus was placed on raising her daughter.

“May I come into your room, Astrid?” David asked, knocking on the door. “I promise to keep my trapped gas where it is.”

Astrid sat upright and shifted closer to Lilly. She clearly wasn’t comfortable with the burly FBI agent who had invaded her home.

“Sure,” she said, with affected nonchalance. “Whatever.”

He entered the room, surveying the mixture of teenage music posters and babyhood relics. He also couldn’t fail to notice the colossal mess on the floor. Shoes, purses, belts and makeup palettes were strewn across the carpet, and his expression didn’t hide his disapproval.