Witness Pursuit (5 page)

Fifteen minutes later, Nate arrived at Whispering Pines cabin to check in with Detective Sara Vaughn. Before he went inside, he glanced at a text message from Cassie:
Thanks for sending Harvey. Mom is excited for more company.
J

Nate texted back:
Glad to help.
He hit Send and considered sending another text, something like
Have a good night
or
I'll see you in the morning
.

“I'm losin' it,” he muttered and went into the cabin. He found Detective Vaughn conferring with a forensic specialist.

“Hey, Chief,” she greeted.

The forensic officer retreated into the bathroom where they'd found the body.

“Initial cause of death looks like blunt force trauma, but there were no defensive wounds, no sign of a struggle, no evidence he restrained her. Nothin'.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “So, what? She let him whack her head against the side of the tub? It makes no sense. We'll know more once they get her on the table.”

“How about identification?”

“License reads Marilyn Brandenburg of Moscow, Idaho. We found an emergency number in her cell phone for a sister. I've called, but it keeps going to voice mail.”

“Did you find Cassie McBride's purse on the premises?”

“There's a purple bag on the kitchen counter, why?”

“The killer came after her at the hospital. I'm trying to figure out how he knew who she was since she claims he didn't see her face.”

“Wait, so she saw him, called for help and took off with a dog in her arms?”

“That is correct. I'm wondering if the perp took her wallet, which was how he identified her.”

“I saw a wallet on the counter.”

Nate went to the kitchen where Cassie's wallet, made from colorful duct tape, lay next to a bright purple bag. Cassie probably made the wallet herself, he mused. A few inches away he spotted a key chain with small charms: silver cross, flower, Union Jack flag, Eiffel Tower and kangaroo.

Fingering the keys made him wonder about the killer.

“Vaughn?” he called.

She popped her head out of the bedroom. “Sir?”

“Are we thinking the suspect escaped on foot? There were no cars in the area other than Cassie's.”

“Someone spotted a black sedan at the Snoquamish trailhead. We're looking into it,” Vaughn said.

“Good.” He redirected his attention to Cassie's wallet.

He started to analyze the contents. Her round face smiled back at him from her driver's license. The killer would only have to glance at the license to determine Cassie's name and address.

Nate's fingers dug into the plastic wallet.

The address on her license was the farmhouse.

FIVE

C
assie tossed and turned in bed. Couldn't sleep. She hadn't spent the night at the farmhouse in months. Being back here, staying in her old room, brought back memories of a darker time, a time when she felt weak and helpless.

As she glanced out the window at a familiar tree, memories rushed back, bringing with them the irrational and paralyzing fear of being stuck in bed for the rest of her life.

She hopped out of bed, put her fleece on over her pajamas and grabbed her phone. A sip of water would stop this line of thinking. It always had in the past.

Heading toward the stairs, the sound of voices drifted from the first floor. Her mom and Harvey were talking in the living room.

Cassie hesitated at the top of the stairs.

“You should try and go back to sleep,” Harvey said.

“I can't. I keep thinking about my daughter finding a dead body. She must be traumatized,” her mom said.

“She's a tough cookie, Margaret.”

“But she's not talking about it, at least not to me. I don't know what I ever did to put such distance between us. We were so close when she was a child.”

Cassie gripped the cherrywood railing. If only she could articulate how her mom's overprotectiveness made Cassie feel like she couldn't breathe. But she struggled to find the right words. She'd never want to come off as disrespectful, and she'd certainly never want to hurt Mom's feelings.

“Kids go through awkward stages, then they grow out of it,” Harvey offered.

“Yeah, when they're sixteen, not twenty-six,” her mom answered. “I wish she would open up. I could help.”

“Maybe she doesn't want to worry you.”

“Too late for that.”

A moment of silence, then, “How about some more coffee?” her mom offered.

“That would be great.”

“And cookies?”

“If you got 'em.”

“I always have cookies.”

Cassie could just imagine the wry smile playing across her mother's lips. She was known as the “sweet queen,” the woman who baked every day, always trying out a new recipe.

Too bad Cassie didn't inherit the baking gene. Her sister Bree seemed to get all the talent in that department.

Hearing her mom walk into the kitchen, Cassie decided to join Harvey in the living room. The sixtysomething former security manager, with a crewcut and kind blue eyes, had a grounding presence she appreciated. She went downstairs, and he looked up as she paused in the doorway.

“Couldn't sleep?” he asked.

She shook her head, entering the living room and flopping down in a chair.

“You've had quite the night,” he offered.

“No kidding.”

“You hanging in there?”

“Always do.” She offered a smile.

Suddenly the lights went out, plunging them into darkness.

“Harvey?” Mom's concerned voice called.

