by Rebecca York
When they’d cleared the enclosure, Shelley turned her head back to look at the mountain rising out of the pine forest. “That place is in such a beautiful location. The forest setting, and the rock formations are majestic. But then you get inside, and you realize the Facility is straight out of a nightmare.”
“Yeah.”
“Every time I think about your being there as a little boy, I want to scream—or cry.”
“I thought I’d escaped on my own. Apparently they wanted to let me go free—so I could provide them with more test subjects.”
“I’m glad you got out,” she whispered. “And don’t tell me you put me and Trevor in danger. Like I said, it’s not just you. I’m as much involved.” She sighed.
“What?”
“My parents were still alive when I graduated from college. I remember how they urged me to visit the school job center. Do you think someone planted the idea in their minds?”
“Knowing what we do now, I can believe it.”
They were both silent for several moments, then he heard her make a small sound. “What?”
“The image of that poor woman in the freezer keeps popping into my mind.”
“Yeah. But don’t get hung up on her.”
“It’s hard not to. I think about carrying Trevor—and having somebody cut him out of me before he was born.”
He swore. “Don’t do that to yourself.”
“I’m trying not to.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes, and for a few minutes, she looked as though she might be going to sleep. Then she sat up straighter and said, “Trevor?”
Matt’s head swung toward her. “You heard him again?”
“Yes. Just for a minute. Then he was gone again.”
“But that tells us he’s okay.”
She turned toward him. “What if we started driving, and I tried seeing if I could pick up his voice more strongly—or less?”
“You think we can find him that way?”
“Yes!”
He wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t going to argue the point because it gave Shelley hope. And she needed that after what they’d both seen in the Facility.
“We’ll try it,” he agreed, “But I think we need to go through with the current plans first, because those guys following us have a bad habit of catching up. I’d like to neutralize them before we do anything else.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He watched the tense set of her mouth. “I’m guessing you want to go after Trevor now.”
“Yes, but I understand why it’s better to finish with the FBI deal first. Not just to get those thugs off our backs—we made an agreement with Owens and Parker, and if we don’t go through with it, they aren’t going to help us again if we need them.”
“Right.”
They circled around, taking roads through the pine forests and the rock outcroppings, making sure nobody could figure out where they’d been before they headed back to town.
The first thing Matt did was stop at an electronics store where he bought Shelley a cell phone and had it activated. Then they started looking for a suitable motel.
They’d discussed the location with Owens and concluded that a tourist site with cabins was the best choice, because that allowed the bad guys to sneak up on them and also gave the FBI agents good cover as they came in after the thugs.
“Another motel owner who’s going to be mad at us for creating a disturbance,” Shelley said as they pulled up at the office of a place called Pine Cabins.
“And he’s picked such an imaginative name,” Matt quipped.
She managed a small smile.
They checked in and left their luggage in the bedroom, then drove back to the shopping district which was filled with restaurants, art galleries, clothing stores and even some real estate offices.
“I don’t see any sign of the FBI,” Shelley whispered.
“That’s the point,” he answered. “They don’t want to be obvious. And they don’t need to watch us to know where we are.”
She glanced at him. “Let’s hope Owens isn’t double-crossing us.”
He nodded. Indeed.
“So why do the bad guys think we’re just walking around town like this?” Shelley asked.
“Because we lost them, and we assume we’re safe.”
“Are we really that stupid?”
“Okay. We’re in town because you need warm underwear.” He pointed toward an outfitter that sold cold-weather gear for both men and women.
Inside, Shelley tried on a thermal undershirt while Matt hung around the dressing rooms. It made him nervous to have her out of his sight, but he couldn’t go into the booth with her.
She came out with the shirt in her hand.
“Does it fit all right?”
“Yes, but it’s expensive, and I don’t really need it,” she said in a low voice.
“But we’ll get it, because that will add realism to the shopping trip.”
“I’m spending a lot of your money,” she murmured as they stood in line at the cash register.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
“Of course not!”
When they stepped onto the sidewalk again, he took her gloved hand in his and they started walking back toward the car.
He wanted to ask her a question, but he was having trouble summoning the words. Finally, he blurted, “If I had asked you to marry me, would you have said yes five years ago?”
He was surprised when she didn’t give him an instant positive answer.
And his chest tightened as he waited for her to say something.
After half a minute, she murmured, “I’d have had to think about it.”
“Why?”
She kept her gaze straight ahead. “Because you were obviously resisting the idea of marriage, so I would have worried that it wouldn’t work out in the long run.”
He wanted to argue that he had ached to marry her, but he’d thought he was doing the right thing.
He swallowed, because there was one more question torturing him. As they kept walking, he asked, “And what if I asked you to marry me now?”
This time, her answer came too fast. “I’d still have to think about it.”
