LEFT FOR DEAD

When his partner turns on him and tries to kill him, FBI agent Jack Mitchell is framed for murder and abandoned…until a blue-eyed beauty saves his life. Even in his wounded haze Jack sees Casey Johnson is hiding a secret. As the only witness to his innocence, Jack needs her. But Casey doesn’t know who’s more dangerous—the man who wants Jack dead or the handsome agent himself. For if Jack knew the reason she escaped to the wilderness with her niece, he’d have to arrest her. But on the run with Jack, Casey realizes that more than her secret is at stake now. So is her heart.…

“We should call the police.

“We can tell them what happened at your cabin yesterday, and you can tell them about when I got shot. This whole thing can be over right now.”

Casey took a step back, her eyes wide and fearful. “I can’t do that, Jack.” What was it that had her so scared?

A flash of frustration filled him. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“Both. It’s the same thing.”

Jack noticed that she didn’t deny she’d seen the shooting. She was just refusing to testify, and without her testimony, Jack still had nothing concrete to prove his innocence or Stevens’s guilt.

He glanced back up at Casey, who had taken another step backward. She looked incredibly vulnerable and her expression squeezed his heart. He still didn’t know her story, but she had just saved his life. Again. Jack made a decision. He would figure out her history and the cause of her reticence at some point, but for now he’d have to think of something else.

KATHLEEN TAILER

is an attorney who works for the Supreme Court of Florida in the Office of the State Courts Administrator, where she works on programs that are designed to enhance and improve dependency courts throughout the state. She previously worked for the Florida Department of Children and Families, handling child-abuse cases both as a line attorney and in the DCF General Counsel’s Office. She enjoys teaching business law online classes at Liberty University and working on finding homes for orphans with the Open Door Adoption Agency. She and her husband have eight children, five of whom they adopted. When not in the office, Kathleen spends most of her time cheering for her kids at different events or spending quiet time (hah!) at home. Kathleen has previously published two articles for Fostering Families Today, a magazine for foster families, and two novels, entitled Children in the Wind and Under the Marshal’s Protection. She also plays drums on the worship team at Calvary Chapel Thomasville.

The Reluctant Witness
Kathleen Taile

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.

—John 15:13

For my dear friends Wendy Maxwell Franchell, Suzy Harrington and Linda Merritt.

Some friendships fade over time, but in you, I’ve found friendship that will last a lifetime.

May God bless each of you with a full and happy life.

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

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

EXCERPT

ONE

The first bullet whizzed by his head and ricocheted off the rock behind him. The second caught him square in the shoulder and burned like fire immediately upon impact. Pain shot down his arm, and he could feel the blood dampening his shirt as it pooled around the wound.

FBI agent Jack Mitchell took a fortifying breath, then cast a quick look around the tree and returned fire. A shootout was the last thing he’d expected when he’d come to the isolated cabin looking for a lead in his current case. But while he hadn’t been expecting the gunmen, they had clearly been expecting him.

As best he could tell, there were at least two men out there shooting at him. He fired again and heard a moan as one of his bullets struck home, eliminating one of his enemies. He took cover again behind the tree and patted his pocket to assess his ammunition stock. He still had one full clip of fifteen cartridges left. He hoped it was enough. The remaining gunman was still shooting at him, and bits of bark and leaves flew like fireworks as the bullets decimated the surrounding forest.

The shooting stopped abruptly, and Jack guessed that his opponent was reloading or changing his position. He looked quickly around the tree and saw no movement, but he knew the remaining shooter was still out there somewhere. He bent and looked carefully around the surrounding area. It was time for him to move, too—he just needed to decide which direction was safest. He grimaced as pain from his shoulder intensified and he shifted to ease the throbbing. With a short prayer, he headed up toward a boulder to his right.

He never made it.

Another bullet caught him in the thigh and he fell hard, way short of his destination. He struggled to stand again and make it to cover as agonizing pain radiated through his leg, but he could barely do more than shift himself forward. The pain on its own was nearly debilitating, and it didn’t help that he was losing blood fast.

Suddenly he heard a noise from directly in front of him and realized there was a weapon pointed straight at his chest. He glanced up to lock eyes with the man holding the gun and saw a coldness there that chilled him right to the bone. He’d known Brett Stevens since they’d gone to the academy together. They had been partners for almost five years, yet he had never suspected the man of being dirty. Stevens had hid it well. And the gun he held on Jack with no hint of regret made it clear that he planned to hide it awhile longer.

Dread washed over him. He was going to die, right here on the forest floor. Regrets flashed through his head. He wasn’t ready to die. He was only thirty years old, and the rising star in the Bureau’s local field office. There were still plenty of things he was planning to do with his life. Apparently, he wasn’t going to get the chance.

“You shouldn’t have come out here, Mitchell,” Stevens said, his voice grating like gravel. “Put your gun down now.”

Another gunman joined them in the clearing and Jack realized that there had been more men out in the woods than he had originally thought. With three guns against him he had been outmaneuvered from the beginning. He glanced at the new man, but once he realized that the guy was a stranger, Jack ignored him and focused on Stevens. Maybe he had a chance of convincing his partner that murder wasn’t the answer.

“This can all be worked out, Brett. If you give yourself up now, we can still fix this. Don’t throw your life away.”

