ONE

Wednesday, 7:00 p.m.

The warm day working with Valley Spring Fire Department Captain Phillip Scott on the recent arson case had sapped Detective Doug Olsen’s energy. Or maybe it had more to do with the disappearance and probable death of his Army buddy and good friend, DEA agent Michael Lane. A man who’d stood by him and vowed to help find evidence to put the person responsible for murdering Doug’s wife behind bars. Either way, Doug had hit his limits for the day.

He plodded toward a booth at the back of the local diner, Main Street Eats. He’d discarded his Kevlar vest, but sweat continued to drip between his shoulder blades. The evening temperatures had hung on, and he relished the cool interior of the restaurant.

The new owners had renovated the place into a fifties throwback café, and the customers loved the new vibe. Most days, he appreciated the atmosphere, but today wasn’t one of those days. A cool drink—or two—plus dinner called to him.

The greasy food aroma from the grill made his stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which consisted of a quick bowl of cereal. Not something that would stay with a person for twelve hours. The sun hung low on the horizon and inched toward disappearing until tomorrow. He needed food, rest, and answers. Not necessarily in that order, but he’d take the meal first.

“Evening, Detective Olsen.” Carl, one of the locals, greeted him. The man wore his typical Vietnam Veteran’s cap. The two had shared war stories many times over the past few years. Different wars, different challenges. Vietnam and Afghanistan, but he and Carl understood each other’s experiences on a basic level.

“Hey, Carl.” Tinged with guilt but not wanting to get roped into a verbal exchange, he waved at the older gentleman and continued toward the back booth.

Several patrons greeted him along the way. He smiled and returned the gesture. He hated dismissing Carl and the others, but if he stopped, a conversation would ensue. And right now, he desperately craved alone time with his thoughts.

The black plastic squeaked beneath him as he slid onto the bench seat. He placed two cell phones on the red retro table and sighed. His shoulders sagged. Doug had prayed for the past five years that he’d find enough evidence to convict businessman and drug dealer Tommy Wade for murdering his wife, Christine. So maybe Tommy hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he’d ordered the hit. Doug knew it. The police department in his hometown of Westmount, Indiana, knew it. The DEA knew it. Most likely, the FBI, ATF, and all the other alphabet-soup agencies knew it. But no one could put the proverbial smoking gun in Tommy’s hands. And even if they could, evidence had a habit of disappearing or having holes in it like Swiss cheese by the time the district attorney reviewed it.

Six months ago, Doug started working behind the scenes with his friend to bring down Wade’s entire operation. The drugs flowing through Anderson County made him sick, as did Wade’s untouchable status. But his hope deflated when Michael went missing and was presumed dead. The eyewitness saw Michael on the boat moments before it exploded. And his body hadn’t been found. The evidence left little hope that his friend had survived. There was no doubt in Doug’s mind the responsibility for yet another person’s demise landed at Tommy’s feet.

Doug had retrieved Michael’s special burner phone and a few files from his friend’s apartment earlier that day, hoping to find anything that would help him continue the investigation into the drug dealer slash murderer. Michael had hinted he was on to something big, but Doug had no idea what. They hadn’t had an opportunity to discuss his friend’s latest findings.

“Here’s your coffee, Detective.” The diner’s new waitress Beth Smith placed a mug in front of him. “Would you like a menu, or are you ready to order?”

He lifted his gaze to the petite brunette with the most intriguing green eyes. The woman stood beside him poised with a pen and pad of paper. She looked familiar, but he had no idea from where. Too tired to think straight, he set aside the mental puzzle for another day. He waved off the menu. No need to peruse the items. He had them memorized. Besides, tonight was all about comfort food. “Cheeseburger and fries, please.”

“Sure thing.” Funny how the woman rarely made eye contact with anyone. She reminded him of a scolded puppy, and that gave him pause.

“Thanks, Beth.”

She nodded and hurried to the kitchen.

Thankful Beth had remembered his standing drink order, he sipped the dark brew and closed his eyes. Life had taken yet another turn. Why, God? I want to honor my wife and put Wade behind bars. Christine deserved better than her killer going free. Too many years had passed without justice. And the guilt of not protecting her continued to plague him.

