In Danger

By Naomi L. Carter

Charlene (Charlie) Weaver likes to look out the window of her apartment while drinking her morning coffee. She doesn't know that practice can put her life in danger, or that one day it will change her whole life forever. She is a talented (and hopefully, lucky) amateur sleuth. Will that be enough?

Tom Starn is an investigator for the district attorney's office, tasked with protecting material witnesses. He doesn't know that protecting Charlie Weaver will change his life too. Will what he knows be adequate to keep both him and Charlie safe?

An explosion at the safe house will send them running for their lives. That's just the tip of the icebergthe first terrifying revelation that someone was not fooled into believing that the fiery explosion of Charlie's car signified her death, and that the planned escape into the Federal Witness Protection Program will not provide protection after all.

Can they make good their escape and establish a trust in each other? At present, they don't know if there is anyone else they can trust.

While they trust their lives to each other, can they trust their hearts to each other as well? Will their growing attraction to each other make them more vulnerable, or will it make them better able to overcome the dangers and obstacles?

Will they want each other when this is over?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490856629

Naomi L. Carter

Naomi L. Carter has written short articles for newspapers since the 1980s. She is the author of a self-published novel, in DANGER, an inspirational suspense romance. Naomi is a member of the Central Florida chapter of American Christian Fiction Writers and has a master’s degree in counseling and guidance from Liberty University. She was a registered individual and family counselor in Washington State for twenty years. In 2012, Naomi reconnected with her high school sweetheart, following fifty-eight years of separation. They consider themselves newlyweds.

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Copyright © 2014 Naomi L. Carter.

Author photo courtesy of

Tim Patrick Photography, Okanogan, WA 98840

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4908-5661-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-5662-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014918518

WestBow Press rev. date: 04/08/2016

Contents

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

DEDICATION

To Barry and Sandy who helped me start this journey -

and to Jack who has walked with me every step of

the way. I love you.

IN MEMORIAM

Ralph B. Windy Bedard

January 26, 1924 – September 26, 2000

Storyteller Extraordinaire

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The author wishes to acknowledge the generous assistance and advice from following:

• Andrew Laws, Senior Chief Pilot and Instructor for Palm Beach Flight Training, Lantana Airport, Lantana, Florida, for information concerning the Piper Saratoga aircraft

• Calli R. McRae and her friend at the University of Georgia Visitors’ Center, Athens, Georgia

• John McDivitt, Attorney, for assistance with legal procedures and court room conduct

• Owner, Captain and Crew of Lady K and Bar Jack Fishing for an informative and pleasant afternoon drift fishing in the Gulfstream off the coast of South Florida

I appreciate the input of the following first draft readers:

John and Coral McDivitt

Sandy Hansen

Marilyn Bone

Jacki Whittmore and Diane Jellen

Debi Emerson

A whopping big THANK YOU to Judge Number Thirteen of the 23rd Annual Writers Digest Self-Published Book Awards for the positive commentary and encouragement to a new author, as well as recommendations for improvements. Also to Kristen Stieffel, Writing Coach, for valuable comments and direction.

Finally, my deepest thanks and appreciation to my instructor and editor, Terri Valentine, without whom this novel would not have been accomplished. Any errors which might appear are strictly the responsibility of the author.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

N aomi is an acknowledged late bloomer. On the journey to arriving at her age of blooming, she has received various expressions of love, some of which could be classified as toxic. But in 2012, she reconnected with her high school sweetheart, John (Jack) Carter. After fifty eight years of separation, he still wanted her. Now she feels uniquely qualified to write about finding a forever love. When she is not writing inspirational romances with Jack’s support, she enjoys exploring the history of South Florida, ocean cruises, and finding fun destinations with her husband. She welcomes feedback from her readers and you can contact her at [e-mail] or visit her website at www.naomicarterwriter .com .

I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety. Psalm 4:8 KJV

ONE

C harlie Weaver barreled down on the intersection in her vintage red MG convertible. It was one of those early spring days that almost felt like summer, warm with a fresh breeze. The late afternoon sun gilded the air and a light lemony green shimmered in the trees and shrubbery. Birds sang and played in swoops and swirls. Who could ask for a more perfect end to her day?

