The bang resounded through Jake’s head and instinct told him to drop to the ground.
Shannon yelped and lowered the gun. “Jake?”
“Are you crazy?” Jake shouted. “Put that gun down.”
She dropped the gun and rushed to him. “Are you hurt? Oh, my God, I never shot anyone before.” Tears streaked her face. “Are you bleeding anywhere?” Her hands shook and she ran them over his chest.
He pushed her hands away. “I’m fine. You’re a lousy shot, thank God.” He stood and brushed the dirt off his pajama bottoms. “Why did you try to shoot me?”
“I heard you earlier, talking on the phone.”
“Okay.”
“You said I was a problem you couldn’t fix, that whoever you were talking with would have to take care of it.”
“Yes, I called a friend who I thought could help with your situation. It was late and I figured I’d tell you in the morning. He’s coming here tomorrow.”
“A friend. Would his name be Mark Hastings?” she shouted.
Jake was grateful he had no neighbors, no one to report a gunshot followed by a woman shouting. From the truck, Bailey began to cry. “No, it isn’t. But it’s chilly out here. Bring the baby back inside and I’ll explain.”
She closed the door to the truck and her hand tightened again on the gun she’d picked up. “You can explain right here.”
“This friend of mine can help with things like a new identity. From what you told me, all you have is a different name and, now, a new hairstyle and color. That’s not going to help you much. You need identification, papers to show that you exist as Shannon Chase and that your daughter is Bailey Chase.”
“You weren’t talking to someone in Missouri?”
“No. I was talking to someone in Seattle in the U.S. Marshal’s office. Now will you put the gun down and come back inside?”
She leaned against the truck and studied him for a moment. “I swear if you’re lying to me, the next time I shoot at you, I won’t miss.”
“Deal.” He took a tentative step toward her. “Let me help you get your stuff. You take the baby. And for God’s sake, put that gun away, preferably unloaded, before you hurt one of us.”
“I put the safety on.” She shoved the gun down into the diaper bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder before lifting Bailey from her car seat.
Jake removed her overnight bag and briefcase from the truck, followed her back inside and dropped them onto the floor. Hands on hips, he stood for a moment, staring at her. “Is she okay?”
Shannon patted the baby’s back, pressing her lips to her forehead. “She’s warm. I think she has a fever, no doubt because of the teething.”
Worried, he crossed and felt Bailey’s forehead. “She does have a fever. Are you sure that’s all it is.”
“I think so. She’s eating okay, so I’m not too worried.”
“We should take her to a doctor tomorrow, first thing.”
“We aren’t taking her anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”
He pulled out a chair. “Sit down. Look, I know this guy who’s in law enforcement. He’s in a position to help people with new identities.”
“You mean like the witness protection program?”
He hesitated, knowing he could not tell her too much about himself. “Something like that. If someone is on your trail, you need to become someone else. And while the haircut and dye job are a start, having a solid identity built for you will give you added security.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know this guy?”
“He’s an old friend. He can be trusted, but you’ll have to be cooperative. Might be best to not let him see that gun or tell him you have it.”
“What time will he be here?” she asked wearily.
“Around nine. He’s meeting us at your apartment. I thought that would be safer, given the phone call earlier tonight. You might want to try to get some sleep.” He frowned. “Did you really think I was going to turn you in?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know who I can trust right now. And, face it, I really don’t know much about you.”
He stood. “We’ll save that conversation for another day. You take Bailey. I’ll bring the rest of your things upstairs.” Then he held out his hand. “Keys.”
She pulled the truck keys from her pocket and tossed them to him. “You going to sleep with those under your pillow?”
He grinned. “For tonight.”
~ * ~
The marshal introduced himself as Caleb Wilson. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with jet black hair and matching dark eyes. And he must have been at lease six foot five. An imposing presence, especially to Shannon.
She and Caleb sat on either end of the sofa. Jake took the wooden rocker. It dwarfed beneath him.
“You’re telling me you think the governor of Missouri is out to harm you and take your child?” Caleb asked.
Shannon glanced to Jake who nodded for her to respond. “I have every reason to believe that.” She recounted her story and he listened. “Jake can tell you about the phone call we got last night.”
“We?” Caleb turned his gaze onto Jake who shifted in the chair.
“A call came to my place, a man asking to speak with Heather Carlson. I didn’t know Shannon’s whole story at the time and told him he had a wrong number. But he was clearly looking for her at my place.”
Shannon told Caleb about the conversation with her mother at the Jefferson City restaurant. “That’s the only possible way they could have tracked me here.”
Caleb pressed his lips together and frowned. “How do you know the call came from Mr. Hastings?”
“I don’t. But if it wasn’t Mark, then it’s someone Corinne…Governor Hastings has sent to find me.”
He turned to Jake. “And you want me to wave my magic wand and turn Heather into Shannon Chase?” Focusing back on Shannon, he said, “And who, may I ask, is Shannon Chase?”
She explained about her college friend who had died at the age of nineteen.
“So I’m just supposed to steal her identity and give it to you?”
Jake leaned forward. “The girl’s been dead at least ten years. How hard can that be?”
