Shielding the innocent t.., p.1
Shielding the Innocent Target, page 1
“Lucas, look out!” Paige shrieked.
As he swung his gaze back to the road, Lucas’s heart slammed against his rib cage. He stomped on the brakes, causing the front tire to screech on the wet pavement. The minivan came to a halt, inches from where the heavy rains had washed out a chunk of the road.
There was no going forward. He would have to turn the minivan around and go back.
A car came around the bend in the road.
The dark blue sedan that had been parked behind the gas station.
The car stopped several yards from them, and a man climbed out. There was no mistaking the ghastly snowy hair and skin of Colin Richter.
Fear jolted through Lucas. They were trapped. The road was gone in front of them, and the bridge was down behind them. Frantic to protect his charges, he said, “We have to get out and make a run for it into the woods.”
Paige let out an audible gasp. “That’s him! The man who wants to kill me.”
Terri Reed’s romance and romantic suspense novels have appeared on the Publishers Weekly top twenty-five and NPD BookScan top one hundred lists and have been featured in USA TODAY, Christian Fiction magazine and RT Book Reviews. Her books have been finalists for the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award and the National Readers’ Choice Award and finalists three times for the American Christian Fiction Writers Carol Award. Contact Terri at terrireed.com or PO Box 19555, Portland, OR 97224.
Books by Terri Reed
Love Inspired Suspense
Buried Mountain Secrets
Secret Mountain Hideout
Christmas Protection Detail
Secret Sabotage
Forced to Flee
Forced to Hide
Undercover Christmas Escape
Shielding the Innocent Target
Rocky Mountain K-9 Unit
Detection Detail
Pacific Northwest K-9 Unit
Explosive Trail
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com for more titles.
Shielding the Innocent Target
Terri Reed
Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.
—Psalm 37:4
To my daughter—you are a delight and a gift from God.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Kidnapped in Montana by Sharon Dunn
ONE
“You’ll do what you’re told. It’s very simple.”
The unfamiliar female voice froze Paige Walsh in her boss’s office doorway. The threat in the unseen woman’s tone was unmistakable.
A shiver of unease cascaded down Paige’s spine and she nearly dropped the manila mail envelope she carried. She resisted the urge to peek around the half-open door leading into the expansive corner office on the top floor of the downtown Fort Meyers Southwest Professional Building.
Working late was normal for Paige and her boss.
But having visitors after-hours certainly was unusual.
From where Paige stood, she could see her boss, Federal Prosecutor Donald Lessing, standing behind his mahogany desk. The floor-to-ceiling windows running the length of the wall revealed the darkened sky.
Who was the woman? What was happening?
“You won’t get away with this,” Donald stated, his voice quivering with a note of fear. His gaze darted to Paige. He gave a shake of his head before he returned his focus to his visitor. “I won’t let you.”
“Then you leave us no choice.”
Paige frowned. Should she intervene? Did her boss need her help?
She took a step forward just as a man, dressed all in black with a shocking head of white hair and pale skin, appeared in Paige’s line of sight.
He held a gun aimed at Donald’s heart.
Shocked, Paige’s pulse spiked. A wave of dizziness washed over her. This couldn’t be happening.
Donald held up his hands. “Please, don’t do this.”
The gunman squeezed the trigger. A barely there, popping noise burst from the barrel of the wicked-looking weapon.
Blood bloomed across the front of her boss’s chest.
Paige’s gasp rang as loud as a shotgun blast to her ears.
The murderer whirled to face her, his pale blue eyes locking with hers. Dead eyes. She’d never understood the term—until now. He had a red angry scar running from his left temple down to his neck.
Fear, feral and ominous, snatched the breath from Paige’s lungs.
From the other side of the office door, the woman ordered, “Get her. You can’t let her leave.”
It was all the impetus Paige needed to give in to the flight response clamoring through her system. Clutching the manila mail envelope to her chest, she raced down the hallway toward the elevator. The terrorizing sound of pounding feet chasing her made her stomach contract and nausea rise to burn her throat.
If he trapped her in the elevator she would never survive. What would happen to her son?
She bypassed the elevator and ran for the emergency stairwell. She flung the door open hard enough to bounce it against the concrete wall. She charged down the steps, one hand gripping the rail to prevent her from falling face-first. Her heels clattered with every quaking step.
The man entered the stairwell behind her, rapidly closing the distance between them.
Panic flared hot, searing her insides. Her shoes were slowing her down. With a practiced maneuver, she kicked the heels off and continued barefoot down the rest of the fourteen flights of stairs to the lobby. The concrete scraped against the tender soles of her feet.
Faster! Faster! The word ricocheted through her mind.
Oh, Lord, please, let me get away.