Although Charlie loved her job as an insurance actuary, driving home from work was like being let out of school. The wind whipped through her hair, enhancing the sense of wild freedom. The throaty growl of the powerful engine warmed her.

Thank you, God, for my blessings. A warm rush of contentment washed over her. She hoped nothing would change anytime soon.

Ahead of her the traffic light turned red from yellow. As she began to bring the car to a stop, the smooth sound of the engine changed to a sputtering cough before it died. When she tried to start the car again, a strange buzz and click had her jerking her hand away. It had never sounded like that before. Heat suffused her. Charlie’s stomach clenched and her palms grew slick. She looked up at the traffic light. Still red. What was she to do now that she sat first in line at a stoplight in downtown Philadelphia? A check of her rear view mirror showed afternoon commuter traffic lined up behind her like beads on a string. When the light changed, she would become the object of shouts, gestures, and horns honking at her to move it.

She glanced at her pencil slim skirt, silk stockings, and three inch heeled pumps. Not exactly appropriate for dealing with mechanical problems. At a busy intersection. Holding up afternoon rush hour traffic.

When she could think again, she realized that urban commuting demanded that her first priority was getting through the intersection so she could locate the problem without obstructing the flow of traffic. But dressed as she was, pushing her car through the intersection by herself was going to be a challenge. She clamped down on her urge to panic. Slinging the strap of her oversized purse over one shoulder, she set the floor-mounted shift lever in the neutral position and opened her door to push and steer the little car through the intersection and over to the curb beyond.

At that moment a pedestrian waiting for the light stepped off the curb and placed his hands on the door and windshield frame. I’ll help, he said.

Thanks, Charlie said just as the light turned green. I don’t know what happened. This light is the only one that ever catches me on the way home. The two of them succeeded in clearing the intersection without a significant delay and traffic flowed past them as Charlie set the parking brake.

Pop the hood, her Good Samaritan said. Let me take a look.

Charlie complied before closing her door and rounding the front fender. She caught a glimpse of blinking red numbers before he said, Oh, oh. Car bomb! Thirty seconds! Run! He grabbed her hand and began to run down the sidewalk dragging her after him. Momentarily at a loss for words, Charlie ran with him.

The man pulled a remote device out of his pocket and the lights of a car two spaces ahead of them flashed twice.

Get in.

Still stunned, Charlie obeyed.

Buckle up.

She did.

Just as the engine started, an explosion erupted behind them. When she looked into the side mirror, she gasped. Her MG was in flames. She caught a glimpse of her steering wheel riding the column of smoke and flames into the air.

Wait a minute! What just happened? What did you do? Who are you anyway? Charlie could hardly catch her breath.

You just died, Charlie.

She felt her jaw drop.

I think you’ll be okay for a little bit if I can get you to a safe place, undetected. How much longer you will be safe will depend on how well you can do what I tell you, and a lot of old-fashioned prayer. If you can, please, give me a few minutes to get us away from here, then we can talk. Okay? With that, the man steered into the street and drove away, leaving Charlie’s MG smoking by the curb, and the sound of sirens in the distance.

So much for the hope that her very comfortable life would not change soon. Charlie could hardly grasp the magnitude of how much her life had just veered off course, or the disorientation she was beginning to feel. The implications of what had just happened overwhelmed her as her mind tried to comprehend it all.

The man was gaining distance without calling attention to the light gray car in which they rode. He wasn’t scowling, but his body language would ordinarily have made her hesitant to try to begin any conversation or to ask questions. Just the same, she wasn’t about to submit to any more of his intimidation without knowing who he was and what was going on.

Tell me who you are. What is going on? Her words were a plea, but there was nothing pleading about her body language.

We got off to a rather abrupt start, he said. I’m sorry. I’m Tom Starn. I work for the Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office. There hasn’t been time for explanations. Let me get a little more distance between us and your car, and then we can talk. Most of what we know about you, Charlie, is your name and that you’re in danger.

She lapsed into silence, watching the man’s expertise in weaving through the traffic. She looked out the window. They had been working their way northward through the city center, angling toward the Delaware River. In her heart she began asking for direction from the Holy Spirit on how to respond to this abrupt and catastrophic change in her life. She remembered the passage she had read in the Psalms that morning said she should be strong -- take heart -- wait for the Lord.