“My life? My life has been over ever since my team lost the Super Bowl. I have debts, Jack. Colby offered me a chance to make the cash to pay what I owe. It was all working out just fine...until you decided to start digging. You brought this on yourself.” He motioned slightly with his gun, then brought it back to point at Jack’s midriff. “Besides, Jack, out of all the lives out here, the one you should be worried about is your own.”

“Don’t do this,” Jack said, shaking his head, his hands up in a motion of surrender. “I’ll help you get back on the right track. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Stevens laughed, but it was filled with bitterness. “Nobody can help me. I’m too far down the road to turn back now.” He motioned with his pistol again. “What’s in the bag?”

Jack glanced down at the satchel he had dropped on the ground. He had found a laptop and quite a few papers in the private investigator’s cabin that he had just searched, but he needed time to analyze everything before he would know the true value of what he had discovered.

Earlier he’d hoped the laptop and papers would contain the evidence he had been hunting for that would implicate a ring of conspirators operating out of the federal courthouse. Apparently Stevens was also one of the conspirators. The knowledge was a bitter pill for Jack to swallow. He had considered that maybe someone on the FBI payroll was involved, but it had never occurred to him that Stevens would turn on his own. How had he missed that? Why hadn’t he seen the evil lurking right below the surface in this man he had worked with every day for the past five years?

He glanced up at Stevens, whose familiar eyes now looked dark and sinister. “Just a laptop and some papers,” Jack hedged, hoping that if he somehow survived this encounter he could still use the evidence to break the case.

Stevens aimed and shook his head. “Goodbye, Mitchell.”

Jack tried to dive behind a tree to escape, but it was an exercise in futility. The impact from the bullet caught him hard and spun his body around as it ripped into the flesh on his side. He was still falling when the second shot caught him in the head. For the moment, gravity had saved his life, giving him enough momentum that the bullet sliced a trail across his forehead rather than passing straight through to his brain. But how long would it take before blood loss—or another bullet from Stevens—finished the job?

His body hit the ground hard. Pain enveloped him and he struggled to stay conscious. He felt Stevens kick his ribs, but he had enough presence of mind to try to remain as still as possible. He felt another kick, and it took everything inside him not to react to the agony that radiated up his side and around the assortment of bullet wounds. He heard the other man take a few steps toward him and holster his weapon.

“Now what? This partner of yours was a pretty good shot. He managed to kill Milo down on the ridge. Now we’ve got two bodies to dispose of.”

“Let’s take care of Milo’s body first.” Stevens shifted and Jack could hear his partner’s shoes rustling the leaves as he started to pace.

His partner had always had a creative side. Jack guessed Stevens was already devising a plan in his mind to explain what had happened this afternoon. The man would probably tell just enough truth to keep him from mixing up the story if he ever got interrogated, but he would name Jack as the criminal and would try to get the conspiracy investigation closed as soon as possible. The thought made Jack sick inside.

A moment passed, then another. Suddenly Stevens stopped and a laugh erupted.

“What’s so funny?” the other gunman snarled, his voice gruff. “I don’t see anything to laugh about in two dead bodies that might somehow come back and bite me.”

Stevens secured his weapon and snapped the holster shut. “Let’s put Milo in Jack’s trunk and park his car back at his apartment. It’ll throw the local cops off our trail, and Jack won’t be around to defend himself or point the finger at us. That should keep the heat off and make such a huge stink that nobody will even think to look in our direction. After we dump Milo, we can come back up here, clean up the scene and bury Jack. My uncle has some property near here that’ll be the perfect place to hide the body. Nobody ever goes over there.”

“You’re the boss. I’ve got some plastic in my trunk for just such an occasion. We can make it look like he was about to dispose of the body but got interrupted.”

“Perfect.”

A wave of nausea swept over Jack as he fought to keep in the here and now. Still, he struggled through the pain and tried to concentrate on their words. He heard Stevens reach down, grab the satchel and sift through the contents. A few seconds passed and then the bag closed with a snap.

“See anything in there that’s a problem?”

“I don’t know. It’s going to take me some time to sort through it all. I’ll take it along just in case.”

Jack tried not to tense as he felt Stevens reach over, pat his pockets and pull out his car keys.

“Aren’t you even gonna check the guy’s pulse? There’s an awful lot of blood, but I’m telling you I don’t want to take any chances.”

Stevens’s voice took on a menacing tone. “Relax. You worry too much. I know killing Jack wasn’t part of the plan, but I think it can actually work to our advantage if we play our cards right.” He paused. “All right. If it makes you feel better, I’ll check.” Jack felt Stevens reach toward his neck, but suddenly a cell phone ring broke the silence.

Stevens pulled back and answered the phone. “What? Okay. I’m on my way. Don’t move without me.” The cell phone snapped shut with a click and Stevens stood abruptly.

“We have to go. Now. Colby has an emergency and needs us downtown. Let’s get Milo’s body and get out of here. We’ll come back and take care of Jack later.”

Jack heard them retreat and breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive—for now. But his thoughts were getting fuzzy and he could feel the life ebbing from him as his blood soaked into the ground. He tried to move and groaned as another wave of pain swept over him. He paused a moment, then tried again. His limbs felt heavy and nothing seemed to work right. With another groan he succumbed to the blackness, wondering if he would ever see the light of day again.

* * *

Casey Johnson gasped and shrank back against the bushes. From her position on the cliff she had clearly seen the entire scene play out, and her heart was beating overtime as fear washed over her. They had just killed that man in cold blood!

