“He’s lost track of us,” Corbin said.
His heart hammered against his ribs. The first thing that had gone right today. He scanned the area. They’d have to regroup. Raynor couldn’t leave Van sprawled in the open for long. He wouldn’t want security barreling down on them. He’d know by now it was nearly impossible to find them in the maze.
Beth shivered beside him. “What next?”
Corbin scooted to the opposite edge of the platform and studied their options. The maze was bracketed by the interstate in the distance, green space and the fairgrounds. All exits forced them into the open.
He caught sight of the Moaning River to the north. “C’mon. I have an idea.”
“Is it a good idea?”
“How well can you swim?”
She cast him a withering glare. “Sounds like a bad idea to me.”
“The worst.”
Her half grin was resigned. She trusted him, and this time he wasn’t going to let her down.
* * *
The minute they entered the maze once more, Beth immediately became turned around. The realization left her dizzy and disoriented. She had no idea which direction they were running, whether they were going away from or toward the festival grounds. Thankfully, Corbin didn’t appear to have the same problem. He navigated the twists and turns as though he was following a set path.
He paused once, his brow furrowed, then set off again with confident steps. The maze was eerily quiet beyond the soft thumps of their shoes hitting the hard earth path, and the rustle of the leaves catching their clothing.
After several minutes of running, a stitch formed in her side and she slowed.
Corbin turned, his expression concerned. “Are you all right?”
Pressing her fingers into the pain, she straightened. “Fine.”
“Hang in there.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
She sucked in a lungful of cold air and shook out her hands. She hadn’t been monitoring her breathing. A rookie mistake.
Corbin reversed direction, shoving Beth gently ahead of him. They went back the direction they came. Stalks blocked their path, and she batted them aside. Her breath sounded harsh in her ears, and she had trouble keeping traction on the path.
They turned left and startled a flock of birds. Wings flapped, and she covered her face with her hands.
“This way,” Corbin urged.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“Sort of. I think.”
At least now she sympathized with all those victims in horror movies. She expected one of the goons to leap out at any moment. She couldn’t tell if they were running from the danger or toward it. They came to a dead end and stopped.
Corbin looked left and right.
“Which way.”
He pointed straight ahead. “That way.”
Corbin plunged through the wall of corn. Beth paused only a moment. Though she knew it was only corn, years of conditioning had her following the path. She dove through the tall stalks, emerging on the other side, then gazed in wonder. It was like entering another world. They stood on a narrow patch of land separating the corn maze from the tree-lined Moaning River. Or creek. It wasn’t much of a river, despite the auspicious title.
Corbin shoved the dry leaves together, disguising their forced exit.
She glanced around. “What now?”
“We listen.”
Together they crouched near the edge of the maze. Voices sounded. The men were crashing through the cornstalks, calling to each other.
Her ears buzzed. The maze was huge. Acres of paths. And yet they could hear the men. Which meant they must be close.
Corbin glanced behind them. “Let’s make for the creek bed. It’ll lead us back to the fairgrounds.”
“All right.”
He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. “You’ve got a scratch.”
She touched the spot and glanced at the drop of blood on her fingertips. “Those leaves are sharp.”
His gaze focused, and she immediately went quiet. The air around them was eerily still.
A gunshot whizzed over her head, cutting the leaves above her.
Beth stifled a shriek and threw her arms over her face.
Corbin crouched over her, covering her with his body. “They can’t see us. They’re shooting blind.”
Another bullet whizzed to the right of them and struck a tree in the distance.
Keeping low, they frog-walked toward the creek bed. Corbin turned around, brushing over their footsteps in a hasty attempt to disguise their path. He slipped down the side of the embankment, then held out his hand for her to follow.
She grasped his fingers and trailed him down the muddy slope. The heavy rains had eroded the embankment, turning the ground concave above them. Her feet were freezing, but this wasn’t the time to complain. Not with those two goons hot on their heels.
She started toward the water, and Corbin swung her around. He shook his head, pointing above them.
She stilled.
Voices sounded.
“Can you see them?” one man called.
“No. I can’t see them. I can’t see nothing,” the second man replied.
Beth froze. Corbin yanked her beneath the concave overhang. The men must have emerged from the maze. She held her breath, willing them to move on, but their voices ebbed and flowed above her.
“Be quiet,” one of the men called. “I think I hear something.”
Footsteps sounded, and dirt showered over them. The loamy scent of earth tickled her nose. She pressed her face against Corbin’s jacket. His hands tightened around her. Water washing over pebbles in the creek disguised the sounds of their breathing.
“They didn’t make it as far as the creek,” the man above them called. “They must still be in the maze.”
Moisture soaked through her shoes and sent her shivering. She offered a brief prayer that the men wouldn’t investigate any further. Their hiding spot wasn’t the best. Corbin chafed her arms, and she melted into his warmth. Right then she didn’t care about his professional rules. She needed his comforting strength. She pressed her ear against his heart, reassured by the steady, beating rhythm.
