Witness Pursuit (11 page)

“That's what we suspect,” Agent Nance said. “The Sartuchi family is smuggling their guys, who are out on bail, out of the country by way of Echo Mountain, Washington.”

“Why here of all the places in the country?” Nate said.

“Haven't figured that out yet.”

“Well, figure faster, people are getting hurt,” Detective Vaughn shot back.

Agent Nance narrowed his eyes at her. “Did I do something to offend you?”

“Smuggling, how?” Nate redirected before Vaughn and the agent got into a shouting match.

“We think they hide out in the cabins for a week or two where they're given passports for their new identities, money and plane tickets,” Agent Nance continued.

“But Sea-Tac airport is two hours away,” Detective Vaughn said.

“They could take the airport bus,” Nate offered. “For that matter, they could take a bus north into Canada.”

“Whatever the case,” Agent Nance continued, “we think they book lodging through Echo Mountain Rentals, and Becca Edwards and Tony Miller were hiding the passports and money in the cabins.”

“Becca Edwards has no criminal record, and her employers say she's a hard worker,” Detective Vaughn said.

“Yet she's disappeared and her boyfriend took Cassie McBride hostage,” Agent Nance countered. “Where is Cassie, anyway?”

“Safe,” Nate said.

“She could be our best leverage to get Len Pragner to talk.”

Nate didn't like the sound of that.

“How do you figure? She didn't see him commit the murder,” Nate said.

“No, but she can put him at the scene.” Nance leaned back in the booth. “I could take her off your hands, put her in federal custody to protect her, and give you time to work the murder case.”

That wasn't happening. Before Nate could say so, Vaughn spoke up.

“How is Marilyn Brandenburg, the dead woman Cassie found in the tub, involved in this?”

“We've found no connection between her and the mob.” Agent Nance glanced at Nate. “I was hoping you could share what you've got so far. Maybe we can piece together some answers.”

Nate nodded at Detective Vaughn. “Go ahead.”

“Marilyn was a nurse from Moscow, Idaho. Worked at Pullman Regional Hospital. Her sister said she wanted a little time away in the mountains. She'd been stressed out at work. She's divorced, kids are grown and married. She's squeaky clean, so why kill her?”

“Maybe she came across something at work?” Agent Nance said.

“She's a pediatric nurse,” Vaughn countered.

“We're not going to solve this tonight,” Nate said. “We appreciate you filling us in, and we'll give you information on the case as it develops.”

“Becca and Tony could be the key to shutting this thing down and sending these guys away for serious jail time,” Agent Nance said.

“So let's work together and make that happen,” Nate said.

Agent Nance slipped out of the booth. “I'm getting a to-go coffee. Want one?” he asked Nate.

“Sure, thanks.”

The FBI agent crossed the room to the coffee station and grabbed a few cups from the counter.

“He didn't offer to get me a coffee,” Detective Vaughn said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You don't drink coffee,” Nate countered. “What do you make of all this?”

“Something feels seriously off.”

“Agreed. For now, I'm taking Cassie someplace safe. I'll call Chief Washburn back in to help out.”

“You sure you wanna do that? It might look like—”

“I don't care how it looks. Having his experience on the team is invaluable. This kind of thing shouldn't be happening in our town.”

“No kidding,” she said softly.

“I'll fill in Chief Washburn. His presence will keep people calm. You need to find Becca. Pull Red off patrol if you have to. I know he's been wanting to do more detective work.”

“Will do. And the Marilyn Brandenburg murder?”

“Keep on forensics for results. Dig into her past. If she's involved, there's got to be a trail. I'll have the chief do background on Len. If he's a mob enforcer, we could use that to help the ADA build a case against him.”

Agent Nance returned to the table with the coffees.

“Thanks.” Nate got out of the booth and shook the agent's hand. “I'll be in touch.”

“Sounds good.” With a curt nod at Detective Vaughn, Agent Nance left the restaurant.

Vaughn frowned. “I don't trust him.”

“Go home and get some sleep.”

“What about you? I could relieve you at three a.m.”

“No, I need one of us functioning on a full night's sleep. I'll conference call with you and Chief Washburn tomorrow morning at eight.”

“You got it, Chief.”

* * *

As Nate drove away from the restaurant, Cassie noticed how tired and defeated he looked, which only made her more determined to figure out a solution to this mess. It wasn't even her mess; it was obviously a mess of Tony's making, and he'd put Cassie's friend in danger.

“It was nice of Catherine to lend you her son's car so no one would recognize us,” she said.

