Chapter Seventeen

Shelby's eyelids felt as if they were lined with sandpaper, and her mouth tasted like old socks soaked in bad coffee. She sat in an interview room at the Rayford County Sheriff's Department, across from Special Agent in Charge Lester, who had arrived at dawn with a team of federal marshals who took custody of Janelle Chalk. She hadn't slept in more than twenty-four hours and wasn't sure what time it was now—probably before nine in the morning. All she wanted was a shower and to crawl into bed, preferably with Zach, whom she hadn't seen since they had arrived at the sheriff's department in separate vehicles hours ago.

She had spent most of the hours since then giving her statement to Sheriff Walker, then repeating the story for Lester. Her account of Janelle's statements about the judge's death, and the admission that Janelle had murdered both Camille and her brother, had sharpened his attention, and he had her repeat everything twice.

"Zach Gregory's sighting of Martin Chalk outside the pub that night confirms that Martin was at the scene," Lester said. "But Janelle is refusing to say anything now that she's in custody."

"Zach heard the same thing I did," Shelby said. "He'll confirm my story."

"And Charlie and Christopher will deny having anything to do with her and her brothers," Lester said.

"We can find more evidence," she said. "We can make a case against them. Especially if we can persuade Janelle to talk. She might do it if we promise her a deal."

" We will not be doing anything," he said. "I'm removing you from the case."

The shock of this statement cut through her fatigue. "Why?"

Lester's expression was grim. "For one thing, I understand you've become personally involved with Zach Gregory."

She opened her mouth to protest, but what could she say? She couldn't deny her feelings for Zach. "I know how to keep my personal and private lives separate," she said. "And it's not as if I'm involved with a member of the Chalk family."

"You're being reassigned. And you're booked on a one o'clock flight back to Houston." He checked his watch. "You should have just enough time to change clothes, gather your belongings and get to the airport."

"I'd like to see Zach before I leave."

"That isn't possible."

"Why not?" Alarm jolted through her. "Is something wrong? Is he all right?"

"Zach and his parents are going into witness security as of right now. Practically the first words out of Janelle Chalk's mouth when we spoke to her were that her uncles would wipe out the Gregory family in revenge for Zach hurting her."

"I'm not sure she's as valuable to her uncles as she believes she is," Shelby said.

"Nevertheless, we feel the danger to the Gregorys is real, and they have agreed to accept our help."

Zach was going away. Just like that. "I want to see him," she said. "I need to say goodbye."

"It would be better for everyone if you didn't." Lester stood. "Agent Crispin will drive you to your hotel to collect your things, then to the airport. We'll talk again next week."

He left the room without a backward glance. Agent Crispin, who had been standing by the door, walked over to her. He was a man in his late thirties, with short dark hair and chiseled features. The type of agent portrayed on recruiting posters, never a hair out of place or a move out of line. "Come on," he said. "You don't want to miss your plane."

She thought of telling him to get lost. She wasn't a prisoner. She could refuse to get on that plane, refuse to return to work.

And then what? She'd be out of a job, stuck miles from home and Zach would still be gone. She knew how witness security worked. Once the decision was made, few people looked back. The important thing was to keep Zach and his family safe. She couldn't do anything to compromise his safety. Even if it meant breaking her heart.

She waited until she was in the shower at the motel before she let herself cry. But she pulled herself together by the time she met up with Agent Crispin again. "You'll probably get a commendation for this, you know?" Crispin said as they headed to the airport. "What you did, capturing Janelle Chalk, took all kinds of guts."

Zach did it , she thought. He was the one who swung that log and hit Janelle, even as she was shooting at him. Without him, they might both be dead. But she didn't say that to Crispin. Talking about Zach hurt too much. She needed to find a way to lock that grief away so that she could still function. She had so much work to do.

Nine months later

M IKE C LAUDE DUG crampons into the ice coating the ledge on which he and fellow Search and Rescue volunteer Dave Mitchell stood. He clung to a rope with one hand and looked over his shoulder at the car that lay on its side on the edge of Cub Creek. A motorist had seen the dark gray sedan hit a patch of ice on the highway above and skid over the cliff and had called 911. Mike had just reported for work when he got the text and headed for Search and Rescue headquarters.