“Okay,” he managed to say as he felt everything inside him squeeze painfully. He wanted to tell her that whatever happened, they belonged together, and that he’d been a fool to break off with her five years ago. But he knew she wasn’t capable of hearing that now. He also knew she wasn’t the same woman who had walked away from him. She’d been raising a child on her own and doing a very good job of it.
They continued down the street as though there was nothing unusual about the conversation. Still, he couldn’t banish the terrible tension knotting up his stomach.
And he was sure it wasn’t just from the personal conversation. He couldn’t shake the conviction that the guys who had been following them around had found them again.
He wanted to stop and turn quickly to scan the cars in back of them. Instead, he forced himself to keep walking.
“IT’S THEM!” Don Campbell pointed to the couple on the sidewalk, just passing a mound of dirty snow piled along the curb. “Looks like they’re having a heart-to-heart conversation.”
He slowed the car, letting the couple get twenty yards ahead on the sidewalk. “Where the hell have they been?”
Savage shrugged. “We’ll find out when we scoop them up.”
“Suppose they’ve been somewhere…you know, important?”
“Like where?” Savage snapped. They’d taken this damn job without knowing all the background, and that was eating at him. He’d thought this gig was going to be easy, but the guy who’d hired them had put them in a dangerous situation. Savage would like to know how dangerous, but he wasn’t in a position to demand answers. That could be dangerous, too. Now all he wanted to do was scoop up Whitlock and Young and deliver them to whoever was in charge, then get the hell back
to Denver. And then figure out where they were going from there.
Campbell shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”
Savage gestured toward the bag Whitlock was carrying. “They’ve been shopping for warm clothes.”
“Yeah.” Campbell hung back, pretending he was looking for a parking space as Whitlock and Young crossed the street to a carryout restaurant and went inside.
“Looks like they think they’re in the clear,” Savage said.
“Can we get them out here?”
Campbell looked at the crowds on the sidewalk. “Too conspicuous. Let’s see where they’re going.”
After ten minutes the couple came out again with another bag and walked down the block to one of the public parking lots that the town provided to make it easy for tourists to stop and shop.
They got into the same car they’d parked at the motel earlier and turned out of the lot.
Campbell followed at a discreet distance. When they turned in at a cabin court, he grinned and continued past the entrance.
“Cabins. I guess they’re looking for privacy.”
“I guess we’re going to give them a nasty surprise.”
THE MAN named Blue watched the sleeping boy for a few minutes, then closed the door and walked into the front room of the cabin.
It was time to make his report.
Pressing the speed dial, he waited for his contact on the other end of the line to pick up.
“How’s it going?” the familiar voice asked.
“I’ve got the kid drugged and bedded down for the night.”
“Good.”
“So it’s okay to take off the handcuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Just make sure he’s secured when he wakes up in the morning.”
“Are you getting any effect from the treatment?”
Blue hesitated, trying to make an accurate evaluation. “I’m not seeing anything unusual.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Maybe he’ll turn out to be a dud. Which means he does us no good. You get my meaning?” The harsh tone told him what he needed to know.
“Sure. I understand,” Blue said, his own voice hesitant. He’d taken this job because he was committed to the project, but he hadn’t considered the consequences of failures. He was prepared to kidnap kids and give them painful shots, not off them.
“Give it a few more days before you call it quits.”
He breathed out a little sigh and looked toward the closed bedroom door.
“Okay.”
MATT CLOSED the door to the room and leaned back against the barrier, glad to be off the street.
The gun he’d taken away from the man this morning was in his luggage. He could get it out, but would that make it more likely that they’d get killed?
“You think they spotted us?” Shelley asked, breaking into his thoughts..
“I think there’s a good chance.”
“But you didn’t see them?” she pressed.
“I couldn’t identify anyone specific, but I wasn’t looking because I didn’t want them to think we knew we were in danger.”
She made a small sound. “In danger.”
He quickly revised the statement. “From their point of view. They think we’re easy pickings because they don’t know the FBI is in position here.”
“We hope.”
Ignoring the comment, Matt said, “Let’s have a fire.” After putting the food bags on the table, he knelt in front of the fireplace, which was already set with logs and kindling. All he had to do was strike a match and blow on the flame a little to get a good blaze going.
Shelley was sitting at the table, staring into space.
Glancing at her, he asked, “Are you hearing Trevor again?”
She shook her head. “I’m trying to reach him, but he’s off the air again.”
“That’s what you call it?”
She nodded. “I guess we have to come up with a whole new vocabulary for the people with talents. Like your mom calling what you do ‘giving a push.’”
“Yeah.” Matt hesitated for a moment before asking, “Are you worried about Trevor? I mean, since we found out all that stuff from Jack and agent Owens.”
“I’m always worried. But it’s not worse than usual.”
“Good.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “Let’s try to act normal.”
