Reluctant Witness by Sara M. Barton Read Free Book Online Page A

and find a blind,
to see if we’ve got company.”
    Just past the Phoenician Lodge, he backed the
van over the fresh snow into the deserted driveway belonging to a
dark, ramshackle cottage and shut off the lights. Jack joined us at
the front of the camper, waiting and watching in the dark. We
passed the time in easy banter. When Brutus climbed off the bench
seat in the back, restless, Jack took him out the side door for a
quick pit stop. They were back a few minutes later.
    “You think we’re good?” Steve asked as his
colleague resumed his kneeling position beside us.
    “Probably. Let’s do it.”
    Steve started the engine and cautiously
rolled the van forward on the dirt driveway, towards the road. When
he got there, he waited about twenty seconds before he turned the
headlights on, and another twenty before he turned right on Route
28.
    The van began to pick up speed as the man
beside me gave the engine some gas. Looking out the window, I
recognized some of the buildings we had already passed. A short
time later, our trusty driver made a left turn and started up the
road to Chitchester, heading north. Steve carefully steered the
Dodge along a narrow, winding road, mindful of the patches of black
ice. We passed the entrance for the Devil’s Tombstone campground,
closed at this time of year. A short time later, we came to the
intersection of County Road 23A and went left. A quick look at the
dashboard clock told me it was just after midnight. By the time we
got to Hunter, I realized all the driving had taken us on a
circuitous loop, landing us west of Tannersville.
    Near the top of a hill sat a classic New York
ski chalet. It was the only house with lights on inside. Steve
turned onto the gravel driveway and the Dodge suddenly began to
shimmy and shake as the tires ran over the rough surface, a
bone-rattling experience that had my teeth knocking together. He
dropped us off at the top, by the door. Grabbing the gear, Jack and
I made our way to the chalet while Steve turned the camper around
and drove half-way down, parking beside the small wooden shed we
had passed on our way up.
    “Why not just park it here by the house?” I
asked my companion.
    “It’s supposed to snow tonight. Less mess to
clear if the camper’s down there.
    “Ah,” I nodded. “That makes sense.”
    “Especially if you’re the guy with the
shovel,” he replied seriously. His hand was on my elbow, urging me
forward.
    “Why did we drive all around for so long if
we were just coming here?” I asked Jack.
    “So my guys would have a chance to get into
place and keep watch. That way, we know we won’t get ambushed.”
     

Chapter Six
     
    Ambushed. The word was daunting. It wasn’t one I really
wanted to hear, and yet it reminded me that I really wasn’t safe
yet. When would I be? It seemed so long ago that I lived my life as
a normal person doing normal things. But the moment that I found
myself surrounded by emergency responders at that Windham pond, a
little part of me had started to hope that this long nightmare was
finally ending. Meeting Philomena Papadopoulos and Inspector Vidal
started the ball rolling, but Jack Cornwall’s handshake sealed the
deal. The strength of his grasp had instantly conveyed the muscle
behind his strength and training. He was determined to get the job
done and he was leaving no room for error even now as he protected
me.
    I’m not sure what I expected to find when the
camper finally stopped, but it wasn’t this charmingly rustic
hillside home in a pleasant neighborhood. Shouldn’t we have gone
into the forest, away from people, roads, and the trappings of
civilization, especially since we could live fairly comfortably
inside the tiny house on wheels? And yet, gazing around at the vast
landscape below, I had to admit that it was oddly comforting to
look out on the vista and see the lights of the nearby ski slopes.
We were still close to town and, if need be, rescue services.
    Two men leaned over the