He clicked on a small flashlight and pointed it toward the kitchen. “Probably the wind, Margaret. We're coming to you.”

Just then his phone beeped with a text. The blue light illuminated his frown of concern as he read the message.

“What is it?” Cassie asked.

“Chief's on his way. The suspect might know this address.” Harvey pulled a firearm out of his boot.

Panic stung the back of her throat. It wasn't only
her
life being threatened, it was her mom's life, as well—the nurturing, compassionate matriarch of the McBride clan.

“Should we call 911?” Cassie asked Harvey.

“Chief took care of it. Let's get to your mom.”

The nearly full moon lit the house through the sheer curtains covering the windows.

As Cassie and Harvey went into the kitchen, her heartbeat quickened. This was where they'd found Aiden, bloodied and semiconscious after the break-in last year. When Cassie glanced up and noticed the pale look on her mom's face, she shoved back the traumatic memory. She had to be strong.

“It's okay,” Harvey said to her mom. “I'm not gonna let anything happen to you ladies.”

The image of the dead woman in the Whispering Pines cabin flashed across Cassie's mind. Shovel Man had no problem killing or trying to kidnap a witness from a public place.

A red light blinked on the panel beside the back door.

Someone had triggered the alarm.

It was a good thing the system was on a separate electrical circuit.

“He's...someone's trying to get in,” her mom said in a terrified voice.

Cassie put a comforting arm around her. “It's okay. Police have been alerted and Harvey's here. We need to stay calm.”

“Do you have a fire extinguisher?” Harvey said.

“Under the sink,” Mom said.

“We can use it to stun him.”

Cassie went to retrieve it. “Mom, get in the pantry.”

“What about you?”

Cassie had no intention of hiding while Harvey fought off the intruder by himself.

“We both won't fit in there,” she said. “I'll find another place.” Gripping the extinguisher, she led Mom to the pantry.

“There's room for both of us,” her mom whispered.

“Try to keep quiet,” Cassie whispered.

“But—”

“Mom, please, I know what I'm doing.” Cassie gently shoved her mom into the pantry, then shut and locked the door. She had to; she wouldn't risk Mom popping out during a dangerous encounter. Her parents had put the lock on the outside of the door, out of reach of the kids so they couldn't raid the cookie jar.

Cassie dreaded the lecture she'd get when this was over, but Mom was safe. That's what mattered.

Harvey nodded at an antique oak credenza beside the door leading to the living room. “Help me push this into the doorway.”

It was a good plan, Cassie thought. By blocking the door between the kitchen and living room, the intruder could get to them only through the back of the house.

And they'd be ready.

The credenza firmly in place, Harvey motioned for Cassie to get on the opposite side of the back door, out of view. She crouched beside the kitchen cabinets, clutching the extinguisher to her chest.

“What if this is just a blown fuse?” she said.

“That'd be okay with me,” Harvey answered. “But I don't believe in coincidences. You sure you won't go into the pantry with your mom?”

“I'm sure.”

“Trying to prove how tough you are, huh?”

“Not proving anything. But I can take care of myself.”

“I don't doubt that.”

“Then you're the only one,” Cassie said, noticing how their voices had grown softer in pitch as they spoke.

A few seconds of silence stretched between them. She thought she heard the echo of a police siren, but it was probably wishful thinking.

She glanced down at the vinyl flooring. Even in the darkness, the moonlight illuminated a mark on the floor Aiden's football cleats had made years ago.

A mark she had fixated on when he'd been attacked and wounded last year.

“Hear that?” Harvey whispered.

Cassie took a deep, calming breath and focused.

Wooden boards creaked on the porch just outside the kitchen. Someone approached the back door.

Please, God, give me courage.

Creak, creak...

The door handle rattled.

Cassie took another deep breath and removed the pin on the extinguisher. A crash made her shoulders jerk. Mom really needed to replace the multipaned door.

Scratching echoed across the kitchen. The intruder was trying to unlock the door, but that wasn't happening since it was the kind you locked with a key from the inside.

Another crash echoed through the kitchen. The guy had broken the window above the sink, probably in search of another way inside.

“I know you're in there,” he said. “Tell me what you did with it and I'll leave you alone.”

What she did with what?

Cursing under his breath, the intruder smashed all the kitchen windows. Was he going to climb into the house?

Right above Cassie's hiding spot?

Harvey grabbed her, protectively shoving her behind him.

Shovel Man popped his head through the window.

Harvey aimed his weapon. “I wouldn't.”

The shrill sound of sirens echoed in the distance.

The guy retreated. Footsteps pounded across the porch. She waited a good few minutes before speaking. “Think he's gone?”

“Probably. But we'll stay here until help arrives.”

