Authors: Liz Lee
She clicked on a people finder and typed in Jen’s name again. “You wouldn’t believe the information out there.”
“Callah.”
Okay. Jen sounded way too serious. She knew just what to do to change that.
“Listen to me going on and on about things that don’t matter when I could be taking you out for fried pickles at the diner. One taste and you’ll wonder why you’ve never had them before. Let me just grab my purse. And don’t freak out if the guys in the blue car out front follow us. They’re my Federal escort.”
Jen sighed. “Guy. There’s just one now.”
As Callah grabbed her purse, she looked out the window, saw McBride sitting by himself. Great. He might be one of the good guys, but he still bothered her. She needed to move past that since he obviously wasn’t going anywhere. Turning off her computer, she tried to ignore how heavy her purse was with the gun inside.
“You are going to love the diner,” she said then turned to leave, but Jen’s sad eyes and frown stopped her.
“It’s okay, Jen. Seriously. Trust me when I say we are perfectly safe.” She couldn’t even tell Jen about Logan Douglass. She could never explain him or his place in her life. Hidden in the shadows. Watching. Until now.
She started to open the door, but Jen held it closed. “Cal, listen. Before we go out there, I need to tell you something.”
Callah’s heart plunged, not so much at Jen’s words, but at the tone of her voice. The warning.
No. Not Jen. Not…
When Jen didn’t say anything, Callah’d had it. When Jen looked away, she knew. “Great, just great. Spit it out, Jen. Whatever little secret you’ve got to share, just say it. Get it over. I’m all shocked out.”
Her words seemed to jar Jen into speaking. “You really are a good person, Callah. An amazing friend. I’ve never known anyone so real.”
“But…”
Jen shook her head. “No buts. Just, before we go out there, you need to know something about me.”
Imagine that. “Okay, Jen. Spill.”
“I’m working your case. I have been for years.”
Working her case?
“You’re an office manager, Jen. A writer. What do you mean you’ve been working my case?”
“I am an office manager. I am a writer. And I am paid to watch you. To know what’s going on in your life. I work with Agent McBride, Callah.”
Of course she did. Callah almost laughed as she closed her eyes, shook her head and tried to make sense of this. Tried to reconcile the knowledge that her best friend was no friend at all.
“You’ve been spying on me for three years?”
Jen nodded, still looking guilty, as if that mattered. “You needed to know. I didn’t tell McBride I was coming out and he’s bound to be ticked when he sees me. I’m sorry, Callah. Truly, truly sorry. I think of you as a friend, and I have for a long time.”
At those words, Callah did laugh even though this was as far from funny as anything else she’d learned since the whole mess had started.
Her family wasn’t her family. Why should friends be any different? God, she’d told her about Riley. About everything. For years now.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she somehow forced her voice to stay strong even though she really just wanted to cry. This was all so stupid. Every little bit of it. When would it end?
“You need to leave, Jen.”
And with that, Callah walked out of her house and straight to McBride’s car door and told him the same thing. “I’ve had all the protection I can take. I want you gone. Today. I don’t care who they send to replace you, but I won’t be responsible for what happens if you don’t leave. So go. Now. I’m not joking.”
She turned around, planned on walking away and calling every number she could find to make sure he did as she asked.
Only he didn’t leave. He spoke, and what he said changed everything.
Riley punched in Callah’s number and listened to the endless ringing. No machine this time. Why?
Surely, surely God, she wasn’t in danger from her best friend. Even though he’d never met Jennifer Danelley, he knew she was the woman in the pictures. But those photos of her and McBride, her and Callah, her and Charlie Benson didn’t make sense.
He’d known. He’d known something was off. His instinct had screamed at him and he’d ignored it. Jesus, Callah was going to lose it with this.
They should’ve just disappeared. He should’ve taken her to Minnesota. Dropped her off with his sister and told
her
to play hero while he figured this mess out.
He punched a number, waited for Rand to pick up. Finally. He didn’t bother with niceties. “That best friend of Callah’s is mixed up in this, Rand. Callah’s sitting over there with her right now, and she’s totally involved.”
“Calm down a second.”
“Impossible. Freaking impossible. Do not tell me you knew this and didn’t tell me. Do not do it.”
“Riley.”
Oh, Jesus. No.
“You knew. You freaking knew.”
“You’re blowing this out of proportion, Riley. Jen Danelley won’t kill anyone. She’s just doing her job. You need to stay out of her way.”
Riley bit back the words he wanted to say. “This is so much BS, Rand. You know it is. And no one involved in this mess is
just
anything. Now, on top of all the other crap Callah’s been through, I get to go break the news that she’s got a best friend who’s spent the last who knows how long lying to her. Like everyone else in this whole damn mess. I’ve gotta tell you, that sucks, Rand. I asked you for help.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, just clicked the phone shut and ran a red light as he sped down the road to Callah’s house.
“Ms. Crenshaw, I realize this whole mess confuses you. Your life isn’t your own and nothing in it is real. But as I told you earlier, everything we’ve done has been for you.”
Why did everyone insist on saying that?
McBride’s voice grated on her last nerve. Spinning around she shook her head. “No, you don’t realize anything, Agent McBride. You don’t realize anything at all. I’m not joking. You need to leave and you need to leave now.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Ms. Crenshaw. The local police department would like you to come in to video conference with Colonel Crenshaw.”
Callah’s breath caught at his words. “My father?”
