The Witness in the Walls

Chapter 2

"I'm with the FBI." Marcus reached slowly into his jacket and produced a badge. The gold shield glinted in the light. "I know this is frightening, but we don't have much time. The syndicate has people in this town. They could be watching this building right now."

"That's what they said before." Her voice cracked, years of buried fear rising to the surface. "The marshals, the FBI, everyone promised we'd be safe if we testified. They promised protection."

Something flickered across Marcus Kane's face, a shadow of emotion quickly controlled. "I know about David Moretti."

And there it was. The name that still woke her up at night, sweating and gasping. David, her mentor, her friend, the man who'd been like a father to her. David, who'd trusted her when she said they'd be protected. David, who was shot dead while federal agents sat in a car outside.

"Don't." Her hands were shaking now. "Don't say his name."

"He was my partner," Marcus continued, his voice gentler but no less urgent. "Murdered while under protection. I know the suspect was acquitted. I know that's why you disappeared. But Eliza…"

"Beth," she interrupted, her voice hard. "My name is Beth Monroe. Eliza Hartwell doesn't exist anymore. Don't you understand?" Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "I did everything right. I found the evidence. I testified. I helped put those monsters away. And David died because of it. Because of me."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It doesn't matter whose fault it was!" The words burst out of her, raw and aching. "He's dead. And I spent three years building a life where no one else has to die because they knew me. Where I'm nobody special. Where I'm safe and boring and invisible. And I'm not giving that up. I'm not going back."

Marcus's jaw tightened. "The trial is being reopened. They've found new evidence; the prosecution needs you. Without your testimony about the financial documents, the case falls apart."

"Then it falls apart. I'm done being brave. I'm done fighting for justice. I'm done watching people I care about pay the price for my choices."

"You don't have a choice," Marcus said, and for the first time, she heard steel in his voice. "Your name is on a hit list. Whether you testify or not, they're coming for you. Your only option is to come with me, go somewhere safe, and let me protect you until we can neutralize the threat."

"I need to lock up," she said, her voice barely steady. She moved toward the entrance, and Marcus followed her outside. The cool evening air hit her face as she turned back to the door, her hands trembling as she pulled out her keys. The metal jangled against each other as she tried to fit the key into the lock. It took two attempts; her fingers wouldn't cooperate. Finally, the key slid home, and she twisted it hard, hearing the bolt click into place. Without looking at him, she turned and headed toward the small parking area beside the building where her bicycle was parked.

"Eliza, wait…"

"Stop calling me that!" She spun to face him in the small lot. He'd followed her out, standing a few feet away under the security light mounted on the wall. "My name is Beth. That's who I am now.”

"I understand more than you think." He held up his hands, palms out. Non-threatening. But his eyes weren't on her; they were scanning the narrow space between buildings, the alley opening onto the main street, the parked cars. "I understand you're scared," he said, his voice lower now, urgent. "You have every right to be. But we're exposed out here. We need to…"

A gunshot cracked through the night like thunder.

Beth didn’t scream. There wasn’t time.

Marcus slammed into her, dragging her down behind a parked car. The pavement scraped her palms as they hit. His weight crushed the air out of her lungs.

Another shot. Then another. Metal shrieked above them as bullets tore into the car’s body.

“Stay down,” Marcus said, low and sharp. His mouth was close enough that she could feel the words. “Don’t move.”

An engine howled. Tires screamed.

Headlights swung into the lot; a dark SUV, too fast, too deliberate, blocking the exit like it had planned this.

Not again.

The thought landed hard and stupid and wouldn’t move.

“Can you run?”

She shook her head before realizing what he’d asked. “What?”

“Can. You. Run.” He shifted, and she saw the gun in his hand. Not dramatic. Already steady. “On three. My car. Gray sedan by the corner.” His fingers locked around her arm. “You stay behind me. You don’t stop.”

Doors slammed. Voices shouted. Too close.

“Understand?”

“Yes,” she said, and hated how small it sounded.

“One.”

He rose.

“Two.”

The SUV’s window slid down. Black circle. Hollow.

“Three.”

He pulled her up and the world broke into noise.

Running. Gunfire. Marcus firing back; not wild, not panicked. Controlled. Almost calm.

The car was there. A gray Honda Civic.

“Get in.”

She fell into the seat. The door slammed. The engine roared.

“Buckle up.”

As they accelerated, the SUV hit them hard from behind, metal screaming, glass exploding, and Beth screamed too.