Cassie Whitfield locked the main door to her Italian restaurant and paused, her key still in the lock. She wanted to blame the chill down her spine on the wind, but her WITSEC training balked at such easy soothing. With a sigh, she cast a furtive gaze up the historic Main Street, which had long since closed for the night, and tugged her white knit hat low over her ears. There were no strange movements from the shadows, no unusual sounds. Everything was just as it should be. Cassie pulled her coat tighter. Exhaustion was getting the better of her. After all, this was small-town Bakerton, and nothing ever happened here.
With a shake of her shoulders, Cassie dismissed the lingering unease and watched the lightly falling December snow as she walked up the street toward her Jeep. The delicate flakes had begun dusting the dark green business awnings and framing the old brick and stucco buildings in a festive white. Whenever it snowed in Bakerton, the town couldn’t help but look like a porcelain Christmas village, especially once the white lights and green garlands were hung. It was one of the things Cassie loved about living here.
Exhausted after a long day of cooking, she climbed into her old Jeep and turned the key only to hear the engine emit a plaintive growl. “Come on,” she murmured as her dash came alive with amber and red lights. She tried again, but her vehicle only sputtered more stubbornly.
Cassie slumped back in her seat. All she wanted to do was go home, soak in a nice, hot tub and crawl into bed. Was that too much to ask? Cassie dared a glance toward the Main Street clock.
The soft yellow glow cast from the streetlamps gave just enough light to read the time. While it wasn’t midnight yet, it was close enough, and everyone she knew would be fast asleep this late on a Monday night. Cassie stared out her window as a thought began teasing the edges of her mind.
She could call Ryan. He’d probably be starting his patrol shift right about now.
The simple idea was all it took to imagine the scene. Her ex-boyfriend would pull up in his police cruiser. His tall, muscular frame would get out of the car, and he’d stand adjusting his hat, trying to tame the tendrils of scruffy blond hair from sneaking beneath its edges. Then he would level those direct blue eyes on her. Eyes that held so many questions about her past and thinly veiled the hostility he felt toward her evasive answers.
Despite Ryan’s feelings, he would help her because that was the type of guy he was—kind, loyal and dedicated. She sighed. While those traits, coupled with his rugged good looks, made him irresistible, they also produced a cop with an uncanny sense when something was off, and because of that, her cover story was something he could never stop doubting. It was like a mosquito bite that he just had to itch. All conversations led to questions about her past, and her vague answers only created more tension between them.
No, she thought, resolved. She didn’t need Ryan’s help. She could manage well enough on her own.
While Cassie didn’t love the idea of walking home, especially on a cold night like tonight, there wasn’t much of a choice. She burrowed her hands into her pockets and headed down Main Street at a brisk pace.
When she reached Polson Park, Cassie went down to the paved trail that tracked alongside the Powder River. The path was one of her favorites this time of year, with its snow-laced maple trees and wrought iron lampposts decorated with bright red bows. Maybe walking home wasn’t so bad, after all.
With a continued hustle in her step, Cassie had rounded the first bend into the woods when her feet slipped sideways, sending her purse flying. Unable to save herself, she landed with a hard thud on her hip and twisted her knee. Instant agony shot down her leg while icy snow cascaded over the collar of her coat and slid down her shirt, nipping at her skin. Winded, she lay still, bearing the stinging cold until she regained her breath.
A soft crunch of footsteps broke into the quiet night.
Surprised, Cassie sat up, jarring her knee. Curious who would emerge from the darkness, Cassie twisted to look behind her, but the footsteps stopped.
“Hello?” she called out into the gloom and waited for a response. When no one answered, she called out again. “If someone’s there, I could really use some help,” she said, her pulse quickening. “Hello?”
A tree branch, somewhere outside the reach of the path light, gave a soft snap, sending a warning chill through her. Her senses honed, she sat listening, but no other sounds came except for the burble from the river.
She shook her head and dusted off her mitts. Don’t be a ninny. It’s probably just a deer.
