Czytaj książkę: «The Only Witness»

This book is dedicated to my cousin Carie Binger.

Thanks for all the great childhood memories, skiing and boating on the Wisconsin River. Love you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

A loud crash from her five-year-old daughter’s room startled Paige Olson, causing her to drop the lasagna pan she’d been washing.

“Abby?” Grabbing the dishtowel on the counter, Paige quickly dried her hands, then tossed it aside to hurry over to the short hallway of her cozy two-bedroom house. Off the hallway was a bathroom, with her daughter’s room on one side and hers on the other. “Sweetie, are you all right?”

Stepping into her daughter’s bedroom, her gaze instantly found the source of the crash. Abby’s tablet was lying face down on the scuffed hardwood floor.

Paige had told her ex-husband that the tablet was too expensive for a five-year-old, but he hadn’t listened. Not that Travis ever cared about her opinions.

“Abby, where are you?” Paige noticed that Ellie, her little girl’s favorite stuffed elephant, wasn’t anywhere in sight, and quickly deduced that her daughter likely had the toy clutched in her arms under the bed. Abby often crawled beneath her bed during thunderstorms, too. Paige had just dropped to her knees to check when a loud crash, followed by a sharp report, rang through the house.

“What in the world?” Paige lifted her head over the edge of Abby’s bed, shocked to see that her daughter’s bedroom window was broken.

A second bang echoed sharply and it took Paige a moment to figure out that the noise was gunfire.

Someone was shooting at her house!

Heart thundering in her chest, she crouched beside the bed, trying to think. Her phone was in the kitchen, but she couldn’t leave Abby alone. She dropped down to all fours, peering beneath the bed frame. “Abby?” She kept her voice low. “We need to get out of here.”

Her daughter stared at her from under the bed with wide tear-stained eyes and shook her head.

Paige tried to smile reassuringly. “Come on, sweetie, someone broke your window. We need to go someplace safe.”

Abby stared at her for a moment longer, then crawled slowly across the floor, dragging Ellie the pink elephant along with her. Paige thought it was strange that Abby didn’t say anything, but right now she had bigger worries.

She had no idea why on earth anyone would shoot at her house. There must be some sort of crime in progress nearby and the gunfire had gone wide, hitting her house instead of the intended target. Nothing else made sense, and Paige desperately needed her phone to call for help.

When Abby was close enough, she reached for the little girl, gently pulling her into a warm hug. Abby buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, her entire body shaking with fear.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’re going to be fine, you’ll see.” Paige stayed on her hands and knees, awkwardly holding Abby up against her with one hand as she maneuvered across the hardwood floor toward the hallway.

As she reached the opening, she froze, wondering for the first time if she was heading into a trap. What if the gunfire was aimed at her house on purpose? What if there were bad guys making their way inside through the front door, waiting for her and Abby to head in that direction?

They had nothing worth stealing, but robbers wouldn’t know that. Violent crime in the city had recently been on the rise.

The bathroom was right next to Abby’s room, so she scuttled in that direction, practically diving inside. She quickly shut the door, locking it behind her. A frantic glance around the tiny space didn’t reveal much that could be used as a barrier against the door to prevent anyone from getting inside.

Rising to her feet, she rifled through the medicine cabinet, finding a can of hairspray that might be used as a weapon. Then she lifted Abby up and into the tub, pulling the shower curtain closed. She stretched out, so they were lying on the bottom of the ceramic tub, her body protectively covering her daughter’s.

Anyone trying to hurt them would have to get through her first.

Surely the neighbors would call the police. Mrs. Stevenson, known for being the area gossip, was probably alerting the authorities right now.

Paige snuggled Abby close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re safe now. I won’t leave you alone.”

Abby didn’t answer, and the silent tears coursing down her face ripped a hole in Paige’s heart.

Dear Lord, please don’t let anything happen to us!

* * *

Homicide Detective Miles Callahan pulled up in front of Paige Olson’s small rectangular house and shut off the engine. The hour wasn’t too late, just past seven thirty in the evening, but darkness had fallen, and there was a definite chill in the late-March air. Lights blazed from her windows, indicating Paige was home. Good. The sooner he could talk to her, the better.