Caleb stood and began to pace. “How hard can that be? Do you have any idea what goes into creating a new identity for someone?” He blew out a breath. “Okay. Tell me everything you know about the Shannon Chase whose identity you’ve been using. If she has a clean record, I may be able to get the documentation you’ll need to assume her identity. I’ll need a copy of the baby’s birth certificate. Of course, this all depends on your background check.”
“I’ve never had so much as a parking ticket,” she said. “I’ll tell you anything you need to know.”
He nodded. “How can I contact you, Ms. Chase?”
“I…uh….” She looked at the phone—an ancient beige corded model sitting on a lamp table. “I don’t know the phone number here.”
Jake stood. “I’ll get the number from Abe. Be right back.”
Once Jake was gone, Shannon said to Caleb, “I’m sorry about this. I’m sorry I got Jake mixed up in this. Maybe it would be better if I moved on, went somewhere else.”
Caleb shook his head. “Eventually, you’re going to need documentation to prove who you are. Whether that’s for work, a place to live…hell, you can’t even get a damned credit card or open a bank account.” He removed a cell phone from his pocket. “I need your photograph.” He glanced around. “Stand against that wall.” He motioned toward a blank wall to serve as background and snapped a few photos. Then he took one of Bailey.
Jake came through the door and handed a slip of paper to Caleb. He punched the numbers into his phone and the phone on the table rang. “You might need this.” He handed the paper to Shannon. “I’ll see what I can do, Ms. Chase. It might take a few days.”
“Thank you. Should I have a phone number for you?”
“No, you shouldn’t. Jake, can you walk me to my car?”
When both men were gone, Shannon leaned back and let a out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She had so many questions about Caleb and how Jake knew him, but she had a sense Jake was not going to answer them all.
Jake clambered up the steps and into the apartment. “Feeling any better?”
“Some. Thank you. So, now what?”
“Now you lay low until we see if someone shows up looking for you.” He tilted his head. “Though I doubt he’ll recognize you now.’
She fluffed her spiky hair with her fingers. “Good disguise, huh?”
“Did you ever wear glasses?”
“No, why?”
“We’ll stop at the pharmacy. They sell non-prescription reading glasses. Then we’ll gather up your stuff and get you moved in here.”
“Tonight?”
“You’ll be safer here than at my place. I have one errand to run. Will you be okay for about an hour?”
“I guess so.”
“Good. I’ll be back soon. If you need anything in the meantime, let Abe know.” He paused at the door. “By the way, what kind of gun is that you have?”
“It’s a Smith & Wesson .38. It’s called the Bodyguard. Why?”
“No reason. I’ll be back soon.”
She listened to his footsteps on the stairs and his truck pull from the drive. She made sure to lock the door behind him. A soft breeze came through the windows and the paint odor had significantly evaporated overnight. Shannon lifted Bailey from the carrier and gave her a tour of their new home. She would spend the night here alone with her baby. While some maniac was coming to find her.
~ * ~
Caleb was pissed. Jake knew it. But he also knew he had the upper hand in this. If they wanted him to stay in hiding and be prepared to testify once they captured Lou Crowley and Sara Martin, Caleb was going to have to work with him here. Since Jake came into the program, Caleb had been nothing but respectful and fair. He’d become a friend, for as much as having minimal contact with someone can forge a friendship. Jake hated putting him in this position, but it was the only way he could protect Shannon and Bailey.
A gun shop in Issaquah would serve his purpose. He’d always believed in the importance of gun laws. Today he wished there were an exception. He had to wait five days to pick up his gun. His gun. The words rolled around in his brain like some invading foreign object.
Before driving back to the apartment, Jake decided to ride around a bit, get his head together. It had been hard enough to become Jake Garber and assume a new life. Now he was involved with a woman and assuming responsibility for her protection, ready to take a stand. He was just about to shove aside the feelings Shannon roused in him when something caught his eye in a motel parking lot. A gleaming black and silver motorcycle. Jake pulled his truck to the side of the road. One bike looked pretty much the same as the next to him. But this one looked particularly familiar and he could image the helmeted rider roaring toward him and Shannon a few nights earlier.
He turned into the lot and cruised past the bike, noting the license plate. That didn’t tell him much—it bore a Washington State plate. But it could be a rental. Who would rent a motorcycle instead of a car? Someone who wanted to make a really fast get-away. He parked at the far end of the lot and waited, watching the bike. Half an hour had passed before a man clad in jeans, a black leather jacket and carrying a helmet approached the cycle. He was dark-complected with a couple days beard growth and a gleaming bald head. Dark in every possible way. Jake didn’t recognize him, until he put on the helmet, lowered a visor and started up the bike. Jake decided to follow.
The cyclist roared toward town, then slowed as he navigated the main street. At the intersection on the west side of town, the biker turned right, up Mountain Pine Road. Jake’s road. They were the only two vehicles on the road now, and Jake eased off the gas, creating more distance. The bike slowed as it approached Jake’s driveway, then pulled over, the rider cutting the engine.
Jake sped up a little, driving by without looking to his right. He pulled off at turnaround a few hundred feet past the curve and got out. He could walk back to his place, but then what. He opened a tool box in the back of the truck and removed a tire iron, his fist clenching around the cold metal.