shook her head in denial, but she could see from his expression it was true. “But he was just here. He went down to bring the assistant US attorney...” Her words trailed off, and she leaned back on the table to steady herself against a wave of light-headedness. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll explain what I can on the way.”
“But—”
“Listen, Ms. Martin.” He blew out a breath, softened his voice, but didn’t quite manage to hide his exasperation. “We have to get you out of here. Now.”
Callie was still reluctant to go with him. “Ben might need us.”
“We’re not doctors. The paramedics have him covered. My job is to protect you. That means getting out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
He just stared at her. “How long have you been in witness protection?”
“Shouldn’t you know that?”
He sighed. And glared.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not trying to be trouble, but it’s my life on the line here. I don’t know who to trust, and I don’t know you at all.”
“Didn’t Ben call and tell you to go with me?”
“Yes, but—”
“Ma’am, I don’t want to have to drag you out of here, but the longer you stay, the more you’re endangering yourself and everyone in the building.”
“How?”
He stared at her as if she were wearing a dunce cap. “Despite what people think, there generally aren’t random stabbings and kidnappings on New York streets.”
His words cracked her bravado. Kidnapping. He was right. She needed to leave. Tears built in her eyes and emotion choked her. Bad things seemed to follow her everywhere lately.
“Okay,” she conceded. Not that there was really any choice. Where else could she turn if Ben wasn’t able to protect her? Please, Lord. Guide me.
Callie grabbed her tote bag and headed for the door. She’d learned in her first week of witness protection to keep all her essentials in one ready-to-move-at-any-moment bag. It might seem silly, but having toothpaste, a brush, her Bible and the stuffed penguin that had been a gift from her class made her feel a bit more secure in this helter-skelter world that had become her life.
“Ms. Martin.” Jackson handed over her coat. Yes, she would need that. It was strange getting used to needing a heavy winter coat everywhere she went. Back home in Texas she’d rarely needed more than a sweater under her jacket when the temperatures dropped. Here in New York, they were hitting low thirties on a regular basis. Just one more thing that was different in her new world.
Callie put the bag down and slipped the coat on, taking an extra minute to zip up and wrap a scarf around her neck. She snatched her bag and started toward the door but was brought up short by the marshal’s hand on her arm. Right, Ben said not to go out front.
But he was out there. Callie’s loyalty to the marshal who was her only connection to her former life begged her to check on him. The tug on her arm drew her back.
“Back way,” he warned. “We can’t risk them realizing their mistake. Someone might still be watching the front.”
Mistake? His words sank in, and Callie’s knees turned to water. Her legs wobbled. The kidnappers had meant to take her? She felt suddenly as weak as if she’d been the one stabbed. Which she might have been if Ben hadn’t decided to walk the attorney out first. Jackson’s strong hand cupped her elbow, a support she found herself grateful for. She was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea that someone wanted her dead.
Callie took a deep breath and fought for control. She could fall apart later. Right now she had to do what the marshal said. He led her toward the back corner of the offices, out the fire door and down a back stairway.
As they reached the bottom, Jackson turned to her. “There’s a connecting door in the basement. We’re going to walk underground until we come to the next building down. When we walk out, I want you to look calm. Pretend we’re just leaving and hailing a cab.”
“A cab?” That seemed so...ordinary.
“The less attention we attract, the better. There’s a cab parked down the street waiting for us. As soon as I give the signal that we’re coming out, he’ll pick us up.”
They wound their way through a warren of underground rooms, and just when Callie figured they’d walked clear to the Hudson River, Jackson took out his phone and entered a number.
“Whatever you do, don’t look back. Ready?”
Callie closed her eyes and counted slowly to ten as she breathed in and out. Was she ready? No. But again, she really had no choice. She opened her eyes and nodded. “Ready.”
He pressed send. They waited just inside the doorway while the clock on his phone ticked off two minutes. “Wait here until I call you.”
Callie watched him stroll out onto the midtown sidewalk, the picture of New York determination as he pretended to search for a cab. There wasn’t much traffic on the street—pedestrian or auto. Apparently the authorities had the entire area blocked off.
“Here he is,” Jackson called. She dashed out as he hailed the cab. It pulled smoothly to the curb in front of him, but before Jackson could hand her into the car, a man in an elegant overcoat materialized in front of them, attempting to grab the ride. Callie felt Jackson go on alert.
“Sorry, sir, my wife’s not feeling well. I called ahead for this car.” An elbow to the man’s briefcase backed up his words. Jackson shoved Callie into the cab and jumped in after her before the man could recover his balance. The driver hit the locks and the gas pedal.
Callie fell back against the cracked upholstery as the cab sped down the block. New York traffic still scared the life out of her. She hoped she hadn’t survived an abduction attempt only to be killed in a traffic accident.
Abduction. She shuddered, thinking about how close she had come to being a victim.
Callie’s thoughts were interrupted by the cab pulling up to a curb. She looked around, but they didn’t seem to actually be anywhere special. “Why are we stopping here?”
“Just making sure no one tailed us. We’ll cross into Grand Central Terminal as if we’re planning to get on a train to Westchester.”
“But we’re not?”
“Nope.”
“Where are we going?”
“To a new safe house.”
“You think this one will actually be safe?”
“Ms. Martin, WITSEC is not in the habit of losing witnesses.”
“Yet you nearly did.”
Callie
