Reluctant Witness. Kathleen Long

been on Wade, yet it had been John who had pursued her and married her.

      Wade had never fought for her, never expressed an interest in her. She traced a finger across the smooth, cool stone. Except for this. He’d given her this on Valentine’s Day, just hours before John had asked her out for the first time.

      She returned the stone to its bag, drew the satin ribbon tight and dropped it into the jewelry box, replacing the tray and closing the lid shut with a snap.

      It didn’t matter now whether or not she had once cared for Wade. John had given her a son she loved more than life itself, a son so much like his father, her breath sometimes caught at the mere sight of his crooked smile.

      She’d trusted Wade Sorenson years ago, and then he’d let her down, betraying her trust and her friendship.

      Now he wanted her to trust him again—with Tom’s safety.

      As Kerri clicked off her bedroom light and stared out the window into the Pinelands, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to trust Wade again. But one thing was certain.

      She’d do whatever it took to protect her son. No matter the cost.

      Hours later, after a sleepless night, she groaned at Tom’s words at breakfast.

      “I want to help, Mom.”

      Kerri looked up from the skillet and glared at her son. “No.”

      “But Uncle Wade said I’m the only witness.”

      And once the police knew that, chances were whoever set the explosions would know that, too. Kerri wasn’t naive enough to think the local law enforcement officers could keep that news quiet.

      “They can do this without you, trust me.”

      Defeat overtook the determined expression on her son’s face, and for a moment, Kerri thought about cooperating with the police. Was she wrong to encourage her son not to care? Not to help?

      According to Wade Sorenson she was, but Wade had his own agenda, didn’t he? After all, his reputation had taken a hit after her husband’s accident. Surely this incident—domestic terrorism or not—wouldn’t do a thing to help that reputation along. The quicker they got the investigation resolved, the better it would be for Wade.

      Well, she wasn’t worried about Wade. She was worried about Tom. Anyone who was capable of the crime her son had witnessed, was no doubt capable of far worse if it meant keeping the lone witness quiet.

      When the phone rang, she answered without waiting for the caller ID readout. Her stomach tightened at the sound of Wade’s voice.

      “How’d you sleep?”

      “Like a baby,” she lied. “You?”

      “Not a wink.”

      Silence stretched across the line, and Kerri held her tongue.

      “Have you made your decision?” he asked.

      “I thought I made myself perfectly clear last night.”

      She waited for his response as a fresh silence beat between them.

      “The township inspector died this morning.”

      Kerri’s breath caught, and she leaned against the kitchen counter.

      “We’re talking about murder now.” Wade spoke with an intensity she’d never before heard in his voice. “Murder, Kerri. In your backyard.”

      “On your construction site,” she shot back.

      “He left three kids.”

      Wade’s words sucked the air from her lungs, sending her memory racing back to the moment she’d found out John was dead. She would never wish that horrific reality on another wife, on another child.

      “Don’t they deserve to find out who did this?” Wade asked softly.

      “Yes.” Kerri’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

      “What?”

      “Yes,” she repeated. “You heard me. What guarantee do I have that Tom’s identity will be protected?”

      At the breakfast table, Tom straightened, excitement shimmering in his eyes. He was too young to know there was a huge difference between what he read in his detective novels and real life.

      “You have my word,” Wade said.

      Kerri resisted the urge to tell him his word was worthless in her book. Tom didn’t need to hear that. The kid still worshipped Wade like the hero they all once thought he was.

      “The police can come to us,” she said.

      “Can’t do it. You’ve got to come in. I’ll pick you up and we can use the back entrance.”

      “I can drive myself, thanks. Just tell me where to go.” She glanced at the hand-painted clock on the wall over the sink. “We’ll be there in an hour.”

      The sooner they got this over with, the better. Once Tom made his ID—or not—they could return to life as normal, and Wade Sorenson could fade back into their past, where he belonged.

      Chapter Three

      Wade stood quietly, observing the police sketch artist as he guided Tom through the process of developing a likeness of the man he’d seen. The boy’s review of suspected Project Liberation member photos had gotten them nowhere. Tom hadn’t recognized a single face as that of the man at Pine Ridge.

      Kerri sat at McCann’s desk, nervously watching her son. Wade couldn’t help but notice the dark smudges beneath her eyes, nor the lines of worry across her forehead.

      So much for her story about sleeping like a baby. She looked like she’d been up all night. He couldn’t blame her for the way she’d acted when he’d been at the house, for not wanting Tom to cooperate. After all, the boy was all she had left. She was smart enough to know Project Liberation was a dangerous organization.

      He moved to rest a hand on her slender shoulder, but she leaned away from his touch. There had been a time when she would have leaned on Wade for support, when she had leaned on Wade for support. All that changed when Wade’s own testimony during the investigation into John’s death had directed the blame at her husband.

      Maybe he should have lied to protect his friend’s memory. Maybe he should have let his company take the blame, but he hadn’t. He’d chosen the truth instead.

      The doubt whispering through him was nothing new.

      Wade blew out a frustrated breath and moved away from where Kerri sat, not wanting to cause her any additional discomfort. McCann caught his eye and gave him the thumbs-up. Wade stole a glance at the sketch and realized the artist was almost done. The suspect’s hair, nose and mouth—every feature—had been captured in crystal clear detail.

      Tom had done an incredible job of providing the necessary descriptions.

      When the sketch artist gave McCann the signal that they were through, the detective gathered Tom and Kerri and walked them briskly out of the room. Tom shot a quick glance at Wade, who winked in return, but Kerri never so much as looked his way, keeping her eyes averted as if the sight of him might turn her to stone.

      He sank into the battered chair next to McCann’s desk and waited for his friend’s return. He didn’t have to sit still for long. McCann returned almost immediately, and Wade realized he must have handed off the Nelsons to someone else.

      “What do you think?” he asked as McCann slipped back into his chair.

      “We’ll get it out there.” McCann gripped the sketch tightly in one hand. “If this guy’s local, we’ll get him.”

      “I promised the mother the kid’s name wouldn’t leak out.”

      McCann nodded. “I heard you the first three times you