Page 16 of Saving Jennifer
“Ms. Baptiste? This is Martin Chastain, the assistant district attorney. I’m co-council on your case with Martin Delacroix.”
Jennifer frowned, knowing if the district attorney’s office was calling at this hour, it couldn’t be good news. “Mr. Chastain? How did you get this number?”
“Through Carpenter Security,” he replied, his voice tense. “I hate calling this late, but I didn’t want you to hear this and panic. The judge has thrown out a good chunk of our evidence. Deemed it inadmissible, which puts us back several steps heading into trial. The Amirs’ lawyers are good—very good.”
Jennifer felt a cold knot form in her stomach. “Inadmissible? I don’t understand.” She looked at Noah, noting his frown. “What does this mean?”
“It means your testimony is now the linchpin of our case,” Chastain said grimly. “Without it, the Amirs will walk free. I’m sorry. I know this puts a tremendous amount of pressure on you, but there it is.”
“I understand,” Jennifer said, though her mouth had gone dry. “I’ll be there, Mr. Chastain. I promise.”
“Good. Carpenter Security has promised to keep me updated on your status, though they won’t tell me or anybody in the district attorney’s office where you’re staying. And that’s a good thing, because we need to make certain your location is kept confidential. If I don’t know, this office doesn’t know, there can’t be any leaks. You can trust them, they’re the best in the business at helping people in your type of situation. Stay safe, Ms. Baptiste.”
The line went dead. Jennifer lowered the phone, meeting Noah’s questioning gaze.
“They’ve thrown out most of the evidence against the Amirs,” she explained, her voice hollow. “My testimony is all they have left.”
Understanding dawned in Noah’s eyes. “So, the attempts on your life…”
“Will only get worse,” Jennifer confirmed.
Before Noah could respond, there was a sharp rap on the exit door—three quick knocks, then two slow ones.
“That’s Gator,” Noah said, moving to open it. “Stay behind me until I confirm it’s safe.”
He opened the door a crack, then wider. Standing in the alley was the older man she’d become all too familiar with over the past few weeks, flanked by two younger men who bore a strong family resemblance.
“Nephew,” Gator greeted Noah. “You got yourself in quite a situation, eh?”
“Not now, Uncle,” Noah said, gesturing Jennifer forward. “We need to move.”
Gator’s eyes fell on Jennifer, assessing her quickly. “Mademoiselle Baptiste,” he said with a nod. “Welcome to the family business of staying alive. These are my sons, Etienne and Sebastian.”
The one named Etienne handed Noah a small duffel bag. “Clean clothes, fresh weapons,” he said. “Car’s waiting around the corner.”
“Carpenter Security?” Noah asked, accepting the bag.
“En route,” Gator confirmed. “They’ll meet us at the safe house. Different one this time, don’t worry.”
They moved as a group down the alley, the two younger men taking point and rear guard, Gator and Noah flanking Jennifer. Despite the protection, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable.
“Ten days,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. “Just ten more days.”
Noah’s hand found hers in the darkness, his fingers intertwining with her own. It wasn’t professional, wasn’t part of his job description, but at that moment, Jennifer didn’t care. She clung to his hand like a lifeline.
“I’m not leaving your side,” he promised, his voice low enough only she could hear. “Not for a second.”
Despite everything—the explosion, the pursuit, the knowledge she was now the only thing standing between the Amirs and freedom—Jennifer believed him. With Noah beside her, perhaps she could find the courage to face what was coming.
Ten days. She could be brave for ten days.
Even if it killed her.
CHAPTER FIVE
The silver moonhung overhead like a watchful eye, its light filtering through the cypress trees and casting eerie shadows across the water. Noah stood on the weathered porch of Gator’s fishing camp, his hand resting on the grip of his sidearm out of habit. Two hours had passed since Gator had disappeared into the early evening darkness, the low hum of his boat’s motor fading into the symphony of night sounds that filled the bayou. Gator had made sure Noah knew where the pirogue was stashed, tied up out of sight underneath the pillars holding the fishing camp above the brackish waters of the bayou.
Inside, Jennifer slept fitfully. He’d seen the exhaustion in her eyes, the kind that seeps into your bones and weighs on your soul. Four safe houses in just over two weeks. The latest one ended in flames and smoke, the acrid sent still lingered in his nostrils. Pretty soon they would run out of options, unless they left the city—if not the state—and the clock kept ticking toward her court date.