Valerie Hansen - Family In Hiding

“Kyle, honey, I’ll need your help with Brandon,” Grace said, hoping that assigning him a task would help her son cope. “Would you please take him to the bathroom and get him ready for bed while I look after Beth?”

“Yeah, sure. Where is it?”

“Just head down that hall and you’ll find everything you need,” the young marshal said, pointing. “Clothes in a lot of sizes are in the closet and bureau drawers of the first bedroom. Just grab whatever you think you’ll need.”

Grace had progressed as far as the kitchen. It was neat and clean, but so very tiny. There wasn’t even a dishwasher! How in the world was she supposed to keep house properly in a place like this? And who was going to tend the yard for them?

“How long can we expect to be stuck here?” she asked.

The officer shrugged. “Beats me. I’ve seen these protection programs go on indefinitely. But you won’t be staying here. This is just a halfway house. A place to stage before you disappear for good.”

“That kind of thing really works? I can’t imagine that a determined criminal couldn’t track down just about anybody he wanted to, especially if he had enough money. What are the chances we’ll be found?”

“Small, as long as you follow the rules.”

Picturing Kyle in particular, she asked, “What happens if somebody cheats?”

He appeared to be weighing his answer carefully before he sobered and said, “Sometimes they die.”

* * *

Getting the incriminating flash drive into the right hands had definitely been a relief to Dylan. It was going to feel even better to be reunited with his family—the sooner the better.

Recorded questioning at headquarters didn’t take long and he was finally given something to help dull the pain in his arm. As he had hoped, turning over the computerized files had led the authorities to halfway trust him. Besides, considering the grilling he’d received in the past few days, there wasn’t anything more to add. Evidently, law-enforcement officials had realized that and were cutting him some slack because he was hurt. Now, if he could just get Grace to do the same....

As the pain subsided and he started to relax, his eyelids grew heavy and closed. He was half-asleep, slouched in a chair and cradling his arm, when he heard his name in the background.

One eye eased open enough to peer at the marshals who had been watching him. The woman, Serena, was obviously upset and not shy about letting on.

“What do you mean it’s gone? I gave it to you.”

“I know you did. And I put it into an evidence bag and tagged it right away. You saw me.”

“Then where is it?”

Dylan noticed her sidelong glance in his direction before she said, “You’ll have to search him again, just in case.”

“He didn’t take it. He can’t have. He hasn’t moved a muscle since you gave him his meds.”

“Just the same, it can’t have gotten up and walked off.”

“Around here?” McCall snorted in derision. “I’m beginning to wonder. Too many witnesses have died in custody for me to believe that all these setbacks are coincidental.”

“You think there’s a mole in the office?”

“Don’t you?”

Dylan saw her shrug before she said, “I don’t know what to think. Look what happened to my brother, Daniel.”

At that, McCall stiffened and turned away from her. Strange, Dylan thought, peering at the others and wondering if his confusion was due to the pain meds or if the situation was so convoluted he couldn’t have made sense of it if he’d had his wits about him. Either way, their personal squabble was none of his concern. He had enough problems of his own at the moment.

McCall crossed to him and stopped, his arms folded in a stern, defensive manner. “McIntyre. Stand up,” he ordered. “Sorry, but I need to search you.”

“I don’t have that drive anymore and you know it,” Dylan said, dismayed to hear his words slurring as an effect of the medication.

“Well, I know I put it on my desk and it’s not there now, so you’re our best guess.”

“Why would I take it back? Think about that for a second.” Wincing, Dylan managed to stand although he was wobbly and had to use his good arm to steady himself on a nearby file cabinet.

“Yeah, I know,” McCall told him, sounding truly regretful. “This search is just so we can rule you out.”

“You should ask some of the people I saw milling around in here while you were fighting with your partner.”

“We weren’t fighting.” He started to methodically check Dylan’s pockets. “Who did you see near my desk?”

“Um, can’t say. Sorry.” Dylan rubbed his good hand over his face, trying to clear his mind of cobwebs. “Everybody was kind of blurred, like they were in a fog.”

“Did you see uniforms? Badges? Jackets with U.S. Marshal printed on the back?”

“I don’t think so. Everybody wore street clothes, like you and your partner.” He paused, taking a shaky breath and hoping to regain some of his equilibrium. “So, who’s Daniel and what happened to him?”

The ensuing pause was so long Dylan began to wonder if the man was going to explain.

McCall cleared his throat and continued with the search. “Daniel was one of us. Marshal Summers’ brother. He was killed in the line of duty. You probably read about it in the papers. The story was all over the news right after it happened.”

“If my mind was working normally tonight I’d probably remember,” Dylan said. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I.” The marshal backed away. “You can sit down again. I’m done. You don’t have it on you.”

“That’s what I told you in the first place.” Sinking into the chair with an oomph, Dylan fought to catch his breath as the pain ebbed and flowed in time with his pounding pulse.

“I don’t suppose you made a backup copy.”

“Sure did,” Dylan said, shooting a disparaging look at the marshal. “And I gave it to you.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” McCall conceded. “Okay, we may as well take you over to the safe house since there are no files for our techs to examine right now.”

“I can’t remember all the adoption cases,” Dylan warned. “Don’t even ask me to. That’s why I kept those records.”

“Understood. But whether or not we find other evidence, you’ll still be needed to testify.”

“You are determined to get me into more hot water, aren’t you?”

“You’re already in up to your neck and plenty close to a boil,” the marshal gibed, helping him to his feet. “Come on. Summers and I’ll take you to your family.”

Dylan was medicated just enough to loosen his tongue. “I haven’t got a family,” he slurred. “I lost ’em. Lost ’em all, just like that.” A feeble attempt to snap his fingers failed and he staggered, nearly falling until the marshal righted him.

“Easy, man. I know how you feel but it won’t do any good to lose sleep over it. Some things are beyond fixing.”

“You sound like you know all about that.”

McCall nodded as Summers joined them. Dylan saw him look straight at her as he quietly said, “Yeah, I do.”

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