Accidental Eyewitness Page 2

  “And you didn’t recognize any of these men?”

  She pressed her thumb and forefinger into the corners of her eyes. “No. I saw part of one of their faces, but it was blurred by the blanket I was hiding under. Plus, the bandanna covered from the top of the nose down. I might be able to recognize their voices, though. They were fairly distinct. Shouldn’t we go looking for Rod?”

  Leo ran a hand through his hair. “If there are men with handguns around, we’re safest inside. And if Rod is injured, we won’t do him any favors by courting danger, too. Police and an ambulance should arrive at any moment.”

  “But what if he’s still alive and hurt?” Her voice cracked on the words, and she buried her face in her hands. “Sorry. I can’t believe this. How did—” A thump sounded from outside. Ellen grabbed at his shirtsleeve.

  “I’ll go check it out. From inside, don’t worry. I’m not armed right now, so I’m not about to dive into danger.”

  Ellen stared at him, wide-eyed. “But, Leo—you might not have to go outside to be in danger. Please tell me you didn’t leave the door open.”

  TWO

  He had left the door open. He pressed one finger to his lips to indicate they should both be quiet, then crept into the hallway. Through the bannister, he spied the open front door, but he didn’t see anyone else inside. The crackle of tires against pavement brought a surge of hope. He descended the stairs, watching for movement in the house before checking the driveway through the window. An RCMP patrol car and an ambulance had pulled up, and the emergency teams were pouring out.

  “You can come down now, Ellen,” he called. He did a double take as she appeared at the top of the stairs and had to swallow a sudden cough of surprise. When had she become so...beautiful? The girl he’d had a forbidden crush on had been cute, with her wild red hair and freckled button nose making him sigh with frustration and adoration as a teenager. Now, her hair was still wild and bright, her nose still freckled and button-like, but she’d grown into those features and wore them with confidence. He felt a sharp jab when she focused her pale blue eyes on him from a distance. Rosebud lips turned down in a nervous frown as she began to descend the steps.

  Maybe it was a good thing Jamie had long since marked his sister off-limits. Besides, what woman wanted to spend her life with a man who never had time for her in the first place? Between his RCMP position in Fort Mason, the junior high soccer team he coached half the year and his parents’ fading health, his free time was scarce. He didn’t even remember the last time he’d taken a day to himself to sit and read or watch a movie. There was always something else that needed doing.

  His brothers had practically dragged him down here to Schroeder Lake for Sam’s bachelor party, and Leo still didn’t feel great about leaving the Fort Mason detachment in the hands of other people. No matter how qualified they were.

  “It’s emergency services,” he said, turning away from her. “Let’s give them your statement and then they can start searching the grounds for any signs of the intruders. Okay?”

  She nodded and followed him outside as a familiar RCMP officer came running up the steps. Jamie looked from Ellen to Leo and back again. “Well, this is a surprise. Are you both all right? What’s the situation here?”

  Leo listened quietly while Ellen recounted the recent events to her brother. As soon as she’d finished, he and the other officer who’d driven in with him took off to do a sweep of the perimeter. They came back several minutes later, shaking their heads.

  “No signs of the intruders in the immediate vicinity,” Jamie said, “but I’m sure the staff sergeant will have us do a more in-depth investigation both inside and out. And I agree, that’s definitely blood on those steps. Based on what you’ve told us, Ellen, it could mean we’re looking at a homicide investigation.”

  Leo noticed Ellen begin to sway where she stood. Alarmed, he grabbed her arm and she steadied. “You all right?”

  She shook her head no, her complexion even paler than before. “I can’t do this here.” She glanced at her brother. “I saw him fall, Jamie. I might have watched him die.”

  Leo looked sharply at Jamie, whose eyes widened with a touch of panic. “Want me to get her out of here?” Leo asked.