Cassie hoisted herself onto her feet. Pain seared like a hot fire through her knee, pulling a hiss from her lips. She managed to limp to a nearby bench and then eased herself down.
It’s not going to be that easy today, is it, God? Cassie scanned the path for her purse, but there was no sign of it. If only she had called a friend when she had the opportunity. Tenderly, she bent her leg. Nothing was broken, but that didn’t mean it was going to be a pleasant walk home either. She grimaced. One thing was for sure, sitting here wasn’t getting her anywhere.
After traveling a short ways down the path, Cassie slowed her pace. A feeling of being watched prickled the back of her neck. Careful to appear casual, she surveilled the dark. Nothing moved among the evergreens and barren maples. Everything seemed as it should, yet something in the woods wasn’t right.
A damp fog began rolling in around her, dimming the glow from the path lights. The woods were becoming thicker, but Cassie knew she didn’t dare turn back. Not wanting to dawdle, she increased her pace when the sound of footsteps rose again. She paused, pulse racing, and looked over her shoulder. A large male figure emerged from the deep shadow with an oversize hood obscuring his face. From the way he was moving, she could tell this was no Good Samaritan.
Fear shot up Cassie’s spine like fireworks, catapulting her down the trail. Agony tore through her knee, but she ignored it, instead pushing herself to go faster.
Her mind spiraled with terror as she ran. After all these years, had the assassin who had forced her into WITSEC finally found her? Her breathing turned ragged, but she refused to slow down, her thoughts focusing on escape.
Cassie knew she was coming up to the fork in the path. If she took the trail to the left, it would take her to the suspension bridge over the Powder River, with her house and safety on the other side. The path to the right would lead her to Hughes Lane, a place where people might or might not be around. Neither option was great. God, please help me.
A dog barked in the distance, and Cassie jumped. She dared to look over her shoulder and froze with a scream on her lips.
The man was closing the distance between them at an alarming rate. Running was futile, but she kept on. Would he kill her outright? Or would he force her onto the bridge and throw her over the side, making it look like an accident and preventing any further testimony? Her mind filled with images of falling, crashing through the thin ice and being submerged under the glacial river waters.
Cassie curled her hands into fists. Whether this was a mugging or an assassination attempt, there was no way she was going down without a fight. She stopped her stumbling and turned to face him, her chest heaving.
“What do you want?” she yelled.
The male figure stopped, not even twenty feet behind her, and stood stock-still. Then, his hands moved casually into his pockets, and a low haunting whistle played from his lips.
Unnerved, Cassie launched off the pathway. She half ran, half limped through the trees. Barren shrubs clawed at her clothes, and crusty drifts of snow spilled into her boots, but she didn’t notice. Pushing through the wintry brush, Cassie burst into the intersection of Hughes and Kirkway. She stood for a moment turning in all directions, looking for any sign of another human being, gasping for breath. Suddenly, she was bathed in flashing blue lights.
Relief flooded her. She bent over, trying to breathe, trying to get ahold of herself.
She was safe. Oh, thank God, she was safe. Tears welled in her eyes, and she swiped at them with her dirty white mitt, willing her heart to stop pounding. Without even looking, Cassie knew who would be in that cruiser and for once, she didn’t care.
“Cassie?” Ryan Matherson rushed to her side, leaving his police cruiser door wide open.
She threw her arms around him and buried her face into his chest. The smell of him, a mix of polished wood and leather, overpowered her senses. Held in his strong arms, she felt safe. She didn’t even consider pulling away. She just needed a moment—a moment to drink in his strength, a moment to pull herself together.
“What happened?” he said, softly tucking a long strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. “Are you okay?”
No. She wasn’t okay. She was far from okay, but instead of falling apart like she wanted to, Cassie stepped back and trained her eyes on his car. Ryan might be her ex-boyfriend, but the magnetic pull she felt toward him would never change. Keeping an emotional distance between them was like putting up a wood fence and expecting it to keep out a forest fire.