“Yep.”

“Did it go well with the FBI agent?” she asked.

“Well enough.”

She wanted to be a part of the investigation, to help solve the mystery of the dead woman and demanding stalkers. But it seemed like Nate wasn't up to more than one-or two-word answers. He kept checking the rearview mirror to make sure they weren't being followed.

“Did the agent have information about Tony?” she asked.

“Some.” He took a sip of coffee.

“Can you share?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Well, I could tell you what Tony said about getting into a mess because he didn't think they'd—”

“Cassie, save it until we get there, okay?”

“To the resort?”

“No, a safe house.”

“Can you at least tell me who Tony and Becca got involved with?”

He shot her a quick glance. “We suspect this is mob-related.”

“Wait, what, here? In Echo Mountain?”

He nodded. “Which is why we need to stay off everyone's radar. Be invisible for a few days.”

“That's crazy. I mean there's like no crime in Echo Mountain. It's a nice town with good people and charming little shops.”

She felt suddenly embarrassed by her chatty nature. The poor guy needed quiet, needed to think, yet he was stuck with Cassie, jabber-jawing like a teenager.

She stretched her neck and closed her eyes. She'd be sore tomorrow from the car collision with the tree. Wherever Nate was taking her, she hoped it had a soft bed. A good night's sleep would certainly put her in a better frame of mind to piece things together. She'd start with Tony's comments, and then consider Becca's stressed behavior as of late, and rack her brain for anything she might have in her possession that didn't belong to her.

The car suddenly swerved and her eyes popped open. “Whoa.” Gripping the dashboard, she glanced at Nate.

His eyes kept opening and closing, like he couldn't stay awake.

“Nate?”

“Sorry, I'm... I'm—”

A horn blared.

She glanced out the front window and was blinded by headlights of an oncoming car.

ELEVEN

C
assie instinctively grabbed the wheel and yanked it right to steer them out of the path of the car. Nate must have snapped out of his fog because he hit the brakes and the car swerved, coming to a stop on the shoulder.

Cassie shoved the car in Park and caught her breath. Then she leaned over and examined Nate. It looked like his wound had bled through his bandage.

“Nate, your arm.” She glanced up. He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Could it be from blood loss?

“Nate? Nate, can you hear me?” she said.

“Cassie,” he said, his voice weak.

A kind of determination shot through her that she didn't know existed, determination that would give her strength to get help for Nate and protect them from the mysterious threat.

She glanced out the back window. The driver of the vehicle that almost hit them was gone.

Nate said they needed to be invisible, which meant she shouldn't call 911 because an ambulance would transport them to the hospital, a very public place.

She hit the hazard lights so they'd be visible to motorists on the dark road, and then plucked his phone out of the holder on the dashboard. With unusual calm, she scrolled through his contacts. She spotted Dr. Spencer's number and made the call, holding her breath.

“Hey, buddy, I heard you were in a gunfight,” he answered.

“It's Cassie,” she said. “I need your help. Nate is semiconscious and needs medical attention.”

“I'll send an ambulance.”

“No, we have to stay under the radar because they think the mob is somehow tied to all this and...and...” She composed herself. “We need to hide out where no one will find us.”

“What's his condition?”

“Groggy, drifting in and out of consciousness, and he's bleeding through his bandage.”

“Where are you?”

“Highway Two, about five minutes north of Healthy Eats.”

“My cabin is ten miles northwest of your location. Take Highway Two four miles and turn left on Rushing River Drive. Follow that until it becomes a one-lane road, then look for the rooster mailbox and turn left. That's my driveway. I'll meet you there as soon as I can.”

“You're not home?”

“At the hospital. I'll leave right away. Is his wound seeping or oozing?”

She carefully pulled his jacket down off his shoulder and eyed the dressing. “It seems to be seeping through his bandage.”

“Okay, meet me at the cabin.”

“Thanks.” She shifted Nate's jacket back on and placed her palm against his cheek. “Hey, you'll be okay.”

“Cassie,” he muttered. “Gotta keep her safe.”

“We're safe. But I need you to move over. Here, I'll get out and—”

He gripped her hand and his intense green eyes popped open. A chill danced down her spine.

“I have to protect you.” His voice cracked.

“You are protecting me. It's all good. Trust me?”

He nodded, his eyes drifting shut. She slipped her hand out of his and went around to the driver's side. She opened the door and knelt beside him. “Nate, I need you to move over, can you do that?”

“Yeah, what?”

