The Reluctant Witness. Kathleen Tailer
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heard them retreat and breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive—for now. But his thoughts were getting fuzzy and he could feel the life ebbing from him as his blood soaked into the ground. He tried to move and groaned as another wave of pain swept over him. He paused a moment, then tried again. His limbs felt heavy and nothing seemed to work right. With another groan he succumbed to the blackness, wondering if he would ever see the light of day again.
* * *
Casey Johnson gasped and shrank back against the bushes. From her position on the cliff she had clearly seen the entire scene play out, and her heart was beating overtime as fear washed over her. They had just killed that man in cold blood!
She’d been out taking her daily run when she’d heard the first shot and had quickly made her way toward the edge of the cliff to see the valley below. Seconds later she had crouched behind some shrubbery, hoping the plant and her green shirt would camouflage her from the murderers’ sight as the horrible scene had played out in front of her. What were they doing up here? Why had they killed that man? Her heart felt as if it was about to come right out of her chest and her limbs felt frozen and numb.
A movement caught her eye and she saw the two men get into a blue two-door vehicle, drive down the road a short distance and pull onto the grass before exiting the car again. A few seconds later the two men returned, carrying a body out of the woods. Casey swallowed hard as realization swept over her. Two men were dead, not just one. She watched, horrified, as they wrapped the body in a large sheet of plastic and threw it into the trunk of the car. Seconds later, the blue car and a brown sedan, each driven by one of the shooters, sped down the road, leaving a plume of dirt and a dead man behind them.
Questions and trepidation spun through Casey’s head. What had happened? Why had there been a gun battle out here only a short distance from her cabin? She sat back and tried to keep her hands from shaking. Did the gunshots have anything to do with her situation? Various scenarios abounded in her mind, and she stayed hidden a few moments, mulling over the possibilities. She’d thought she was still safe, but she should have known better than to have assumed anything. Still, the idea that her brother-in-law had sent them didn’t quite fit. If the men had been looking for her, they wouldn’t have ended up shooting each other, or left so quickly without finding their quarry. No, it seemed clear that their target had been the man that was still lying on the ground below.
She quickly raced down the mountainside, anxious to see if the man who had been left on the forest floor was indeed dead or had somehow survived. Even as she approached, two questions rang through her head. Why hadn’t the murderers taken his body, as well? Would they be back? She’d seen the men talking from her spot on the ridge but she hadn’t been able to overhear their words, so she couldn’t be sure about their plans.
Nothing about this scenario made sense. They were pretty high up in the mountains, and it was rare for Casey to have any human company other than her niece, who lived with her. Only a few cabins dotted the mountainside, and most were empty except during the summer months. She had picked this location for that very reason. She didn’t want any visitors. In fact, keeping her location a secret was vital. Still, she couldn’t just walk away without at least checking on the fallen man.
She tripped on a root but righted herself quickly and continued down the mountain, slowing her pace to make sure she didn’t reveal her presence in case there were others still in the woods. It didn’t take long for her to find a blood trail, and she gasped at the red stains that painted the ground. Surely the man was dead, or there wouldn’t have been so much blood. She followed it back to where it had probably started with the man’s first injury, before the final confrontation. A large pool of blood had soaked into the ground, and even more droplets of blood painted the leaves of the nearby bushes. She looked around carefully, searching for any other clues that might explain what had happened and why the men were in the woods in the first place, but she found nothing.
“Help me.” The voice was soft, so soft that at first, Casey thought she’d imagined it. She quickly headed up to where she had seen the shooting and heard a soft moan as she approached. She stepped over a fallen log, her eyes warily searching the area around her. She heard another moan and moved cautiously toward the sound, constantly looking over her shoulder, just in case.
The man was lying on his back, but Casey could see drag marks on the ground where he had tried to push himself up. Blood stained his khaki pants and the navy long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. She stepped closer and got a better look at the embroidery on the shirt pocket. There was a law enforcement shield with the words Federal Bureau of Investigation written underneath.
She flinched and felt her heart skip a beat. FBI? This could be a disaster! Fear flooded her as she thought of her peaceful mountain retreat invaded by federal agents. How could she protect herself from that? How could she protect Chloe? Her legs tensed and every instinct in her told her to run.
But she wouldn’t. She’d stay calm and think this through. The man was alone for now, and certainly no threat to her in his condition. And she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she just left him behind without even trying to help.
She looked at his face and gasped. A large gash ripped the skin just below the hairline over his left eye, and blood covered his face. Head wounds always bled an amazing amount, but this man’s wounds made him look as if he were already dead.
She knelt carefully by his side and felt for a pulse. He groaned at her touch. That was good. If he was alert enough to feel the pressure, then maybe he wasn’t as far gone as she had thought. His heartbeat was strong and he seemed to be breathing well, but he had already lost a lot of blood. She began to pull back, but he grasped her arm.
“Help me,” he whispered. His eyes were open but were so full of agony that Casey wasn’t even sure that he was seeing her. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed it, then gently pulled her arm away from him, ignoring the blood.
“I’m going to help you. I promise.” She examined the wound on his side and then gently felt underneath him to see if she could locate an exit wound. There was one, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the bullet had gone clean through. She did the same exam with the leg wound and found that that bullet had also left an exit wound. The man hadn’t been so lucky with his shoulder wound and she knew that the bullet must still be in the muscle tissue. Quickly she pulled off her sweatshirt and started ripping it into strips, ignoring the cold that penetrated her thin T-shirt.
The man moved a little at her ministrations and groaned as she started binding his injuries. Casey started talking, trying to soothe him with her words as she worked. “It’s okay, mister. I’m actually not a total novice at all of this. I was in med school for a few years and I’m trying to stop the bleeding for you. You’re going to be okay. It’s going to take you a while to heal, but you’ll be fine once we stitch you up.” She tried to infuse her voice with hope, but she knew that if she didn’t get the bleeding stopped pretty quickly that he would die right here, lying on the ground.
Once she’d finished bandaging him, she took his face gently in her hands and tried to make eye contact with him. He had dark brown eyes that were full of anguish. She still wasn’t sure if he was registering her presence or not, but she had to try.
“Look, you’re too heavy for me to carry, and you’re in no condition to walk out of here, so I need to go get my car. Stay put and I’ll be right back, okay? Try not to move. I will come back. Do you hear me? I won’t be long. I promise.” She gave him a gentle smile, then turned and started running quickly toward her cabin. It was about a mile away and the adrenalin she was feeling helped her arrive at her front door in a little over fifteen minutes.
Chloe met her at the door, her eyes wide at the sight of the blood that had gotten all over Casey. Mentally, Casey scolded herself for not having anticipated this problem. The child was only ten years old—of course she was spooked, especially with her own experiences with injuries.
“Aunt Casey? Oh, no, what happened? Are you okay?”
Casey nodded as she tried to catch her breath, quickly grabbing her car keys and heading to the bathroom as she did so. “It’s not my blood, honey.