Jane Choate - The Littlest Witness

The memories speared through her, opening up pockets of bewilderment, outrage and heartache.

She’d believed herself to be in love, only to find that the object of that blind devotion had deceived her in the worst way possible. Jeffrey’s betrayal had cut to the core of her being. After that, how could she trust herself to know what was real and what wasn’t?

Caleb hadn’t confided the details of what had gone wrong in his relationship; then, neither had she. But she felt an affinity with him. Though it had remained unspoken, it was apparent that they both understood the importance of always moving forward, because if you remained in one place for too long, you risked being crushed by the weight of regret.

Her regrets came with two dead men, one she’d considered a friend, one she’d hoped to marry.

Still lost in thought, Shelley released a quavering breath. If they managed to find who had killed Caleb’s brother and sister-in-law while keeping Tommy safe, would that allow him to forgive himself for not being there when his brother needed him? And if she helped him, would that make it easier for her to visit the graves of the two men who had died during the botched mission?

Or were they both chasing the impossible?

She shook off the questions that had no answers and closed her eyes. Thankfully, the nightmare didn’t return.

The sun was barely making its ascent when she awoke with a start, Caleb’s question drumming through her mind. How had the gunmen found them?

Caleb had stretched out on the floor, next to the sofa where Tommy slept. She swept her gaze over the big, ruggedly handsome soldier as he kept guard over his nephew, even in sleep.

She stood and padded to the table. Once more, she searched Tommy’s belongings. She and Caleb had examined the contents of the backpack, but they hadn’t looked at the backpack itself.

Now she did so.

Painstakingly, she went over every inch of it. It was then that she found it: a tracker, so small as to be nearly invisible, sewn into the lining.

The implications sank in immediately. Shelley thought fast. Were the men who were after Tommy and Caleb already on their way? She didn’t want to wake the little boy and drag him from yet another safe house.

But could she afford not to?

An indistinct rustling from the outside caught her attention. A zing of apprehension jolted through her. It could be nothing, she told herself.

The woods where the cabin was nestled were alive with rabbits, opossums, raccoons and even a hungry bear or two. But every instinct was telling her to get Tommy and Caleb out of there. Those instincts had saved her life upon more than one occasion.

Hypervigilant, she listened closely and now heard the fall of footsteps. Careful to keep out of the line of sight, she crept toward the window. A man moved stealthily up the porch steps. A second followed.

“Caleb,” she whispered as she shook him awake. “Get Tommy. We’ve got to get out of here.”

He came to as she would. Calm. Alert. Ready to act. Or fight. “What’s going on?”

“Two men...outside...found the tracker...there all the time.”

To his credit, Caleb didn’t waste time asking questions of her disjointed explanation.

“Take Tommy out the back door,” she hissed.

“What about you?”

“I’m right behind you. Go!”

“Not without you.”

“I’ll catch up.”

“We go together.” His tone brooked no argument, and he carried his nephew into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him before rejoining her.

She didn’t have time to argue with him. By now, the men were not trying for stealth.

The men burst through the front door. The fact that they didn’t wear masks alarmed her more than did the military grade KA-BAR knives sheathed at their sides and the snub-nosed revolvers they wielded with casual expertise. They didn’t expect anyone to survive.

“Remember...no one hurts the boy,” one said.

Shelley revised her assessment. The men didn’t expect her or Caleb to survive, but they had other plans for Tommy.

The first man advanced on her, the grim look on his face as foreboding as the weapons he carried.

Caleb faced off against the other opponent. He didn’t wait for the assailant to make a move, instead snapping out his right arm in an arc and knocking the weapon from the man’s hand. He followed up with a blow to the chest with the heel of his palm, knocking his opponent backward a couple of steps.

Before the intruder could regain his balance, Caleb threw a deadly combination of jabs and crosses to the face. So rapid were his punches that it was all the intruder could do to protect his head as Caleb rained down blows.

Another time, Shelley would have admired Caleb’s skill; now, she was too busy dealing with her own attacker.

The hard gleam in the would-be killer’s eyes promised he wouldn’t go down as easily as his teammate. “Let’s see what you’ve got, little girl.”

“Yeah.” She let her teeth show. “Let’s.” Quick as a snake, she brought the edge of her hand down on the wrist of his gun hand, sending the gun flying. She moved in fast, hooked her right leg beneath his, toppling him to the floor. With scarcely a pause, he rolled backward and jumped to his feet.

He wasn’t even breathing hard and looked as though he were enjoying himself. “That the best you got?” His mouth twisted in an ugly sneer.

She didn’t bother with an answer.

He’d obviously had top-notch military training, and deflected her flying fists and feet with little effort. She feinted to the left, spun on one foot, then struck out with her right fist. It connected with a bone-jarring crunch to his jaw. Pain sang up her arm.

She spun, hitting his throat with the toe of her boot.

He groaned but didn’t go down and withdrew his knife from its scabbard, the honed edge gleaming menacingly. She had to stay out of its reach, and, at the same time, take him down.

Knives were a man’s weapon, requiring skill, strength and, above all, reach. Though she was skilled enough with a blade, she lacked the necessary power to be really effective. Instead, she relied on moves that Jake had taught her.

When the man reached for her throat, she drove the ball of her hand upward under his nose. His agonized cry told her she’d broken it.

Good.

But self-congratulations were premature. He was still standing, still a threat. He swiped his hand across his nose, scowling when it came away bloody.

“You’ll pay for that.”

He shifted position, and she saw her opening.

“No. But you will.”

She kicked out with her leg, striking his knee, causing it to bend in a way nature never intended. The knee, a particularly sensitive spot in the body, was crucial to standing, to movement, to balance.

Injuries to the knee could reduce the toughest of men to howling babies. Her assailant was no different. He screamed in rage and pain as he crumpled to the floor, clutching his injured leg.

“This ain’t worth it,” he muttered, spittle flecking his face. “Nobody said she was some kind of ninja.”

“Better than ninja,” she said and delivered the final blow to the back of his neck.

Shelley and Caleb made short work of tying up the assailants with zip ties she carried in her backpack. But she didn’t delude herself into believing that this would put an end to the threat to Caleb and Tommy, if anything, she was more worried than ever. The enemy had upped the stakes, making it clear that Caleb was expendable. Even more chilling, what did they have in store for Tommy?

FOUR

“When do you leap over tall buildings in a single bound?” Caleb drawled as they sped down the highway after Shelley had hustled them out of the cabin.