The bell above the door rang, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at Beth, who stood staring wide-eyed at the entrance. A family of four strolled in and sat near the front of the diner. After a moment, she relaxed—if you could call it that. She bustled over and greeted the two adults and their young children. She placed coloring page menus in front of the youngsters, then extracted two small crayon boxes that held three crayons each and handed each child a set.

On her way to the counter, she scanned the room again. Her gaze lingered on the front window with a view of Main Street. Dusk had fallen, and the glow from the streetlight threw shadows along the edges of the sidewalk. Something about her actions sent his detective senses on high alert.

The owners of Main Street Eats spoke highly of Beth, and Doug had never had any reason to question her presence in the diner since she started working there, but the fear in her movements concerned him. Almost as if someone had abused her.

Since he’d left the Army and started working for the Anderson County Sheriff’s Department, he’d seen his fair share of domestic violence cases. It baffled him how people treated each other that way. He’d give almost anything to have Christine back, and meanwhile there were men and women who abused the ones they claimed to love.

He made a mental note to keep an eye on the new waitress in case his instincts had hit the target. Maybe he’d do a little digging to ensure no one had harmed the woman and it was only his imagination running wild.

He returned his attention to Michael’s cell phone and punched in his friend’s passcode. Thankfully, Michael was predictable and used the same two passwords for all his devices and accounts. Doug had lectured him about security on multiple occasions, but Michael held his ground. One password, his favorite baseball team—Guardians. The other, the date they changed the team’s name, 72321. Right now, he wanted to hug the man for not listening.

Doug scrolled through his friend’s contacts, consisting of three people. Doug, Michael’s boss, and the initials TW. TW? He scratched his jaw. Michael said he had an informant. Maybe that’s who the initials belonged to.

He opened the text messages between Michael and the TW person and read.

Doug sat up straight. TW’s a woman? Who was Tabitha, and where had Michael hidden her? Doug’s number one priority became finding this woman—for her sake and his. If the text referred to Tommy Wade like he suspected, he refused to let the slimebag destroy another life. With Michael missing and probably dead, the woman needed help.

Beth approached and placed his plate on the table. “Here you go, Detective.”

“Looks good. Thank you.” He smiled at her and unrolled his silverware from the napkin.

The door chimed again, and Beth jolted.

A small group of teens chattered as they strolled to a table and sat.

Doug’s brow furrowed. The woman’s eyes widened, and her chest rose and fell at a rapid rate.

She turned to go.

“Beth, wait.” He reached out but her jumpiness made him withdraw his hand before making contact.

“Is there something else I can get for you?” She fisted the hem of her apron.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just...” He exhaled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she squeaked.

“If you’re sure.”

She bobbed her head up and down.

Doug pulled a business card from his wallet and jotted down his personal cell phone number. “I’d like you to take this and call me if you ever need anything.”

“I don’t need—”

He held up his palm. “Please, it’ll make me feel better.” He debated whether he should talk with her boss. Something was seriously off.

Beth took the card from his fingers and tucked it in the back pocket of her black jeans. “Thank you.” Her voice so soft he had a hard time hearing her words.

He watched her walk away and wondered if he’d done the right thing by not pressing harder.

The smell of greasy fries and grilled beef made his stomach growl. He dug into the burger, enjoying the solitary moment, but his eyes never wavered from the timid waitress. He chuckled at himself. Stalker much? But he couldn’t deny that the woman’s apparent anxiety troubled him.

A protector by nature, Doug wanted to reach out and convince her to confide in him. He’d struggled for years with guilt over his wife’s death, but God had helped him through those times. One of the lessons life had taught him was that he couldn’t save everyone. And he’d embraced that truth—mostly. Despite that bit of wisdom, something about Beth made him want to try to save her.

The door chimed again, and a man in a tailored suit strolled in. He studied the patrons in the restaurant with laser-like precision.

Doug’s gaze shifted to Beth.

She spun and hurried into the kitchen like the building had caught fire.

The man continued his scan of the diner as if looking for someone specific, then turned and walked out.

Uncertain of what he’d just witnessed, but sure of one thing—trouble had found Beth, and she needed his help whether she asked for it or not.

Tabitha Wilson’s worst nightmare had caught up with her. Her breaths came in short pants as she smacked the crash bar of the diner’s kitchen door. She hurried into the darkening alleyway that connected with the small staff parking lot. She plastered herself against the brick wall and tipped her head back against the hard surface. Tears burned behind her eyes.

