No Home for the Holidays (5 page)

“Let go of her now.” Colton walked toward them, the gun still aimed at them.

“You aren't going to shoot an FBI agent, are you?”

“Show me your ID. Your fake badge didn't impress me all that much.”

“Sorry. I must have left it at home.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought. Let her go now or I shoot.” Colton kept moving toward them.

The gun moved ever so slightly. Now it was pointed away from her and seemed aimed directly at her captor's head.

The man's grip loosened.

Chloe jerked away and ran to Colton.

“You're making a big mistake, preacher.” The man's face twisted in anger and frustration.

“It won't be the first one.” Colton pointed at his vehicle on the other side of the concrete barrier. “Get in the car, Chloe.”

She didn't have to be told twice. Grabbing her satchel, she ran across the street and then slid into the passenger seat.

With his gun still trained on John Smith, Colton walked to the black SUV, bent down, and let the air out of a front tire, and then the rear tire. A moment later, he was back in the car with her.

“Let's get out of here.” He maneuvered through the icy streets and onto the highway.

“You saved me again. Thank you.”

“Not a problem.”

“Why do you have a gun?”

“Same as everyone else. For protection. They can come in handy when you've got a giant chasing you.”

“Well, you certainly did protect me.” She shuddered, and then took a deep breath. Refusing to cry, she forced her emotions away. “If you can drive me to Akron, I'll just catch the first bus out. It doesn't matter where it's going. I'll be OK if I can just get away from this guy. Who is he anyway? And how does he keep finding me?”

“I can only think of one way. He has to have a GPS tracker on you, me or the car.” After a moment, he spoke. “I'd say it's the car. It's probably how he found your house in the first place. He came to see me at the church. When I wouldn't cooperate, he must have thought I might be able to lead him to you. And I did. I'm so sorry.”

“You couldn't know that would happen.”

“I should have known. This is my fault. Now you have to let me help you.”

10

Chloe had cried herself out. The stress from the past two days—the past three years had finally broken through the wall she'd built around her heart. Three long years of running and hiding. Three years without her family. Three years without a home.

Her mother's face flashed in Chloe's mind with tears running down her cheeks. Tears of worry and sadness. Because of Chloe. Colton was right. She needed to let her family know she was alive and well, but that she couldn't come back—ever. It would hurt them, but at least they would know the truth. They would know she hadn't deserted them of her own free will. She would write them a letter and have Colton mail it for her.

Where was Colton? He'd left her at the motel and gone to the store to get some supplies. He should have been back by now. Unless he'd decided to leave her alone.

Her eyes filled with tears even though that was exactly what she wanted—to be on her own and not endangering anyone else. But…but it was supposed to be her choice.

He'd been acting like a knight in shining armor. But knights didn't leave damsels in distress to fend for themselves.

She knew she wasn't making any sense. Moving to the window for the hundredth time, she lifted the curtain and peeked out. Her heart stopped.

A black SUV sat under the portico of the motel. Was it John Smith's? She hadn't noticed it the last time she'd looked out.

She should leave while the leaving was good, but she'd promised Colton that she wouldn't. But it seemed as if he'd abandoned her anyway. She was alone.

Her chin moved upwards. That was fine with her. She could take care of herself. She didn't need Colton or anyone else. Her eyes filled with tears. God, please…she stopped.

He no longer answered her prayers. It felt as if He'd abandoned her, too. Tears leaked out. She gave them an angry swipe.

The door knob rattled.

~*~

Colton walked into Chloe's room.

She was pressed against the wall, holding her satchel as if it were armor, looking terrified. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“What's wrong, Chloe? Are you OK?”

She shook her head.

Dropping the plastic bags, he opened his arms.

She allowed him to hold her.

“What's wrong?”

“Black…SUV…outside.”

“It's not John Smith's car. I checked it out. Different license plates. We're safe, Chloe. He can't find us now. I took the GPS off the car. I didn't mean to scare you by being gone so long.”

“Thought you…you were…one of them.” She laid her head on his chest.

Colton's heart broke as he imagined what she'd been through. Hiding. Terrified each time someone gave her a second glance. Afraid to make friends, possibly the worst part. Everyone needed human connection.

“I'm…all right…” She managed to say as the tears continued. She moved out of his arms.

“I know you are. But it's OK to not be. You're in a tough situation.”

She took a deep breath and wiped her face. “I'm fine. Really. In fact, I don't know what's wrong with me. I never cry like this.” She walked into the restroom.

He understood all too well about being lonely—unconnected, but it was his choice.

After several nose blows, she reappeared. “Well. Where were you? What took you so long? I…I thought you'd left.”

“I wouldn't do that to you, Pink. It's Christmas time. The store was crazy even at this time of the night.” He handed her three different candy bars—all with peanut butter. “I didn't know which one you liked, I bought all of them.”

“Thanks.” She gave a beautiful smile.

“Instead of saying thanks, how about you tell me the truth. It might do you good to talk about it. It couldn't hurt.”

Her gold-speckled brown eyes met his gaze.

~*~

“I'll tell you enough to satisfy your curiosity. And in return, after I'm gone, maybe you can contact my family. Tell them I'm all right. Explain why I can't come home.”

“Fair enough, Pink. Fair enough.” Colton smiled.

“Stop calling me that.” She glared but gave a little smile. The name was beginning to feel right when Colton used it.

“Since you recognized me, I can assume you know about my background. My dad is the very famous and very mouthy voice of the people, as he likes to say. On his talk show, he's brash and downright rude. In real life, he's nothing like that. One of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. He lives out his faith every day in every way. That's one of his buzz phrases. Anyway he and mom had six children and only one bad girl.” She pointed at her chest. “That's me.”