Cassie took a calming breath and looked up into Ryan’s worried blue eyes, trying for a casual smile. No facade she could ever put up would withstand his scrutiny. However, there was no other option but to try.
“Yeah,” Cassie said, giving a laugh that sounded fake even to her own ears. “Just a victim of an overactive imagination.” His eyes narrowed, so she quickly switched topics. “I understand that this is awkward, but do you think you could give me a ride home? I twisted my knee back there, and it’s killing me.”
Ryan looked down at her torn dress pants. His eyes met hers, sending a ripple of warmth cascading through her. When his steady arm came around her shoulders, Cassie readily leaned into him, for once accepting the safe shelter he offered. Together, they moved toward his cruiser.
Unable to stop herself, Cassie glanced toward the dark forest behind them. Her body began to tremble. Without saying a word, Ryan tucked her closer to him.
“I can’t remember the last time we’ve had a December that’s been this cold,” she said.
Ryan tilted his head, his words deliberately soft. “What happened in the woods?”
“I feel silly,” she said, feigning embarrassment.
“Cassie?”
She stared up at the rigid set of his stubbled jaw. Her throat tightened while her mind raced to think of what she should say about what had just happened. WITSEC protocols were rigid, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t break them. She couldn’t tell Ryan about her past and the things she had witnessed eight years ago. But on the other hand, how could she send Ryan unprepared, chasing through the woods after a renowned assassin?
Her stomach felt heavy with what she had to do. Protocol required that the truth be abbreviated. Maybe she could make it sound innocent enough that he wouldn’t go running after shadows. Cassie closed her eyes and remembered the coaching she’d received in her WITSEC training.
The words raced out of her mouth. “My Jeep wouldn’t start, so I was walking home, and I thought I heard something.” She let out an awkward sigh. “Anyways, I spooked and slipped and well, you saw the rest.”
Ryan’s eyes locked on her face, and she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. They stood at the cruiser, his jaw tightening. His gaze left hers and stared past her to the small wooded area where she had emerged moments before. When he drew his eyes back to her, his frigid stare left no doubt that he saw through the story.
“You should warm up inside the car. You’re like ice.” He abruptly took his arm from her shoulder and opened the passenger door, holding it wide. “Get in the car, Cassie,” Ryan said, his deep voice tinged with forcefulness.
Words hung on her lips, but she bit them back. Already she could feel him putting up the emotional wall that divided them. His response shouldn’t have surprised her, and yet it stung all the same. She turned her face from his and got into the car. His thumb pressed down on the lock with a thunk.
“Ryan—” her eyes darted to his “—don’t. You’re not going to find anything.”
He didn’t respond. He just shut the door, leaving Cassie speechless while he crossed the street and stepped into the bush, disappearing from sight.
What was he thinking going in there all alone? Her bluster immediately faded, the answer making her feel sick. He’d gone in there alone because she hadn’t told him everything. He had no idea what could be lurking in those woods. Her eyes searched the forest where he had disappeared, looking for any faint hint of motion. Cassie glanced at the clock. Well, if he didn’t return soon, she’d just have to go in after him. She let out a slow breath and began praying for his protection.
Thankfully, he emerged from the trees moments later and strode toward the cruiser. Keeping his head bent against the wind, Ryan carried something in his hands. A swirl of snow flew into the car when he sat in the driver’s seat. Unceremoniously, he dropped her purse onto her lap.
“I’m driving you home,” he said.
Cassie muttered a thank-you.
When they turned onto the highway, the click of the car signal only seemed to punctuate the growing rift between them. His silence thundered with questions about her past that had been asked many times before and clumsily deflected. Cassie knew it wouldn’t matter what she said. His cop mind was never going to stop pursuing truthful answers or wondering why she was withholding information.
She cleared her throat, despising the crackling tension in the air. If her best friend and coworker, Sarah Connelly, could see her now, she’d be telling Cassie to at least talk to the man. Her fingers toyed with her purse. “You’re still welcome to come into the restaurant. Sarah misses seeing you.”
At first, Cassie thought he meant to ignore her, but then he whispered, “Just Sarah?”
