by Elle Casey
“Well, she also has to send a couple messages online,” said Jonathan. “But you can do that at the library. That’s a safe place to be. You can park the bike in the back, and no one will see it. I’ll give you the address of a proxy server you can use to surf anonymously.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” whined Candi, wishing there was another way to do all this. It wasn’t that she wanted someone else to go instead of her; if she had to choose anyone, she’d choose herself to save her family. But that didn’t stop her from wishing none of it was necessary.
“It’s very simple. I’ll explain later.”
“When should she go?” asked Kevin, squeezing Candi tighter for a second before letting her go.
“As soon as possible,” said Jonathan. “Cops eat lunch just like everyone else. I think she’d be in better shape if she was driving around when the lunch crowd is busy or getting out. Too early in the morning and the library won’t be open. Too late and she risks getting lost in the dark.”
Candi reached up to the dock and pulled herself out of the water. “Fine. Let’s get this over with so I can go back to bed and hide under the covers for the next week or two.” Somehow just facing the fear and working fast to finish the task made her feel stronger. At least I know what’s going to happen. I’ll either get caught, arrested, sent back home and murdered, or I’ll make it there and back without a problem. That’s better than not knowing anything. She swallowed hard as she gathered up her clothes and walked back to the cabin, forcing the tears to stay out of sight.
***
Kevin showed Candi how to drive the motorcycle, making sure she understood not only how the gears worked but also how to operate it at high speeds as safely as possible.
“You have to lean into the turns,” he repeated for the third time.
“But I’ll fall over!” she complained, staring at the bike with stark fear.
“No, you won’t. It’s total physics. And if I were Jonathan, I could describe it all to you in massive detail, but since I’m just me, I’ll tell you that you won’t fall off and the bike won’t tip over either. You’ll see when you try it. We can’t do it here, though. The road is too short, too bumpy, and too straight.”
“I’m not going to do that … lean into the turns at high speeds. I’m not even going to go high speeds.”
“You might have to, so it’s better to be prepared and know than to be unprepared and freak out.”
Candi put her hand up on Kevin’s shoulder. “Trust me … if I end up in a situation where I have to go fast, I’m going to be freaking out, regardless of how well you prepare me.”
Kevin embraced her, wanting so badly to make her fear go away. He’d even take it into himself and suffer it for her if he could; but the best he could do now was to try and convince her she was going to be okay. He knew she was strong enough to do this, or he’d never let her even try. “Babe, you’re going to be just fine. You’ll be totally badass on this bike. Plus, you’re pretty hot on it, too.”
Candi pushed away, play-hitting him on the chest. “I can’t believe you’re making a move on me at a time like this.”
Kevin gave her the smile that he knew she couldn’t resist. “At a time like what? There’s never a bad time for me to make a move on you as far as I’m concerned.”
“When I’m about to be captured and tortured … that’s a bad time.”
Kevin’s heart seized up a little before he got a handle on it. “That’s not going to happen to you, Gumdrop.” He stood back a little and ran his fingers through his hair, unable to totally ignore the visions of that assassin on the ground in her bedroom at the supposed safehouse. Why didn’t I kill that asshole when I had the chance? Kevin knew the answer to his own question: he was not a murderer. But that didn’t stop him from wishing the guy coming for them was gone from this earth. The idea of him going after little Candi was unthinkable. He’d go insane if something like that happened.
Jonathan came walking over, a folded piece of paper in his hand.
“What’s up, dude?” asked Kevin.
“I have the messages for Candi to send. After you do this, destroy the paper. Burning it is the best way. Here’s a lighter,” he said, handing over a small, blue disposable one.
“Why are we going all spy novel on this thing?” asked Candi, taking the lighter and putting it in her front pocket. “Why can’t I just throw the paper away or keep it?”
“Because, if you’re being followed, the person will watch you throw it out and take it after you walk away. If you get captured, they’ll take it as part of their intake procedure. Either way, our contacts will be compromised. We can’t afford that.”
“Won’t the library computer be able to tell everyone what she did and who she contacted? Aren’t we already taking massive risks?”
“I’ve included instructions on how to make sure she’s not only surfing anonymously through a proxy but also how to disable any keystroke logging software. I assume they’re using PCs, but in the event they have Macs, here are the alternate instructions.” Jonathan pointed to different blocks of text on the paper.
“You’ve written a book,” said Candi, sounding annoyed.
“No, I haven’t. A book would be much longer. There are only about five hundred and fifty words here, more or less. See? Not even short-story length.” He pointed to a smaller block of single-spaced text. “Here’s the message you have to send, and here’s Stephen’s contact info. I assume you have Jason’s?” He looked up and received an answering nod. “Good. So send this message to both of them, but only after you’ve done steps one through five right here. Got it? Don’t forget to create a new email account. That’s on step three.”
Candi looked at the paper along with Kevin for half a minute before answering. “Yeah. I get it.”
“Now … after you follow all these instructions and finish sending the messages, I need you to go online and just surf amusement parks in California.”
“Why?” asked Kevin, now completely confused.