"From here, it's just a short drop to that clear section of gravel behind the vehicle." Dave pointed to a spot about fifteen feet below them. "We should be able to secure the vehicle to those trees over there."

"Looks good," Mike said. "I'm ready when you are."

Dave was right—the rappel down was short and easy. Mike was getting more comfortable with the rope work. He had spent a lot of hours these past nine months climbing, both in the gym and outdoors. It was a good way to let off steam and gave him time to process all the changes in his life. The new name, for instance. He was getting used to thinking of himself as Mike, not Zach. He was from the Midwest, newly relocated to northern California, working for a solar energy company. That was his reality now, and he was coming to accept it.

He and Dave secured the vehicle and determined it contained a lone woman driver. She was responsive, though in pain and frightened, trapped in the vehicle, on her back in the collapsed driver's seat, the powder from the exploded airbag coating her like frost. "We're going to take care of you, ma'am," Mike reassured her. "Just stay still, and we'll have you out in no time."

Darcy Yates, a paramedic, and Dr. Tim Westmoreland arrived minutes later. Darcy, a petite woman with short, dark hair, climbed in through a busted window and began assessing the woman's injuries and keeping her as calm and as protected as possible while Mike and Dave began cutting apart the sedan.

Less than ten minutes later, the four of them worked together to transfer the woman—Marian—to a backboard and litter. They maneuvered her out of the vehicle to the ground, then prepared to haul her up. More volunteers arrived to help, and thirty minutes later, Marian was being loaded into a helicopter that had landed in the middle of the highway. The helicopter rose up and away. The volunteers watched it go, then turned away and began to clean up and gather equipment.

"Great job, Mike." Captain Ray Valdez clapped him on the back. "We're glad to have you with us."

"Glad I can help," he said. Being part of a Search and Rescue group helped him feel comfortable with this new life. That, and knowing his parents were safe.

His mom and dad—now Bill and Sally Claude—seemed to be enjoying their new life. "It's kind of nice, starting over," his mother had confided. "We're never going to forget Camille, but it's good to try to build a new life now. One that isn't connected to the Chalk brothers and everything that happened."

Except that Mike would always be connected to that.

In the early months, he had thought about little else, replaying that night over and over and over again. The last night he had seen Shelby. When he had asked to see her after his interviews with the sheriff and the FBI, he had been told she had already left to fly back to Houston. The news had stunned him. She hadn't even bothered to say goodbye? The FBI agent, a woman named Rochelle, must have seen his confusion. "She knows you're going into witness protection," she said, her voice gentle. "That's hard enough without prolonging the goodbyes."

They hadn't been together long. He told himself he would get over her soon enough. Except that hadn't happened. He was doing well, rebuilding his life into something better than ever. But there was still an ache when he thought of Shelby. She had meant something to him, and then she was simply gone.

He helped unload the gear at SAR headquarters, then went with Dave and the others for pizza and beer. He was trying to do that more, to be more social and part of the group. He had thought it would be difficult, remembering to give them the background story the Marshals Service had helped him compose to go with his new identity. But he had learned pretty quickly that almost no one asked about his past. They didn't really care.

As for the Chalk brothers, he hadn't heard anything from them. He checked the internet for news of them sometimes, but nothing came up. Janelle Chalk had been charged with the murder of Camille Gregory and Todd Chalk and was awaiting trial, but he hadn't been able to find out anything more. Rochelle had visited once and told him she didn't think he would have to testify in Janelle's trial. "We have enough evidence without exposing you," she had said.

He had asked her about Shelby, and she shut him down. "I can't tell you anything," she had said and turned away.

He tried to tell himself it didn't matter. He and his parents were safe. One day, he might even be happy again.

He left the pizza place and drove to the bungalow he was buying on a quiet street on the west side of town. He pulled into the driveway and cut the lights, then sat for a moment, studying the house with its little front porch and brick pillars.

