With her supplies once again crisscrossed over her shoulder, Charlotte mounted the horse. She glanced at the sun filtering through the leaves and estimated she could push another four or five hours before she would have to stop and make camp for the night.
During the past several hours of riding, a plan had slowly begun to formulate. She had a destination in mind, at least one that would allow her to begin her journey to find the one man who could help her. Of course, what should normally have been a twenty-minute ride in the car to reach her first stop had been expanded into what would likely be a two-day journey through the woods and wilderness on horseback.
Nudging her horse to the open field to the east, she pushed him into an easy canter, reminding herself that once upon a time, this was a way of life. They had survived, and she would too.
Chapter 6
Kade finished laminating the ID page of the fake passport, taking a second to appreciate his latest piece of art. Sometimes he thought it a shame that the only people who had the chance to appreciate his artistic talents were the undercover operatives he helped and the government officials who were fooled by the fake passports and other IDs he created. Of course, the latter group never knew what they were seeing, so they could hardly appreciate his skill.
Working out of the heated storage unit he often used as a workshop, he collected the new passport and driver’s license and a stack of cash. He tucked it all into a small black purse, one a woman might carry to an elegant party or wedding.
He would have preferred to have the agent he was helping come to him, but the suspicion that she was being followed made that too risky. The shutdown of the guardian database prevented him from tapping into the CIA’s resources that could have helped him confirm the threat against the agent who had called for help.
No, tonight he would have to resort to using old-fashioned methods. Tonight he would go to her. Jenny Burnett had arrived home from an assignment in South America only two weeks ago, but apparently she had brought a shadow with her.
Kade crossed to the locked gun cabinet and selected a handgun small enough to be concealed in the purse. Fitting the weapon, money, and IDs into the handbag took some effort, but he finally managed to get everything in it without making it obvious that there was a gun inside.
Half an hour later, he slipped through the kitchen of a glitzy hotel, where a banquet was being held. He didn’t know exactly who was being honored or why, but he knew Jenny Burnett would be here and that it would be his best chance to gain access to her without being noticed. With a skill born of frequent practice, he circumvented the various kitchen employees, winding his way through the racks holding trays of salads, entrées, and desserts.
When he emerged in the banquet hall, he slipped into a back corner and waited and watched. Jenny arrived by herself, her reddish blonde hair swept up off her neck. She chatted with several people in attendance, looking relaxed and friendly. If he didn’t know the twenty-six-year-old was a trained undercover operative, he never would have believed it, nor would he have guessed she knew someone intended to kill her.
He judged the rate of her forward progress and walked toward her, weaving through tables so their paths would cross. When he reached her, he turned as though to look behind him and bumped into her. The black clutch she was carrying dropped to the floor.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Kade said, dropping down to the ground. He quickly pulled out the small purse from where he had concealed it beneath his jacket and swapped it with the one she carried. When he stood up, he held it out to her. “Here. I think you dropped this.”
“Thank you,” Jenny said, continuing on as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Kade didn’t have to watch her to know she would make a beeline for the restroom and never return. He estimated that in less than ten minutes, she would be on her way to the airport to make the first leg of her trip to safety. The people after her would undoubtedly be scrambling to figure out how she had vanished into thin air.
* * *
Nelson Hendricks stood in the Carters’ barn, listening to old Andy Carter ramble on about the horse he had discovered missing at feeding time the night before and his not-so-subtle chastisement that his old buddy the sheriff should have made time for him yesterday when he had first called.
For a moment, Nelson wondered how the word old had started getting associated with both him and this man he had gone all the way through school with from kindergarten on. Fifty-four didn’t feel old to him.
He listened to Andy rant a little longer in his slow-paced, methodical way. Finally, when he seemed ready to get to the point, Nelson said, “Now, Andy, you know I sent my deputy right over. You said yourself yesterday that it was almost nightfall and there probably wasn’t much anyone could do last night anyway.”
“Still would have been nice to at least get a phone call from the sheriff.” Andy sulked like a spoiled child.
“Anything else missing besides the horse?”
“Just a bridle and Emmy’s favorite saddle.” Andy walked into the tack area and showed Nelson exactly where each of the items had been stored before they’d disappeared. “I don’t understand why anyone would steal Sonny. He’s a good horse and all, but whoever it was had to pass by a couple of my prize mares to get to him.”
“We’ll dust in the tack room for prints, but seeing as Belinda Martin’s car is at the bottom of your drive, I have to think Charlie was behind this.”
“Why would she do such a thing? She used to come over here and ride with my kids growing up, and she always seemed like such a nice girl.”
“She’s running,” Nelson said, stating the only logical solution. Speaking more to himself than to Andy, he added, “I just wish I knew who she’s running from and why.”
“Well, when you catch up with her, would you please tell her I want my horse back?” Andy asked dryly.