“We want to create a false trail in the event my safeguards don’t work. It’s just a contingency plan on one hand … make them think we’re leaving the area to go have fun far away. And on the other hand, it will give Candi time to wait for a response from either or both of the contacts. You can see in the message that we’ve asked them for information. Chances are they won’t know much, but you never can tell until you ask. If one of them happens to be by their computer or on their smartphone, they can answer right away. I assume they will if at all possible, based on the nature of our situation.”
“Shouldn’t I surf for info on the trial or the dead FBI agents?”
“No. Don’t do that.”
“Why? Aren’t you even curious?” asked Kevin. “Man, you’re like Ice Cold Jonathan Buckley or something.”
“No, I’m not ice cold at all. I’m just as nervous as you are. And of course I’m curious. But there are algorithms the FBI can run that pull up IP addresses of people who do searches on certain stories or sites. Most people around here will ignore that news, so the library will show up as a hot spot. We can’t afford to clue them in on where we are that way, so we need to depend on our contacts to tell us that stuff. I would like to assume the proxy surfing would shield us from this possibility, but I can’t be sure that will happen. I’m trying to cover all our bases with as little work as possible. Candi is not an expert in computers, and the library network could be quite sophisticated.”
“Oh,” said Candi after Jonathan was finally done talking. “For a minute there I was thinking there might be one positive thing to this trip … that I could find out what was going on. I guess that hope is totally lost now.”
Kevin rubbed her upper arm. “Babe, don’t forget … you’re getting food, too. That’s good stuff, right?”
She frowned and sighed. “I guess. I’m not as excited about it as I know you are.”
“I’ll tell you what. You bring me back some white bread and ch
eddar slices, and I’ll make you one of Kevin Peterson’s world-famous grilled cheese special sandwiches, okay?”
“Are they good? Because I like grilled cheese, but I’m kind of picky.”
“The best. Poems have been written about my grilled cheese. I could open a grilled cheese stand, and it would be busy every day of the week, all year long. Even on Christmas.”
Candi smiled. “Okay, then. I’ll get you the cheese and bread and you can impress me with your skills.”
“And butter,” he said, pointing at her so she’d understand the importance. “Don’t forget the real butter. None of that margarine crap; it has to be genuine.”
“Real butter. Gotcha.”
“And if you’re a fan of tomatoes, get one of those too,” he said. “The beefsteak kind. They go good with it.”
“I am a fan, so I’ll get one or two. I know Jonathan likes them too.”
“Sarah does too, I think. Well, when she’s not pregnant, anyway.”
“So you understand all of the directions?” asked Jonathan.
Candi nodded, looking scared all over again.
“Time to go, Gumdrop,” said Kevin, gesturing to the bike. “You can do this. We’ll be waiting.”
Candi walked around the bike and climbed on board, putting the helmet on before standing the bike upright. She lifted the visor. “Tell Sarah I said I’ll see her later.”
“Okay, I’ll tell her,” said Jonathan, nodding.
“And tell her … tell her if I don’t make it … that I was really looking forward to being an aunt and that I’ll just be a guardian angel instead if I have to.”
Kevin’s voice caught in his throat, and he found himself unable to respond. The idea of someone killing the girl he loved had him furious.
“Smile, Kevin,” she said. “I won’t go down easy.” She put the visor in place and started the bike, taking off in the perfectly smooth maneuver Kevin had taught her just thirty minutes before.
He watched as she disappeared down the dirt road, James running after her for a few yards before giving up and trotting back.
“She’s going to be okay, right, Jon?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
“Yes. The odds are high that she will accomplish her mission and return to us safely. The odds are slightly lower that she’ll return without having divulged our location to anyone, but we have to take the bet that she can do this if we’re going to get out of this alive.”
Kevin didn’t know whether to be grateful for Jonathan’s accuracy and honesty or angry about it, so he said nothing, walking back to the cabin as his mind cooked up the hundred ways his girlfriend could be caught by some very bad, bad guys.
Chapter Nine
Intruders
AFTER HER POST-LUNCH NAP which lasted a wonderful two hours, Sarah got busy finishing up the cleaning of the kitchen. She was almost finished when she heard a weird sound outside. It barely registered until James began barking. Then suddenly it took her full attention. Her hand froze over the stovetop, the wet sponge going cold as she hesitated, listening for the sound again.
“Jonathan?” she called out. He’d taken off with Kevin somewhere, and she couldn’t recall where they’d said they were going. This pregnancy-brain thing was making her crazy. She felt like she had dementia or something. She had to keep writing herself notes to remember things.
The sound came again, and as its import registered, her heart froze in her chest. She could hear the weird pounding as her organ started up again, the beats irregular and hurried. Forks and spoons banging against each other … the alarm! Someone’s coming!
She couldn’t figure out which alarm had rung, though. Jonathan had told her time and time again, if this one rings, someone’s coming from the back door. If this other one rings, they’re coming from the front. If that other one did, it was from the side … and so on and so forth. All of it was blending together into one big, fat, information overload.
Sarah dropped the sponge and spun around, looking for the dogs. Both of them were gone. She could hear James barking outside somewhere, and it wasn’t his usual bark. It sounded more frantic or crazy. Xena was nowhere to be seen, and her deep bark wasn’t present at all that Sarah could tell.