How had Clark Bretton, Tommy Wade’s second-in-command, found her?

Michael had promised to keep her safe. Where was he? He hadn’t answered his phone in twenty-four hours. She was worried about him...about her hidden identity. The man had checked in with her twice a day over the past couple of weeks—until yesterday.

She pushed off the wall and raced toward her car in the employee parking lot. She had to leave before Clark discovered her—assuming he hadn’t already. Two weeks of peace—gone.

A flat rear tire on her vehicle sent a jolt of panic through her. She skidded to an abrupt halt. Her stomach threatened to revolt. She had to get away from Clark. If the man grabbed her, she was a dead woman.

Instead of handing the task off to one of his minions, Tommy might kill her himself for running away. But if he knew about the murder evidence against him that she’d given to Agent Lane, not to mention the accounting data she’d collected as a backup for her own peace of mind, she could kiss a quick death goodbye. She shuddered at the images burned into her brain from the video she’d risked her life to acquire for Agent Lane. The one of Tommy torturing a man for disobedience.

How had she been so stupid to get involved with Tommy?

Trees towered beyond the pavement, casting shadows across the parking lot amplifying her unease. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Michael, where are you?” she whispered into the night.

“Beth?” A deep baritone voice sent shivers up her neck and over her scalp.

She spun and came face-to-face with Detective Olsen. Knees trembling, she placed her hand on the trunk of the car to steady herself. “Detective. It’s only you.”

“Doug. Please. And yes, it’s me.” The streetlight illuminated his worried expression. “Can I help you with anything?”

A refusal sat on the tip of her tongue, then she thought better of turning down his offer. “I...um...could use some help changing my tire.”

He glanced at the offending circle of rubber and scratched his jaw. His fingernails scaped against his five o’clock shadow. “Why don’t I drop you off at home after your shift, and you can come back tomorrow during the daylight to retrieve your vehicle?”

Tabitha pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d just walked out on her job. How would she explain it to her boss? “No. That’s okay. I can do it.”

“I’m not saying I won’t. I’d hoped to get it repaired for you in the morning.”

She tilted her head back and peered up at the man. His brown hair, not quite a military haircut, but short and neat. His brown eyes held a sincerity about them, but she couldn’t trust her judgment. Why the generosity? What did he want from her? “Just the tire, please. I appreciate your kindness, but I’d prefer to keep my car with me.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “The tire it is. Do you have your keys?”

Tabitha nodded and pulled them from her jeans pocket. Michael had drummed into her brain the importance of keeping her keys with her at all times.

“Go ahead and pop the trunk. I’ll get the spare on and get you on your way.”

“Thanks, Doug.” She hit the unlock button on her key fob. The trunk bounced open. Her gaze darted along the tree line and across the darkened lot. Maybe Clark hadn’t seen her, and her new identity remained intact. Then again, when had life ever been kind to her? She chuffed. Never.

“I hate to be that person, but you ran out of Main Street Eats rather fast. If you need to go back to work or clock out and get your things, that’s okay by me. I’ll get the tire all fixed up while you do what you need to.” He jutted his chin toward the building.

She glanced down at her apron. Doug had a point. She had to return to the diner and apologize for her abrupt departure. “I think that might be a good idea.” Tabitha pocketed her keys. Call her paranoid, but Michael was right. Having a way to escape gave her a sense of security.

Doug dropped the spare tire on the ground then grabbed the jack from the compartment under the trunk floor. “Would you like me to walk you back?”

Tabitha’s heart rate kicked up a notch. No. She refused to allow her anxiety to take over. She’d made it this far, and determination fueled her to finish what she’d started. If Clark had seen her, he’d have grabbed her by now. Most likely, the man had moved on—for the moment. Then again, what if he hadn’t? A shiver rippled through her.

“Beth?”

She blinked. The change of names still threw her at times. At least Beth had similarities to Tabitha. Michael had chosen it for that very reason.

“No, I can do it.” Her gaze drifted to the alleyway that led to the rear door. The path seemed to stretch forever. She drew in a deep breath and plodded to the diner.

Hand on the door handle, she whipped her gaze from side to side. The safety she’d enjoyed for the last couple of weeks had disappeared. Clark had zeroed in on her location. It was only a matter of time until he found her and dragged her back to Tommy.

