The Deputy's Witness

“Then let me do the moving for now,” he said. Alyssa watched as his attention focused on the car door’s handle. Her muscles tensed further.

Please don’t let us blow up in my Honda.

But nothing went kaboom when the deputy opened the door wide.

Alyssa let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Okay, well, if it’s a bomb it’s not connected to the door,” he pointed out. He moved closer to inspect the space between the seat and him. “I can’t see anything here.” He met her gaze. “I’m going to try to look under your seat now, okay?”

Alyssa nodded, even though she was already trying to do the logistics of that in her head. She was on the shorter side and had her seat closer to the dash because of it. Which meant Caleb Foster was about to get really close to her.

He dropped to his knees on the concrete, braced himself with one hand on the inside of the door and then very slowly hunched over so that his head was near the floorboard. Alyssa felt his breath against her bare legs as he moved between them to get a better view.

The most irrational fear that she’d missed a spot while shaving flitted through her head. When Caleb popped back up after only a few seconds, she wondered if she really had. His expression was the definition of neutral.

“So, was I being ridiculous?” she asked, hopeful.

But that ray-of-sunshine feeling lasted only an instant.

Deputy Foster pulled out his phone, but he took a moment to look directly into her eyes.

“I need you to keep doing what you’re doing a little longer, okay?” he said, tone calm.

“You want me to keep sitting still,” Alyssa spelled out, just to make sure they were on the same page.

Deputy Foster nodded.

Before she could stop it, her breathing went off the rails. It was one thing to think there was a bomb beneath your seat while also thinking you were being a bit insane. It was another for a man of the law to tell you to keep sitting perfectly still.

It was real now.

“So there is a bomb under my seat?” she asked around two short breaths.

“There’s something under your seat, yes,” he hedged.

“But is it a bomb?”

“I don’t know for sure, but—”

Alyssa sucked in a breath and had the deepest urge to grab the man by the collar of his shirt. “You answer me right now, Deputy Foster. Do you think there’s a bomb beneath my seat or not?”

He seemed surprised by her outburst, but who could blame her?

This time the deputy didn’t hedge.

“Yes,” he said. “I do. Which is why I need you to keep calm until we can deal with this. Okay?”

Despite his answer Alyssa decided to panic. Or, at least, her body did. The heavy air in the car, the heat of the day and the sheer thought of having survived a gunshot to the back only to be blown up in a parking lot were all too much to take. Her heartbeat wasn’t just galloping anymore—it was full-out trying to exceed the speed of light. Its pursuit was having a chain reaction on what was left of her calm. Her breathing was no longer erratic. It was rushed, clumsy and impossible to conquer. It was starting to make her vision blur.

The urge to swipe her glasses off and completely freak was escalating. She wanted to try to scramble out of the car and escape the heat and fear that were tripling at an alarming rate. If the deputy hadn’t been between Alyssa and the door, she might have attempted an escape plan.

But the deputy was there.

And his eyes were enough to hold her in place long enough for his words to reach her.

“Alyssa,” he said, moving as close to her as he could without making contact. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve handled a lot worse than this.” His lips quirked up into a grin. “All you have to do right now is sit still, okay? You think you can handle just sitting?”

The way he said the last part, like he was looking down on her for her worry, made something snap within her. Like he was the parent and she was a child who was being ridiculous. She took a deep breath, exhaled and took another one before she answered.

“Yes, Deputy,” she said with a little too much attitude. “I think I can handle it.”

Deputy Foster’s grin grew.

It made her feel better. If only for a moment.

“I’m going to take a few pictures and then I’m going to make a lot of calls,” he said.

“You aren’t going to leave, are you?” she asked, already panicked at the thought.

The deputy shook his head. “I want you to know one thing for certain, Miss Garner. I will not leave you.”

Alyssa hadn’t realized how good that promise would sound.

But, boy, did it sound good!

* * *

THIRTY MINUTES.

That was all it took for all hell to break loose.

True to his word, the deputy had made several phone calls after he snapped a picture of the maybe-but-probably bomb. He’d done it far enough from the car so that she couldn’t hear what was said—no doubt, his intention—but not far enough that Alyssa felt alone. Because, also true to his word, he didn’t leave her.

Not even when the bomb squad showed up and confirmed the maybe-but-probably bomb was in fact a probably-and-definitely bomb. Though the head of the squad, a towering man named Charlie, encouraged the deputy to clear the area while they assessed options.

Options.

That was a word that might have brought Alyssa a sense of hope, or even fear, if she wasn’t baking alive. The day had gone from hot to hell and she was stuck in a vacuum of it. She no longer had the energy to panic. All of that had left her body in waves of sweat, adhering every article of clothing she was wearing to her like a second skin.

And yet the deputy kept coming back.

Along with Charlie, who was now suited up with a helmet and clear mask in front of his face to boot. He lifted it to address Alyssa directly.

“Miss Garner, how are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” she lied.

Deputy Foster raised his eyebrow.