After what seemed like an hour, but was more like fifteen minutes, Corbin leaned back. “I think we can risk moving now. I’ll check to be sure.”
“Be careful.”
He scooted from his cover and made his way up the embankment. His shoes slipped, and he grasped a tree root. Beth cringed. No shot sounded. No voices called.
He turned, half walking, half sliding down the muddy embankment. “I didn’t see anything. We should get going.”
“Where?”
“Out through the festival. It’s still the safest. More people are better. Plenty of cover. They won’t try for both of us under those conditions.”
She took a cautious step, and mud oozed over the edges of her brand-new sneakers. Right then, she didn’t care where they went as long as no one was shooting at them, and she could dry her feet. Her shoes were a lost cause. She’d have to pitch them after this little adventure.
The steep banks forced them to navigate the creek in spots. The water was icy, and she sank up to her ankles in several places. Mud coated her hands and darkened her sleeves when she grasped the embankment for balance. They walked single file, toward the voices of the fairground.
Noises from the petting zoo sounded over the rushing stream, and Corbin jerked his head. “C’mon. We’re near enough to the crowds. We can leave that way.”
“Anything that gets me out of this mud.”
“You first.”
She started up the embankment and immediately realized why he’d insisted she go first. He braced his hands against her back and propelled her up the hill. She staggered away from th
e creek and leaned against a tall poplar tree.
Corbin followed close behind.
Chattering families walked the path not ten feet from them, but most people kept their eyes forward, completely oblivious to the two disheveled people catching their breath on the banks of the Moaning River.
Corbin dusted his hands together and grimaced. “I think we’re safe. We might as well make for the car.”
Hand in hand, they stumbled through the crowds. Her feet were so cold, they were numb. She was moving on instinct and muscle memory alone. She couldn’t feel her legs below the knee.
Their awkward appearance incited plenty of curious stares. She held her head high. Any other time she’d have been mortified. Not today. Today she was alive. She’d survived her third attack. Today she didn’t care what people thought.
Corbin remained alert, but there was no sign of the two men. If there was any justice, they were following the sailing tracker to someplace horrid. Maybe the creek passed near a waste dump or a feedlot. They were far enough outside the suburbs to make that possible.
As they passed through the exit, the security guard glared at them.
Corbin tipped his head. “Good day.”
Beth stifled a giggle.
They reached the car without incident, and she poured herself on to the seat. She leaned against the headrest and tilted her face toward Corbin.
“Thank you,” Beth said.
Corbin paused, his fingers on the key in the ignition. “For what?”
She blinked rapidly. “For saving my life. For protecting me even though I didn’t give you much reason to trust me.”
He rested his hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to be all right. I promise.”
“Next time, I’ll trust you sooner.”
She turned to stare out the window lest he see the emotion in her expression.
Tuesday was coming soon. Her throat tightened. There wasn’t going to be a next time.
ELEVEN
The hotel clerk eyed the two of them with thinly veiled derision. “No vacancies.”
Not that Corbin could blame the man. They were coated head to toe in partially dried mud. Though they’d thoroughly wiped their shoes on the mat outside the door, there was a halo of dirt surrounding their feet.
He peeled a hundred bill from the top of his stack. “How about now?”
“Might have something.” The whip-thin man scratched his brittle, gray whiskers. “But I don’t want no trouble. And I don’t want my towels getting all messed up. You clean up after yourselves, and you leave the room clean.”
“Rooms. Plural,” Corbin corrected. “We’ll take two adjoining rooms.”
The man lifted a bushy gray eyebrow in question. “You’re awful fancy for a couple of folks who look like they’ve been wallowing in a pig sty.”
Corbin peeled off another hundred-dollar bill. He was cold, wet, hungry, dirty and at the end of his patience with judgmental front desk clerks. This hotel room was costing a fortune considering the state of the premises, and he didn’t care if he was ever reimbursed.
Right then, he’d pay a thousand dollars for a hot shower. “Two rooms. No questions. We’ll leave your towels as pure as the driven snow.”
The man unsnapped the breast pocket of his red-checked shirt and tucked the bills inside. “All righty, then.” He retrieved two actual keys with plastic tabs from a Peg-Board behind the counter. “You’re in rooms 222 and 224.”
The hotel Corbin had chosen was just across the Wisconsin border. Though he’d called the police to update them on the two men, and despite the fact they’d ditched the tracker, he wanted some space between Beth and the most recent attack.
They were starting over. Setting everything to zero.
He palmed the two keys. Not exactly the most secure arrangement, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and they were looking like a couple of beggars right then.
Their feet dragging, their shoes dropping dirt clods, they made their way up the concrete stairs to their adjoining rooms. The motel had seen better days, though someone had taken the trouble to repaint the exterior a jolting shade of purple.
