Identity Withheld. Sandra Orchard

not for wanting to try to catch Kara at the hospital, and hopefully a lead on their arsonist, he never would’ve let the chief of Hadyn’s volunteer crew convince him to leave the rest of the cleanup to them. What if they destroyed key evidence?

      The cops didn’t call firefighters evidence destroyers for no reason.

      Ten minutes later, he stopped at the intersection leading to his street and clicked on his turn signal. As he touched the gas, a shadowy movement in the rearview mirror caught his attention. He punched the brakes and more than just a thump sounded from the back of his truck bed. That had sounded like a yelp.

      He rammed his stick shift into Park, grabbed a crowbar from under the seat and jumped from his truck. He clanked down the tailgate and yanked on the tarp bunched over a hump in the far corner. “Kara?”

      She shrank into the corner of the rain-slicked truck bed, drenched and sickly white under the glare of the streetlight.

      “What are you doing back here? Get into the cab before you catch your death!” His throat closed on that last order.

      Instead of scrambling to obey, she shrank deeper into the corner, tugging what little she could of the tarp back over her body.

      Jake’s fury and confusion, and emotions he didn’t have time to identify, seeped out in a frustrated sigh. “Kara, I won’t hurt you.” Her gaze darted to the crowbar poised over his head, and he dropped it onto the truck bed. “Please, come out of the rain. They caught the gunman. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

      She edged toward the tailgate, ignoring the hand he offered. Well, not exactly ignoring. Her gaze was fixed on it as if she feared he might grab her.

      Biting back the questions and assurances pressing at his throat, he pulled his hand to his side.

      The tightness around her mouth eased as she quickly slid off the tailgate and headed toward the passenger door.

      Giving her the space she seemed to need, he took a moment to latch the tailgate. “There’s a blanket in the cab. Wrap it around yourself. I’ll call the sheriff. Let him know you’re safe.”

      Silence.

      “Kara?” He came around the truck to give her a hand, but she was gone. “Kara!”

      Hedges on the other side of the ditch rustled.

      He grabbed a flashlight and took off after her. She’d been okay until he mentioned the sheriff. And he’d told her they’d caught the gunman. Cop or no cop, he’d be warming a jail cell. So why run now?

      Unless she wasn’t innocent.

      * * *

      If she’d been smart, she’d have kept on running the instant she jumped out of that washroom window and not stopped until she reached Seattle, someplace where she could blend in with thousands of other faceless people and no one would ever find her. Only...

      Her handler wouldn’t have been able to find her either.

      Jake’s flashlight beam arced over the yard to her left.

      She ducked behind a wrecked car at the back of the neighboring yard. Her hand squished something on the ground that she didn’t want to contemplate. Mud seeped over the tops of her shoes, soaked through her already sopping jeans. A brisk wind teased up the back of her shirt, sending more chills through her shivering limbs. What was she going to do? She couldn’t exactly call the marshal’s office to find out if the bad guys had gotten to Ray. Witness security files were top secret. How many times had he drilled that into her?

      “Kara,” Jake called. “C’mon, I want to help you.”

      His pleading tone tugged at a cold, lonely place in her heart desperate to believe him. Never mind how he always seemed to show up when the trouble started. If he’d wanted to hurt her, he never would’ve let her walk away from the hospital. Right?

      She swallowed the bile rising to her throat. Unless he was the one she’d sensed following her to the coffee shop, the one who’d sent in the gunman.

      Jake’s voice drifted farther away, and she peeked over the back of the rusted jalopy. Please, Lord, let him give up looking. No matter how concerned Jake sounded, she couldn’t trust him.

       If things fall apart, don’t trust anyone. They’ll pretend to be on your side, pretend to want to help you, pretend to be taking you to safety just long enough to get you somewhere secluded.

      Her stomach pitched at the memory of the marshal’s warning. Not that this place was secluded. Or that Jake had known she was in the truck when he’d driven here for that matter. If she’d known it was his truck, she never would’ve jumped in it.

      She couldn’t afford to take any chances. She tugged her sleeves down over her icy hands and pushed to her feet. A few more hours. That was all she needed. Tomorrow she’d go to the fail-safe meet site. That was where Ray would look for her next, and if something had happened to him, that was where his office would send another marshal to take care of her—someone who’d know the code phrase they’d agreed on.

      Behind her a yard light blinked on. The back door creaked open.

      Holding her breath, she edged toward the next yard. If the owner had let out a dog, she was—

      “Kara!” Jake’s voice came louder again.

      He was coming back! She darted in the opposite direction.

      A barking dog raced toward her, yelped when he hit the end of his chain and got jerked off his feet. An instant later, his barking veered to the other end of the yard. Jake.

      She tightened her fists and pumped her arms to drive herself faster. The dearth of streetlights hid her from view, but made running treacherous. She jumped over toys and tree limbs and— “Ah!” Her foot pinged a large can, sent it clattering over the rough ground. She stumbled, her ankle twisting.

      “Kara, wait.” Jake’s flashlight speared her back.

      Ignoring the pain screaming through her ankle, she took off again at a sprint. She veered between two houses, praying she didn’t run into anything else. Oh, why did it have to be Jake’s truck she’d jumped into?

      The dog she’d heard barking outside the coffee shop after the police showed up probably hadn’t even been a police dog, but all she’d been able to think to do was run through the puddles to mask her scent and get away. His truck’s sudden appearance had seemed like a godsend. Why couldn’t Jake have just been some rubbernecker who’d move on after a few minutes of gawking?

      “Kara, listen to me.” Jake’s footfalls pounded behind her, but the stamina she’d gained from her daily five-mile runs kept her ahead of him. “Kara,” he huffed, clearly tiring.

      Wet and cold and hungry, she forced her mind off the fatigue tugging at her own limbs. Lord, please let him run out of steam before I do.

      “If you didn’t set the fire, you have no reason to run,” Jake called between heavy breaths. “The police will protect you from whoever you’re afraid of. Was that guy an ex-boyfriend? Your husband?”

      Husband? Was that what he thought? She tripped over the curb as she chanced a glance over her shoulder.

      Jake burst from between the houses just as she recovered her balance. His gaze slammed into hers. The dim light couldn’t mask the concern she saw flickering in his eyes. He slowed to a sedate approach, patted the air with the hand not holding a flashlight as if she were a skittish colt. “I can help you, Kara. My wife’s dad was an abuser, I—”

      The sound of a siren broke his spell. He’d called the police. She gulped in a lungful of air. “If you really want to help me, Jake, forget you ever saw me.” She turned on her heel and ran.

      “Kara!”

      Blinding headlights blipped on and she froze. Her heart jammed in her throat as the lights sped toward her. Oh, God, I’m going