She blew out a breath and entered the diner. After apologizing to her boss, who told her they had it covered and to go home, she collected her tips, hung her apron on a hook, and returned to the lot.

A working tire on her car greeted her. “That was fast. Thank you for changing it.”

Doug shut the trunk, brushed his hands together, and placed his fists on his hips. “Glad I could help.” He pivoted to face her. His brown eyes locked onto her. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Her breath caught. It was as if the man saw right through her. And she didn’t like it. She shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m going to head home.” Tabitha scooted past him and slipped into the driver’s seat.

“Call me if you need me.” Doug gave a slight wave and stepped aside.

Pulling away from Main Street, she released a long breath. Her gaze bounced back and forth from the rearview mirror to the road ahead. The quiet neighborhoods stretched ahead. No headlights followed. She debated her next move. Stay in Valley Springs, Indiana, or find another location to hide?

Minutes from her rental house, Tabitha hit the speed dial for Michael, desperate to talk with him. Tonight had rattled her. “Come on, pick up. I don’t know what to do.” She hated depending on him, but the man had shown her nothing but kindness.

“Hello?”

She heard the hum of an engine in the background. “Where have you been?”

The male voice on the other end paused for a long moment. “Beth?”

Her heart rate sped up, and a whimper threatened to escape. Why did Doug have Michael’s phone? And what happened to Michael?

“Beth, is that you?”

How should she answer that? Her mind spun, but few options presented themselves. “Yes.” She sniffed and turned onto her street. “Why do you have that phone?”

“It’s my friend’s.”

Neither she nor Doug appeared willing to say Michael’s name. And she sure wasn’t going to out the man trying to save her life. She pulled into her driveway and shifted the car into Park. Without disconnecting, she scooped up her phone and exited the vehicle. What should she do? It wasn’t like she could ignore Doug.

“Beth, tell me what’s going on.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she strode to the front door and went inside. A scream tore from her throat.

“Beth!” Doug waited for a response, but none came. He mashed the accelerator to the floor, her cry echoing in his ears.

When she’d driven off, he’d debated a whole ten seconds before rushing into the diner and coaxing the owner to share Beth’s address with him. He’d felt guilty for using his status as a detective—for a second. But desperate times called for desperate measures and all that. He hated snooping into Beth’s private life, but her nervousness, along with the vandalism to her car, was too much to ignore.

The hole in the tire hadn’t been a fluke. The clean slice through the rubber clearly indicated that someone had taken a knife to it. Doug had kept that bit of information to himself so as to not scare the already clearly terrified woman.

The headlights of Doug’s SUV pierced the dark as he turned into Beth’s neighborhood. There was no mistake that the person who called Michael’s phone was Beth, but why did it say TW? And why had Beth called Michael? Doug struggled to figure out how Beth connected to Michael as he sped toward her rental house. His friend lived his job. And after what happened to Christine, he’d never place a woman in danger, and taking down Tommy Wade was a hazardous goal.

The fact that Michael had her phone number and that she called his friend sent icy fingers crawling up Doug’s back. According to Michael’s boss, his friend had planned a meeting with one of Tommy Wade’s low-level lackeys on a rented fishing boat. The boat his friend was on blew up before the minion had gotten to the dock, and Michael hadn’t reappeared since.

Doug prayed his friend had survived. Yet, he’d have called or at least gotten word that he was okay. Due to the danger of the investigation and the possible leak in the DEA, they’d promised to check in with each other once a day. And if Beth had any connection to Tommy, the woman had troubles on top of troubles.

He pulled in behind Beth’s car and slammed the SUV into Park. His heart skipped a beat when he spotted the open front door. He yanked his Glock from his holster and sprinted up the walkway. “Beth!”

The lack of an answer made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. He elbowed the door open to avoid adding his fingerprints and lifted his weapon. His steps faltered.

Beth stood in the middle of the living room, arms hugging her waist. Sobs racked her body, and tears trailed down her cheeks.

“Beth. Are you hurt?” Doug swept his gun to the left, then the right, doing a careful scan of the house. Torn couch cushions lay on the floor. Books and magazines scattered the living room. Beth still hadn’t acknowledged his presence. Careful where he stepped, he moved to Beth’s side.

Her startled gaze landed on him, and she took a swing.

