shook her head with a dash of cynicism. “I know you want to believe you can protect me, but the type of people I need protection from don’t respect authority. They’d just as soon kill you as look at you.”
Chase stood tall as if her words had been a personal assault. “Jane, tell me what you know.”
She glanced around to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard. She hated how exposed and vulnerable she felt out in the open. She gestured for him to follow her beneath the shade of a large Douglas fir. “If I tell you, will you help me get out of here?”
“If you tell me, I promise I will protect you.”
More frustration bubbled inside her. What choice did she have? Her only option was to trust Chase and his promise of protection until she had an opportunity to run again. She had to stay vigilant if she wanted to stay alive.
Her heart raced. Her gaze darted from shadow to shadow, half expecting Maksim Sokolov to step out from behind a tree like a bogeyman from a horror movie. “A year and a half ago—” her voice dipped as the secret she’d held inside escaped like a bat out of a dark cave “—I witnessed a murder.”
Jane’s words echoed through Chase’s brain. Sympathy squeezed his heart. Ever since the detective, who’d appeared this morning without warning at the sheriff station, had shown Chase the photo of a woman with long dark hair and bangs dressed in a black dress and pumps at the back door of a brick building, Chase’s stomach had been tied in knots.
Though only the woman’s profile had been visible, there had been something vaguely familiar about the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. And then it had come to him. The woman in the photo was Jane.
And she apparently was hiding in Bristle Township because she’d witnessed a murder. “Tell me what happened.”
She shook her head. “If the killer finds out that I can identify him...” A visible shudder rippled through her. “He will kill me and anyone else in his path.”
Her palpable fear sent all his protective instincts into high gear. She was in danger. Her life threatened by what she’d seen. Reining in the urge to comfort and assure her that she was safe, he let his training prompt him to ask, “Why is Detective Peters convinced you’re involved?”
She turned to pluck the bark off the tree. Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know.”
Was he being played? He sent up a quick prayer, asking for God’s wisdom and guidance here. Keeping his voice from betraying the anxiety her words caused, he said, “We have to get you to the sheriff’s station so you can give your statement. You need to be brave now.”
Chase hoped she would come willingly. He didn’t want to have to compel her by putting her in cuffs.
For a long moment, she simply stared at him. He could see her inner debate with herself playing out on her face. Trust him or not.
He couldn’t help her with the decision.
Finally, she seemed to deflate. “I’m so tired of being scared. I want to be brave.”
He covered her icy hand. “I’ll help you.”
Snagging her duffel with his free hand, he walked with her away from the hotel. They hadn’t gone far when a black SUV pulled up alongside them and Detective William Peters hopped out. The tall, bulky man wore a wrinkled gray suit, white button-down shirt and red tie. His dark hair brushed the edges of his collar.
There was something about the man’s gruff demeanor that had rankled Chase from the second they’d met. He chalked it up to city vs. small town. One of the many reasons Chase left the Chicago PD after only a year. He hadn’t wanted to become jaded like so many of his fellow officers.
Chase believed in good over evil, that the right side of the law would win in the end. And justice wasn’t prejudiced or affected by social status. Maybe that made him naive as some had said. He didn’t care. He had faith that he was doing what God wanted for his life.
Detective Peters’s dark eyes glittered with triumph. “There you are.” He opened the rear passenger door. “Get in. We have a plane to catch.”
Jane clutched Chase’s arm. She made no move to comply.
“Hold on a minute,” Chase told the detective. “We need to do this the right way. We go to the sheriff’s station so we can make a proper transfer to your custody.”
Peters shook his head. “No way. She’s coming with me now. I have a warrant that gives me the right to take her into custody on sight.”
Chase didn’t recall any mention of a warrant. “The sheriff will want to talk with her.”
“There’s no time for that.” Peters stepped forward and grabbed Jane by the arm, yanking her from Chase’s grasp. He pushed her inside the back passenger side of the SUV.
“You can’t just take her away,” Chase argued. “There’s protocol to follow.”
Peters got in Chase’s face. “Back off. If you have an issue, then call the brass. I’ve got my orders.”
“Chase?”
Jane’s anxiety curled through Chase. “I’m going with you. I’ll get my own plane ticket. Even if I have to fly on a different airline.” He stepped forward to slide into the back seat with Jane when Peters slammed the door shut, blocking Chase from following her into the vehicle.
Peters shoved Chase back a step and glared. “This is my collar, not yours. I’m not letting some Podunk deputy interfere with my investigation.”
Taken aback by the man’s hostility, Chase put his hand on the butt of his weapon. Drawing on a fellow officer wasn’t something he wanted to do, but if the man continued with his aggressive behavior, Chase would have little choice. “She’s a witness, not a suspect.”
“That’s for others with a higher pay grade to decide. She’s coming with me.” Peters jumped into the vehicle.
Chase grabbed the back door handle but it was locked. He banged on the driver’s side window. “You can’t just take her like this.”
The SUV’s engine revved. Peters hit the gas and the SUV peeled away, forcing Chase to jump aside to avoid being hit.
This wasn’t right. There was a proper way of doing things. Chase ran to the sheriff’s station. At the front desk, he asked Carole if she could get the chief of the Los Angeles Police Department on the line for the sheriff. Then he moved into the inner sanctuary of the station. His voice shook with anger as he told the sheriff and the other deputies about Jane and what had just transpired.
“I’ve got the Burbank Police Department on the line,” Carole called from her desk. “Should I send the call to your desk, Sheriff?”
“No, send it to Chase’s,” Sheriff Ryder replied.
Stunned, Chase stared. “Sir?”
“You’re running point on this one,” the sheriff replied.