A police cruiser slowly drove past. Homeland Security had requested local assistance while they mustered a security team. Three attempts on her life in two days had finally gotten Beth government-sanctioned protection—even without proof of her evidence. Corbin grunted. Better late than never.
She leaned heavily against the wall. “I’m so tired, I think I’m going to die.”
He knew the feeling. Reaching behind her, he keyed open the door, and she stepped inside. She staggered the distance and collapsed face-first on the nearest bed, her arms akimbo.
“Wake me when this is all over,” she declared, her voice muffled.
He tossed her meager bag of belongings on to the mauve bedspread beside her. “Take a hot shower. Get some rest.”
She flopped on to her back, splaying her hands. “You, too.”
Corbin offered a wry smile “Will do. You hungry?”
“No. I don’t want to think about anything but getting clean, and then sleeping for a week.”
He knew the feeling. “I’ll check back later.”
He spent twenty minutes in the shower. When he emerged, the mirror was completely fogged over. He wiped a space and stared at himself. He’d looked worse. There were times in Afghanistan when he’d gone over a week without a shower. In the heat of summer. In weather that would scorch the bark off a tree.
He’d looked better, too. A lot better. He tore the tags off his new clothing and donned a pair of jeans and a zip-front athletic shirt. He yanked new socks over his feet and collapsed on the bed. He’d been tired before. But he couldn’t remember being this tired.
He must have dozed, because when he jerked awake, the time on the clock was past dinner.
His stomach growled. Neither of them had eaten in hours. He dragged himself upright and ran his fingers through his hair. He flipped through the binder on the nightstand and discovered a nearby pizza joint. He ordered two different varieties and added a dessert for good measure. A chocolate brownie. Beth had a weakness for chocolate.
The pizza shop didn’t offer delivery, but at least it was close by. With the patrol car still on duty, he drove the distance, then parked back at the hotel. The boxes balanced on his palm, he climbed the stairs two at a time. If he slowed down, the fatigue might return, but as long as he kept moving, he was fine.
He returned to his room and considered whether to disturb Beth and risk waking her. Thankfully, the walls were thin, and he heard the TV as well as footsteps. She was awake.
He knocked softly on the adjoining door and announced, “It’s Corbin,” then mentally slapped his forehead. Who else would it be?
The security chain scraped across metal, and he smiled. At least she’d had the presence of mind to set the extra security.
He extended a flat box. “Pizza. There’s a shop close by. And just to show that I’m not a cheap date.” He reached in his pocket and retrieved a can. “I got us each a soda out of the machine.”
She offered a weary smile. “I’m starving. You’re a dear.”
“Pizza cures all ills.”
“Do you ever skip meals?”
“Not if I can help it.” He set the box on the small side table, flipped open the lid and retrieved a slice. “Low blood sugar means brain fog. I’ve got to stay sharp.”
“Mmm.” She took a slice. “Pepperoni. My favorite.”
“Good. I figured pepperoni was safe enough. Let’s see if we made the news.”
Beth flipped on the TV. “Might as well see if I’m America’s most wanted.”
They watched the entire program, but there was nothing about a commotion at the Harvest Festival or a search for a missing accountant accused of embezzlement. Following the news, a movie f
eaturing two strangers on a disastrous cross-country trip played.
Corbin hoisted an eyebrow. “Seems fitting.”
“How far are we going to drive tomorrow?”
“Good news. No more driving. I’ve requested plane tickets back to Chicago as soon as we can get a flight out. Even without the evidence in hand, Homeland Security now considers you a high-value asset. They’re willing to dispatch a unit rather than operating out of Virginia. They want to keep everything close to Quetech until this over. Third time’s a charm in kidnapping.”
Beth groaned and rubbed her face. “We’re going back to Chicago? I can’t believe I spent all that time and money getting out of Chicago for nothing.”
“We’ve gone over this all before. You could have gone to the FBI first.”
She flashed a grin. “Think of all the fun you’d have missed if I’d done the sensible thing.”
“The past couple of days certainly haven’t been boring.” He glanced at her. Everything changed after today. He was no longer operating solo. She’d be part of the Homeland Security juggernaut once they landed in Chicago.
The phone rang, and Corbin checked the number before answering.
“Thank me,” a familiar voice ordered.
“Thank you, Baker.”
“You’re welcome,” Baker barked gruffly. “I got an emergency review. You’re heading up the case. You and the accountant can hunker down in Chicago while we sort out the information from Quetech.”
“Thank you.”
“You owe me. I had to go out on a limb considering we got nothing in the way of proof from your accountant. You getting shot at really helped speed up the paperwork.”
“Anytime.”
“I’ve got a line on your two stalkers. We haven’t caught up to them yet, but we will. The video footage was run through facial identification, and we got two solid hits on identification. The names are Van Gardiner and Doug Raynor. A couple of mercenaries left over from the war on terror. Those two guys are connected to some very bad stuff. But they’re just the cleanup crew. They’re for hire. They got nothing to do with the big picture.”
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