He blocked her attempt and gently held her wrist. “It’s me. Doug.” Her sobs came harder. Clearing the house was priority, but he debated what to do with her. When her knees buckled, he put his arm around her to keep her upright.

She surprised him by leaning into him for support. “He found me.”

“Who, Beth?” He stayed alert but wanted the information.

“My ex-boyfriend.”

Another piece of the huge puzzle added to his mental picture. “Think you can stand?”

Wide green eyes stared at him. She nodded.

Once he was sure she wouldn’t fall, he released her. “Stay here.” He lifted his Glock and eased down the hall. After clearing the house room by room and finding no one lurking, he locked the front door and placed a call to his partner.

“Howard.” His partner’s voice eased the tension building in his neck and shoulders.

“Kyle, I have a problem.”

“What’s up, man?”

“Remember Beth, the new waitress from the diner?” Doug proceeded to fill Kyle in on the happenings of the evening.

“Watch your back. I’m on my way.” Kyle hung up before Doug could say thank you.

Unsurprised by his partner’s willingness to jump in and assist, Doug pocketed his phone and joined Beth where he’d left her by the couch. “Whoever did this is gone.”

The initial shock had worn off. “Th-thank you.” She wiped her cheeks.

He searched for a safe place for her to sit and spotted the kitchen table through the doorway to his left. Whoever had broken in had rummaged through the cabinets, but the furniture in the kitchen appeared untouched.

“Let’s go in there and have a seat.” He holstered his weapon and led her to a chair.

Once seated, she blinked at him, struggling to process what had happened.

He hadn’t asked but assumed since they were off duty, Kyle and Cassidy were together. Since their engagement, the two had become inseparable. Although, Doug couldn’t blame them. They both deserved the happiness they’d found together after the death of Kyle’s first fiancée and Cassidy’s police raid gone bad.

“My partner, Kyle, and most likely his fiancée, Cassidy, another detective with the sheriff’s department who works cold cases, are on the way.”

Beth swung her head back and forth. “No. I have to leave. No one can know I’m here.”

“If this mess is any indication, someone already knows where you live. It’s not safe for you to be alone.” He touched her arm. When she jolted, he removed his hand. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

The struggle was evident in her gaze. “I can’t.”

Doug considered not mentioning his friend, but the question that swirled in his mind needed an answer. Especially after the break-in. “You called Michael. I need to know why.” He motioned to the disaster in the living room. “Does it have anything to do with this?”

A crease formed on her forehead, and she nibbled on her lower lip. “He’s helping me.”

The pit in his stomach grew. He hoped with everything in him that it wasn’t with Tommy Wade’s case. But his gut said otherwise.

“Why do you have his phone? Where is he?” Panic laced her words.

Doug’s stomach flip-flopped. She didn’t know. He hated to be the bearer of bad news. “Beth, Michael is missing... The evidence says he’s dead.”

“No. No. No.” Arms wrapping her waist, she rocked back and forth. “Then I’m dead too.”

Wait. What? Doug attempted to put the pieces together and hated the way they fit. But he refused to jump to conclusions. “What are you talking about?”

A crash came from outside the back of the house at the same time as the knock on the front door.

“Don’t move!” Doug sprinted to the entrance, praying Kyle had arrived. He needed back up investigating the noise at the rear of the house.

Tabitha fought against the panic crawling up her throat. She gripped the edge of the kitchen table and closed her eyes. With Michael gone, she had no one to lean on—no one to protect her. The weight of reality pressed down on her. Her life was over.

Did she dare trust Doug? With his weapon drawn, he’d dashed from the house, protecting her from the unseen threat. And if she believed him, he and Michael were friends. But what did she know? Her horrible judgment of character had stained her life. Evident by her latest choice in boyfriends—a drug king who ordered and committed murder. Stupid and naive.

She dropped her chin to her chest and covered her face with her hands. How had her life gone so wrong? She’d never been loved, only used, starting with her father. All she ever wanted was someone to love her without abusing her love in return.

“Hi, Beth. I’m Cassidy Bowman.”

Tabitha’s heart rate spiked. She jerked her head up. A woman in jeans and a T-shirt stood a couple feet from her.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m a cold case detective with the Anderson County Sheriff’s Department. Doug and my fiancé, Kyle, are partners.” Cassidy’s kind smile eased her nerves a bit.