He rubbed his burning eyes, knowing he couldn’t sleep until he discovered who’d killed his college roommate, Jason Whitfield. Jason worked at Sci-Tech, Inc., and had confided in Miles about the trouble he was having with his boss, Travis Olson. Unfortunately, Jason had been killed before he could give Miles the specifics. After spending hours searching for Travis, Miles had decided to visit the guy’s ex-wife to see if she knew where he was. If she did, he intended to keep pushing forward, working the case. If she didn’t, he might have to grab a few hours of shut-eye, since he’d been up since three o’clock in the morning.

Miles slid out from behind the wheel, closing the car door behind him. He’d only taken one step toward the small ranch home when the sound of gunfire burst through the night.

Instinctively, Miles pulled his weapon from his shoulder holster and dropped into a crouch behind his car, scanning the area around him. He didn’t see any sign of anyone lurking around, but that didn’t mean much. The first shot was quickly followed by another, and he estimated that the gunman must be stationed somewhere behind the house.

He quickly called for backup, but then couldn’t just sit there, waiting. Not when he knew that Travis Olson’s ex-wife and their young daughter were likely somewhere inside.

What if one of them had been hit? What if Travis Olson was inside, too, or he’d gone off the deep end, killing Jason and now attempting to eliminate everyone close to him? Jason had given Miles the impression that Travis was a man on the edge.

Miles kept his head down as he ran toward the front door. Plastering himself against the side of the gray-and-white structure, he held his gun pointing upward as he listened intently.

Silence.

All of his senses on alert, he tried the front door. The screen door wasn’t locked, but the inside door was. It was also solid and sturdy, so he quickly edged over to the large picture window. Miles kicked the window with his boot, shattering the glass. He was wearing a black leather jacket and used his elbow to brush away the broken shards that remained before throwing his leg over the sill and climbing inside.

“Mrs. Olson?” he called loudly, looking around. The living room was open to the kitchen, and there was no one in the immediate area. He could see splashes of water on the counter near a dishtowel. To the left of the living room/kitchen area was a short hallway leading to what he assumed were the bedrooms.

He could make out the glow of the light from the bedroom closest to the rear of the house. Miles kept his back to the wall as he edged closer.

“Mrs. Olson? This is Detective Callahan from the Milwaukee Police Department. I heard gunfire. Are you or your daughter hurt?”

Still nothing, and a sick feeling coiled low in his belly. What if he was too late? He made his way down the hall toward the bedroom, bracing himself for the worst.

Frilly pink curtains ruffled in the breeze coming in through a broken window. A tablet was lying upside down on the floor surrounded by bits of glass, but thankfully no blood and no injured people.

He took a moment to check under the bed and look in the closet before turning back the way he’d come. The hallway stretched toward the front of the house, and he could see there were two additional doors; the one farthest away was open, could be another bedroom, while the door in the middle was closed.

The bathroom?

He tested the door handle and found it locked. “Mrs. Olson, I’m a Milwaukee police detective and I have backup officers on the way. Are either of you hurt? There will be an ambulance, too, if needed.”

“We’re not hurt.” The woman’s voice sounded muffled and he couldn’t deny the feeling of relief.

“I’m glad. Why don’t you let me in? I’ll keep you safe from harm.”

“How do you know who I am?” Suspicion laced her tone and Miles had to give the woman credit. She might be scared to death, but she was thinking things through in a logical manner.

She had no reason to trust him.

“I came here to ask for help in locating your ex-husband.” Miles wanted to reassure her that he wasn’t there to hurt her.

“Why do you want to find Travis?”

“I’m working on a case and need to ask him a few questions, that’s all.”

Another gunshot boomed loudly and he dropped to his knees, a surge of adrenaline sending his heart thumping as he searched frantically for the source of the gunshot.

A scream echoed from inside the bathroom. Without hesitation, he slammed into the flimsy door with his shoulder, bursting inside. The bathroom window had a bullet hole and the shower curtain was closed over the tub.