The sirens grew louder, easing the tension in her shoulders.

And then the terrible sound of screeching brakes and crashing metal made her straighten. Cars must have collided on the farm road outside.

Chief's on his way
, Harvey had said.

She jumped up and went to the window. “I can't see anything.”

“Calm down,” Harvey said.

She rushed to the pantry and opened the door.

“Listen, young lady—”

“The key to the back door, where is it?” she interrupted her mom.

“Above the phone.”

Cassie dashed to the wall phone, grabbed the key and stuck it in the door.

“Hang on, Cassie,” Harvey cautioned.

“There was a crash. People could be hurt.”
Nate could be hurt.

But she didn't say it. She couldn't.

“Cassie, you can't go running out there,” her mom said.

Cassie whipped open the door and sprinted to the edge of the porch for a better look. She spotted a black sedan's grill buried in the side of the Chief's truck.

Harvey blocked her. “You need to wait until emergency shows up and we know it's safe.”

She clasped her hands together, fighting the panic. The chief had to be okay. She whispered a prayer of hope, wondering how he had become so important in her life.

She was grateful to the chief, that's all. He'd saved her life more than once. Of course she'd be worried about his well-being.

Two squad cars peeled up the long dirt drive, followed by an ambulance. It felt like they took forever to approach the mangled cars.

Cassie squeezed her fingers tighter, fighting the urge to leap off the porch.

The patrol cars screeched to a halt, and the officers got out and drew their guns, aiming at the sedan.

“Okay?” she said to Harvey.

“Not yet.”

She ached to see Nate open the passenger door, since the sedan had pinned the driver's door shut, and climb out of his truck. One of the officers pulled a guy out of the sedan and threw him to the ground.

Cassie took off. Mom called out to her, but Cassie didn't care. The threat was neutralized. As she got closer she recognized the driver—Shovel Man. Good. He was in custody. All was well.

Yet Nate hadn't opened his door.

She raced to the truck, spotted the white air bag, but couldn't see Nate's face, so she went to the passenger side and flung open the door.

She gasped at the blood smearing Nate's forehead and the side of his face. She would not fall apart like she had before.

“Nate?” she said, climbing into the front seat beside him.

Fingering the blood seeping down the side of his face, he glanced at her, confusion coloring his green eyes.

“Cassie?” he said, as if he wasn't sure he recognized her.

“You're okay,” she said. She wasn't a doctor and couldn't be sure he was, in fact, okay, but figured he needed to be reassured out of his confused fog.

He studied her with a disoriented expression. Her pulse raced. Did he suffer a serious head injury?

She gripped his hand. “You're going to be just fine.”

“Cassie, get out of the truck,” her cousin Madeline said from behind her.

But Nate wouldn't let go of her hand. Cassie offered a gentle smile. “The paramedics need to clean your head wound. I'll be right out here.”

With a nod, he released her, and she slid out of the truck. “He's conscious, but disoriented,” she informed her cousin as she climbed into the front seat.

Cassie's eyes stung with unshed tears. Nate was a strong, healthy man, yet he seemed so vulnerable and lost.

She hovered beside the truck, hugging herself. Worrying, praying.

A gentle hand patted Cassie's back. She glanced sideways at her mom.

“He's a strong man,” Mom said.

Cassie nodded, only then realizing she was in her pajamas, in public. And she didn't care.

“Here, I think this is yours,” Madeline stuck out her hand, clutching Cassie's shoulder bag.

“Thanks.” Cassie took it without looking inside the truck at the chief. It upset her too much to see him that way. Confused and broken.

Harvey joined Cassie and her mom. “Thanks for protecting us,” Cassie said.

“My pleasure.” He winked.

They waited.

A few minutes later, Madeline slid out of the truck, looking back at Nate. “Stay there until—”

“I'm coming out,” Nate's angry voice argued.

“But we need to—”

“I'm fine.”

Madeline shook her head in frustration and motioned for Rocky to bring the stretcher.

Nate shifted out of the truck, took one look at Cassie and said, “What are you doing out here?” He glanced at Harvey. “I told you to protect her.”

Apparently the fog had lifted. No longer confused, the chief seemed steaming-hot mad.

“He did protect me,” Cassie argued.

“You shouldn't have left the house.”

“I had to make sure you were okay,” she said, miffed that he was being so rude.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we need to take you to the hospital, Chief,” Madeline said.

“Not necessary. What do I have to sign to release you from your responsibility?”

“Chief, you should get checked out,” Cassie said. “You're bleeding.”

“It's not serious.”

“Okay, Dr. Walsh,” she replied.

“He's right, it isn't serious,” Madeline said. “But it wouldn't hurt to get checked out.”