Tabitha ran the back of her hand under her eyes. A black streak of mascara smudged her skin. Wonderful, she probably looked like a raccoon. She leaned past the detective and peered into the living room. “Where’s Doug?”

“He and Kyle are securing the perimeter. They’ll be back soon.”

Now what? Too many people—three people—now knew where she lived. Make that four if she included the person who’d destroyed her bolt-hole. And besides the person bent on making her life miserable, the others were detectives, of all things. She sucked in a shaky breath. No doubt they’d pry. How much should she tell them? If Tommy had Michael killed, she couldn’t get anyone else involved. She refused to have anyone else’s death on her hands. Plus, Michael suspected a leak in the agency. Did it extend to the sheriff’s department? Michael hadn’t said anything other than the DEA. She knew one thing for sure. She had to get out of here and find another place to hide.

The chair legs scraped on the kitchen floor. She stood and brushed past Cassidy. “Excuse me.” Tabitha hurried to her bedroom to collect her go-bag that Michael insisted she keep ready. She flung open the closet doors and grabbed the duffel. Fingers wrapped around the webbed handle, her hands trembled. When she turned, she found Cassidy leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. She clutched the bag to her chest. “Why are you following me?”

“I understand your impulse to run, but I highly advise you let Doug help you. He’s a good guy. A little quiet and a bit of a neat freak, but he puts up with Kyle.” Cassidy snickered. “So, he’s top-notch in my book.”

Mouth open, Doug’s call from the front of the house halted her response. “Beth? Cassidy?”

“At least talk it over with us.” Cassidy jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

“Do I have a choice?” Tabitha’s heart rate spiked.

The crease in Cassidy’s forehead deepened. “You always have a choice.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Cassidy’s eyebrow rose.

The woman had no idea. Her life consisted of very few choices. And the ones she had made on her own... “Never mind. Lead the way.” She followed the detective out of the room.

“There you two are.” Doug’s gaze landed on her bag, then lifted to her. “Planning on going somewhere?”

Tabitha glanced at Cassidy. “Apparently not.”

Doug folded his arms across his chest. “We want to help. That’s all.”

Why would three sheriff’s detectives want to help her unless they wanted to use her for the evidence? For good or bad. In her experience, no one did anything out of the goodness of their heart. They always wanted something in return.

Then Michael came along, and for one moment in time, he threw that theory out the door. He had wormed his way into her trust and led her to God. Maybe not everyone had an agenda. Or at least an unsavory one. Sure, he wanted the evidence, but he’d made it clear from the start that her life mattered more than his job. He was an exception—an anomaly. Because from her experiences, the negative had won out.

“Maybe.” She hitched the go-bag higher on her shoulder. “What did you find outside?”

“It’s good to see you again, Beth.” Detective Howard nodded.

She’d met Kyle at the diner several times when he’d come in for dinner and knew him by sight. He’d been nice enough to her. “Thank you, Detective.”

“I think we’re passed formal titles. It’s Kyle.”

“Here, let me take that.” Doug wrapped his hand around the duffel strap.

Her fingers tightened on the bag. Her pulse stuttered. What if he took it and left her with nothing?

Doug’s tone softened, and his grip loosened, but he hadn’t let go. “It’s okay. You keep it.”

The man had read her mind, and she didn’t like it. She reluctantly released the bag, allowing him to take it, and wrapped her arms around her middle. She eyed her meager belongings. The bag held her entire life and her safety net of cash Michael had provided her. The desire to grab it and run waged war within her.

Cassidy rested her hand on Tabitha’s shoulder. “What do you think about getting out of here in case whoever did this comes back?”

She nodded. What else could she do with these three staring at her, unwilling to let her out of their sight?

“I think my place is best,” Doug said.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. “Your house?” she squeaked.

God, is Doug safe? Or am I jumping into another bad situation? I wish Michael was here to tell me what to do. Her heart hurt at the thought of his death. Please let him be alive. Selfish—maybe. But the man was the only friend she had.

“His place has excellent security.” Cassidy gave her a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll come too if that’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

Having another woman with her eased her worry. At least a little bit. Then again, the decision-making part of her brain had broken years ago. “I guess so.” Tabitha hoped she’d done the right thing by agreeing.

“Come on. I’ll drive.” Doug motioned to the door.

“What about my car?” Trapping herself without a means to flee ratcheted her pulse. That’s how Tommy had slowly taken away her freedom. Little by little, he’d isolated her until she had no way of escaping.