Her breath caught. She didn’t want to answer, but it was the one question she could be truthful with. Her cheeks grew warm, and she prayed she wasn’t blushing. “I miss you too.”
Ryan’s shoulders softened slightly. “You can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
He looked at her from the corner of his eye, his voice tender. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s really going on with you?”
Cassie stared sightlessly out the windshield. “I did. I was walking home on the Powder River Trail, and it was dark, and I thought I heard something and my mind just...”
“Cassie, I saw the look on your face when you burst onto the street.”
“I was spooked. Why can’t you just let this go?” she bit back too quickly.
“Because it was more than that, and you know it.”
He pulled into her long dirt driveway and came to a stop in front of her log cabin. Cassie didn’t say a word because she couldn’t, and that was always their problem.
She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him about her past, but it was against the rules, and in the Witness Protection Program, the rules were everything. After all, no witness who followed the rules had ever been killed in US Marshals’ history. It was an impressive record. One that stilled her lips when her heart begged otherwise.
When she had first started dating Ryan, she’d believed her handler, Gerald Hawkins, would be on board with the relationship and let Ryan in on her situation. Unfortunately, the request had been firmly denied. It didn’t matter that Ryan was a cop or that he was former FBI. Rules were rules, and who Ryan was and what he meant to her didn’t matter. Cassie had pushed her handler to reconsider, but he opted to tell her sickening tales of what The Wolf would do to her if Ryan ever betrayed her.
“You can trust me. If...”
“Ryan, honestly,” and she was being honest, “before I came to Bakerton, I was not in any abusive relationships.”
“Then what is going on, Cassie?”
“Why are you always so suspicious? Can’t I just be a girl scared by a stupid teenage prank?”
“Because there’s more to this, and we both know it.”
Their situation was impossible, and it didn’t matter what she did. It wasn’t going to get any better. Infuriated, Cassie hobbled out of the car and was surprised when she heard Ryan’s door slam shut behind her. She turned. “I don’t want to fight.”
“I don’t want to fight either,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I just want to make sure that the house is safe.”
Part of her wanted to say that she could take care of herself, but her throbbing knee strongly disagreed with her at the moment. “Knock yourself out,” she said, passing him the keys at the front door. He walked in first, and when she followed in behind him, he gave her a look. “It’s cold,” Cassie stated flatly. “I’m not waiting outside.”
He searched thoroughly around her sparsely furnished place. Not wanting to get caught staring after him, Cassie found herself overly focused on building a fire in the wood-burning stove.
“Everything appears fine,” he said, coming into the living room. “How’s your knee?”
“A little sore,” Cassie said, settling into the rocking chair and propping her leg up on the oversize ottoman.
Cautiously, he sat beside her knee. “Can I take a look?”
She thought about refusing, but it would only cause more problems if she didn’t let him. “Sure,” she said and drew up her torn pant leg. The knee was already starting to swell, and there were a couple of nasty scratches, but overall it didn’t look too bad. His calloused hands tenderly touched her knee, making her heart quicken. He looked up from his examination, his eyes filled with gentleness.
So much was left unspoken between them, so much that begged to be said. The fire crackled, filling the silence.
“We should clean that up.” Without another word, he disappeared into the kitchen. She heard him rummaging around her cupboards, banging things around.
“What are you doing in there?” she called.
“Looking for your kettle... It used to be... Found it... Hey, what do you think about me bringing Duke by and having him stay with you for a couple of days?”
“Duke? Sure. Are you going away?” Cassie asked, surprised. Ryan always took Duke, his golden Lab, with him everywhere when he wasn’t on duty.
“No, just working a lot, and he always loved it out here. He’d be good company for you.”
“Good protection, you mean.”
“Something like that. What kind of tea do you want? You’re out of peppermint.”
“Chamomile would be perfect.”
When he came back, Ryan had a tray laden with snacks along with the tea. He set it beside her and brought a damp cloth up to her knee.
“I can take care of that,” she said, tugging the cloth from his hand. Being near him was dangerous.