She heard that same barely there popping noise and the concrete wall beside her head erupted with bits of debris hitting her in the face. She screamed and hunched as she reached the lobby door. Still clutching the manila envelope, she pushed through the door, rounded a corner, and ran to the security desk at the front of the building.
Two security guards sat unconcerned in front of video monitors. Why hadn’t they seen what was happening?
“I don’t understand it,” one of the guards she knew as Sean said. “Something’s messing with the—”
“Help! Help, my boss has been shot.” Paige skidded to a halt at the desk.
The older guard, Edward, came out from behind the desk and gripped her by the shoulders. “Get ahold of yourself. Explain.”
“Someone shot my boss. The gunman chased me down the stairwell. Call the police!”
“On it.” Sean picked up the landline phone.
“Who’s your boss?” Edward asked.
“Federal Prosecutor Donald Lessing.”
Paige’s breathing puffed out in gasps and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Cold from the marble floor seeped into the soles of her feet. Expecting the murderer to come blasting around the corner at any moment, she inched her way behind the security guard, unconsciously using him as a shield.
Moments passed before the wail of sirens filled the lobby and bounced off the marble flooring and mahogany paneling.
A swarm of police officers hurried inside. A uniformed female officer approached along with an older plainclothes detective who flashed his badge. “Detective Finley. What’s going on here?”
“Our security cameras are down.” Edward pointed to Paige. “She claims her boss has been shot.”
Claims? “I’m Paige Walsh. I’m a paralegal for Federal Prosecutor Donald Lessing.” Frustration laced her words. “We were working late. I went to his office—” She swallowed as the memory of the blood spreading across Donald’s chest reared its head, making her dizzy. “There were people in his office. A woman and a man. The man he—he shot Donald. He chased me down the emergency stairwell.”
Where was he? Had he given up?
But she’d seen him.
She could identify him.
That meant he had to eliminate her.
Her throat closed. Her stomach pitched again.
The assailants could be hiding anywhere. He could find her office and discover her name and where she lived.
Her father had warned her that working for a federal prosecutor could be dangerous. But she’d never really believed it. The situation was so surreal. Why would someone want to hurt Donald?
She nearly scoffed aloud. There were any number of people who would want a federal prosecutor out of the picture. Donald was aggressive. He didn’t play games and he was honest. The very reasons she had grown to admire and respect him.
“What floor?” Detective Finley asked.
Focusing on the policeman, she took a breath. “Fourteen. Suite fifteen.” Paige grabbe
Finley nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” With a posse of armed uniformed officers, he led the way to the elevator and disappeared while several more officers took the stairwell.
Paige glanced at the female officer standing expectantly beside her. Noting the name badge, Paige said, “Officer Alonso, I need to get to my son. He’s at a home day care.” And then she was going to get as far from Florida as possible.
“I need you to answer some questions first,” the officer said as she pulled a small notebook out of her pocket. “Why were you and your boss working late? Is this something you did often?”
The suspicion in her eyes grated along Paige’s nerves. “We weren’t having an affair if that’s what you’re suggesting. Donald was working on opening arguments for a trial that starts tomorrow. He asked if I could do some last-minute research.”
The officer wrote down her answer. “What can you tell me about the people who were in the office?”
“The woman seemed to be in charge, but I didn’t see her. The shooter—” Paige swallowed the bile burning her throat. “He was—” She searched for the words to describe him. “He looked like the undead.”
Officer Alonso’s gaze widened. “Excuse me?”
“You know, like in those TV shows and video games about zombies,” Paige replied. She’d often caught her son trying to sneak a peek at them. “The man was pale. Unnaturally pale. White hair. Piercing pale blue eyes. Wearing all black. And he has a scar on the left side of his face.”
The officer’s eyebrows rose. “That does sound like something from a horror movie. Do you think he was wearing makeup?”
The question gave her pause. Was it all just an effect to hide his identity? “Possibly. I don’t know.”
“What can you tell me about the gun?” the officer asked.
With a shudder, Paige replied, “Big. Black. It didn’t make much noise.”
“Interesting.” She wrote in the notebook. “It had a noise suppressor.”
Dropping her chin in surprise, Paige asked, “Like one used by professional hit men?”
“Do you know any professional hit men?”
Paige could tell the woman was trying not to smile. “Of course not. Just what I see on television or read in books.” Paige loved to read thriller novels. The assassins always had silencers on their weapons. Anxiety twisted in her gut. This was bad.
Detective Finley returned and handed over her large satchel that served as a purse.
She slipped the envelope inside and hitched the strap over her shoulder. “Is my boss...?” Paige grimaced. “Did he make it?”
“I’m sorry,” the detective replied with a shake of his head.