“I think it’s best if you leave it here for now. We don’t want to lead whoever did this—” Doug swept his hand in an arc at the living room “—to you.”

“Fine.” She ducked her head and walked out the door to his SUV. If the worst happened, she had God and his promise of eternity.

Doug’s heart dropped to his toes as he watched Beth surrender. The submissiveness evident as she trudged to his SUV. Who had hurt this woman? It hadn’t taken him long to realize that he had his work cut out to gain her trust. But what choice did he have? His gut screamed at him that Tommy Wade was the thread connecting Beth’s problems and Michael’s disappearance. Her comment about an ex-boyfriend sent warning signals firing in all directions. Doug prayed his assessment was wrong.

He jogged ahead with her duffel over his shoulder and opened the passenger door for her. “Have a seat. I’ll put your bag in the back, then we’ll be on our way.”

“What about the house?” She gestured to her rental.

“Kyle called it in. He and Cassidy will stay until a deputy arrives. The crime techs will be here soon too. Once they finish processing the place, the deputy in charge will lock up.”

She nodded.

Doug closed the car door, placed the duffel in the back of his vehicle, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Beth stared out the passenger window into the night and curled in on herself. She looked so small. Even tinier than her normal petite self. He’d let her have the silence because once they arrived at his house, he planned to ask his questions.

The light traffic made the drive quick. Ten minutes later, he pulled into his driveway. “Welcome to my home.”

Beth shifted and peered through the windshield at his house. “Nice place.”

“Thank you. Ready to go inside?”

She nibbled her lower lip and shrugged.

He sighed. The woman had some serious trust issues, but at least she’d agreed. “Please wait here. I’ll come around and open your door.” With the state of her house and the fear he’d witnessed at the diner, he refused to let his guard down. The probability that whoever had broken into her place had followed them was low. He’d watched for a tail, but he wouldn’t make a rookie mistake and risk Beth’s life.

He grabbed her bag and opened the door for her. She slid out and strode with him up the walkway.

“Let’s get you inside.” He escorted Beth into the house, disengaged, and then reengaged the security system. “The couch is comfortable, but the recliner is the best. Go ahead and relax for a minute. I’ll put your things in the extra bedroom.” He left her to decide her preference of seats and headed to the guest room.

After placing her bag on the queen-size bed, he slipped into the hall and grabbed a towel and washcloth from the linen closet. He set those next to her duffel. Satisfied he’d provided what she’d need, he returned to the living room.

He found her in the recliner, clutching a throw pillow to her chest like a lifeline. He sat on the far end of the couch, giving her space. Clasping his hands between his knees, he leaned forward. “Beth, we need to talk. But before we do, can I get you anything?”

She shook her head. “Where’s Cassidy?”

He tried his best not to appear threatening, but at six feet, compared to her five-two—maybe—he towered over her. Plus, he had no idea what triggers he might trip. “On her way. She and Kyle will stay at your house until the deputy arrives. Which shouldn’t take long. They only need to turn over the crime scene. She’ll come with him once the deputy relieves them.”

“Okay.” She nibbled on her lower lip.

Doug wanted to reach over and tug her lip free but kept his hands to himself. Instead, he let the silence linger between them. He had no clue what this woman had lived through, but his best guess? Abuse topped the list. Especially if Tommy Wade was involved.

Within a couple of minutes, Kyle and Cassidy came bustling in. His partner had a key and knew the code to the alarm system, so Doug stayed in his spot.

Cassidy flopped down on the couch close to Beth. “Sorry that took so long.”

“I’ll go make some decaf coffee for all of us.” Kyle’s gaze slid to Beth and back to Doug. “Go on and start without me.”

Smart man. Doug wondered if he should join his partner and let Cassidy take the lead. But he had too many questions that needed answers.

“Thanks, honey. I know I can use some.” Cassidy smiled at her fiancé. After the two had gotten engaged a few weeks ago, they were driving everyone in the office nuts with their lovebirds act.

He was happy for his friend, but being the only single guy on the team left an emptiness he hadn’t expected. He pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the current situation. He had no desire to make Beth uncomfortable, yet he had no idea how to protect her from an unknown danger if he stayed silent. “You know Michael?”

“Yes.” Beth glanced at Cassidy and then at her hands gripping the pillow.