“Move to the passenger seat.”

He nodded and started to shift across the seat. She was grateful that the old car had a bench seat or this would be quite challenging.

“That's it,” she coached.

He hesitated. “Cassie?”

“I'm here. Move over so I can drive.”

A car honked and she jumped, startled. So focused on Nate, she hadn't sensed a motorist pull over on the other side of the highway. She had to pay more attention to her surroundings.

To the potential danger.

The driver lowered his window. He was an older man, in his sixties. She didn't recognize him.

A part of her wondered if he was with the mob, while another part countered that he could be a local. Even if he was, she didn't want him telling stories about a nearly passed-out chief of police. She blocked his view of the front seat.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you. We're good.”

“I saw the hazard lights so I thought I'd stop, offer to help.”

“That was awfully nice of you. My friend suddenly took ill while driving, but we're A-okay.” She tried not to sound too forced.

“Are you sure?” He started to get out of his truck.

“Absolutely.” With a pleasant smile, she slid behind the wheel of the car, shut and locked the door, and buckled up. Putting the car in gear, she waved at the man and pulled onto the highway. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she watched the Good Samaritan get back into his truck, but he didn't pull away.

Cassie pressed down on the accelerator, wanting to put distance between them. She simply couldn't trust anyone she didn't know, and even some people she did know.

Becca. Cassie still couldn't believe how Becca had fallen under Tony's influence. It started months ago when Becca broke dates with Cassie because Tony wanted Becca to stay home with him. Cassie would never get romantically involved with a controlling man like that, a controlling and potentially criminal man in Becca's case. What kind of trouble had Tony gotten them into?

She eyed the rearview mirror, but there was no one behind her and she could no longer see the Good Samaritan's truck parked on the side of the road. He must have been exactly who he said he was: a motorist who'd stopped to help.

Cassie didn't like feeling suspicious of everyone she encountered. Maybe if Nate had shared more about what he'd learned from the FBI agent that would have given her some solace or peace. But he'd been short with his answers, and now she understood why: he was struggling to stay conscious to fight off whatever was plaguing him. She hoped it wasn't an infection from the bullet wound.

She stopped herself from slipping into panic mode. Her new role was that of protector, not protectee. She had to take care of Nate for a change, and so far she was doing a decent job. They were on their way to meet the doctor who would treat Nate and assess his condition.

“Wait...where are we going?” he said, opening his eyes.

“We're meeting Dr. Spencer.”

“No, can't go to the hospital,” he said in a panicked voice.

“We're going to his cabin. No one will find us there.”

He nodded and leaned back against the seat. A moment later he mumbled, “I had a place, a better place...they wouldn't find you...”

“Shush. I've got this. And you know why?”

He glanced in her direction, his eyes unfocused.

“Because I'm smarter than I look, big guy. And you know how I can prove it?”

He shook his head indicating that he didn't.

“Because I climbed down a mountain with a dog in my arms and hid from creepy Shovel Man.”

“Shovel Man,” he repeated.

“He might have called out my name, but he didn't know where I'd gone.” She tapped her finger against her temple. “I used my head. Just like I'm doing now. I've got my eye on the rearview to make sure we're not being followed. We're not. And we'll go to Dr. Spencer's cabin for private medical attention. See how smart I am?”

“Y-e-ah,” he said, slowly.

She realized by talking to him, she could ease his anxiety. So she'd keep at it.

“You're in good hands, and you don't need to worry about anything. We'll take care of you. I'm just sorry I don't have EMT training like my cousin Maddie. I could have assessed your wound better and maybe even re-dressed it. Then again, I don't have first aid supplies with me. That wouldn't stop Aiden, of course. He was always finding solutions to problems, even as a little kid. Dad called him Mr. Fix-It. I think that's why Aiden's so good at being a resort manager. He knows how to fix things—well, most things. His relationship with his sister? Not so much.”

She glanced across the front seat. Nate's eyes were closed. Smiling to herself, she was proud that her nonstop chatter had actually soothed him.

“What happened?” Nate said.

“What do you mean?”

“You stopped talking.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Don't stop.”

She smiled and launched into her plans to explore castles in Europe.

* * *

Nate drifted. Half awake, half asleep. He wasn't sure what was real and what was a dream. He couldn't remember what day it was, or even where he was.

But he remembered her voice, that sweet, melodic voice of Cassie's that somehow eased the tension from his muscles, and the dread from his thoughts. She talked about castles and islands in Ireland, and cliffs overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. He drifted, picturing the Irish countryside and the vast ocean.

