you the answers you’re looking for.”
Banks ran his hand across his jawline. “You’re right. There’s just a lot riding on this case.”
“My suggestion is we keep her identity a secret,” Alex said. “Better yet, don’t release the fact there was a witness. Can you talk to the first responders in there?”
“Yes, but you know how things leak out.”
“It’s worth a try. In the meantime, I’ll take Miss Harris someplace safe. Here’s my cell number.” Alex handed him a business card. “I’d appreciate you keeping me in the loop on your end and I’ll do the same.”
Deep in thought, Banks glanced at Alex’s business card.
“How bad is it, whatever you think Lange was into?” Alex pushed.
“It’s a game changer.” He handed Alex his business card and went back to the crime scene.
Officer Mark Adams stepped into the hallway looking for Alex. “How’s the witness?”
“Understandably upset. I need you to keep an eye on things here,” Alex said. “I’m taking her into protective custody.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alex turned back to the TV room and took a deep breath. Somehow he had to convince Nicole Harris to shelve her trauma and tell them whatever she could about the murder. Time was critical, potentially for the community of Waverly Harbor but most definitely for Nicole. Alex knew it would be nearly impossible to keep her presence in town a secret, but he hoped they could keep it quiet that she’d been at the crime scene, sitting on the other side of the closet door while someone viciously murdered Edward Lange. If that got out, even by accident, it could mean Nicole’s life.
No, he wouldn’t let it happen again. He’d stay one step ahead of the killer and make sure an innocent woman didn’t become a victim.
He slid the pocket doors open.
“We decided I should take you—” he said to an empty room. “Miss Harris? Nicole?”
He rushed to the sofa hoping to find her stretched out in exhaustion.
She was gone. So was her messenger bag.
He spotted a closet and raced across the room to whip open the door. Switched on the light.
Empty.
How was that possible? He bolted to the sliding door and whipped it open. “Nicole!”
TWO
She had to run.
There was no other choice.
The killer was after her. He wanted her dead. The FBI agent had said as much. And the only way to survive was to either hide...
Or run.
Because given Nic’s experience, the police couldn’t or wouldn’t protect her. She was the only one who could save herself.
She’d hesitated before taking off, remembering the false sense of security she’d felt when leaning against the muscled arm of Detective Donovan. When he spoke in his rich, deep voice, she could almost believe the words coming out of his mouth, and she was sure she read truth in his striking blue eyes.
But then something had slammed against the wall, snapping her out of her momentary distraction, yanking her back to reality and the violence that surrounded her.
No one can help you but yourself. A lesson learned years ago as a child.
Jogging across the property toward the lake, she figured the next house was about four city blocks away. She’d make her way there and...and...what?
Didn’t matter, she couldn’t think about what came next. She had to stay focused on getting away from the murder scene, the cops...the threat to her life.
She had to feel safe.
A sob-gasp caught in her throat. Safe? Since when?
In the recesses of her mind, her intellect argued that this was a bad move. She couldn’t elude authorities for long and it could even make her look guilty, as if she’d done something wrong. Yet all she’d done was her job.
If she couldn’t be safe in this quiet little town that meant...
He was right.
You can’t run fast enough or hide well enough. You’ll never be safe.
“No,” she gasped, picking up speed as she eyed the lights of a house in the distance.
She was a survivor, a fighter. A killer had stood on the other side of a closet door, weapon in hand, yet she was still alive. The cops said they wanted to protect her but she knew the truth: they wanted something from her.
No one genuinely cared about Nicole, not even the polite and handsome Detective Donovan with the calming voice. She knew how it worked. She’d grown up the victim of a failed system, heard all the excuses about keeping children with their father, the one remaining parent. “A little discipline is no cause for putting the kids in foster care and splitting up a family,” the caseworker had said.
In reality, “a little discipline” equated to extreme emotional abuse in the Harris household. Those scars weren’t obvious, and her little sister and brother were so frightened of their dad that they wouldn’t let on about the abuse to teachers, doctors or even friends. The kids feared his retaliation.
He’d earned that fear.
He’d leave newspaper articles on the kitchen counter about parents disciplining their children by locking them in a nonworking freezer in the backyard for two days, or locking them in a dog cage in the basement.
And being found dead.
Beau and Addy didn’t want to be afraid all the time, but they didn’t want to be dead, either, so Nicole taught them how to survive.
Tonight she needed those very survival tactics to escape the threat of a killer.
She must have run a quarter mile, her arms pumping, her brain spinning. Disappearing, then starting fresh in a new state with a new name was her best option. She’d planned for this day just in case the monster named Timothy Harris came looking for her.
She never thought she’d need the escape bag to flee a random killer.
Aiming for the cedar trees bordering the property, she thought she heard something behind her. Her name. Detective Donovan was calling her name.
She charged into the thick mass of trees for camouflage. If the police found her they’d take her into custody “for her own protection,” while in fact they’d make her an easy target for a killer she hadn’t even seen. Would she be able to identify his voice if she heard it again? She shoved the thought back. It didn’t matter. She had no intention of putting herself in the line of fire.
Guilt snagged her conscience. What about Edward