He pushed the curtain aside, and found a slim woman he guessed to be in her late twenties, with glossy brown hair and green-gold eyes behind oval eyeglasses. She was clutching a small girl who looked just like her, sans glasses. “Why are they shooting at us?” Paige Olson asked hoarsely.

“I don’t know, but we need to get out of here.” Miles took her arm and helped her out of the tub, urging her out of the small bathroom to the kitchen and living room area.

“I don’t understand.” Her voice bordered on panic, not that he could blame her. “What’s going on?”

He had no idea what was happening, other than the strong possibility that the shooter outside might be related to Jason’s death.

“This way,” he said in a low voice, gesturing to the far side of the living room. There was a side window facing in the opposite direction from where he estimated the shooter was located. And it wasn’t far from where he’d left his car. They needed to get away from here as soon as possible.

He raised the window sash and pulled the screen out of the way.

“Maybe we should go into the basement,” Paige whispered.

“It’s better if we’re not trapped.” He wasn’t about to wait around a moment longer than necessary. When he had the window clear, he shrugged off his black leather jacket and held it out to her. “Put this on.”

She didn’t let go of her daughter, but managed to get her arms into the sleeves. When she was ready, he went outside first, then held out his hands. “It might be easier for me to hold your daughter.”

The child, who hadn’t spoken a word, shrank closer to her mother, clinging like a little monkey. He stepped back and held out a hand. “Never mind. Here, lean on me.”

Paige threw one leg over the sill, then ducked beneath the frame. She teetered there for a moment, so he quickly caught her in his arms and hauled her the rest of the way out of the window.

“See my car there along the curb?” He gestured to his navy blue sedan.

“Yes.”

“We’re getting out of here before anything else happens.”

She gave a terse nod, trusting him to keep them safe. He shielded them as best he could as they moved quickly across the snow-patched frozen ground to his car.

He didn’t have a booster seat for the child, but that wasn’t his top priority. Paige slid into the backseat with her daughter, leaving him to get behind the wheel. He quickly started the engine and put the car in gear.

Crack! Another gunshot echoed through the night, hitting the passenger side of his vehicle with a loud thud.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

“We’re okay,” Paige said in a muffled tone.

The faint sound of police sirens reached his ears, but Miles didn’t hesitate. He stomped hard on the accelerator and pulled away from the curb, speeding down the street as fast as possible, putting badly needed distance between his car and the gunman.

Leaving the scene of a crime was against the rules, but at the moment he was more concerned with making sure that Paige Olson and her daughter were safe.

They were clearly in danger, but why? Who would shoot at a woman and a child? Deep in his gut, he sensed there had to be a link between the shooter who’d just hit Paige’s house and his buddy’s murder.

He needed to figure it out, before any more blood was shed.

* * *

Thirty minutes after they’d left her normally quiet and safe neighborhood behind, Paige still couldn’t relax. The sound of gunfire continued to echo in her mind, over and over again until she thought she might scream.

She knew she should be glad that the police detective had risked his life to save them, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d only come to see her in the first place because of Travis.

For a moment she squeezed her eyes shut in frustrated anger. Her ex-husband had cheated on her practically from the moment they’d gotten married, although she hadn’t found out about the other women he went out with until Abby was born and one of the women showed up at the hospital looking for Travis.

He’d apologized to Paige and promised to be faithful, but of course that hadn’t lasted more than a couple of months. She finally divorced him when Abby was two and she’d made it a point to do her best to get along with him, for their daughter’s sake.

But now it looked as if Travis was in trouble again. He’d called her a few weeks ago, asking if she’d keep Abby over the weekend he was supposed to take her. Of course she’d agreed, but she’d also sensed tension in his tone.

She’d asked what was wrong and he blamed his stress on work. As he was the director of research and development for Sci-Tech, she hadn’t thought too much about it.

But now she couldn’t help but wonder if there had been more to it than that.

Paige took several deep breaths, burying her face in the collar of the detective’s black leather jacket. The scent of leather, combined with his aftershave, was surprisingly calming. She turned her attention to her daughter. Abby was plastered against her, hanging on as if she’d never let go. She was glad to realize that Abby had managed to keep a firm grip on Ellie. Having her favorite toy with her should assist in keeping her calm.