She’d been out taking her daily run when she’d heard the first shot and had quickly made her way toward the edge of the cliff to see the valley below. Seconds later she had crouched behind some shrubbery, hoping the plant and her green shirt would camouflage her from the murderers’ sight as the horrible scene had played out in front of her. What were they doing up here? Why had they killed that man? Her heart felt as if it was about to come right out of her chest and her limbs felt frozen and numb.

A movement caught her eye and she saw the two men get into a blue two-door vehicle, drive down the road a short distance and pull onto the grass before exiting the car again. A few seconds later the two men returned, carrying a body out of the woods. Casey swallowed hard as realization swept over her. Two men were dead, not just one. She watched, horrified, as they wrapped the body in a large sheet of plastic and threw it into the trunk of the car. Seconds later, the blue car and a brown sedan, each driven by one of the shooters, sped down the road, leaving a plume of dirt and a dead man behind them.

Questions and trepidation spun through Casey’s head. What had happened? Why had there been a gun battle out here only a short distance from her cabin? She sat back and tried to keep her hands from shaking. Did the gunshots have anything to do with her situation? Various scenarios abounded in her mind, and she stayed hidden a few moments, mulling over the possibilities. She’d thought she was still safe, but she should have known better than to have assumed anything. Still, the idea that her brother-in-law had sent them didn’t quite fit. If the men had been looking for her, they wouldn’t have ended up shooting each other, or left so quickly without finding their quarry. No, it seemed clear that their target had been the man that was still lying on the ground below.

She quickly raced down the mountainside, anxious to see if the man who had been left on the forest floor was indeed dead or had somehow survived. Even as she approached, two questions rang through her head. Why hadn’t the murderers taken his body, as well? Would they be back? She’d seen the men talking from her spot on the ridge but she hadn’t been able to overhear their words, so she couldn’t be sure about their plans.

Nothing about this scenario made sense. They were pretty high up in the mountains, and it was rare for Casey to have any human company other than her niece, who lived with her. Only a few cabins dotted the mountainside, and most were empty except during the summer months. She had picked this location for that very reason. She didn’t want any visitors. In fact, keeping her location a secret was vital. Still, she couldn’t just walk away without at least checking on the fallen man.

She tripped on a root but righted herself quickly and continued down the mountain, slowing her pace to make sure she didn’t reveal her presence in case there were others still in the woods. It didn’t take long for her to find a blood trail, and she gasped at the red stains that painted the ground. Surely the man was dead, or there wouldn’t have been so much blood. She followed it back to where it had probably started with the man’s first injury, before the final confrontation. A large pool of blood had soaked into the ground, and even more droplets of blood painted the leaves of the nearby bushes. She looked around carefully, searching for any other clues that might explain what had happened and why the men were in the woods in the first place, but she found nothing.

“Help me.” The voice was soft, so soft that at first, Casey thought she’d imagined it. She quickly headed up to where she had seen the shooting and heard a soft moan as she approached. She stepped over a fallen log, her eyes warily searching the area around her. She heard another moan and moved cautiously toward the sound, constantly looking over her shoulder, just in case.

The man was lying on his back, but Casey could see drag marks on the ground where he had tried to push himself up. Blood stained his khaki pants and the navy long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. She stepped closer and got a better look at the embroidery on the shirt pocket. There was a law enforcement shield with the words Federal Bureau of Investigation written underneath.

She flinched and felt her heart skip a beat. FBI? This could be a disaster! Fear flooded her as she thought of her peaceful mountain retreat invaded by federal agents. How could she protect herself from that? How could she protect Chloe? Her legs tensed and every instinct in her told her to run.

But she wouldn’t. She’d stay calm and think this through. The man was alone for now, and certainly no threat to her in his condition. And she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she just left him behind without even trying to help.

She looked at his face and gasped. A large gash ripped the skin just below the hairline over his left eye, and blood covered his face. Head wounds always bled an amazing amount, but this man’s wounds made him look as if he were already dead.

She knelt carefully by his side and felt for a pulse. He groaned at her touch. That was good. If he was alert enough to feel the pressure, then maybe he wasn’t as far gone as she had thought. His heartbeat was strong and he seemed to be breathing well, but he had already lost a lot of blood. She began to pull back, but he grasped her arm.

“Help me,” he whispered. His eyes were open but were so full of agony that Casey wasn’t even sure that he was seeing her. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed it, then gently pulled her arm away from him, ignoring the blood.

“I’m going to help you. I promise.” She examined the wound on his side and then gently felt underneath him to see if she could locate an exit wound. There was one, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the bullet had gone clean through. She did the same exam with the leg wound and found that that bullet had also left an exit wound. The man hadn’t been so lucky with his shoulder wound and she knew that the bullet must still be in the muscle tissue. Quickly she pulled off her sweatshirt and started ripping it into strips, ignoring the cold that penetrated her thin T-shirt.

The man moved a little at her ministrations and groaned as she started binding his injuries. Casey started talking, trying to soothe him with her words as she worked. “It’s okay, mister. I’m actually not a total novice at all of this. I was in med school for a few years and I’m trying to stop the bleeding for you. You’re going to be okay. It’s going to take you a while to heal, but you’ll be fine once we stitch you up.” She tried to infuse her voice with hope, but she knew that if she didn’t get the bleeding stopped pretty quickly that he would die right here, lying on the ground.