She tried to wrap her head around the idea of being dead. Who would miss her? How soon would they miss her? No one waited for her at home. Not even a cat or dog. Maybe Mrs. Bailey at the corner deli would wonder where she was. They frequently met up with each other while purchasing something for their evening meals.

When they passed the turn toward her apartment building, she was jolted.

You missed the turn, she said.

Don’t you think they are watching your apartment?

Oh. Yeah. So what now? Where are we headed now? Charlie hoped he had a plan because she was still struggling with coming to terms with the sudden, drastic change in her life.

We’re improvising since we just got the word about the contract on you. We intercepted. We knew they use car bombs. My boss, Andrew Blair, District Attorney, and I agreed that I would pick you up this afternoon and keep you safe overnight without having any paperwork done. We’ll do the paperwork tomorrow. I’m not even sure where we are headed. We should probably talk about it.

In that case, perhaps you should pull over so we can talk and plan without having to deal with rush hour traffic.

Good idea. This church parking lot looks good. Appropriate, even.

What do you mean? Charlie asked as he turned off the engine.

When I’m not sure what my next move should be, I try to stop to pray and ask for Divine Guidance. I hope that will not offend you.

Not at all. In fact, I have been asking for guidance ever since you told me I was dead.

Tom reached for her hand. They bowed their heads while Tom prayed a simple prayer for wisdom and their safety.

Charlie had to swallow a big lump before she could add her Amen to the prayer. How about that? There was more to this man than a gruff voice and abrupt orders. Interesting.

After a moment, Tom began to speak. In the middle of a burglary, he said, Someone looked up at your apartment building across the street, and saw you staring out of your window at them. They decided that you were a witness who needed to be silenced. They put out a contract on you. Will you think about what you saw?

A memory surfaced. Charlie began to tell it.

It was early yesterday, Sunday, morning, she said. "I was sipping a cup of coffee, standing by my window - something I’ve always done. When I finished my coffee, I was headed to the river walk area for my regular Sunday morning run.

"When the long white limo stopped and the driver deposited the Baileys and their luggage on the sidewalk, I thought nothing about it. Last week I had seen Sarah Bailey in the corner deli. I remembered Sarah’s delight as she talked about the week-long luxury cruise to the Caribbean that she and Mark, her husband, were taking. Mark Bailey had just retired from the municipal trolley company after forty years of employment. Part of Mark’s retirement package was the two tickets for a week-long trip.

She was so excited and gushing like a bride. I wished them a wonderful time. It looked like that was what they had had.

Then what? Tom asked.

"I was still watching when I saw an unmarked blue service van pull up to the Baileys. I couldn’t imagine why the Baileys would need service right then. I mean, it was a Sunday morning. They had just come back from the Bahamas.

I stood there while some men in the van began to deliver carpeting. I made a note of the license number of the van in my daily planning notebook.

Good. That will help. How many people in the van?

Two, I think. I really only saw a driver and a helper, and not clearly at that. They had baseball caps pulled low. The driver was opening the rear doors. That’s how I could see the license plate.

Can you give a general description - height or weight?

She shook her head. From a second floor window, perspective is pretty skewed.

You’re right, Tom said. You know, showing yourself at windows can get you in trouble, and probably killed. You shouldn’t do it.

They were both silent for a few more moments. She could not help stealing glances at this Tom Starn from time to time. While not short, he was no more than six feet tall, with a solid, muscular frame. He moved with the easy grace of an athlete, and his hands on the steering wheel were strong and capable. He had luxuriant sandy hair and light green eyes. He wore neutral gray slacks and a light blue shirt. There was something feral about him, but at the same time, she could not deny being drawn to him. A sense of being safe in his company. Beyond that sense of security, though, she experienced a subtle sexual attraction that she had not felt in a long time. That bothered her. Surely, it was not appropriate to feel such things about a man she knew nothing about. His intrusion into her life had already caused her more problems than she knew how to handle – the loss of her car. And her life.

Tom had been staring out the windshield. You know what, I have four brothers, he said. One of them is the drawbridge tender at the uppermost bridge over the Delaware. He and his wife work the graveyard shift. He might let us stay at his place tonight while they are at work. They won’t be up until after ten o’clock, though. Shall I call him when they’re up and see if it will be okay?

Sure. If it’s okay, then we only have to stay safe until midnight. Charlie looked at her watch. "That’s only about six