“Hey, Abby, you can sit up if you like. We’re safe now. The nice policeman, Detective...” She frowned, forgetting the guy’s name.

“Miles,” he supplied in a low, masculine tone.

“Detective Miles helped us get away.”

Abby moved her head a bit, as if seeking a more comfortable angle, but didn’t say anything in response.

“Mrs. Olson?” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

“You may as well call me Paige.” She forced a smile. The detective was wearing a long-sleeved light blue shirt and dark slacks, and she wondered if he was cold, since she still had his jacket. “Thanks for helping us.”

“You’re welcome. Please, call me Miles.” He cleared his throat. “Will you walk me through the events that happened before I arrived?”

She swallowed hard. “I was finishing up the dinner dishes while Abby was playing in her room. I heard a crash and hurried over to see she’d dropped her tablet. She must have been afraid that I’d yell at her, because she was hiding under the bed.”

“Go on,” he urged.

“When I bent down to check if she was under there, the window shattered. I heard a loud bang and realized that someone was shooting at the house. I was able to get Abby to come out and my plan was to hide in the bathroom until the police arrived.”

“Did you call them?”

“No.” She realized her phone was still on the kitchen counter. “I didn’t have my phone. I thought about going back to the kitchen, but then I wondered if it might be better to hide.” She didn’t want to say exactly what she’d thought, since she knew Abby was listening.

“I was outside the front of your house when I heard the gunshots,” he said.

Now that it was over, she was grateful for his impeccable timing. “I’m glad.”

“When was the last time you spoke to your ex-husband?” Miles asked.

She grimaced. “Last week. He was supposed to take Abby for the weekend, but he called to cancel again.”

“Again?”

“He’s supposed to take her every other weekend, but he’s canceled three times in a row. But I know he keeps in touch with Abby on ChatTime, right, Abby?”

Her daughter pressed her face more firmly against Paige’s neck but nodded her head.

“ChatTime?” Miles repeated. “They communicate face-to-face using the tablet?”

“Yes. It was Travis’s idea, even though I’ve tried to tell him that ChatTime isn’t the same as spending time together actually doing things.” Yet another bone of contention between them.

“Abby? Did you talk to your daddy tonight?” Miles asked.

Paige was surprised when every muscle in her daughter’s body went tense.

“Abby, honey, it’s okay,” she murmured, stroking the child’s hair, the exact same color as her own. “We’re safe now. I’m not mad at you for dropping the tablet. We can always get another one.”

Abby didn’t relax or lift her head, or indicate in any way that she’d heard either of them talking, even though Paige was certain she had.

“Abby, please say something.” Her motherly instincts were screaming at her that something was wrong with her daughter. But what?

“Are you sure she’s not hurt?” Miles asked in a concerned tone.

“I don’t know.” Paige ran her hands up and down Abby’s small body, feeling for anything abnormal.

When her daughter shook her head from side to side, she stopped. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

Another head shake.

“Are you upset about something?”

Definite head nod up and down.

“What’s wrong? Will you tell me why you’re upset?”

Another head shake no.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” Paige asked helplessly.

“She’s probably still scared from everything that’s happened,” Miles said, as if trying to reassure her. “Rather than taking you to the police station, we’ll stay at a motel for the rest of the night. Tomorrow you’ll need to give a statement. Maybe Abby will feel better by then, too.”

“Did you hear that, Abby? Detective Miles is taking us to a motel. Maybe they’ll have a swimming pool. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

No response.

Fear squeezed like a fist around her heart. Abby loved to swim. She was normally a bright, talkative little girl. In fact, her kindergarten teacher sent notes home on a weekly basis complaining about Abby being such a chatterbox.

Paige thought back to when she’d heard the tablet drop on the floor, the way her daughter had been hiding under the bed, clutching her stuffed elephant with teary eyes, moments before Paige heard the sound of gunfire.

And she knew something was terribly wrong. More than just the gunfire they’d experienced had caused such a drastic change in her daughter.

But what?