Once she’d finished bandaging him, she took his face gently in her hands and tried to make eye contact with him. He had dark brown eyes that were full of anguish. She still wasn’t sure if he was registering her presence or not, but she had to try.

“Look, you’re too heavy for me to carry, and you’re in no condition to walk out of here, so I need to go get my car. Stay put and I’ll be right back, okay? Try not to move. I will come back. Do you hear me? I won’t be long. I promise.” She gave him a gentle smile, then turned and started running quickly toward her cabin. It was about a mile away and the adrenalin she was feeling helped her arrive at her front door in a little over fifteen minutes.

Chloe met her at the door, her eyes wide at the sight of the blood that had gotten all over Casey. Mentally, Casey scolded herself for not having anticipated this problem. The child was only ten years old—of course she was spooked, especially with her own experiences with injuries.

“Aunt Casey? Oh, no, what happened? Are you okay?”

Casey nodded as she tried to catch her breath, quickly grabbing her car keys and heading to the bathroom as she did so. “It’s not my blood, honey. I’m fine, but somebody else is hurt, and I need to go back and help him. Can you fill up a water bottle for me?” She grabbed several towels from under the sink, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a first-aid kit and raced toward the back door where the car was parked, then stopped and took the water bottle the girl held out to her.

“Chloe, I need your help. I’m going to bring the injured man back with me. Can you put some clean sheets on the couch? I’m also going to need your help bringing him into the house. He’s gonna be really heavy.”

Chloe nodded, her expression solemn. “Are you sure he’s a nice man?” There was a measure of fear in her voice, so Casey stepped forward and carefully hugged her, trying to keep the majority of the blood from getting on the child as she did so.

“I hope so, Chloe. He was attacked by some bad men and he really needs our help. But you’re right that we should be cautious around him. He’s wearing a shirt that says he works for the FBI, so that makes him dangerous. We’ll have to be very careful about how we talk around him. I have to go right now because every second counts if I want to help him, but we’ll talk a lot more about this when I get him settled. Okay?” Casey gave her a squeeze, then raced to the car and started driving back down the mountain. Was she making a huge mistake? What if the man discovered her past? Time would tell....

TWO

Jack had seen a princess. She had hovered over him for a few minutes and then disappeared, but he had definitely seen her. She looked exactly like the princess in the book his baby sister made him read to her over and over again when she was little. The funny thing was she wasn’t wearing a gown or a tiara. Instead, her dark brown hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a simple sweatshirt and running pants. Still, she had definitely had the most amazing blue eyes he had ever seen, and was the perfect twin to the beautiful princess from the storybook.

He wiped his eyes with his good hand, trying to get some of the blood away that was clouding his vision, but it seemed futile. The pain was so intense in so many places that he was still having trouble just staying conscious.

“Hey, mister. You still hanging in there?” The soft melodious voice surprised him, and when he opened his eyes, his princess was back, smiling at him and tying towels around the makeshift bandages that covered the wounds on his leg and torso. “I told you I’d be back. I promised—and I never break a promise.”

His mouth didn’t seem able to form words, so he just nodded, hoping she would understand. She moved his bad arm across his chest and somehow fashioned a sling around it that she tied to his neck. Then she put a washcloth against his head wound and secured it with an elastic bandage. Gently she wiped the blood out of his eyes with a small damp cloth, and he got a better look at her. She had a smile on her face that he assumed was for his benefit, but also a look of worry that she couldn’t quite hide. After she finished her ministrations, she leaned over him and gently cupped his face again. As severely injured as he was, he still found himself mesmerized by her eyes.

“We have to move you now, and even though it’s going to hurt, I’m gonna need your help. You’re a big guy and I’m sure you’re more than I can carry alone. Can you help me?”

Jack’s mind raced as his brain came back online. Okay. She wasn’t a princess after all, but she was helping him. He only remembered bits and pieces of what Stevens had said while standing over his body, but it was enough to know that he wasn’t safe staying where he was. Cooperating with this stranger was his only chance of survival. He nodded to her and grimaced as she moved him slowly into a sitting position. She braced herself under his good shoulder and he did all he could to help, yet it was still slow going as she got him to his feet and moved him toward the car parked only a few feet away. Eventually they were able to maneuver him into the back seat, though small beads of sweat popped out on his forehead from the effort.

The next thing he knew, she was tugging at him again to help him get out of the car, and he realized that he must have blacked out during the journey. He looked around, searching for hospital attendants, but saw none. In fact, from what he could see, he was still in the woods near a small log cabin.

“Are we...hospital?” he asked quietly, struggling to make a complete thought.

“No, sorry. We’re at my cabin. The nearest hospital is about two and a half hours away, and I doubt you could survive the trip.”

A small girl suddenly appeared behind the woman, and he noticed she had the same big blue eyes. She was a pretty child, with blond hair instead of brown, yet her expression was marred with worry. As the woman pulled him up out of the car, the girl tried to offer assistance as well but finally gave up and awkwardly ended up holding the door open for them instead.

“Thanks, Chloe. You’re the best.” The woman’s voice was soft, yet still somewhat musical to Jack’s ears. That was the last coherent thought he could manage before once again falling into blackness.

* * *

“Whoa!” Casey said forcefully as the man lost consciousness again and leaned heavily against her. They were only a couple of feet from the couch, but there was no way she could maneuver him that far now that he wasn’t helping. He was just too heavy for her to manage. She awkwardly eased him to the floor as gently as she could and after a few minutes had him lying on his back only a few feet from the fireplace.