She rushed over to the drawer where they kept the gun, but it was empty. “Dammit!” she whispered out into the room. “Where is that friggin thing?” She opened all the drawers nearby as fast as she could, but the gun was obviously somewhere else.
The last drawer she touched had all the knives in it. She took out the most lethal one she could find, hoping she was just being paranoid. She backed up towards the sink area and crouched down behind the island in the middle of the kitchen so she wouldn’t be seen from the front door. Please don’t let it be a murderer! Please just let it be my stupid brother or boyfriend!
A knock came at the screen door.
Sarah sat completely still, squeezing the knife in her hand. Jonathan or Kevin wouldn’t knock. Sweat broke out on her upper lip. But neither would a killer … would he?
Another knock came, louder this time. “Hello? Is anyone home?” A man’s voice.
Sarah stood. It was a stranger for sure, but he sounded friendly; and he wasn’t busting the door down or sneaking in a window, which was definitely a good sign.
She took a few cautious steps towards the door, hiding the knife behind her back. “Who is it?” she called out when she was still too far to the side to see who was standing on the porch.
“It’s Jack. Jack Guckenberger. The owner? I’m just here to check in with you and see how things are going.”
Sarah remembered the name from Candi telling them about the lady who owned the place. No matter how pregnant she was, she could never forget a name like that. This guy sounded younger than how Candi had described the lady, but the woman had mentioned something about having kids and grandkids. This guy at the door was probably a son or something.
Sarah put the knife down on the counter as she passed by the last part of it and stopped in front of the screen door.
The man was standing there in khaki pants and a polo shirt. His hair was neatly cut, combed, and gelled - he could have been on the cover of a magazine featuring expensive, well-made clothing for the entire family. His smile was dental-ad bright, but didn’t quite reach his eyes. For some stupid reason, it caused Sarah to not want to open the door.
“Hello,” she said, not smiling.
“Oh, hey there,” he responded, blinding her with another fake smile. “Didn’t see you there. Do you mind if I come in?” He took a tentative step forward, fully expecting an affirmative answer.
Sarah battled with herself. She didn’t want to be rude, but his creepy smile was getting to her. And where was James? She tried to look around him but didn’t see the dog anywhere. He’d been barking like crazy earlier and then he’d just stopped. Maybe he’s with Jonathan and Kevin. Maybe they’re just outside. She realized the guy was waiting for an answer, so she cleared her throat, trying to earn herself more time to answer. Be rude and protect myself or be polite and risk it?
Almost eighteen years of discipline and manners hammered into her by her parents finally won out. She reached over and unlatched the screen. “Come on in. My name’s Gretchen, by the way.” Sarah forced herself not to grimace over her choice of name. It had come flying out of her mouth before she could think too hard about it.
Maybe she was just imagining it, but she could have sworn the guy had frowned when she said it. Fear and paranoia had her automatically backing away from him as he entered, moving closer towards the knife she’d left on the counter.
“So, where are the rest of them?” he asked, looking around the room. He shut the door behind him, locking it.
The clicking sound made Sarah sick to her stomach - it had never seemed so menacing before, so permanent. She frowned, trying to calm her racing heart. “Rest of them what?”
He smiled, but there was no humor or happiness to it. “Rest of whom, not what. You know
who I’m talking about.”
Adrenaline shot into Sarah’s bloodstream. The suspicious smile and too-perfect looks had quickly taken on a sinister quality. “I have no idea who you’re talking about, but I think it’s time you leave. I don’t mean to be rude, but I came out here for privacy, and I was told we … I … wouldn’t be disturbed.” Dammit! And I was doing so well!
His smile disappeared completely. “Cut the shit, Sarah. You came out here to hide, but guess what? You lose because I found you.” He took a step towards her.
She moved back to the counter quickly and picked up the knife, whipping it out to point it at him. “Come any closer to me and I’ll slice you wide open, you sonofabitch!”
He held up his hands in surrender, lowering one of them to his lower back. When his hand came back out, Sarah blanched.
“Put the knife down, Sarah. I don’t want to have to shoot you before it’s time. Do you understand?”
Sarah nodded numbly, setting the knife down on the counter without making a sound. Her mind was going a million miles an hour, trying to figure out what had happened, what was going to happen, and what she could do to stop it. But nothing was coming to her. All she could picture was a frightening, black void of pain and fear. It threatened to overwhelm her, bringing the all-consuming nausea with it.
“I’m going to throw up,” she said, her voice trembling.
“No, you’re not. Go sit down at the table,” he ordered, gesturing with his gun.
Sarah shook her head, and then turned to run for the sink. She grabbed the edge of it and heaved several times, sure she was going to be shot in the back, but just as certain she didn’t want to die in a pool of her own vomit.
When she was done, she turned on the water and rinsed out her mouth, spitting it back into the sink. Candi was for sure going to want to disinfect that whole area now. Assuming Candi is still alive and that we’re not all dead. The thought was more than sobering. Sarah swallowed the bile that wanted to come up to join the rest of it and stood up straight. Facing her captor, she lifted her chin. “Who are you? Why are you here?”