by Paula Graves
“I wonder if they were planning to use you as leverage against me,” Tara murmured.
Owen looked at her, his gaze intense.
“Leverage to do what?” Tony asked, sounding curious.
“Whatever they kidnapped me for. Anyone who knows anything about me knows about my friendship with Owen. We’ve been nearly inseparable since sixth grade. We went to the same schools, including college. On purpose. Maybe they realized they could use him against me, to force me to do whatever it was they wanted from me.”
“And you really have no idea what that could be?” Tony sounded unconvinced.
“It’s all a mystery to me,” Tara answered.
Tony fell silent after that, though Tara suspected the mind behind those brown eyes was hard at work, figuring out all the legal angles of their dilemma.
She hoped it would be enough.
Within a couple of minutes, they were entering Mercerville, the Bagley County seat. The sheriff’s department was located in the east wing of the city hall building, with its own entrance and parking area. Tony pulled the Mercedes into an empty visitor parking spot and cut the engine.
“I’m going to call the lead investigator on the case now. I want him to meet us at the door. I don’t want to just walk in unannounced.”
“Quinn said we shouldn’t give them any notice we were coming.”
“You want to be sure you meet with the lead investigator. That requires a courtesy call ahead of time to be sure he’s here. We don’t want to be handed off to someone down the food chain.” He made the call. From what Tara could glean from his end of the call, the lead investigator was in and would meet them at the door.
Tony ended the call and turned to face them both. “Don’t offer any information they haven’t asked for. Nothing. Understood? If a question confuses you, let me know and we’ll stop the interviews to confer. If I think the questioning is treading on dangerous territory for you, I’ll step in. Agreed?”
“Yes,” Owen said.
“Agreed.” Tara looked at Owen. He met her gaze with a half smile that didn’t erase the anxious expression in his eyes. She felt a flutter of guilt for her part in putting Owen in this position. If she hadn’t been so stupid as to leave the safety of the church with a stranger—
Movement outside the car caught her eye. Turning her head, she spotted a man in the tan uniform of a Bagley County sheriff’s deputy. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a slight paunch and a slightly hitching gait that seemed familiar. As he reached the sheriff’s department entrance, he turned his head toward the parking lot.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
Owen put his hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”
“That deputy.” She nodded toward the front of the building, where the deputy had just pulled open the door.
“What about him?” Tony asked.
“That’s the man who lured me out to the van.”
Chapter Eight
Owen had seen only a flash of square jaw and a long, straight nose as the deputy disappeared through the glass door of the sheriff’s department, but it was enough to send adrenaline racing through his system. The skin at the back of his neck prickled and his muscles bunched in preparation. Fight or flight, he thought, remembering the lessons of his threat response classes at Campbell Cove Academy.
Flight, his instinct commanded. He was outgunned and on the defensive here.
“Let’s get out of here,” he growled to Tony.
“What? Are you insane?” Tony turned to stare at him. “You came here to turn yourself in to the authorities. If you leave now, you’re just going to make things worse.”
“Owen’s right.” Tara’s voice was deep and intense. “If that man is a cop, they will never believe us over him. You know how it works.”
“You can’t know that—”
Owen snapped open his seat belt and tried to unlock the back door of the car, but the child-safety locks were engaged. “Unlock the door,” he demanded.
Tony shook his head. “I’m telling you as your lawyer, this is insane.”
“You’re fired.” Tara reached across the console and grabbed the key fob dangling from the ignition. Before Tony Giattina could stop her, she pressed one of the buttons and the lock beside Owen made an audible click. He opened the door and exited the car.
Cool spring air filled his lungs, dispelling the faint feeling of claustrophobia he’d experienced while trapped inside the backseat. Tara was already out the passenger door, turning to him with wide eyes.
“What now?”
Owen looked back at the black SUV that had followed them to the sheriff’s department. Quinn was already stepping out of the vehicle, his gaze sharp, as if he could sense the rise in tension. If anyone knew the danger they were in, it was Quinn, Owen realized. His wily boss understood that, sometimes, playing by the rules could get you killed.
Grabbing Tara’s hand, he started resolutely toward the SUV.
Quinn’s eyes narrowed at their approach. When Owen was close enough, Quinn muttered, “Hit me.”
Owen’s steps faltered. “What?”
“Hit me,” Quinn said, taking a step forward. “I can’t help you openly, but you can’t go in there.”
“How do you know...”
Quinn tapped the earpiece barely visible in his ear. “Hit me, damn it.”