“Chloe, honey, I’m going to spend some time cleaning up his wounds and checking out his injuries. Do you think you could build us a fire? We don’t want him to get too chilly.”

“Okay, Aunt Casey.” The child looked him over from head to toe. “He really is big. Are you sure he isn’t going to hurt us?”

Casey raised an eyebrow. She doubted the man would be a physical threat to anybody for quite a while, but the fact that he was an FBI agent was definitely disturbing. She sighed. It was more than disturbing. It was downright dangerous. Still, she couldn’t leave him out in the woods to die. Bringing him here had been her only option. Yet she knew the man’s presence signaled that her time left in the cabin was limited and she would soon have to find a new place to live. She didn’t want Chloe to worry about it, though. The child had been through enough.

“He’s probably a very nice man, honey, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up. For now let’s just be very careful about what we say around him, like I said before. He can’t know who we are or why we’re living here. Do you understand? No last names, no information about where we came from and no telling him about anything that happened in Florida, okay?”

“Okay.” The child’s lip quivered and Casey pulled her close and gave her a hug. “I know this isn’t what we planned to do when we came up here, sweet pea, but life is precious. We can’t leave this man out in the woods to die because of our secrets. God wants us to always love our neighbors and help other people whenever we can, not just when it’s convenient.”

“But what if he’s mean? What if he tries to hurt us?”

Casey grimaced as Chloe’s words tore at her heart. No ten-year-old girl should have to live in fear, but her young niece had already lived a lifetime’s worth of trepidation. “He’s injured really badly, Chloe. He’s not going to be doing anything to anybody for a while. But once he starts getting better, if he tries to hurt you in any way, all you have to do is scream and I’ll come running to stop him. I’ll protect you. I promise.” She flicked the girl’s nose playfully. “Now run and get my doctor bag for me while I get some things I need out of the kitchen.”

The girl darted away and Casey watched her go, then turned back to her patient. She hoped she had enough of the correct supplies to do what she needed to help this man under these primitive conditions. At least she had confidence in her training. She had completed four years of medical school and had been on her way to a residency program in the Atlanta area only five short months ago, but that life seemed like almost a dream at this point. Since then, her entire world had been upended. She had given up her future and everything else in her life all to make sure Chloe would be safe. The sacrifice had been worth it, and she would do it again in a heartbeat, but she couldn’t deny it felt good to be practicing medicine again. She’d loved learning to be a doctor and finding ways to help people get better. It had always been her dream, ever since she was a child.

She covered the man with a green cotton quilt, then went into the kitchen, got a large bowl of water and started heating it in the microwave. Then she grabbed a pair of scissors and a few other items she needed from the drawers. When the water was warm, she took it back into the living room beside the man, then took the scissors and cut away enough of his clothing to expose and treat the wounds. Chloe had brought her medical bag and also gotten a small fire going, then disappeared. Casey knew the child had probably gone back into the bedroom with a book and was silently glad that Chloe hadn’t wanted to watch her work. Cleaning and treating this man’s injuries wasn’t going to be pretty.

She opened her medical bag and was instantly thankful that she always kept it stocked in case of an emergency. She had never expected an emergency of this proportion, however, and she rummaged through the bag’s contents, hoping she would find sufficient supplies for closing his wounds. The bleeding had stopped on his leg and shoulder, so she focused on the wound on his side that was definitely the most life threatening. She checked for internal bleeding and said a silent prayer, hoping that the bullet hadn’t hit any vital organs. Seeing none of the telltale signs, she cleaned the damaged area and started carefully stitching the skin together, thankful that the man was unconscious and unable to feel the pain that would undoubtedly haunt him when he woke up again.

After she had finished treating that injury, Casey turned her focus to the gash in the man’s forehead. It was a deep slash and it took her quite a while to complete her work. She had not trained to be a plastic surgeon—or even a general surgeon—but she tried her best to keep her stitches small and even to minimize the scar. The man had dark brown hair in a very short, clean-cut style, but if he grew it out a tad on top, he could probably cover the scar with very little effort.

When she finished, she sat back and rested for a minute, taking stock of her handiwork. So far, so good. She looked carefully at the man’s face. He was actually kind of handsome, in a military sort of way. He had strong features, including deep-set eyes, high, chiseled cheekbones and a wide, authoritative jaw.

Again she wondered what had brought him out here to the mountains. She’d only been living here about five months and didn’t know any of her neighbors, but she still couldn’t imagine why an FBI agent would be in this neck of the woods. Who had those other men been? Criminals he’d been trying to arrest? She blew out a breath and reminded herself to stay focused on her task. Wondering wouldn’t bring her any answers right now.

She continued her work. At some point he would probably answer all of her questions if she could just get him healthy again.

The leg wound was next. The man moved a little as she worked but then seemed to lose consciousness once again. Casey said another silent prayer of thankfulness, glad that he was again out cold so he didn’t feel the pain. All she had with her was a local anesthetic, and it wouldn’t do much to help the throbbing he would have been feeling if he’d been conscious. She was especially not looking forward to digging the bullet out of his shoulder without the proper analgesic, but after completing her stitching on the leg wound, she took a fortifying breath and started her work.