  “Please,” Jamie said, gratefulness flooding his features. “Can you take Ellen to the station in Fort St. Jacob to do the official reports? You know the drill. I’m sorry to ask this of you since this isn’t your jurisdiction and you’re here on vacation, but—”

  “You need to stay here, I get it.”

  “And I don’t think I’m in any shape to drive,” Ellen murmured. “I’ll come get the car later.”

  “I’ll drive it home for you,” Jamie offered. “I’ll get it back tonight. You go with Leo.”

  The crackle of more tires on the unpaved driveway caught everyone’s attention. A white van with a garish Rogellus logo—the BC telecom company that ran local television stations for midsize towns across the province—rushed toward them.

  “And we’d better get moving,” Leo growled. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one listening to the police scanner for emergency calls.”

  “Take care of her,” Jamie called after them.

  “I can take care of myself,” Ellen muttered once they reached Leo’s car. He tried to open the door for her, but she reached ahead and did it herself, then paused. “I left my caddy inside. I need it for work.”

  Leo glanced back at the news van. It had parked, and a young blonde reporter was climbing down from the passenger side. “It’s in the house, so it’s evidence. You’ll have to buy another one or claim it on your business insurance.”

  With a sigh, she slipped into the car, but not before the young reporter had spotted her. The woman came rushing over as Leo slid into his seat and slammed the door. He started the car and backed away, leaving the woman and her cameraman standing alone, looking more than a little upset at being denied their full story.

  “You didn’t want to talk to her, right?” Leo said once he’d pulled the car onto the road. “Sorry if it seems like I made that call for you. But I think it’s a bad idea. You’re the only witness to an incident that could turn out to be homicide, and the last thing you or the police need is for your name and face to get plastered all over the local news. You never know who’s watching.”

  “No, it’s fine. I agree, plus I want to get my story straight in the police reports before anything else. And I’m not exactly keen to have a target on my back. None of the thieves saw me, so they don’t know that I might be able to recognize them—their voices, at least. I’d rather keep it that way. I might have witnessed a murder.”

  “Homicide, yes, but I’m right there with you. In fact—” He glanced over at Ellen, but her head had tilted forward at a strange angle, and she looked as pale as a bleached sheet. A ragged sound came from her chest. He yanked the car onto the road’s shoulder and reached for her. “Ellen! What’s happening?” He pulled out his phone to dial 911 again, but she raised a shaking hand to stop him.

  “There’s a gas station,” she said, each word breathy and forced. “Can we stop? Just for a minute. There’s an attached diner with a washroom. I just need... I need to be alone for a minute.”

  “Of course, of course.” He pulled back onto the road and gunned it, hoping his memory of the diner’s location was correct. He kept an eye on her as she pressed the base of her palms against her forehead and leaned forward in her seat, nearly doubling over. Had she been hurt and not told anyone? What was going on?

  They turned into the parking lot two minutes later. Several vehicles filled the gas pump stalls, and five others lined the parking spaces next to the diner. Leo instinctively scanned the area as Ellen climbed out of the car and hurried toward the door. He hustled after her, reaching the door a split second early to pull it open for her. She shuffled inside and froze, as if uncertain what to do next.

>   “Take whatever time you need,” Leo said. “I’ll keep an eye out and call the station to let them know we’re on the way. I’ll be waiting right here. Are you sure you don’t need medical assistance?”

  She nodded but didn’t look him in the eye. She then took off toward the washrooms. Leo watched her until she disappeared from sight, then found a seat at the diner counter that gave him a clear view of the entire place. Several tables of patrons were enjoying their meals or cups of coffee, all absorbed in their own little worlds. One man sat in a booth with his back to the rest of the room, reading a newspaper.

  Leo hoped Ellen was all right and that she’d been honest about not needing medical attention—he’d promised Jamie he’d look after his sister, and Leo meant it. Not that Ellen wasn’t perfectly capable on her own, but it made sense that as her big brother and only living relative, Jamie would be overprotective of his sister.

