The Innocent Witness (11 page)

“This way,” Anthony yelled as he propelled her toward the garage's back door.

The house's motion-sensitive outdoor floodlights came on. Viv blinked at the sudden glare.

“Go, go,” Joe shouted from behind them. “I've got your six.”

More shots were fired. A bullet hit the brick patio. Shards stung Viv's legs through her jeans as she raced with Anthony. At the back door of the garage, Anthony used his elbow to break the window and reached through the opening to unlock the door. They rushed inside. Joe came in after them and hunkered down by the door. He stuck his rifle out the broken window and returned fire.

So much for keeping the neighbors unaware they were here.

“Do you have the keys to either of these cars?” An
thony asked as he pulled her down behind Steven's sports coupe. Next to it sat her luxury sedan.

“Find us a way out, bro,” Joe yelled.

“Working on it,” Anthony shot back.

“My keys are in my bag,” Viv said with a sinking feeling. “Which is back in the wine cellar.”

“Great. I led us into a deathtrap.”

S
elf-disgust pumped through Anthony's veins. The humid July air trapped within the confines of the closed-up garage mingled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, and fear clogged his lungs. Forcing in a breath, he fought frustration and guilt for having put Viv in this situation.

The barrage of gunfire ceased. The sudden eerie silence was somehow more frightening than the chaos of noise and bullets flying. The fear in Vivian's eyes helped him keep his own alarm in check. She needed him to be brave. Pushing aside his doubts and fears of failing her, he touched her cheek, the skin soft beneath the rough pads of his fingertips. “It'll be okay.”

“I'm praying so.”

“Still clinging, huh?”

“With everything I have.”

“Good for you.” He wasn't sure he had enough faith to believe God would help them, but apparently she did.

“Stay put and stay down,” he cautioned.

Just because there were no bullets flying now didn't mean a sharpshooter wasn't at the ready to take a well-
aimed shot. He started to move away, then hesitated. They could use every bit of help possible. “And keep praying.”

She nodded and ducked lower.

In a crouch, he moved to stack up on the right side of the door opposite his brother. He peered out at the empty yard. “Where are they?”

“Can't tell.” The harsh lines of concentration on Joe's face were barely discernable in the glow coming from the house's outside floodlights. “They fanned out. We're surrounded. Time to make tracks.”

Knowing his brother's aptitude with engines, Anthony gestured with his head toward the two expensive cars parked in the garage. “Can you get one of those babies started?”

Shoving the M16 A1 against Anthony's chest, Joe scoffed. “Like there's any doubt?”

“Go for it, bro.” Anthony holstered his SIG and gripped the assault rifle. The weight of the machine in his hand ratcheted up his already heightened adrenaline. For a second he flashed back to his training days at Rowley Training Center located just outside of D.C. He'd thought the police academy had been grueling, but that had been a cakewalk compared to Rowley.

Too bad this wasn't a training exercise.

Staring out at the shadows shifting in the yard, he analyzed the situation. They were trapped within the detached garage, surrounded by assassins out for blood. Whatever information was in that file was worth killing for.

They shouldn't have stopped firing. They'd already shown they weren't concerned with collateral damage.
They had to be up to something. He glanced around, trying to put himself into the bad guy's head.

In the distance a siren wailed, drawing closer. The acrid smell of accelerant-laced smoke curled under Anthony's nostrils, alerting him seconds before the west wall of the garage burst into flames.

One question answered. They hoped to burn them out.

“Joe!” Anthony yelled. “Hurry!”

The engine in the big luxury sedan turned over. Joe sat in the driver's seat and flashed the thumbs up sign. Anthony left his post by the door to urge Viv into the backseat. He jumped into the passenger seat.

“You know they're right outside,” Joe said evenly.

“Yeah, I know,” Anthony replied grimly. To Viv he said, “Down on the floor.”

She scrambled off the seat and onto the floorboard. Her hands covered her head.

“To door or not to door?” Joe quipped. Peculiar shadows created by the flames engulfing the garage played across his face.

Not wanting to waste precious seconds waiting for the garage door to rumble open, Anthony said, “Gun it.”

Joe flashed a grin as if they were kids playing with Hot Wheels cars. He threw the transmission into Reverse. “Brace yourselves.”

He hit the gas. The car shot backward. The wooden garage door barely slowed the sedan's acceleration out of the garage and down the driveway. Armed men dressed in black dove out of the way.

