Wrongly Accused. Laura Scott
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stared up at her father. The lure of the water must have been more than she could resist, though, because she nodded.
Caleb gently lifted her up, as if she weighed nothing more than Kaitlin’s stuffed giraffe, and propped his elbows on his knees for stability. Slowly he lowered Kaitlin into the water, her tiny hands clutching his forearms.
“It’s c-c-cold,” she said, her teeth chattering.
“Do you want to get out?” Caleb asked.
“N-no, not yet.” Kaitlin wiggled around in the water, as if she could swim with her father holding her, and then scrunched up her nose when a bit of water splashed in her face. He grinned and lifted her up and down, like a bobber on the end of a fishing pole.
She watched Caleb play with his daughter, her reserve melting away. His smile softened his harsh features to the point it was difficult to imagine him doing anything as terrible as killing his wife.
“Okay, I think that’s enough, Katydid,” Caleb said, lifting her out of the water and setting her back on the edge of the pool. “Your lips are turning blue.”
“I’ll get the towel,” Noelle murmured, glad to have an excuse to put some distance between them. Why did she suddenly doubt the image the media had portrayed? An eyewitness had watched Caleb kill his wife and then flee the scene.
An eyewitness who’d disappeared. Why? What did that mean?
She hid her confusion by wrapping Kaitlin up in the towel. The little girl snuggled against her and yawned.
“I think it’s bedtime, young lady,” she said, glancing up at Caleb. He nodded, rose to his feet and padded across the concrete to where he’d left his shoes and socks.
As they made their way back to the room, she reminded herself that it was easy to believe Caleb’s father-of-the-year act because she hadn’t seen him angry. She’d suffered at the hands of an angry man in the past and the last thing she wanted to do was to find herself in a similar situation with Caleb. So far, she had not seen any evidence of his so-called hair-trigger temper.
And silently prayed that she never would.
* * *
Caleb stretched out on the bed fully dressed, and stared up at the ceiling of the small motel room. Noelle and Kaitlin were snuggled together in the other bed, the one closest to the bathroom.
There were a few things he wanted to do, but he didn’t dare leave until he knew they were both sound asleep. He was fairly certain Kaitlin was down for the count, but he sensed Noelle was fighting to stay awake. Finally her breathing deepened and he waited another hour just to be sure she was asleep before he quietly stood and made his way to the door.
He held his breath as he opened the door as silently as possible and slipped outside. Had the noise caused Noelle to wake up? He sincerely hoped not.
First, he needed to swap the license plates on Noelle’s SUV. He drove down the road, looking for a car that he could use for the swap. He was afraid that anyone within the motel parking lot might notice, so he was determined to find a vehicle somewhere else.
About three miles down the road he spotted a tavern that suited his needs perfectly. He pulled up to a SUV similar to Noelle’s and smiled grimly when he discovered the Illinois license plates. Even better. He made sure the tag was paid up, and then used his Swiss Army knife to swap the plates.
At least this way, he could buy some time if whoever shot at him had an APB out on Noelle’s car. It wouldn’t work forever, but he’d take what he could get.
He returned to the motel, relieved to have that task finished. He parked and shut off the car, but stayed in his seat as he turned on his cell phone to place a call to his lawyer, Jack Owens. It was well past midnight, but he didn’t care. He wanted answers.
The phone rang several times before Jack answered. “O’Malley, where are you?” he asked in a sleep-laden voice.
“Somewhere safe. I’m sure you know by now that someone tried to kill me,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but the police want to talk to you, Caleb. They’ve been hounding me all evening.”
“Too bad.” The last thing he intended to do was to trust the police. Not after the way his SWAT teammates had been so eager to believe the worst about him. And there was a tiny voice in the back of his mind reminding him that Jack was the only person who’d known he was heading over to pick up his daughter. Granted anyone could have made a reasonable assumption, but still. “Did they find the slugs embedded in the house? And the canister of tear gas?”
“They haven’t told me much,” Jack confessed. “Other than they want to talk to you.”
“Kind of hard to shoot at myself, don’t you think?” he asked, trying not to sound as sarcastic as he felt. “I’d estimate the shooter was standing about a hundred and fifty yards away.”
“I believe you. You’re the sharpshooter. But you really do need to come back, at least long enough to give your statement,” Jack pleaded. “After all, you have nothing to hide. You’re the victim this time, remember?”
He wished it were that easy, but knew full well it wasn’t. “What are they saying about Noelle Whitman and Kaitlin?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Not much, at least as far as I know. Although the police want to interview Ms. Whitman, too.”
Of course they did. And despite the way he’d watched her pray over their meal, he wasn’t ready to trust her completely, either. He sighed, feeling as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. “I have to go. Let me know if you find out anything about the crime scene,” he said. “I’ll be in touch in a few days.”
“Caleb—” Jack started, but Caleb pushed the button to end the call, and then turned off his phone not just to avoid further conversation with Jack but to preserve the battery life and to prevent anyone tracing him through the GPS.
For several long moments he stared sightlessly through the windshield of Noelle’s SUV. He wanted to trust his lawyer—after all, Jack had been the only one to stick by him throughout the entire nightmare of being charged for murder. Of course, Caleb had paid the man a tidy sum of money to represent him, so that might not mean much. But he couldn’t come up with any reason his own lawyer would want him dead.
No, somehow the attempt on his life outside Noelle’s house had to be connected with Heather’s murder. It was the only thing that made sense. Someone who was afraid he’d discover the truth? Someone who was feeling desperate, now that the so-called eyewitness had disappeared? And why had the guy disappeared? A sudden attack of cold feet about committing perjury? Or something more sinister?
He took a deep breath and slid out of the car, closing the door behind him as silently as possible. Using the magnetic key, he quietly opened the door and slipped inside. He stood for several long seconds, allowing his eyesight to adjust to the darkness and listening to make sure Noelle and Kaitlin were still asleep.
Reassured by the steady breathing, he ventured farther into the room, estimating the location of the bed.
And then nearly fell flat on his face when Kaitlin screamed.
* * *
Noelle bolted upright in bed and gathered the little girl close. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetie. I’m here, it’s okay,” she crooned.
“What’s wrong?” Caleb asked hoarsely.
“Nightmare. Shh, Kaitlin, please don’t cry. It’s okay, sweetie, you’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
She felt the mattress dip as Caleb came over to sit beside them. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked softly.
“For night terrors? I’m afraid not,” she responded, still smoothing her hand down Kaitlin’s back. After what seemed like ages, the little girl’s screams subsided into hiccuping