Then a movement on the edge of the light made his heart stop. A woman stood there, silhouetted in the moonlight, a slight figure with hair around her shoulders. Not Janelle Chalk. This woman wasn't that tall. But Janelle might have cousins. Other Chalk women who saw themselves as assassins.

He started the car again, thinking he would drive away. He'd call his contact at the Marshals Service. Then the woman hurried down the steps toward him. "Zach, don't go," she said. "It's me. Shelby."

He didn't remember getting out of the car. He didn't remember running to her or pulling her close. But there they were, clinging to each other, both their faces wet with tears. He pulled her into the house and turned on the lights. "Let me look at you," he said. "I can't believe this is real." Maybe it was just another dream. One where he held her and loved her, only to wake to find her gone.

"It's real," she said, tightening her arms around him.

She was thinner than he remembered, her hair longer and a little darker. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you," she said. "I had to wait until you were settled in your new identity, and then it took some detective work to find you."

"My name is Mike now," he said. "Mike Claude."

"I know." She smiled, and he felt as if he'd stepped out of heavy metal armor that had been binding him for nine months.

"How did you find me?" he asked. "No one is supposed to be able to do that."

"I had help," she said. "Do you remember me talking about Phil?"

"Phil?" He shook his head. "I don't remember."

"The marshal Camille was in love with."

"The man who was ordered away and didn't come back?" He didn't have a lot of good thoughts about that man.

"He always regretted choosing his job over Camille. He agreed to help me find you, but he had to be careful. It took a while."

She caressed the side of his face. "It doesn't matter. I'm here now."

She leaned in as if to kiss him, but he turned his head to the side. "What happened? Why didn't I see you again the night we captured Janelle?"

"My boss wasn't happy about our relationship. He told me you were going into witness security and I would never see you again. Then he ordered me on a plane back to Houston. I started to refuse, but knew that would mean quitting my job and losing my best chance of finding you again."

He looked into her eyes, hers still glistening with tears.

"I was determined to see you again. I'm just sorry you had to wait so long."

"Are you still with the FBI?"

"No."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. But I'll find a job. Somewhere close. That is, if you still want us to be together." Her arms around him loosened. "A lot can happen in nine months. Maybe you've changed your mind."

He pulled her against him once more. "I haven't changed my mind. I thought about looking for you, too, but I didn't know where to start. I looked online, but couldn't find anything."

"It's not a great idea for an FBI agent to have an online presence," she said. "And my address and phone number are confidential, too."

"I thought I'd lost you." His voice broke on the last word.

"You never lost me. And I'm here now."

He had always said he didn't believe in fate or destiny or anything like that. Too much of what happened to people in life happened by accident. Camille always said she was at the pub the night Judge Hennessey was killed because she was meant to bring the Chalk brothers to justice. But that hadn't happened. She had merely been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and that hadn't worked out well for any of them. Their family had lost everything, even their names.

But he had found Shelby. Or rather, she had found him. He looked into her eyes. "I love you," he said.

"I love you, too. It's a little scary sometimes, how much. I think I fell in love with you listening to all the stories Camille told about you. I fell in love with the idea of you, then when we met, the reality was even better than the fantasy. How could I not love you?"

"I fell in love with you the night you brought over pizza," he said. "I was more than halfway there before then, but that night sealed the deal."

"Because of that kiss?" she asked.

"Because you put mushrooms on the pizza."

She looked puzzled. "But you don't like mushrooms."

"Exactly. You didn't feel like you had to leave them off the pizza just because I didn't want them. I liked that. I liked that you were sure of yourself that way. That you didn't try to make yourself over to please someone else. I felt like when I was with you, I was getting the real you, and that's who I fell in love with."

"Mike?"

"Mmm?"

"I've been practicing saying the name. I'm getting used to it."

"I'm still figuring out this new life."

"I hope you'll let me be a part of it."

"I never wanted to do it without you."

They kissed again, and for a long time neither said anything. It was enough to know that no matter what the future brought, they would face it together.