The ping of bullets hitting the metal exterior of the car echoed inside Anthony's head. Viv screamed.

His fear meter shot up. He clamped his jaw tight and hung on.

The front windshield took a hit. A million spidery cracks splintered from a small hole. The bullet found a home in the backrest of the seat, inches from Anthony.

The old bullet wound in his shoulder ached with memory. He shuddered.

On the narrow residential street, Joe expertly spun the car 180 degrees, narrowly avoiding a parked car, and shifted into Drive. Tires squealed. The back end fishtailed as the car rocketed forward.

Relief wouldn't come until they were far away from there. Anthony kicked the useless front windshield out with his foot. In one huge chunk, the glass slid off the hood and fell to the road. Anthony glanced in the side mirror. So far they weren't being followed.

“We've got to ditch this ride ASAP, bro,” Joe said.

“I know. Head to the National Zoo.”

“The petting zoo isn't there anymore, Tony,” Joe remarked drily.

“I saw a billboard as we drove into the city advertising an evening concert for tonight,” Anthony replied.

“All right, then. To the zoo.” Joe made a face. “Uh, you'll have to give directions. The zoo isn't a regular haunt of mine when I'm in town.”

“Viv?” Anthony looked over his shoulder to the back of the car.

Viv unwound and sat up. She still had the file folder clutched against her chest. Visibly shaken, she placed a
hand on Anthony's shoulder. The contact zinged through him, poking holes in his revved-up system.

“Up ahead, take a right on Cathedral and then a left on Connecticut Avenue,” she said, her voice shaky. “The entrance isn't far. What about the van?”

“Too risky. We'll get another vehicle in the morning.”

Her worried gaze twisted his heart into knots. “We need to check on Mikey.”

The knot tightened. Anthony handed her his phone. She dialed and then waited. Her eyebrows drew together in an anxious frown. “Barb's not answering.”

Exchanging a troubled glance with his brother, Anthony said, “We'll take the metro and go retrieve him.”

Tears welled in Viv's pretty eyes. Her bleak expression tore at Anthony's heart. He wasn't sure risking her life was worth the evidence in her hands. Her quick thinking and bravery had gotten them out of a sticky situation that could have easily been the end of all of them. He respected and admired her more with each passing moment.

Joe motioned to the tactical rifle clutched in Anthony's hands. He said, “Tear that bad boy down, will ya? Shouldn't be seen out in public.”

“Right.” Anthony made quick work of dissembling the rifle and stuffed the pieces into Joe's to-go bag.

When they reached the zoo parking lot, Joe slid the sedan into a space between two SUV's.

“Let's move,” Anthony said.

They quickly jogged to the metro station entrance, paid the machine for fare tickets and caught the red
line to Gallery Place-Chinatown station. There they switched to the green line before departing the subway system at the Columbia Heights station. Anthony kept a hand at the small of Viv's back as they briskly walked the few blocks to Barb's apartment building. He could tell she wanted to run, but the less attention they drew to themselves the better.

The second they entered the foyer, dread slithered up Anthony's spine. “The doorman's not at his post.”

“Maybe he's just in the restroom,” Viv offered with desperate hope lacing her words.

Exchanging a grim look with Joe, Anthony withdrew his weapon. Viv's eyes widened with panic. He wanted to reassure her that everything was fine. He wanted to believe the doorman had stepped away from his desk and would return momentarily. But his gut said something was wrong.

“Stay behind me,” Anthony instructed. “We'll take the stairs. Easier to see an enemy coming and more escape routes.”

The stairwell was empty. They proceeded upward, Anthony on point, Viv in the middle and Joe protecting their flank. When they reached the seventh floor, Anthony slowly opened the door. Joe moved past him with a 9 mm Glock in a two-handed grip leading the way.

Viv clutched the back of Anthony's shirt, her terror a palpable thing, fueling his own fear.

“Hall's clear,” Joe said.

Anthony knew relief wouldn't come until they had Mikey with them. Taking one of Viv's hands, he led her out of the stairwell and down the hall to Barb's door. His breath stalled for a fraction of a second.

The lock on the door had been busted apart.

The door stood ajar.

Viv let out a small cry of alarm. Anthony immediately gestured for silence. Tears leaked from her eyes. His heart twisted. Terror invaded his system as violent images of what they might find inside flickered across his mind. He had to protect Viv. He pulled her against him with one arm and nodded to Joe.

Grim-faced, Joe went in leading with his weapon. A moment later he called out, “Clear.”