A pang of grief stabbed her. She wasn’t a stranger to sorrow. After losing her husband and then her mother, she understood that life was short and could end in a blink.
“The office was ransacked.” Detective Finley drew her attention. “Any idea what the gunman was looking for?”
“No. I could look to see if anything is missing...” she offered, though the thought of returning to the scene of the crime gripped her with dread.
“This is a federal case because Donald Lessing was a federal employee,” the detective said. “They will be taking over as soon as they arrive. Once the victim is removed, the feds might take you up on the offer.” He focused on Officer Alonso. “Take her to the station. The FBI are going to want to talk to her. They can bring her back later.”
“Wait,” Paige said. “I need to get my son.” She was thankful she’d taken the bus into work today and wouldn’t be leaving her minivan parked in the garage. She tried to use public transportation occasionally to cut down on parking fees.
The officer hooked her hand around Paige’s elbow and tugged her toward the building exit. “We’ll stop on the way.”
Grateful, Paige allowed the officer to escort her to the police cruiser parked at the curb. She slid into the back seat while the officer climbed in front and used the radio to tell dispatch she was bringing in a witness.
She turned to stare at Paige through the bulletproof glass separating the front and back seats. “Address?”
Paige sat forward and told her the home day care’s location. She settled back and buckled up, but she couldn’t shake the unease sliding through her veins and making her skin crawl. She’d seen the killer. The image of the man popped up in her mind like a spooky jack-in-the-box clown. She prayed she wouldn’t be harmed by the burden of witnessing a murder.
The police cruiser peeled away from the building and headed down the street. The downtown traffic was minimal. As they wound their way through the city toward the residential area of Whiskey Creek, Paige worked hard to steady her breathing. She didn’t want to alarm her son. Her hands still shook, her fingers cold. She lifted a prayer for this nightmare to be over.
Suddenly the police officer sped up.
Paige’s heart thumped. “What’s going on?”
“This is Officer Alonso,” she said into her radio. “Requesting backup. I’m being followed and they are coming up fast.” She gave the address of where they were. To Paige, she said, “Brace yourself. They’re going to hit us.”
As the words left the officer’s mouth, there was a jarring impact at the back of the vehicle. Paige’s teeth rattled in her head. The patrol car rotated in a wide circle. The tires screeched on the pavement. Paige screamed and grabbed the door handle. The side of the cruiser slammed into a tree planted in the green space of the median strip separating the south and northbound lanes.
Gasping for breath, she fought to gain her equilibrium.
In the front seat, Officer Alonso was slumped against the window.
Paige banged her fist against the glass. “Wake up. Wake up.”
The back window exploded. A shower of glass rained down on Paige. She screamed and worked to unbuckle the seat belt. There was no door handle. There was no mechanism for her to disengage the lock. She was trapped inside the car with an assassin on her tail.
She scrunched down as small as she could on the floorboard and dug out her cell phone from her purse. She dialed 911.
“Come on,” she muttered as the phone rang.
The door handle above her head rattled. Someone was trying to get in.
Another blast of glass rained down on Paige as the back passenger-side door window exploded. Startled, she dropped the phone.
A rough hand grabbed her by the hair, yanking her up and trying to pull her out of the car. She screamed and grabbed onto the seat belt to anchor herself in the car.
“Just kill her already,” that same female voice said from outside the car.
Paige’s heart contracted painfully in her chest. Lord, please! Please, you can’t let me die. Kenny can’t lose both of his parents.
The wail of sirens rent the air. The screech of tires on pavement brought the hope of rescue.
The man released his hold on Paige’s hair. She scrambled away to the other side of the back seat. She heard the popping noise of the gun. A searing pain lanced across the top of her shoulder. Had she been shot? Please, Lord, I don’t want to die. I can’t leave Kenny alone.
* * *
Deputy US Marshal Lucas “Caveman” Cavendish entered his boss’s office in the San Antonio headquarters of the US Marshal service. Marshal Gavin Armstrong nodded his silver-haired head and gestured to the captain seat across the desk from him.
“Am I in trouble?” Lucas asked, half-joking. Wasn’t often he was called into the boss’s office in the late hours of the evening. He swept the tan cowboy hat off his head and crossed one booted ankle over his knee.
“Not in the least.” Gavin’s deep gravelly voice rubbed around Lucas as if sanding down the edges.
There was something about Gavin that put people at ease. Just one of the things that made him such a great marshal and boss. Some speculated he would retire soon. Lucas hoped they were false rumors.
“I need you to bring a witness here while a relocation package is put together.” He slid a file folder across the desk.
Lucas bit back a groan. He preferred tactical operations and fugitive investigations. The more active roles within the marshal’s service. He liked taking down the bad guys. Not babysitting witnesses.