He’d thought having another female in the house would help Beth feel safer. She’d relaxed a bit when Cassidy arrived, but she obviously didn’t want to talk in front of her.

Picking up on the body language, Cassidy stood. “You know, maybe I should help Kyle. I’d like the coffee drinkable. And that man can make mud if someone isn’t watching over him. If that’s okay with you, Beth.”

The woman kept her eyes lowered but nodded.

Cassidy rested her hand on Doug’s shoulder as she went by and gave it a squeeze.

He appreciated his friend’s support. Once Cassidy disappeared into the kitchen, he leaned forward. “She’s gone. You can speak freely now.”

“Can I?” Beth lifted her gaze and raised a brow.

Getting the woman to talk might be harder than he thought. “Michael and I are friends. You trusted him. I hope you’ll trust me.”

She scraped her teeth over her lower lip.

He’d seen it enough tonight to recognize it as her I don’t know what to do sign.

“If he felt it important to help you, I’ll help you too. I’d trust that man with my life—and have on occasion. But I do have a few questions.” Doug waited for her to say something—anything.

“I guess so.” She inhaled and met his gaze. “Ask. I’ll answer if I can.”

More like if she wanted to. He leaned against the back of the couch and rested his right ankle on his left knee. At least he’d made progress. “First, I’d like to know why your contact number on Michael’s phone says TW.”

Her shoulders sagged, and there she went with her lip thing again. “He gave me a new name to use when he moved me to Valley Springs.”

Well, that explained a lot. Whatever had caused Michael to hide her identity worried Doug. As a DEA agent, his friend didn’t conceal someone for a minor concern. “Beth isn’t your real name?”

“No.” She exhaled. “My name is Tabitha.”

Doug considered pushing about her last name but decided against it. “May I call you Tabitha, or do you prefer Beth?”

“I don’t see how it matters now. He found me.” A tear slipped down her cheek and dropped from her chin onto her lap.

Doug suppressed his urge to comfort her and forced himself to remain seated. “Since we don’t have all the facts about who trashed your house, let’s not make assumptions. We’ll stick with Beth in public but go with Tabitha in private, if that’s okay. I really want to help you, but I need to know who you’re talking about. Who found you?”

The air conditioner kicked on, and Cassidy and Kyle’s banter filtered in from the kitchen. But Tabitha remained silent.

She sighed. “Tommy Wade.”

Doug sucked in a harsh breath. The man responsible for his wife’s death. The same man he and Michael had focused their efforts on putting behind bars. The pieces fell into place, and his stomach plummeted at the lethal implications. “You’re Michael’s informant.”

She glanced toward the kitchen, then back at him, and whispered, “Yes.”

That bit of information terrified Doug, and he didn’t scare easily. He’d suspected that answer, but the truth hit him square in the gut. Tommy had a reputation for using women at his whim. Treated them like possessions. Rumors had it that he believed in obedience or punishment. “Has he hurt you?”

“Not physically.” She picked at the edging on the pillow. “Not more than I deserved.”

Doug closed his eyes and took three deep breaths, calming his ire. He knew emotional abuse left its own horrible mark, and from her reactions, he had no doubts Wade had wielded that sword along with his fists. She’d downplayed the physical abuse, but he read the unstated facts. “I’m sorry for what he did to you.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you give me a quick rundown about what you had for Michael? I’d like to know what I’m dealing with.” He held his breath, hoping she’d trust him enough to give him the basics.

“Michael came to me. Asked me to help him. At first, I refused. Tommy owned me. If I helped Michael, I’d pay the price, but then...” Her gaze drifted to a faraway place. “Let’s just say I witnessed something, and circumstances had me saying yes to Michael. I decided to do what I could to take Tommy down. So, I collected evidence against him.”

Doug sat up straight. “Where’s the information now?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I gave Michael everything I discovered about Tommy and the deaths related to his business. That’s when he hid me in Valley Springs.”

Doug stood and paced the room. He ran a hand through his hair. “Did he say where he put it?”

“No. Only that he wasn’t ready to bring it to his boss yet.”

He spun to face her. “Why not?” That made no sense. If he had enough to take Wade down, he would have given it to his commanding officer.

“I’m not sure. But he seemed worried that the information would leak.”

Doug closed his eyes. “And Tommy escapes arrest—again.”