Bracing himself, Anthony led Viv inside, trying to keep her behind him until he could see the damage for himself but she yanked free of his grip and rushed forward only to abruptly halt.

“Oh, no!” Viv sank to her knees, the file folder and its contents spilling onto the carpet.

Anthony took in the scene before him. Horror filled his veins.

Barb Jetton was strapped to a chair with plastic ties; duct tape covered her mouth. Her brown eyes were red and swollen. Blood smeared her chin and spotted her blouse.

Mikey was nowhere in sight. His tattered teddy bear lay facedown on the carpet. Anthony's stomach dropped. His worst nightmare had become a reality. Fear splintered through him. Failure ripped his heart to shreds.

Joe knelt beside Barb. “I'm going to take the tape off. This might hurt.”

Barb nodded. Joe grasped an edge of the tape and tore it free. Barb cried out. “Three men broke in. They took…” A sob escaped. “They took Mikey.”

Viv let out a guttural groan like a wounded animal. Her whole body rocked as tears fell down her cheeks. “No, no, no.”

Joe cut the ties binding Barb to the chair and helped her to stand. “Are you hurt?”

“Just a busted lip.”

“You need ice,” Joe said.

Barb shook her head. “I'm okay. We have to find Mikey.”

Hanging on to his composure by a thread, Anthony scrubbed a hand over his face. Anguish threatened to drive him to his knees. He fought to remain calm. Giving in to his own horror wouldn't help Viv. Wouldn't save Mikey. “Did you recognize any of the men?”

Barb grimaced. “They wore masks. But Mikey grew really agitated when the one in charge barked out orders, kind of like he recognized the voice.”

The significance of that information jolted through Anthony.

Viv's gaze snapped to his. “Steven's killer!”

At a loss for words, Anthony nodded. Panic and dread scurried along his veins like a million tiny ants. A shiver of pure terror prickled his flesh.

“I should never have left him.”

Viv's desolate tone slammed into Anthony, knocking him back a step. Self-reproach tore at his insides, slicing what little confidence he'd managed to build up over the past few days to bits of nothingness.

He should have known better than to think he could protect anyone.

 

Mikey was gone. Viv felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest, leaving a big gaping hole of loss
and desolation. Kidnapped by a murderer. She had no way of knowing if the killer had already ended her son's life. She shivered with a mixture of shock and fear and guilt.

Mikey.

How could she go on without him? He was her reason for living. The only thing that mattered. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the blame rising in her soul. She wanted to rail at Anthony, at herself. At God.

As quickly as that last thought formed, she rejected it. She wouldn't let a life emergency, a life tragedy, create a crisis of faith within her. This was her fault. Not God's.

She should never have let Mikey out of her sight. If she'd listened to Anthony's concerns and not demanded they return to D.C., she and Mikey would be safe right now in Boston.

A deep soul-searing ache wrenched the breath from Viv. She shuddered as she tried to contain the welling grief.

She was the one to blame for Mikey's disappearance. She'd been so stupid. Selfish.

There was no place safe.

Barb fell to her knees at her side. “Viv, I'm so sorry.”

Viv clung to her friend. “Not your fault. We shouldn't have brought Mikey here. This was my decision. My mistake.”

One which had most likely cost her son his life.

Strong hands gently pulled her to her feet. Anthony lifted her chin with a shaky hand to meet his gaze. She saw the same wretchedness she felt reflected in his
dark irises. “This isn't your fault, it's mine. I've failed you.”

Horrible pain consumed her. She trembled. “No. You said it was too dangerous coming back to D.C. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I wanted to clear my name. I—”

He placed the pad of his finger to her lips. “Shh. No. Don't blame yourself. It was my job to protect you. I failed. I'm—”

The shrill ring of a phone cut him off.

Barb pointed to the dining table. A cell phone lay in the middle. It vibrated as it rang. “That's not mine.”

Viv's heart pitched. The kidnappers calling? That would mean Mikey was still alive.

She curbed the impulse to make a grab for it as Anthony picked up a cloth napkin and reached for the phone. Carefully, using the cloth to avoid smearing any prints, he answered. “Yes.”

Tension constricted Viv's breath. Time seemed to stand still. Anthony listened to the person on the other line, his face giving away nothing.

“I want proof of life,” Anthony said.

Viv's heart froze. Hope flared.

Mikey's shrill, unmistakable cry emanated from the phone.