somewhere else.
About three miles down the road he spotted a tavern that suited his needs perfectly. He pulled up to a SUV similar to Noelle’s and smiled grimly when he discovered the Illinois license plates. Even better. He made sure the tag was paid up, and then used his Swiss Army knife to swap the plates.
At least this way, he could buy some time if whoever shot at him had an APB out on Noelle’s car. It wouldn’t work forever, but he’d take what he could get.
He returned to the motel, relieved to have that task finished. He parked and shut off the car, but stayed in his seat as he turned on his cell phone to place a call to his lawyer, Jack Owens. It was well past midnight, but he didn’t care. He wanted answers.
The phone rang several times before Jack answered. “O’Malley, where are you?” he asked in a sleep-laden voice.
“Somewhere safe. I’m sure you know by now that someone tried to kill me,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but the police want to talk to you, Caleb. They’ve been hounding me all evening.”
“Too bad.” The last thing he intended to do was to trust the police. Not after the way his SWAT teammates had been so eager to believe the worst about him. And there was a tiny voice in the back of his mind reminding him that Jack was the only person who’d known he was heading over to pick up his daughter. Granted anyone could have made a reasonable assumption, but still. “Did they find the slugs embedded in the house? And the canister of tear gas?”
“They haven’t told me much,” Jack confessed. “Other than they want to talk to you.”
“Kind of hard to shoot at myself, don’t you think?” he asked, trying not to sound as sarcastic as he felt. “I’d estimate the shooter was standing about a hundred and fifty yards away.”
“I believe you. You’re the sharpshooter. But you really do need to come back, at least long enough to give your statement,” Jack pleaded. “After all, you have nothing to hide. You’re the victim this time, remember?”
He wished it were that easy, but knew full well it wasn’t. “What are they saying about Noelle Whitman and Kaitlin?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Not much, at least as far as I know. Although the police want to interview Ms. Whitman, too.”
Of course they did. And despite the way he’d watched her pray over their meal, he wasn’t ready to trust her completely, either. He sighed, feeling as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. “I have to go. Let me know if you find out anything about the crime scene,” he said. “I’ll be in touch in a few days.”
“Caleb—” Jack started, but Caleb pushed the button to end the call, and then turned off his phone not just to avoid further conversation with Jack but to preserve the battery life and to prevent anyone tracing him through the GPS.
For several long moments he stared sightlessly through the windshield of Noelle’s SUV. He wanted to trust his lawyer—after all, Jack had been the only one to stick by him throughout the entire nightmare of being charged for murder. Of course, Caleb had paid the man a tidy sum of money to represent him, so that might not mean much. But he couldn’t come up with any reason his own lawyer would want him dead.
No, somehow the attempt on his life outside Noelle’s house had to be connected with Heather’s murder. It was the only thing that made sense. Someone who was afraid he’d discover the truth? Someone who was feeling desperate, now that the so-called eyewitness had disappeared? And why had the guy disappeared? A sudden attack of cold feet about committing perjury? Or something more sinister?
He took a deep breath and slid out of the car, closing the door behind him as silently as possible. Using the magnetic key, he quietly opened the door and slipped inside. He stood for several long seconds, allowing his eyesight to adjust to the darkness and listening to make sure Noelle and Kaitlin were still asleep.
Reassured by the steady breathing, he ventured farther into the room, estimating the location of the bed.
And then nearly fell flat on his face when Kaitlin screamed.
* * *
Noelle bolted upright in bed and gathered the little girl close. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetie. I’m here, it’s okay,” she crooned.
“What’s wrong?” Caleb asked hoarsely.
“Nightmare. Shh, Kaitlin, please don’t cry. It’s okay, sweetie, you’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
She felt the mattress dip as Caleb came over to sit beside them. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked softly.
“For night terrors? I’m afraid not,” she responded, still smoothing her hand down Kaitlin’s back. After what seemed like ages, the little girl’s screams subsided into hiccuping sobs, her tiny face still pressed tightly against her neck. “I’m sure she’ll calm down soon.”
There was a long pause as she rocked Kaitlin back and forth, still murmuring words of reassurance.
“She’s done this before, hasn’t she?” he asked.
“Yes, but not lately.” Not for over six months, but she didn’t tell him that. She’d suspected the gunfire, tear gas and subsequent wild ride out the back of her garage would bring them back. “Unfortunately, with everything that happened today, I’m not surprised they returned.”
Please, Lord, bring peace to this sweet little girl. She’s an innocent victim in all of this.
Noelle lost track of time as she held Kaitlin, waiting for her to fall asleep once again. When Kaitlin’s breathing slowed and her tiny body went slack, she stopped rocking and gently lowered the child to the bed. Caleb moved away, and now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she watched him scrub his hands over his face.
She knew just how helpless he felt; she’d experienced the same thing during those first few months that Kaitlin had come to live with her.
“Excuse me,” she whispered, making her way into the bathroom. She used the facilities and splashed cold water on her face to brace herself before heading back out to face him.
Caleb had opened the curtains a half inch, allowing the light from the outside parking lot to shine into the room. He was seated on a chair near the window, holding his head in his hands.
He lifted his head when she approached. “This is my fault, isn’t it?” he asked.
Why she wanted to make him feel better, she had no idea. “It’s not your fault someone shot at you.”
“I can’t stand the thought of Kaitlin being afraid of me,” he whispered.
“She’s not,” she whispered back. “After all, she let you hold her in the pool, remember?”
He shook his head. “She wanted to swim so badly I think she would have let anyone hold her.”
Noelle sank down onto the chair next to him, unable to refute his logic. “She needs a little time, that’s all.”
He lifted his gaze to hers. “Maybe I can find a safe place for the