“There’s an ice pack on the tray too. When you warm up a little, you should put it on.”
“Will do.”
He spied the TV remotes across the room and grabbed them for her. “I’ll bring Duke by tomorrow morning. You should probably stay off that knee for a couple of days,” he said, standing next to her Christmas tree.
“I’ll try.”
“Do more than try, okay?” He glanced over at her tree and his brow furrowed. Gently, he reached out, touching one of the ornaments they had made together last year.
“Are you staying for a bit?” Cassie asked.
“No. I need to get back,” he said, pulling away.
Maybe she was a chicken, but she waited until he was behind her chair and opening the door before she asked what she needed to.
“Ryan...”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask a favor?”
“Cassie, don’t.”
She twisted in her chair. “Please, don’t file a report about this.”
His words were icy as he turned his head away from her. “If you were just spooked, what does it matter?”
“Just don’t mention my name.”
Ryan shook his head. “I can’t believe you sometimes.”
“Ryan, please.”
“Good night, Cassie,” he said, shutting the door behind him with a decisive click.
Yet again, her heart was ripping into a million pieces. Ryan wanted to know everything about her, and that was something she couldn’t offer. Maybe their breaking up was for the best, but it didn’t make it easy. The headlights from his car shone through the entryway windows.
Cassie rose and walked to the bookshelf. Her fingers quickly tugged out an old copy of a novel and took the bookmark—a business card—out.
The white card contained simple black writing. Gerald Hawkins—Tax Specialist it read with a number listed below.
No longer crisp, the edges had become dog-eared and mired with smudges. Cassie had long since memorized the details, but she kept the card anyway. Sitting back down, she slowly twirled the paper between her fingers. Should she call her handler? she wondered.
The chances of the assassin—dubbed by the media as The Wolf—finding her were slim to none so long as she followed the rules of the program, and Cassie was nothing if not obedient. What were the odds that the person following her was The Wolf? Her fingers tapped the card.
It had been eight years since she had witnessed Congressman Johnson’s assassination at the charity gala in her art studio in New York. Eight years since she’d testified against The Wolf’s accomplice, Gabriel Finch, and it had been almost that long since the program had discouraged her from working publicly as an artist. In all the days and months that had passed since that awful night, The Wolf had yet to make a single attempt on her life. Not a single one.
Cassie didn’t doubt that The Wolf still wanted her dead. After all, she had erased his anonymity. Her art skills had allowed her to make lifelike sketches and paintings of him and all that she had seen that night. The result had placed The Wolf’s face on every major news network worldwide. With a stroke of her brush, she had made his face one of the world’s most recognizable. And if that weren’t enough, once he was caught, her testimony against The Wolf would ensure he was locked in prison for the rest of his life.
“What to do,” Cassie muttered. Was the man on the trail tonight The Wolf or not? If it was The Wolf, wouldn’t she be dead right now? She leaned back in her chair. Oddly, the thought gave her comfort.
Given her history, it was only natural that she would be skittish. She lifted the business card up, picturing Gerald, the kind, balding man who had become a good friend over the years.
If she told the program what happened tonight, Gerald might decide to relocate her. The thought hit like a sucker punch to the gut. She’d already been stripped of her real family. The thought of returning to that nomadic lifestyle, of spending another Christmas alone, made her feel sick.
For the last three years, Bakerton had become Cassie’s home. Here, she had joined a loving church and made friends who were more like family. This was her new beginning, and the thought of having it taken away for something that might be nothing was unthinkable.
With her mind made up, Cassie put the business card down. Her only hope was that Ryan wouldn’t name her in a report if he filed one. If Gerald became aware of what happened tonight, her hands would be tied. He would present her with two options: relocate or quit witness protection. No matter how tough she had become, Cassie knew she wasn’t ready to leave the safety the program afforded her.
She turned on the TV and found a baking show to distract her thoughts. There was no point in worrying about what Ryan would do. It had to rest in God’s hands. She was safe, she was hidden, and no one, not even The Wolf, would be able to find her.