Then she'd said,
You're okay
, and he went dark, passed out or fell asleep.

Leaving her vulnerable. The sweet girl with a big heart. He'd left her at the mercy of mob thugs. The image of Becca's boot and jacket haunted him. What if they got to Cassie, what if...

“Cassie.” He opened his eyes and sat up.

“I'm here.”

He glanced to his left and saw her get up from the kitchen table. She was beside him in seconds, placing her warm hand on his shoulder, his bare shoulder. He glanced down at his naked chest.

“How are you feeling, Chief?” Spence asked, coming into view over Cassie's shoulder.

Spence must have taken off Nate's shirt in order to treat his wound. “I... How did I get here?”

“Cassie called me last night with an SOS so I had her meet me at the cabin,” Spence said. “Needed to re-dress the wound and check you out.”

“I don't remember that,” he said.

“You were pretty out of it,” she offered.

“I passed out?”

“It's okay,” she said. “I got us here. And you even had a good night's sleep.”

“Someone could have followed us.” He stood and wavered.

“Whoa, take it easy.” Spence gripped his arm.

“What time is it?” Nate asked.

“Seven thirty,” Cassie said.

“I've got a conference call at eight a.m.” He looked around for his shirt.

“Here.” Cassie grabbed a throw blanket off the sofa and draped it across his shoulders. She and Spence stayed close as Nate shuffled to the table. With each step he seemed to get his strength back.

He shifted onto a chair and Spence checked his vitals. Cassie grabbed mugs out of a cupboard.

“I'm fine,” Nate said to Spence.

“You're not fine or you wouldn't have passed out last night,” Cassie said. “Then again, maybe it was my chatter that put you to sleep.”

Oh yeah, her melodic voice telling him stories about her family, Aiden's fight with his dad about joining the army, and Bree's decision to move to the city against her parents' wishes.

Nate also remembered a wave of calm washing over him as she chatted away. How was that possible? The answer was too simple to ignore: he was falling for her.

“I'm okay, right, Doc?” Nate asked.

“Your vitals look good this morning. Last night your blood pressure was unusually low, so we took turns keeping an eye on you. You didn't lose that much blood from the bullet wound, and without blood work I can't make an official diagnosis. You could be suffering from exhaustion or dehydration or a combination of both. When was the last time you ate or slept?”

“I haven't seen him do much of either since he rescued me from the mountain ledge,” Cassie said.

She slid a bowl of oatmeal in front of him along with a mug of tea. “Drink this.” She sat at the table.

“I was hoping for coffee.”

“Tea is healthier than coffee.”

Nate glanced at Spence for help.

“Sorry, buddy, but I'm not getting in the middle of this,” Spence said.

“Not to lecture or anything,” Cassie started. “You're great at taking care of everyone else, Chief, but not so much yourself.”

“I've been a little busy,” he shot back.

“I know, I'm sorry.”

“Hey.” He reached out and took her hand. “No more apologizing for things that aren't your fault.”

“Well, if it weren't for my predicament you'd be sleeping and eating better, that's for sure.”

“You're not responsible for what's happening, got it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He tried releasing her hand, but she wouldn't let go.

“So what is happening, exactly?” she asked. “What did the FBI agent tell you?”

He spent the next twenty minutes going over the details of the case, from the smuggling of bail jumpers, to the suspicion of someone at Echo Mountain Rentals being involved.

Nate respected Cassie's need to know what kind of trouble she'd been pulled into, and it was important that Spence be kept in the loop, especially since he was offering to shelter them from criminals.

“And what about Becca?” Cassie asked.

“No sign of her. We found her jacket, a boot, hat, gloves and a scarf up in the mountains.”

“Oh, Becca.” Cassie interlaced her fingers and closed her eyes.

Nate assumed she was praying for her friend. He bowed his head and waited, wishing he could pray. If he did, it would be for Cassie's safety.

“Amen,” she whispered, and looked at Nate. “What happens next? How do we put these guys in jail?”

“The FBI is building a case, but they need witnesses, and we're hoping Becca and Tony would step forward to testify.”

“And if they can't find Becca and Tony?”

“You saw Len Pragner at the cabin. You're the best thing they've got to putting him at the scene of the murder.”

“But I didn't see anything other than him carrying a shovel.”

“They want to use that as leverage.”

“Huh,” she said.

Nate sensed something was brewing behind her bright blue eyes. “Cassie?”

“I'll get more firewood,” Spence offered, probably to give them privacy.