About an hour later, with sweat covering her brow, she’d finished the last of her surgeries and had dressed all of his wounds. She pulled off the rubber gloves she had been wearing and tossed them into the bowl of bloody towels, then checked his pulse and breathing one more time. Everything looked good and his pulse was strong. What he needed now was rest and time to heal. She covered him with a blanket again and leaned back, exhausted.

She paused a moment, then reached for the wallet that she had removed from his pocket. He had a law enforcement shield on one side, and on the other a couple of credit cards and his driver’s license. There was some cash inside, but she didn’t bother counting it—it was none of her business. But she refused to feel guilty for flipping out the license and examining the picture and the other information. She had a right to know the name of the man she’d let into her home.

The driver’s license definitely showed the man lying before her. According to the small print, his name was Jack Mitchell and he hailed from Charlotte, North Carolina. She closed her eyes and said a prayer for Jack Mitchell. Whether he survived or not was in God’s hands now. She could do nothing else for him but pray.

THREE

Casey adjusted the volume on the TV set, then sat back. The newswoman was interviewing a large Latino man who was identified as FBI unit chief José Mendoza. He was grim and stone faced and his expression was haggard, as if he didn’t want to accept what was unfolding around him. Crime-scene tape fluttered behind them and red-and-blue police lights lit up the scene and cast shadows around the apartment building’s parking lot.

A blue sedan was parked in the background and a group of men and women wearing FBI jackets surrounded the open trunk. Casey could just make out a thick piece of plastic hanging over the edge that seemed smudged with blood. Her heartbeat increased. That car had to be the one she’d seen racing away from the mountain after Jack Mitchell had been shot. The man in the trunk had to be the other victim the men had loaded inside. She leaned forward, eager to find out more about what was going on.

“Chief Mendoza, I understand that the victim’s name is Milo Denton. Can you tell us anything about him?”

Mendoza shrugged. “I can tell you he was a private investigator from Raleigh. We’ve already notified his family.”

“Was he shot?”

“Yes ma’am, the victim did sustain a bullet wound. We’ll know more after the local medical examiner has a chance to process the scene and complete her investigation.”

“Did anyone hear the gunshots?”

The chief shook his head. “No one has come forward so far. We’re asking anyone with information about this situation to call our FBI hotline.” The number ran along the bottom of the television screen.

“Do you know if he was killed in that car or at another location?” the newswoman pressed, motioning toward the blue sedan.

Casey noticed a look of discomfort cross the man’s face. “We’re not sure yet. It’s too early and I’d only be speculating at this point. You’ll have to give us a chance to do our job and perform a thorough investigation. Once we’re finished, we’ll issue a full report.”

“Of course. Can you tell us who that car belongs to?”

“No comment. Now, if you don’t mind...” He turned to head to the crime scene, but the newswoman followed him.

“Can you tell us how the body was discovered?”

“Anonymous tip.”

“And why is the FBI involved? Have you been called in to aid the local police with the investigation?”

Mendoza grimaced. “I’m afraid that’s all I can say right now. I need to get back to work.”

The newswoman raised an eyebrow but turned back to the camera. “Well, ladies and gentleman, to recap, the body of private investigator Milo Denton was just discovered in the trunk of a car at the Midtown Apartment complex. Apparently Mr. Denton was the victim of gun violence, and both the FBI and local police are investigating at the scene. Be sure to tune in at six for a complete update.”

Casey turned the TV off, disturbed by what she’d heard and more confused than ever. It seemed like the shooters had wanted the body to be discovered. Only they could have known to call in the “anonymous tip.” Who was this Milo Denton, and how did he fit into the puzzle? And why had he been shooting at Jack yesterday?

She turned and dabbed Jack’s lips with the washcloth. There was no use speculating. Answers would come eventually. She rewet the cloth and touched his lips again, wishing she had a proper IV setup so she could give the man the fluids he needed. He was still unconscious, but he didn’t have a fever so far and she knew that she should count her blessings. She reached for her medical bag and began changing his bandages, carefully examining each wound for signs of infection. He was exactly where she expected him to be with his recovery, but she couldn’t stop herself from worrying. What if he died? What would she do with him then?

“Jaime? Jaime, is that you?”

Casey startled at his words. His voice was a mere whisper, but he was waking up and obviously disoriented. “Jaime, it hurts.”

She gently took his hand and ran her fingers over the skin in a soothing motion then squeezed lightly. “Shh. Don’t worry. You’re going to be okay. Just try to rest.”

He seemed placated by her words and drifted off again and she wondered for a moment who Jaime was. It was apparently someone important to him. A girlfriend...or a wife? He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but she’d heard that some law enforcement agents didn’t when they were on duty.

She finished changing the rest of the bandages, then gathered the old ones and leaned back. She was worried about him dying, but she almost had bigger problems if he lived. He was an FBI agent, and FBI agents were experts at discovering the truth. They were trained investigators, and the last thing she needed was someone asking questions about her and Chloe. Still, she couldn’t regret her decision to help him. He definitely would have died if she’d left him in the forest. Somehow she and Chloe would make it through this latest challenge. All she had to do now was figure out how.

* * *

A few days later Jack opened his eyes and groaned. Every muscle in his body seemed to hurt, and pain radiated from each of his wounds. He suddenly became aware of a girl about ten years old leaning over him and touching his lips with a wet cloth. He swallowed hard, his mouth incredibly dry.

“Water...please.”

The girl’s eyes widened when she realized he was conscious. “Aunt Casey! He’s awake! He just said something. Come here, come here!”

