Dangerous Testimony. Dana Mentink

Marco scooped her up and ran from the room. He carried her easily, making it to Tracy’s door in moments. He shoved it open and brought her in, putting her on the bed next to Tracy, who sat bolt upright, eyes like round saucers.

      “Mommy,” she screamed.

      “She’s okay,” Marco told Tracy. “Quiet now, half pint.” He bent to look in Candace’s face, smoothing the hair from her brow. His eyes took inventory, searching hers, gentle fingers skimming over her cheeks and neck. “Hurt?”

      She shook her head, heart thundering, ears ringing. “You?”

      “No.” But she could see a welt forming on his forehead, and another on his biceps where it showed through his torn sleeve. Dribbles of blood oozed from cuts on his forearms. “What...what was it?”

      “Grenade.” Marco looked at Tracy. “Take care of your mom. I’ll be back.”

      “Where are you going? Stay here,” Tracy said, the plea in her voice cutting into Candace as she threw her arms around her daughter.

      Marco knelt next to the bed, his deep baritone soft as he took Tracy’s hand, her small fist dwarfed in his. “Listen up, half pint.” He smiled at her. “That was a lot of noise and fuss, but everything’s okay and your mama isn’t hurt. I’ve got to go check on the cop and make sure he’s okay, too. Do you understand?”

      Tracy clutched his fingers. “I don’t want you to go. Please stay here with us.”

      “I will come back. I promise.”

      “But what if you don’t?” Tracy said.

      He looked at her gravely. “Do I keep my promises or not?”

      “But...”

      “No buts. Yes or no?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “That’s right. I always keep my promises.”

      “’Cuz you’re a SEAL?”

      He grinned. “No, ’cuz that’s the way God wants me to be. Being a SEAL just makes me extra cool.”

      It worked. Tracy offered a wobbly grin. He pressed a kiss to her head. “Lock the door behind me and sit tight.”

      Candace squeezed Tracy close after she’d clicked the flimsy door lock.

      “What happened, Mommy?”

      She strove for calm, matter-of-fact truth telling. “Someone threw something through our kitchen window.”

      “Why would they do that?”

      “To scare me, I think.” It was very effective. Her heart was hammering away at the speed of light.

      “Because of the trial?”

      “Yes.”

      “But you could have been hurt, or Unco,” Tracy said, lips quivering again. Candace saw the beginnings of hysteria building there.

      “No. No one is hurt, just like Marco said.” She pulled her daughter into her lap. But Marco was right, she thought. She’d lambasted him for overreacting, for bringing in his SEAL friends, but he’d been absolutely correct. The Pack wasn’t done terrorizing her, not by a long shot. They’d learned where she lived, and more importantly, where her daughter lived.

      Candace went ice-cold. She tried to still the shaking in her hands as they waited minute by painful minute. It was taking far longer than she would have thought. What if the people who’d thrown the grenade were still there? Waiting for Marco to emerge? What if they’d taken out the cop?

      No more death, she pleaded to God. No more death to innocent people at the hands of these gangsters.

      The terror began to spread from her stomach into her limbs, icing her veins, inch by excruciating inch. She strained to hear something, but the silence continued and the minutes dragged on. Finally, she detected the wail of approaching sirens.

      The doorknob rattled and Tracy screamed. “They got in the house. Mommy, they’re coming to get us.” Candace pushed Tracy behind her.

      “It’s Marco,” called the loud voice from the other side. “Open up.”

      Candace’s legs were shaking so badly she was grateful that Tracy leaped from the bed to let Marco in. She grabbed him around the waist.

      “They didn’t get you,” Tracy sobbed.

      “’Course not,” he said, wiping her tears with the heel of his hand. “Came back, just like I promised.”

      Tracy sniffled.

      He looked at her with mock severity. “Don’t tell me you were worried?”

      Tracy shrugged. “Just a little.”

      “I guess a little is okay. Pack two bags with whatever you’ll need for a couple days,” he said over her head to Candace. “We’re leaving.”

      It was almost a relief. This was her home, but she did not want to cower every time someone drove past, the thunder of the grenade blast ringing in her memory. “Where are we going?”

      “To talk to the cops, and then out of town.”

      Where? How? When will we be back? All the questions jammed up in her mind, stuck fast behind the fear. Pack. Get your daughter out of here.

      The action of choosing several outfits, Tracy’s markers and a drawing pad, and some basic toiletries calmed her. In a few more moments she’d packed her own tote, and Marco led them to the front of the house.

      The officer they’d waved to on the way in was talking on the phone, while two others took pictures of the house and questioned the neighbors. Officer Ridley guided Tracy and Candace into the back of an ambulance, where a paramedic checked them over.

      She tried to answer Ridley’s questions, but knew ridiculously little about what had happened until Marco explained.

      “It was a nonlethal grenade. They’re used for crowd control, mostly. It detonates and shoots out rubber pellets that hit the target with blunt force.”

      Candace realized in that moment that thanks to Marco’s quick thinking, he’d become the target instead of her. She could see now the purpling bruises forming on his arms and temple.

      He waved away the paramedic’s attention. “I’m fine.” He turned to Ridley. “Don’t like them being out in the open. If your questions are done, we’re ready to go.”

      “Go where?” Ridley said.

      Marco remained expressionless. “Somewhere safe.”

      “You need to tell us where that is. We’re the police. We can protect them.

      Marco shook his head. “You tried that. Rico’s Pack is organized. They knew Candace would be at the college, and they know where JeanBeth lives and now Candace. This time we’re doing it my way.”

      “No, we aren’t,” Ridley snapped. “You’re a civilian. It’s our job to protect them, not yours.”

      “You’re right. I’m not bound by cop rules, so I can do whatever it takes.”

      “Sounds like you’re talking about going vigilante, breaking the law.”

      Marco shook his head. “No, no law breaking unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

      “That doesn’t reassure me.”

      “And this doesn’t reassure me,” Marco said, waving an arm toward the broken kitchen window. “This could have gone very bad if that was a fragmentation grenade.”

      A fragmentation grenade? Candace didn’t even want to know what sort of damage that might have done. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. The two men were eyeing each other like angry bears.

      “We’d like to go