Kathleen Long - Reluctant Witness

Kerri’s breath caught, and she leaned against the kitchen counter.

“We’re talking about murder now.” Wade spoke with an intensity she’d never before heard in his voice. “Murder, Kerri. In your backyard.”

“On your construction site,” she shot back.

“He left three kids.”

Wade’s words sucked the air from her lungs, sending her memory racing back to the moment she’d found out John was dead. She would never wish that horrific reality on another wife, on another child.

“Don’t they deserve to find out who did this?” Wade asked softly.

“Yes.” Kerri’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“What?”

“Yes,” she repeated. “You heard me. What guarantee do I have that Tom’s identity will be protected?”

At the breakfast table, Tom straightened, excitement shimmering in his eyes. He was too young to know there was a huge difference between what he read in his detective novels and real life.

“You have my word,” Wade said.

Kerri resisted the urge to tell him his word was worthless in her book. Tom didn’t need to hear that. The kid still worshipped Wade like the hero they all once thought he was.

“The police can come to us,” she said.

“Can’t do it. You’ve got to come in. I’ll pick you up and we can use the back entrance.”

“I can drive myself, thanks. Just tell me where to go.” She glanced at the hand-painted clock on the wall over the sink. “We’ll be there in an hour.”

The sooner they got this over with, the better. Once Tom made his ID—or not—they could return to life as normal, and Wade Sorenson could fade back into their past, where he belonged.

Wade stood quietly, observing the police sketch artist as he guided Tom through the process of developing a likeness of the man he’d seen. The boy’s review of suspected Project Liberation member photos had gotten them nowhere. Tom hadn’t recognized a single face as that of the man at Pine Ridge.

Kerri sat at McCann’s desk, nervously watching her son. Wade couldn’t help but notice the dark smudges beneath her eyes, nor the lines of worry across her forehead.

So much for her story about sleeping like a baby. She looked like she’d been up all night. He couldn’t blame her for the way she’d acted when he’d been at the house, for not wanting Tom to cooperate. After all, the boy was all she had left. She was smart enough to know Project Liberation was a dangerous organization.

He moved to rest a hand on her slender shoulder, but she leaned away from his touch. There had been a time when she would have leaned on Wade for support, when she had leaned on Wade for support. All that changed when Wade’s own testimony during the investigation into John’s death had directed the blame at her husband.

Maybe he should have lied to protect his friend’s memory. Maybe he should have let his company take the blame, but he hadn’t. He’d chosen the truth instead.

The doubt whispering through him was nothing new.

Wade blew out a frustrated breath and moved away from where Kerri sat, not wanting to cause her any additional discomfort. McCann caught his eye and gave him the thumbs-up. Wade stole a glance at the sketch and realized the artist was almost done. The suspect’s hair, nose and mouth—every feature—had been captured in crystal clear detail.

Tom had done an incredible job of providing the necessary descriptions.

When the sketch artist gave McCann the signal that they were through, the detective gathered Tom and Kerri and walked them briskly out of the room. Tom shot a quick glance at Wade, who winked in return, but Kerri never so much as looked his way, keeping her eyes averted as if the sight of him might turn her to stone.

He sank into the battered chair next to McCann’s desk and waited for his friend’s return. He didn’t have to sit still for long. McCann returned almost immediately, and Wade realized he must have handed off the Nelsons to someone else.

“What do you think?” he asked as McCann slipped back into his chair.

“We’ll get it out there.” McCann gripped the sketch tightly in one hand. “If this guy’s local, we’ll get him.”

“I promised the mother the kid’s name wouldn’t leak out.”

McCann nodded. “I heard you the first three times you told me. You have my word on it.”

Wade tipped his head toward a small gathering of detectives on the far side of the room. “What about their word?”

McCann scowled. “They’re pros, Wade. They aren’t going to broadcast the identity of our only witness. Relax.”

But as Wade stood amidst the ruins of Pine Ridge Estates a short while later, he couldn’t help but worry. Whoever had coordinated this devastation had also been a pro. A pro with an agenda.

How much of a risk did Tom present as a witness? The kid had obviously had a clear view of the bomber’s face. Wade could only hope the suspect hadn’t had a clear view in return.

If word of a witness got out, just how far would the bomber—hell, Project Liberation—go to keep him quiet?

The ecoterrorists prided themselves on destroying only property, not lives. But now that they’d crossed that line, now that the inspector had died, what were they capable of doing to avoid paying the penalty for murder? To avoid getting caught?

The stench of the fire hung heavy in the summer heat, and Wade silently cursed himself. Maybe he’d been wrong to involve Tom and Kerri. Maybe he should have left the investigation up to McCann and his team.

He turned away from the burned-out shells of the luxury homes, back toward his dust-covered pickup.

Kerri was wrong about being the only one responsible for Tom. Wade was responsible now, too. He might have failed John’s memory in life, but he planned to honor that memory now.

By protecting his wife and son.

KERRI BRUSHED a lock of hair from Tom’s forehead as he slept, pride welling inside her. He’d been such a little man today. Brave and confident.

He’d had one heck of a day, and the excitement had caught up to him. He’d practically fallen asleep at the dinner table, his head bobbing dangerously close to his bowl of chili.

She’d been amazed when he didn’t protest her suggestion that he get ready for bed early. She’d been even more surprised when he’d asked for his Uncle Wade as she’d tucked the covers around his shoulders.

Kerri knew Tom was hungry for male influence in his life, knew he missed his father terribly, but inviting Wade back into their lives would be a mistake.

She’d sat next to Tom’s bed until his breathing had grown even and steady, his features relaxing into peaceful sleep.

Kerri flashed back on the feel of Wade’s hand on her shoulder earlier at the police station. His brief touch had ignited an angry tangle of fury and need inside her. There were times she wanted someone to lean on, wanted someone to help her navigate life without John, but allowing Wade to be that person wasn’t an option.

He’d made his choice, and now they all had to live with the consequences.

When the phone rang, she rushed to pick up the receiver, wanting to stop the ringing before the noise woke her son.

“Hello,” she spoke into the phone.

The only sound that greeted her was silence. She glanced at the caller ID readout. Blank.

She hadn’t given the machine enough time to register the number, and she pressed the phone back to her ear.

“Is anyone there?”

The silence grew deafening, and just as she was about to hang up, the caller drew in a deep, rattling breath.

“You should have minded your own business.” The voice was deep and gruff, and chilled her to the bone. The voice was obviously male, but not that of anyone she knew.