  The mumble of the television behind the diner counter caught Leo’s attention, and he was surprised to recognize the young blonde reporter who’d arrived on-scene at the cottage as he and Ellen had left. The reporter was still standing in the driveway at the cottage as she spoke into a handheld mic.

  “Excuse me,” Leo said, waving at a server. “Can you turn the television up for a minute, please?”

  The server obliged.

  “...sole witness to the events here today, none other than Fort St. Jacob resident Ellen Biers. Miss Biers declined our request for an interview, however—”

  Leo’s stomach twisted, and a flare of fury rose in his gut. What was the reporter thinking, revealing that kind of information? She’d clearly recognized Ellen as they’d pulled out of the driveway, so was this some kind of personal vendetta because they’d driven away without speaking to her?

  As the woman continued to give her report, Leo was relieved to see one of the RCMP officers at the cottage notice the reporter and head toward the camera. Surely the officer would give the news team a stern talking-to. The reporter was clearly inexperienced. Giving out Ellen’s name during an active investigation was unprofessional and potentially dangerous, and possibly even worthy of a criminal charge of obstruction. The situation at the cottage was not only a theft, but a possible homicide and—if Ellen’s memory had been correct—the site of illegal weapons use. The thieves couldn’t just walk into a store in Canada and buy handguns. Guns were highly regulated and controlled, and it required myriad permits to own even one, let alone transport it from place to place. A gun certainly couldn’t be carried out in the open.

  Leo checked the time. Ellen had only been in the washroom for less than five minutes, but something wasn’t sitting right. He glanced around the diner. Everyone but the man who’d been reading the newspaper remained where they’d been moments before.

  And then he saw it—the plain black ball cap on the table, next to the newspaper.

  * * *

  Ellen leaned against the sink in the washroom, bracing herself in place with one hand on either edge. The image of Rod’s foot catching on the lip of the doorway replayed over and over in her mind, the sound of his head hitting the pavement echoing repeatedly as it morphed into a much older memory. It was the same sound her mother had made as she collapsed onto the floor of their home when Ellen was eighteen years old.

  Her father, an RCMP officer, had lost his life two years prior to that incident in a tragic shooting at a routine traffic stop, and her mother had never recovered. Her mother had slowly descended into darkness, and although Jamie had tried to get their mother the help she needed, well...a person couldn’t be helped if they refused to accept that help.

  Ellen had come home from school one day and had been surprised to find her mother in a more cheerful mood than she could remember in nearly a year. They’d hugged. Her mother had offered to make Ellen a peach-mango smoothie, having splurged on a rare treat of frozen tropical fruit. Ellen had been delighted and hopeful to find her mother acting that way.

  Of course, it had all been a lie. Her mother had been chipper because she’d already decided her suffering had come to an end. Before the blender had even finished its smoothie cycle, Ellen had heard it—a thump against the counter, a body hitting the floor. Ellen had found her mother in the kitchen, seen the pills strewn about the counter and the half-empty glass of water. Emergency services arrived too late—her mother had already taken half the pills before Ellen got home, probably intending to make her daughter a snack before slipping away.

  Ellen had held her mother in her arms as the light went out of her eyes, and she’d been trying to escape the memory ever since. Sometimes it emerged when she least expected it. A sound or a smell would send her running for the safety and solitude of a washroom, closet or dark space until the memories passed. She hadn’t eaten a mango or a peach since that day, the thought of both fruits leaving an ashy taste in her mouth.

  If only I’d gone into the kitchen and talked to her. If only I’d asked her about her day and told her how happy it made me to see her smile again. If only I hadn’t been so self-centered and sat in the living room doing nothing. I was old enough to make my own snack. I could have seen what she was doing and stopped her—

  Ellen squeezed her eyes shut as her lungs tightened. She tried to force the air in and out, but her body felt like stone, unresponsive, as if her brain wanted to pour all of its energy into replaying the horrible memories over and over.