He nodded but didn't interrupt. If she talked long enough, he might be able to figure out a way to get her out of this mess.

“Anyway I chose the party life instead of…you know, doing something more useful with my life. I had so many more opportunities than most people. I can't tell you how much I regret wasting them. If I could go back…but who knows? I'd probably be stupid enough to do it all over again.”

“Hey, don't call my friend stupid.”

Chloe nibbled at the edges of the peanut butter cup. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

“I'd like to think so, Pink.” He pointed at the candy bar. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” The edges were gone, now she moved to the top. “Eating my candy bar.”

“That's sort of an odd way.”

“It's the only way to eat them. Chocolate first, then save the best for last.” She popped the peanut butter in her mouth and licked a finger. “Perfect.”

“Back to the story, Pink.”

“Not only did I decide to be Miss Party Girl, but decided to do it with the Hollywood crowd. That way I could really humiliate my parents. Throw their values in their face so the whole country would know.”

“Teenage rebellion ain't pretty.” He'd had his own share of that.

“Anyway, one night I was at a party. One of the rare times when I wasn't high or drunk. At least not so drunk that I don't remember what happened.” She slipped back to that morning.

If only she could unsee it. If only she could have a do-over.

She picked up the second peanut butter cup. “I…I walked into a room. At first, I thought it was just someone having sex, but then I realized it wasn't consensual. I tried to help, but that's when things got out of con…control. The next thing I knew someone had pulled a gun and shot at me. I ran out of the room and left the party. I…I…should have stayed.”

“Why?”

“The girl was found dead in a bad part of town. They said it was an overdose, but I knew it had to do with what happened that night. At the party.”

“That's awful, but it wasn't your fault.”

“It was. I shouldn't have run away. I should have stayed. Helped her.”

“You couldn't know what would happen. And you'd been shot at. You were protecting yourself.”

“But at what cost?” She wiped away tears. Why was she crying so much? Perhaps she was homesick, but she needed to get over that. There was no way she could go home—ever.

“So, how did the FBI get involved?”

“I heard my friend's body had been found and that they were calling it an overdose, so I called the FBI.”

“You did the right thing.”

“Apparently not. They put me in a safe house until I could talk to a grand jury.”

“Standard procedure.”

“Yea, very standard. Until the part where someone finds me and kills the agent protecting me. That's when I started running and haven't stopped since.”

“And what about Marcy Jones?”

Tears filled her eyes. “Marcy and I met in San Antonio working at the same restaurant. When I told her what happened to me, she talked me in to calling the FBI. The next thing I know, a cop comes into the restaurant and tells me Marcy was killed in a random shooting at the park.”

“It might not have had anything to do with you or the FBI.”

“Sure, and I believe in Santa Claus too.”

He sat down on the other bed. “OK, I'll give you that it might have had something to do with you. But you can't be sure.”

“Maybe you can't be, but I am. That's when I made the decision to disappear forever. Of course, it doesn't help that I see my picture on my dad's show every Sunday night, giving a reward for any information about me.”

“That would be enough to make you paranoid.”

“If I could afford plastic surgery, I would. Instead I bought some wigs and became an expert in make-up. Maybe I should take the money I have left and do that. Learn to live on what I make.”

“Actually what we should do is put an end to this situation so you can have a normal life. So you can go home.”

“Impossible.”

“We can go to the FBI, then find a way to get the guy arrested and put away.”

“That's what Marcy told me. And you know how that worked out.”

“True, but you have me. I promise to keep you safe until the situation gets resolved.”

Not likely. She changed the topic. “I still don't understand how he found me. The picture wasn't even up for that long.”

“Facial recognition software. My guess is John Smith is a type of bounty hunter who uses the program to scan the Internet looking for high value targets.”

“Like an electronic bounty hunter or something?”

“Exactly. I'm really sorry.”

“It's not your fault. At least he doesn't work for the guy who wants to kill me so I can't testify.”

“What did you say his name was?” He gave her a hopeful look.

She smiled. “I'm pretty sure I didn't. So now that you know the story, don't you agree that the best thing is to disappear again?”

“I don't agree with that at all, Chloe. You can't live like that for the rest of your life. Looking over your shoulder. Always being worried someone will recognize you.”

“I can if it keeps my family safe.”

“If you let me help, I promise to get you home for Christmas.”

Home for Christmas. It sounded so wonderful and so impossible. “How exactly do you plan to do that?”

“Not sure yet, but I'll have an answer after I get some sleep.”

“I'm afraid to sleep alone.”

He stood. “Don't tempt me like that, Chloe.”

“It wasn't an offer. I meant…” Chloe sighed. “You know what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, but I couldn't help it.” Colton touched her cheek. “You're so much fun to tease.”

“I'm…I'm afraid.”

Colton's arms were around her before he realized what he was doing. “Don't be. You're safe. And together we'll find a way to get you home for the holidays.” He fought the urge to kiss her and stepped away. His arms felt empty. He was attracted to her, but he had no right to feel that way—about any woman.

After Catherine died, he'd made a commitment to God—and only to God. Love and marriage were not to be part of his life—ever again.

“Trust me, we can fix this.”

“I do trust you, Colton. That's why I know it's OK to invite you to sleep in my room.”

“Good to know.”

“I know you said John Smith can't find us, but what…what if you're wrong?”

11

Colton walked outside, breathing in the fresh air. He shivered as he stared at Chloe's motel door, tempted to go back in. Spend the night with her so she could relax and get some sleep.

There were two beds in the room, and it would make her feel so much safer.
Don't kid yourself, Colton. You aren't thinking about her safety at all.