“I’ll do that.” Nelson shook hands with Andy before turning to head back outside. As he stepped into the early-morning sunshine, he began working calculations in his head: his personal map of the area overlying the amount of terrain someone could cross on horseback in the time that had elapsed since yesterday.
* * *
“What did the sheriff say?” Cheng asked when he entered the hotel room they had turned into a makeshift office/computer lab. He had to admit he was glad Owen was the one using various aliases to find out information instead of him.
“You aren’t going to believe this. The farm where the car was abandoned had a horse stolen yesterday,” Owen said. “And get this. They dusted for prints and didn’t find anything.”
Cheng looked at him. “How do you not find prints in a barn?”
“Oh, they found prints for the people working there but not for the horse thief.”
“You think it’s our guy?” Cheng asked with a ripple of anticipation in his voice.
“It has to be. Anyone else would have left some kind of evidence.” Owen stroked his beard. “Figure out a search area for someone on horseback. Whoever was there yesterday has to be heading for some kind of transportation that doesn’t include four hooves.”
“Unless he secures another car, the only options for public transportation in the area are a bus depot and a train station. There are also a few truck stops nearby. It’s possible he hitched a ride with someone.”
“We’ve got to figure out who this guy really is. Any hits on the name Charlie Martin?”
“Do you have any idea how common of a name that is? I got tons of hits, but nothing tying any of them back to Dwight Martin.”
“Try the local high school. The sheriff said he was adopted by Martin and his wife. The school would have records.” Owen watched Cheng search through the high school’s website, annoyed that they had come so far only to come up empty.
His frustration was echoed in Cheng’s words. “No one under Charlie or Charles Martin.”
“Broaden the search. Look for anyone with the last name Martin, first initial C.”
C
heng’s expression changed. “I think we have a winner. Charlotte Martin graduated from the high school seven years ago.” Cheng looked up. “Looks like the he we’ve been looking for is a she.”
“Pull her DMV photo. We’ll split up and canvas all of the different transportation avenues she can take. She won’t be able to cover much ground on horseback, and I’m sure she’ll look for some way to get out of the area.”
“I agree.” Cheng texted the photo.
Owen looked down at his cell phone, satisfied. “Now that we know who we’re looking for, let’s go.”
* * *
Charlotte stood beside the horse that had just helped her cross more than twenty miles to bring her within a mile of the closest train station, one located in a small Pennsylvania town. She had actually passed by the station, taking a wide path around it so she could stay out of sight and make her destination a little less obvious.
Now, with her satchel settled on her shoulder and her gloves still on her hands, she slipped the bridle off the horse and tucked it inside the saddlebag to ensure it would get returned to its rightful owner and so the reins wouldn’t cause any problems for the horse. Leaving the saddle on the animal, she gave it a swat on its rump and sent it heading for home, certain he would instinctively know where to go.
She kept to the trees until she didn’t have a choice but to walk through the neighborhood surrounding the train station. Still, she took care to stay on side streets, deliberately changing her route anytime she saw someone heading down the sidewalk toward her or even just coming outside to collect their mail. Though she had rarely come to this town, except during college when she had taken the train to and from school, twenty miles was still close enough that she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t run into someone she knew.
When she finally reached the station, she watched and waited for several minutes before approaching the old building. The relatively small parking lot was nearly full, which Charlotte hoped was a good sign. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t have to wait long to catch a train. Even as she had that thought, she felt the rumble of the ground that indicated one was coming.
Picking up her pace, she hurried inside to the ticket counter and glanced up long enough to determine the train’s destination.
“Did I miss the 4:05 to Baltimore?” she asked, deliberately sounding out of breath.
“It’s pulling in now.”
“Oh, thank goodness. My mother would kill me if I didn’t make it home tonight.” Charlotte peeked into her satchel and pulled a few bills from the envelope of money, taking care to keep the source of cash out of the clerk’s view. “How much?”
The ticket clerk gave her the amount. “I need to see your ID though.”
“Oh, of course.” Charlotte fought her reluctance as she slipped her driver’s license out of her wallet and showed it to the clerk, handing over her payment at the same time.
Her heartbeat quickened when she saw the clerk type her name into the computer, praying silently that her name hadn’t been flagged.
Behind her the train rumbled to a stop.
Hoping to look casual, she shifted, taking in the scene on the platform. Only a family of five and a man in a business suit were visible. She dismissed the family and focused on the man. He held his cell phone to his ear. The thought crossed her mind that he could be someone looking for her, someone connected to the men who had killed her dad. Or was she just being paranoid?
“Here you go.” The clerk handed Charlotte her ticket, change, and ID.
“Thank you.” She stepped toward the platform, a glimpse of a new arrival in the parking lot sending another wave of anxiety through her. A police car.
A man in uniform climbed out of his car, and Charlotte immediately recognized him as Larry Jenkins, one of the deputies from her hometown. Part of her wanted to wave him down, to hope he and Sheriff Hendricks could help her make sense of all this, but that wasn’t what her father had wanted. He had been adamant about avoiding all law enforcement, including the men they had come to know and trust.