She bit her lip when Agent McBride confirmed her question. “Yes ma’am. They’ve set up the web cam and they’re ready as soon as you can get there.”
Finally. Oh God, she needed to talk to him. To ask him why. To understand. He loved her. He would explain everything and this would finally, finally be over.
Behind her, she heard a door open. Heard Jen call out, “Callah, wait.”
She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t face Jen, the friend who’d lied to her for the last few years. Not when she had to face the man who’d lied to her for a lifetime.
From a distance, police sirens sounded, and Callah wondered where they were headed and if the cause would interfere with her chance to ask the questions she desperately needed answered.
Suddenly Agent McBride looked a little less like an ass and a lot more like a lifeline. She slid in the passenger seat of the car and told him to drive.
Chapter Thirteen
Within seconds of sliding into the car, Callah knew she’d made a mistake. Her first clue came when McBride didn’t immediately start the car.
For a moment, Callah thought he stayed on the side of the road because of the approaching police lights. The agent’s curse echoed at the same time Jen ran toward them.
Confused Callah turned to McBride, and when she did, she knew everything had changed. He pointed a lethal looking black revolver at her head and grabbed her around the shoulders pulling her close to his body at the same time.
“Put down the gun, McBride.” From the corner of her eyes, Callah saw Jen standing behind the driver’s side of the car, a gun in her hands pointed at them.
McBride’s laugh left Callah’s blood cold.
More officers arrived, more guns surrounded the car, and Callah realized this was it. The man in the car planned on killing her.
The realization should’ve left her even more afraid, but it didn’t. Her focus sharpened, her breath deepened, she saw more, heard more. And none of that helped. Because even though she saw how easy it would be to escape the car if she could get away from McBride, he held her so close she could smell coffee on his breath, and the gun in his hand would kill her before she got close to the door.
If she could just find a way to get the weapon out of her purse, maybe she’d have a chance.
Outside Callah’s house, Riley slammed his truck into park and took off running toward the car parked on the street. The one surrounded by officers with weapons drawn.
He might’ve made it if Logan Douglass hadn’t stepped in his path and stopped him.
Riley wanted to punch the man. “What happened to her being safe on your watch?”
Douglass didn’t deny his failure, and he didn’t explain. Instead he said “come with me,” and started walking.
No freaking way was that happening. “Are you kidding me?” Riley pointed to the car where he could barely see Callah. Could barely see the man holding the gun to her head. Dammit. He swallowed to keep from being sick.
Logan stopped, squinted his eyes as he took in the scene on the road, then turned back to Riley. “They won’t let you anywhere near that car, son. You can come with me now, and we can work on a solution, or you can stand here and watch your girlfriend die. Your call.”
Callah sat as still as possible. Focused on breathing in, breathing out. Only her nerves had other ideas, and she couldn’t seem to stop shaking. The man beside her was crazy. She saw that in his eyes. Saw that he’d lost all connection to reality.
And she knew she had to make him talk. Had to get him back to here and now. Away from whatever it was driving him to hold the gun to her head.
So she took a deep breath and asked the only question she could think of. “Why?”
Her voice seemed to shock him for a moment. He looked stunned as he met her eyes in the rear view mirror, but he didn’t speak, so she asked again.
“Why?”
When he answered, she was a little surprised. “It’s not about you. It was never about you.”
Funny since she was the one sitting with the gun to her head. Callah bit back the smart aleck retort and focused instead on him. “Who then?”
“You know enough to know the answer to that question. Now stop talking. I need to think.”
She couldn’t. “You killed Charlie, didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The answer was obvious.
Through the rearview mirror, Callah could see Jen still standing with her weapon drawn. Behind her she saw Riley’s truck parked on the side of the street and she prayed he stayed away. She couldn’t stand it if he got hurt because of this. Because of her.
Someone threw a speaker next to the car, and an officer tried to engage McBride in conversation, but it was no use. Callah could see that.
So she tried again.
“You knew Olivia Duncan. My mother. You knew me. What did she do? What happened?”
Still no answer, and suddenly she was furious. This man had destroyed her life. Had made the last few months pure hell. If he was going to kill her, the least he could do was give her a few answers.
She never got the chance to tell him.
Riley stepped behind Callah’s house and stopped when he saw the woman standing there. Her face was older now, lined with worry and time, but she was the woman from the photos.
Olivia Duncan. Callah’s mother.
Riley stopped, confused, until he saw the look that passed between her and Logan.
“
You
sent him to keep Callah safe?”
She didn’t deny it. Didn’t say anything for the longest time. Just looked at him with hard eyes that had seen who knew what over the past three decades. But he didn’t care. As far as he was concerned the woman in front of him was responsible for Callah being in that car with a man intent on murder.
“For some kind of super agent, you really blew it.”
She winced but didn’t deny his words. “If this works out, you’ll have plenty of time to berate me, Mr. Sorenson.
If it doesn’t, we might both be dead. I plan on saving my daughter, and I hope you’ll help.”
Riley almost laughed. “Haven’t you done enough?”
She didn’t rise to his anger, just continued speaking as if he hadn’t said a word. “Vince McBride knows he’s done. This is over today. He’d rather take me out, but he’ll take Callah to hurt me.”
Riley bit back his curse. “She’s the one in the car.”
Olivia nodded. “That’s why I need your help.”
“We’re going to get her out of the car how exactly?” Riley tried to control his anger. Tried to believe they had a chance of making whatever plan they’d cooked up work.