  She heard a creak and loosened her grip on the sink. The diner had been a fixture on the highway to Schroeder Lake for as long as she could remember, and the plumbing was probably more fragile than she realized—much of the interior of the place hadn’t changed in decades, bathroom and dining room included.

  She needed to get a hold of herself. Leo was waiting for her, and she needed to give her official report at the police station before the details began to fade. She inhaled deeply and began to exhale as she opened her eyes—and screamed, throwing herself sideways as a blade flashed through the air where she’d just stood.

  A burly, ski-masked man blocked the washroom exit, a knife in his left hand. With a sense of detachment, Ellen noticed the corner of a red bandanna peeking out of his plain navy blue jacket. He swung the knife toward her again. She yelled for help and ducked, dodging slash after slash in the narrow space.

  “Why are you doing this?” she shouted. “Leave me alone!”

  He didn’t respond but grabbed for her arm instead. She kicked at his stomach as his fingers curled around her wrist, and he grunted as he stumbled backward. His large body still blocked the way to the exit, and there was no other escape. She needed to buy herself some time and keep screaming until someone heard her and came to her rescue.

  With a guttural growl, the man launched himself at her again. She dove into the closest bathroom stall and locked the door, but she knew it wouldn’t hold him for long. The man slammed his shoulder into the door, trying to break the lock and get inside, and the entire metal frame was flimsy enough that it rattled with each strike.

  “Help! Leo!” she called over and over as she braced her own shoulder against the stall door and her feet against the wall, putting as much pressure as she could on the aging metal.

  The hand holding the knife suddenly slashed at her from below, in the gap between the stall and the floor—and she took the opening it gave her. She stomped on the hand, and the man shouted in pain, dropping the knife. Ellen kicked the knife away and flung open the stall door to aim another kick at the crouching man’s head.

  Her foot connected, and he roared in anger. Ellen tried to run past him, but he flailed for her—and then the washroom door opened with a bang. Leo burst inside and darted toward Ellen, pulling her from the man’s grasp.

  “He had a knife,” Ellen blurted as Leo shoved her behind him. “I kicked it away.”

  “Good call.” Leo rushed at the man, who was scrambling for something on the floor. The instant before Leo reac
hed him, the man sat upright and slashed at the air in front of Leo. He’d recovered the knife, but Leo was faster. He dodged the slash and kicked at the man’s arm, forcing it out of the way and securing an opening to lunge in to try to take the man down. Ellen heard an exclamation of pain but couldn’t tell who’d been hurt. All she knew was that they needed to get out of this situation as fast as possible, before the knife found its target.

  Ellen looked around for something she could use to help Leo—a fire extinguisher or a broom, anything at all—but before she could act, the man shoved Leo aside and rushed toward the door.

  He looked angry enough to kill, and he was headed straight for her.

  THREE

  “Ellen, move!” Leo shouted, praying she’d be able to react quickly enough to avoid being grabbed or harmed by the assailant. For a split second he feared the man’s intention was to drag Ellen off with him, but the instant Ellen showed resistance by backing away and dropping her center of gravity, the man corrected course. If her attacker paused for even a fraction of a moment, Leo would have him—but the man was fast. And apparently a coward, now that he didn’t have a weapon in hand to attack with.

  The man burst out of the washroom and into the diner, sprinting through the eatery toward the exit. Leo followed close behind, but the assailant had a few seconds on him, and it made all the difference. Plus, the man bumped into patrons and servers as he ran, leaving extra obstacles for Leo to navigate around. Meanwhile, Leo still had no idea whether Ellen had been hurt in the moments before he’d heard her cries and rushed into the washroom to protect her.

  Please let her be all right, Lord, he prayed. I promised to keep her safe, and I’m already failing.

  The attacker headed toward a blue pickup truck sitting at one of the gas pumps, and Leo felt a rush of adrenaline in his veins. He dug deep, ready to hightail it after the truck as it pulled out of the lot—but pain suddenly tore through his kneecap, radiating outward with each step. His run turned into a fast limp as footsteps caught up with him.