Ryan took a deep breath and parked his cruiser along the side of the snowbank where Cassie had burst into the intersection only an hour ago. As a former agent of the FBI, he was a master of staying calm underneath the most brutal of conditions, but seeing Cassie dart in front of his car the way she did had instantly stripped away his years of training. He hadn’t run out of his car like an agent who had faced down serial killers. No, he’d acted like a lovesick schoolboy. While he’d left the FBI four years ago to become a small-town cop and live a simpler life, there still was no room for personal feelings to cloud his judgment.
Cassie was his ex-girlfriend for a reason. Ryan didn’t want to think of her mixed up in something illegal, but she was hiding something, and whatever that something was, she wanted him to overlook it. Unfortunately for her, his dad had taught him young the cost of being emotionally blinded.
Well, if he could put his own father behind bars, then he could do the same to her. He just needed to get his head in the game. What he needed were facts. Facts were tangible. Facts forced the truth, no matter how ugly, into the light.
Ryan got out of his warm car and pulled on his gloves. He didn’t mind the cold tonight. The chill worked to center him and made his pulse slow. With his flashlight in hand, he easily picked up and followed Cassie’s tracks, making him thankful the earlier snowfall had stopped.
Stepping up onto the Powder River Trail, Ryan observed the compacted snow where Cassie had stopped, turned and seen who was behind her. At that point, she had bolted through the trees. Who had filled her with such terror? Thankfully, with it being so late, the scene hadn’t been contaminated by others. Ryan followed in his own footprints from before and counted off the distance from where Cassie had stood to where the perp’s boot impressions had stopped. He looked up at the path light and noted that the man had been careful to remain on the edge of its reach. Not something the average teenage prankster would think to do.
Ryan bent down to study the assailant’s tracks. He suspected they belonged to a man of medium height and medium build. He took pictures of the boot tread impression with his phone. Whoever this person was, they had stood in this spot, watched Cassie run and then doubled back. Why didn’t he chase after her?
Puzzled, Ryan followed the footsteps back along the trail, noting when the man picked up his pace and how Cassie had tried to do the same. The snow made it simple to retell the story of what had unfolded.
Upon reaching the place of her original fall, Ryan traced back the perp’s steps and found the spot where the man had stood in the trees. His jaw tightened when he shifted the evergreen branches revealing a perfect sight line to where Cassie had sat injured and vulnerable. He cleared his throat. A million different scenarios of what could have played out here tonight ran through his mind, and not one of them made the pit in his stomach feel any better.
He continued on to the entrance of Polson Park, where the streets had been plowed, obliterating the footprint trail. Since he knew Cassie’s usual route, Ryan simply crossed the road. Her trail was easy to pick up, and so too were the tracks of the man that had followed her. Here Cassie’s stride had been purposeful but didn’t show signs of panic.
When he reached Cassie’s Jeep, Ryan noticed a single half impression of the man’s boot print behind it. From its angle, Ryan surmised the man must have crossed the street here. A few snow-encrusted cars dotted the far side of the road, but Ryan focused on the wide swaths of empty parking spots. Instinct told him that the perp had been parked somewhere along there, watching for a target or perhaps, waiting for a specific one. A tumult of conflicting emotions rose, and he quickly forced them down.
Ryan crossed Main Street and scanned for any evidence that someone had been loitering, but nothing turned up. Frustrated, he walked back to Cassie’s Jeep and stood in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest. There had to be more here, he was sure of it. He stared carefully at the hood, now lightly covered in snow, and thought back on Cassie’s story.
An idea began forming, and he squatted down to look through the grill, shining his flashlight. Ryan took his knife from his duty belt and maneuvered the blade, popping the hood. Methodically, he ran his flashlight over the engine and noticed the dirt was disturbed over the housing to the fuse box. His pulse racing, Ryan opened the housing, not wanting to see what he suspected.
But there it was, plain as day; one of the fuses had been pulled loose. Cassie’s vehicle not starting had been no accident.