The train had come to a stop beside the platform, and Charlotte watched the other passengers preparing to board. The young family moved forward as soon as the call came to board. The man on the phone didn’t seem quite as enthusiastic.
Seeing Larry heading for the station entrance, Charlotte turned toward the platform. She hesitated, hoping the businessman would make a move for the train before she walked outside. The door that led to the parking lot opened behind her.
Out of options, she stepped outside. The sound of the door caused the man on the cell phone to turn toward her, and he stared at her for a minute and then started toward the train.
Walking as casually as she could manage, she started forward as well, deliberately choosing a different car from the one the man had boarded. She started down the aisle, planning to sit in a row where all of the seats were open. When she heard someone board behind her, she glanced back to see the businessman enter, his eyes sweeping the car until they landed on her.
Charlotte passed by the empty row of seats, her mind racing. Was this man following her? She had watched him board the car beside hers. Why had he gotten off and chosen the same one she had?
Her eyes scanning the current passengers, she keyed in on an older woman sitting in an aisle seat, a skein of yarn on her lap, a pair of knitting needles in her hands. “Excuse me. Is it okay if I sit here?”
The woman looked up as though she wasn’t quite sure if someone was talking to her. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte waited for the woman to shift her knees a bit, making it easier for Charlotte to slide past her and into the vacant seat. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the man hesitate slightly before choosing a seat for himself in the open row she had previously intended to take for herself.
“So where are you heading?” the woman beside her asked, the easy cadence of the South evident in her voice.
Forcing her attention to her current companion, Charlotte gave her the story she’d made up for the ticket clerk. “Baltimore. I’m going home to see my mom.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I’m sure she’ll love having you home for Mother’s Day.”
Mother’s Day. Charlotte had forgotten that particular holiday was only a few days away. If she was honest with herself, she would admit she hadn’t wanted to think about it or the fact that she no longer had a mother to celebrate it with.
Not wanting to dwell on it or the events of yesterday, she turned the conversation to the woman beside her. She reminded Charlotte of the sweet Southern women she’d often seen on the old TV shows her mom used to watch. Slightly plump through the middle, kind eyes, and a disposition for making idle conversation enjoyable. “Are you going to Baltimore too?”
“Actually, I’m continuing on to Richmond. Heading home.”
“Oh, really? Were you on vacation?”
“Just visiting my granddaughter.” The pride swelled in her voice. “She had a new baby a few weeks ago, and I couldn’t wait to go see him myself. He’s just darling.”
“I’ll bet. Do you have pictures?” That was all it took. For the duration of the train ride, the older woman kept up a steady stream of dialogue to accompany the abundance of photos stored on her cell phone.
Charlotte listened intently, appreciating the woman’s sweet nature and her ability to distract her as she shared her life history through pictures of those most dear to her. When they arrived in Baltimore two hours later, Charlotte strangely felt as if she was leaving a close friend.
“You take care of that family of yours,” Charlotte said as she stepped out into the aisle.
“I will. And you enjoy your time at home.” The woman reached out and gave Charlotte’s hand a squeeze. “And thank you for the nice visit. It always makes these trips go so much faster when there’s someone to talk to.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte replied. “It was wonderful meeting you.”
She took a step down the ais
le, looked up, and narrowly avoided bumping into the man who had boarded with her earlier. Instantly, she tensed.
He looked down at her, motioning for her to pass. “Go ahead.”
“No, it’s okay. After you,” Charlotte responded, not particularly wanting to have the man following behind her.
“I insist.” He stepped out of the aisle, fiddling with his briefcase as he waited for her to pass.
Not seeing any other feasible option, she continued forward. A ripple of uneasiness shuddered through her when she passed him and the man fell in step right behind her.
Chapter 7
Charlotte quickened her step as she reached the train platform and headed for the station house. Her increased pace didn’t deter the man behind her. He kept up with her easily, his long legs eating up the ground between them until he fell in step beside her.
“I’m here to help,” he said, his voice low.
She tried to hide the flash of panic on her face, forcing herself to look over at him when she spoke. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m your emergency contact, Charlie. I’m here to take you in.” He took her firmly by the arm, holding her in place while he drew his wallet out of his inside jacket pocket and showed her his ID. Phil Campbell. National Security Agency.
For a moment she froze, not sure what to do. The credentials looked authentic, but she had two problems. First, how did he find her, and second, who had sent him?
Emergency protocols aside, she had been present when Dwight had briefed Kurt on the guardians, and one thing had been made abundantly clear: the only three men in the National Security Agency who knew anything about the program were her dad, Kurt Dorsey, and Ken Holtz.
Dwight had developed the computer encryptions to protect the highly sensitive data compiled to allow their operatives to function properly, and Kurt had been chosen to replace him when Dwight retired next year. Ken provided technical support, but he understood the guardian program and would never send someone unknown to make contact with her.
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