A few seconds later the woman he had mistaken for a princess stood before him with a grin on her face. “Hello, Agent Mitchell. Welcome back to the living.” She felt his forehead. “Not a bit of fever. You are definitely on the mend.”

The girl smiled at her aunt. “You did it, Aunt Casey! He’s alive!”

“God did it,” the lady corrected gently. “I just helped out a little.”

Jack was happy to be breathing, but his immediate need was for something to drink. He felt as if he’d swallowed a cup full of sand. “Water...”

“Of course,” Casey answered. “Let’s get you up a little bit first. Chloe, you put the straw up to his mouth once I lean him forward so he won’t choke.” She put her arms behind his back and gently lifted him forward, being careful to stay away from his shoulder wound. It hurt to move, but it felt so good to take a drink from the straw that he ignored the pain. He finished and Casey let him gently lie back down on the floor.

He looked around the small room and took in his surroundings. There was a small fire in the grate, and the rest of the room was obviously a log cabin with rustic yet comfortable furnishings. His eyes returned to the two ladies that were watching him closely. “Where am I?”

“You’re sharing our cabin,” the lady answered. “My name is Casey, and this is my niece, Chloe.” She paused. “I found you in the woods. You had been shot, so I brought you here to try to help you.”

Jack soaked in the information and searched for the memories. Bits and pieces of information flitted around in his brain. The last thing he clearly remembered was Stevens aiming his weapon at him and the bullet knocking him to the ground, and then a princess hovering over him. He looked back at Casey. She was definitely his princess. He remembered the clear blue eyes, but little else about how he had ended up on the floor in this cabin.

He looked around again, considering the bucolic setting. All in all, it was probably a good thing that she had brought him here. His life was obviously in danger, and Stevens could have very well finished him off for good if he had shown up in a public place in his current condition. He was clearly unable to defend himself. Still, he wondered why the woman hadn’t taken him to a hospital like most people would have done. He turned back to Casey and decided it was time to get some answers.

“Why not a hospital?”

The woman’s blue eyes quickly darted away for a moment, and Jack instantly knew that something wasn’t quite right.

“The nearest hospital is quite a distance away and I wasn’t sure you’d make it. You had lost a lot of blood.”

Jack mulled over her answer. He didn’t think she was lying, but she was definitely hiding something. His brain seemed foggy and he felt very weak and disoriented, but his investigator instincts told him that there was more to the story than she was telling him.

“How long have I been here?”

“Four days. You’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness, which is to be expected.”

He looked around at his makeshift bed. They had given him a pillow and blankets, and he was lying on a green braided carpet. “Why am I on the floor?” he asked.

“Because you weigh a ton!” Chloe blurted, then shyly shrank back. The two women shared a laugh, and Casey tugged on Chloe’s braid affectionately and received a smile for her efforts. Casey’s expression seemed somewhat relieved that the conversation had shifted and Jack noticed that her posture seemed tense. Yes, something definitely wasn’t right here, but he didn’t get the sense that he was in any danger with them. On the contrary, they had saved his life.

“We tried to get you to the couch, but you passed out and we just couldn’t manage to get you up there,” Casey said. “You’re a pretty big guy, Agent Mitchell. You’re lucky we got you in as far as we did.”

“Jack,” he corrected. “Please. Call me Jack.”

“Well, Jack, now that you’re awake, do you want us to help you up to the couch? It might be more comfortable.”

“No, not right now. I’m okay right here.” Just that small bit of conversation had tired him out and he felt himself becoming drowsy.

Casey noticed and felt his forehead again, then picked up the cup he had used and leaned back. “Okay. Chloe, let’s let our friend get some more rest. Can you throw another log on the fire? I’m going to go back outside and chop the rest of that wood.”

Jack felt a little strange to be lying on a floor out of commission while a woman was outside chopping wood, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. This whole scenario seemed strange and out of place, and he couldn’t seem to make sense of any of it. A host of questions floated around in his mind, but for now, he let sleep consume him.

The next time he awoke Casey was sitting by his side and gently changing his bandages. It was obviously later in the day and the evening sunlight was barely coming through the windows. The pain was a little less severe, but still throbbed at even the smallest movement. At least his head seemed clear and he was able to think straight for a change.

“Aspirin. Do you have any aspirin?”

Casey nodded. “Sure thing, Agent Mitchell...ah, Jack.” She reached for a bottle that was on the end table, took out two tablets and helped him hold his head up enough to take them with water from a straw. “They’re actually a little stronger than aspirin and might make you a little drowsy.” Jack raised an eyebrow but didn’t question her about the pills. He had so many questions at this point that what type of pain medicine she was giving him was pretty far down the list.

“So you’re the one who stitched me up, right?”

“That’s right.”

“What was the damage?”

“You got shot four times. Your leg injury missed the bone and is just a flesh wound. With some physical therapy you should heal up quite nicely. The gash on your forehead is the same. There was a lot of blood, but no bone damage. The one on the side there is a testament to God’s grace—it just missed your vital organs by a hair. Your shoulder wound also missed the bone, but I had to dig out the bullet.” She held up a little bag that was sitting on the end table. “I saved it for you as a souvenir.” She gave him a soft smile. “All in all, it’s amazing that you weren’t hurt any worse. I was really worried that you’d go into shock because of all of the blood loss or that you’d have internal bleeding, but you’ve pulled through amazingly well.”