They opened the food, both of them staring at the fire as they ate a little of the lasagna and marinated salad they’d bought.
He was too tense to taste anything, because he kept expecting a knock at the door. Instead, the seconds dragged by.
He thought of turning on the TV, but that would make it harder to hear anyone outside.
The wind had picked up, blowing the branches around. A scraping sound at the window made them both jump.
“Just pine branches,” he said.
Shelley nodded and got up. Walking to the window, she stared out into the darkness.
“You think they want to kill us?” she asked in a voice she couldn’t quite hold steady.
“I don’t know.”
“Great dinner-table conversation.” She sat down and took another nibble of her lasagna. “What are they waiting for if they know we’re here?”
“Maybe they’re being cautious, since we screwed them up a couple of times.”
“Three times.”
There was no knock like the last time. One second the door was closed and locked. The next second, it was flung open and hung on bent hinges as a large man in a heavy coat and a ski cap charged into the room, bringing a wave of frigid air with him. It was the same man who had chased Shelley around the breakfast room. Apparently he’d replaced his gun, and he pointed his new weapon at Matt and Shelley.
Matt saw Shelley sink down in her chair as he turned to face the attacker.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked.
“Shut up. You’re coming with us.”
Us. So where was the other one? Waiting with the engine running to drive away as soon as his partner brought them out?
“Not likely,” he answered, expecting the FBI to come charging in behind the thug. But as seconds ticked by and nobody else appeared in the doorway, the awful thought leaped into his mind that they were on their own.
Chapter Eleven
As Matt stared at the man with the gun, a raft of unwanted scenarios swirled in his head. Had Owens double-crossed them? Or hadn’t the guys from the bureau gotten into position yet?
“Let’s go,” the big man growled. “This time we’re not having any problems.”
Matt glanced at Shelley, seeing the rigid lines of her face. Lord, he’d set this up, and now they were both in big trouble. But he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
Scrambling for a plan, he said, “It’s cold outside. Can we get our coats?”
The man hesitated, obviously torn between haste and practicality.
“You’re not sending a lady out in a South Dakota winter in just her indoor clothes are you? Or were you planning to freeze her to death?” Matt asked.
“Okay, get your coats. And hurry up. We don’t got all night.”
Yeah, right.
The outerwear was lying over the arm of the chair. Matt wanted to tell Shelley to grab her coat and hit the floor before the shooting started. Instead, he clamped his teeth together because there was no way to warn her of what he had in mind.
He waited while she slipped into her jacket, then picked his up and moved closer to the thug as he pretended to pull the jacket over his shoulders. But instead of slipping his arms through the sleeves, he whipped the coat over his head and threw it at the man with the gun, hitting him in the head and covering his face.
An expletive roared from beneath the jacket as the guy made a mad scramble to unencumber himself. As his arms flailed, the gun went off, the shot zinging between Shelley and Matt.
He kicked out and caught the thug in the legs. The guy went down like a bag of horse feed d
umped out of a truck.
He was flapping around on the floor still trying to free himself from the coat as Matt closed in to get the gun.
Before he could step on the guy’s hand, three men pounded into the room.
Matt recognized Special Agent Owens in the lead, his timing off by a couple of minutes.
“FBI,” Owens shouted. “You’re surrounded. Toss out the gun—slowly.”
He motioned Matt and Shelley out of the way, and they both stepped back.
When the man on the floor hesitated, Owens ordered, “Do it, if you don’t want to get hurt.”
The guy slid the gun across the floor, and an agent rushed forward to get it. Another pulled the coat off the thug and cuffed his hands behind his back.
“Where the hell were you?” Matt asked in a dangerously calm voice.
Owens glared at him. “Outside. We saw the car pull up, but they have the interior light turned off. We didn’t see this guy open the door and slip out.”
Yeah, great, Matt thought, but he kept his mouth shut because he didn’t see much advantage in pointing out that the Bureau had screwed up this operation.
“You’ve got his friend?” he asked instead.
“Yeah.”
He couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Lucky we didn’t get drilled.”
Owens was ready with an accusation of his own. “If you had, it would have been your own damn fault,” he shot back as another agent hustled the thug out of the room. “What the hell were you trying to do with that coat?”
“Since you didn’t show up, I was trying to keep the guy from herding us into the car. Next time, don’t leave me thinking that we’re on our own,” Matt suggested.
Without bothering to answer, Owens turned away. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Wait a minute, I want to know who these guys are working for.”
“When we find out, we’ll let you know,” the agent answered.
“How will we get in contact?”
“We’ll call you.”
“Before you go, I want you to come to the office with me and tell the manager that the door got broken by an FBI operation.”
“Not likely. We’re keeping a low profile.” Turning, Owens disappeared into the night, leaving Matt and Shelley staring at each other.