She’d tried to look forward to the season, enjoying the lights, the windows, the tree at Rockefeller Center.
Now, that, too, was gone.
Heat poured from the vent, but Callie shivered as she stared at the crowds below. Evening was falling, dusk beginning to shroud the people from view. She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her sweater tight. It wasn’t exactly a hug, but it was the best she could get at the moment.
She’d allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security. There was no safe place for her anymore. Not only could she never go home again, but apparently she also couldn’t trust that she would ever find a home that was safe. For the girl whose only dream had been a home and family of her own, that was a bitter pill to swallow.
Enough of this. Giving herself a shake, Callie turned from the window. She could wallow in sadness, or she could choose to focus on the good. And there was good. She just needed to remember it.
Callie rooted through her bag for her Bible. Focusing on reading scripture had been a tool of self-preservation in the early days of this ordeal. It was a way of reminding herself that God was good all the time. Even in the midst of all the turmoil, she had much for which to be thankful. So many people had helped her, starting with the marshals, like Ben, who were willing to sacrifice their lives to keep her safe.
Regret twisted in her belly. She wished she could have gone with Jackson to check on Ben. He’d helped her get her footing in her new life. At first he’d been a friend, protector and father figure all rolled into one. Once she’d been moved to New York, she hadn’t seen him often, but he’d kept in touch. She should be there for him. Since she couldn’t be, she would pray for him.
Dear Lord, I pray to You in thanksgiving for all You have given me. Jesus, my Lord, healer of the sick, please shine Your love on Ben. Protect him and keep him safe from harm.
Callie paused in her prayer. Ben had been her protector, and now Jackson had that role. She was grateful to God for sending Jackson to rescue her. Whether or not she was grateful for Jackson himself was another matter. She was going to have to get to know him better. A smile tugged at her lips as she turned back to her Bible. Buying her coffee definitely weighed in his favor.
* * *
Jackson gripped the edge of the hospital room door, trying to drain the anger from his body before facing his colleague. Ben didn’t need to deal with Jackson’s baggage. He had enough fighting of his own to do. According to the doctor, the knife had missed anything vital but not by much. Another quarter inch... Jackson shook off the thought. Supposedly Ben was just sleeping. Good. He’d wait.
He sank into the chair beside the bed and scrubbed his face with his hands, fighting back emotions that threatened to swamp him. Ben wasn’t just his colleague. He’d been a friend, a mentor and the closest man in Jackson’s life since his family was murdered.
Minutes ticked by with nothing but beeping machines and bustling nurses. Finally there was a slight movement in the bed. “You might as well spit it out instead of sitting there making angry faces.”
Jackson jolted at the whispered words. Tension slid off as he looked up to see Ben staring back at him. Those sun-crinkled eyes weren’t quite sparkling, but there was a light in them that eased something deep within Jackson.
He reached over and gripped Ben’s hand. “Nice of you to wake up.”
Ben grimaced. “You got her away?”
Jackson nodded. “Safe and secure.”
Ben closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “Thanks. I owe you.”
“Nope.” Jackson shook his head. Ben had it backward. Jackson owed him everything. The senior marshal had taken a wet recruit under his wing and trained him and molded him into the man Jackson was today. He didn’t even want to think what would have become of the angry young man he’d been after the massacre of his family if Ben hadn’t intervened. Jackson had been drifting, aimless and angry. Ben had taken the bitter youth and helped him find a purpose in life. For that alone, Jackson owed him more than he could ever repay.
For that, if nothing else, he would see that the men who’d done this paid.
“What happened?” Ben’s voice melded with Jackson’s.
The two men shrugged as they simultaneously asked the same important question. It would have been funny if the situation weren’t so grave.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Jackson urged.
Ben frowned, trying to push past the pain. “I remember coming out of the elevator, crossing the lobby. I told Christine to let me go first, but she pushed past and went into the revolving door.” Ben made a wry grimace. “She was annoyed because Callie had no answers. Said she was in a hurry. I went through the side door. That guy from DEA, Quint, followed me.”
Ben shifted, focused on breathing for a minute, then continued. “Someone was waiting. I took a knife. Quint must have seen them making a grab for Christine because he shoved me aside and lunged at her. Probably saved my life, too, because the minute he got his hands on her, the car took off, and the guy who’d stabbed me disappeared into the crowd. I never even saw him.”
That was not what Jackson wanted to hear. “Did you get a look at the car?”
“Quick. As I was falling. Dark blue, tinted windows.” He closed his eyes for a minute, apparently drawing on his training to try to dredge up a memory. “There was a dent in the right rear bumper. Some sort of decal right above it. White and blue. I couldn’t read what it said. Maybe Quint saw something else.”
Jackson would check, but from the report he’d gotten earlier, Mr. DEA hadn’t seen anything. He’d been totally focused on keeping hold of Christine Davis, the assistant US attorney.
“Any idea how they found her here?” Ben asked.
“Callie?” Jackson shook his head. “So you think it was her they were after?”
“Has to be. If they knew she was there, they would have expected her to be coming out with me. With Christine in that winter coat, hat covering her head, all you’d see was the blond curls. Easy to mistake.”
“Still doesn’t explain how they found her,” Jackson muttered. “Unless someone tracked Christine or Quint.”
“Possible, but we went to a lot of trouble to avoid it. That was the whole reason for bringing them here rather than taking Callie to them. Seemed safer. You came up with them, didn’t you?”
Jackson nodded. “We took separate flights from San Antonio and Austin into Atlanta but got stuck on the same connecting flight because of weather delays. Never acknowledged each other in the terminal or in the air and we made sure to take cabs to different hotels. No one would have had any reason to suspect we were together unless they knew.”
Their gazes met and held, neither wanting to be the one to say the words, admit that one of their own must have leaked information.
Ben finally broke the silence. “Get her out of town.” He swallowed hard, as much from the pain of betrayal as from physical injury. “Don’t tell anyone. Just go.”
“There’s one other possibility,” Jackson offered.
Ben