He wrinkled his brow. “Are you a doctor?”

Casey shook her head. “No, but I’ve had some medical training.”

“Enough to operate on my shoulder and take out the bullet?”

“Apparently.” She put the bag back on the table and moved as if she were going to get up, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her escape. Her expression was guarded.

“Do you have my gun?”

“I do, but I unloaded it and put it away. I didn’t want Chloe to get curious.”

He loosened his grip. That made sense. Children and guns didn’t mix. “What about my satchel? It was black leather with a silver buckle. Do you have it?” He tried to remember what had happened to it. Had Stevens taken it? A foggy memory seemed to suggest that, but he couldn’t be sure. All he could really remember was the fire in Stevens’s eyes right before he had pulled the trigger.

Casey shook her head again. “No. I didn’t see a satchel anywhere around when I found you.”

That was disappointing. No, it was devastating. The laptop and papers he’d discovered were the only lead he’d found. He’d been desperately hoping that they held evidence that would actually support his theories. Now he was virtually back to square one in his investigation. No, worse than square one, because this time he didn’t even have a partner to watch his back—or shove a knife in it.

He grimaced as he remembered Stevens’s betrayal. His partner’s reprehensible acts caused a wave of anger to surge within him, and he fisted his hands and tried to sit up. Casey reached over and gently pushed him back down. “I don’t think moving around right now is a really great idea.”

“I need to get that bag,” he said roughly.

Casey nodded. “Okay. I can go look for it later, but right now you need to rest. You can’t go gallivanting around the countryside until you’ve healed up. If it’s still there now, it will still be there in an hour or so. Right? I promise I’ll go look for it when I go out in a few minutes.”

Jack groaned as pain shot through his wounds, and he quit moving. He closed his eyes for a moment while he regrouped, then opened them again and glanced at the way he was dressed. “Where did these clothes come from?” He was clad in gray shorts and a navy T-shirt—neither of which he recognized.

“This cabin belongs to a friend of mine, and you two are about the same size. He had some spare clothes in a drawer, so I borrowed them for you. I know he won’t mind.”

Jack took the information in. He knew he was asking a lot of questions all at once, but he just couldn’t help himself. “You said I’ve been here four days, right?”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Four days, and you still didn’t want to call an ambulance?” He paused, but didn’t get a reply. “Does anyone else know I’m here?”

Jack could see the hesitance in her eyes. When she answered, her voice was shaking. “No. We don’t have a phone and we live in a very remote area.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and she rushed on with her explanation. “Don’t get the wrong idea. You’re not a prisoner. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll drive you down the mountain and take you to a hospital or wherever you want to go.”

He reached over and grabbed her arm. “What if I said I was ready now?” He wasn’t really. He still needed to discover the extent of his partner’s betrayal and talk to his unit chief before he showed his face in public. Jack also knew he was in no condition to travel anywhere, yet he wanted to know her response just the same.

She looked a bit surprised but finally shrugged. “Then I’ll drive you down. Just let me get my coat.”

A moment passed, then another as he gauged her reaction. Finally he sank back. “I doubt I could make it to the car yet. I’d better stay a couple more days.” He squeezed her arm, then released her. Although he knew something wasn’t right about her situation, he was pretty sure she meant him no harm. In fact, it was obvious that he would have died if she hadn’t come to his aid. She was definitely hiding something, but whatever her secret was, she’d risked it by taking him in, with nothing to gain from helping him.

“Thank you, Princess, for everything you’ve done. You saved my life.”

She looked at him and their eyes met. “You’re welcome.”

He had never seen such striking eyes outside of a storybook. They were such a clear blue that he felt like he was looking at a warm summer sky. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail again, which only served to accent her high cheekbones and full lips. He guessed that she was in her late twenties, which seemed odd to him because most women in their twenties that he knew didn’t live out in the middle of nowhere with a young girl. What was she doing out here? And where were Chloe’s parents?

“How long have you been living here?” he asked, and was immediately alerted when her eyes darted away again.

She seemed to be considering something, because eventually she made a decision and looked back at him with determination written all over her face.

“Look, Jack, I might as well tell you up-front. We value our privacy out here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to recuperate, but please don’t ask a lot of questions. I won’t lie to you, but I won’t answer you, either. Okay?”

Jack studied her carefully. He didn’t believe for one minute that her reticence was due to privacy concerns, but he could be patient if he needed to. If he paid close attention, both Casey and Chloe would probably let bits of information slip in normal conversation. Being an investigator was too ingrained in him to just let this mystery go. And that meant he had to try to ask at least one more question.

“Can you at least tell me your name?”

She looked surprised. “I already told you. It’s Casey.”

“Casey what?”

“Just Casey is fine.”

Jack leaned toward her, then grimaced as pain shot through his shoulder. “Look, I’m not trying to give you a hard time or be rude, but you must realize that I’m an FBI agent, and your behavior is suspicious, even for a woman who values her privacy.”

“I can’t help that, Jack. I’m not a princess and I’m not a puzzle. I’m just a woman who enjoys a quiet life who’s trying to make her way through the world.” She gave him a smile that told him the subject was closed, then picked up the old bandages and disappeared. He watched her go, more intrigued than ever.

What was her story? Better yet, what was her full name? And most importantly, what had happened that made her feel she had to hide? She was brave enough to rescue a stranger and perform surgeries to save his life. So why did she seem so afraid?

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