Without another second’s hesitation, Owen let go of Tara’s hand and punched Quinn as hard as he dared. His boss sprawled backward into the front panel of the SUV, his keys falling to the ground beside him.
As Owen bent to pick them up, Quinn murmured, “Not the safe house. It’s compromised now. There’s a stash of cash in the glove box. Use it and try to get in touch when you can.” Shaking his head in a show of grogginess, he dragged himself clear of the SUV’s wheels.
Tony Giattina was out of the Mercedes, his phone to his ear. Probably calling in the escape attempt, Owen realized, which meant they had only seconds before half the sheriff’s department would be pouring through the doors into the parking lot.
“Let’s go,” he growled as he opened the front door of the SUV. Tara climbed into the passenger seat and turned to look at him, her expression terrified.
“Maybe I was wrong,” she said, sounding far less confident than she had seemed a few moments earlier.
“You weren’t,” he assured her, putting the SUV in Reverse. He cut off a car approaching from the left, earning an angry horn blow, and headed east on Old Cumberland Road. He could take a few twisty back roads over Murlow Mountain and reach the Virginia border in less than an hour.
But what then?
“They’ll have an APB out on this car in no time,” Tara muttered, fastening her seat belt. “They’ll scan our license plate and we’ll be done for.”
She was right. He had to switch the plates with another vehicle. Preferably another black SUV, but any vehicle would do, at least for a while.
Meanwhile, he stuck to the twisty mountain roads that wound their way slowly but steadily eastward toward the state line. He’d traveled with his brother in Virginia a couple of years earlier and had learned, to his surprise, that travelers could overnight in their vehicles at rest stops. That would give them accommodations for tonight, at least, until they could figure out what to do next.
But first, he needed to find a big shopping center where they could pick up supplies.
“Is anyone following us?” Tara twisted around in her seat, nibbling her thumbnail as she peered at the road behind them.
“I don’t see anyone, but I’m not exactly an expert at tailing. Or being tailed.”
Tara looked at him. “Do you have a plan?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure you’re going to be thrilled about it.”
“Better spill, then.”
>
“Did you know that it’s legal to overnight at public rest areas in Virginia?”
“Please tell me that’s a non sequitur.”
“I’m going to stick to back roads for another hour or so. Then I’m going to drive down to Abingdon. I think there’s probably some sort of shopping center there where we can pick up some supplies—food, blankets, water.”
“Those had better be thick blankets,” Tara muttered.
“I’m not sure what to do about the license plates, though.”
“You’d think, with your boss being a former superspy, he’d have extra license plates stashed in the trunk or something.”
Owen slanted a quick look at her. “Do you think?”
“I don’t know. He’s your boss.”
Even after a year, Owen knew very little about two of his three bosses. Maddox Heller was an open book, garrulous and friendly. His pretty wife and his two cute kids visited often, and the previous summer, Heller had invited everyone in the company out to their house on Mercer Lake for a Labor Day cookout.
But Rebecca Cameron was a very private person, despite her friendly, good-natured disposition. And Alexander Quinn was a positive enigma.
However, if there was one thing Owen knew about his inscrutable boss, it was that the man always seemed prepared for any eventuality. Including the possibility of having to go on the run at a moment’s notice.
There were very few turnoffs on the curvy mountain road they were traveling, but within a few minutes, Owen spotted a dirt road on the right and slowed to turn, hoping he wasn’t driving them into a dead-end trap.
“What are you doing?” Tara asked.
“I’m going to find out if Alexander Quinn is as wily as he seems.”
Almost as soon as they took the turn, the dirt road hooked sharply to the right. Owen eased into the turn and the SUV was immediately swallowed by the woods, which hid not only the road from their view but, more important, hid them from the view of the road.
He pulled to a stop and cut the engine. “If you wanted to stash something secret in this SUV, where would you start?”
“The glove compartment is too obvious,” Tara said.
“Quinn did tell me there was stash of cash in there.”
Tara opened the glove box. Inside was a wallet, weather-beaten and fat. She pulled it out and opened the wallet. “Lots of receipts,” she said as she riffled through the papers inside. “And a ten-dollar bill. I don’t know your boss well, but if this is what he thinks qualifies as a stash of cash...”
Owen unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over to look. The distracting scent of Tara’s skin almost made him forget what he was looking for, but he managed to gather his wits enough to search the glove compartment. Besides the wallet, there was only the car registration, a card providing proof of insurance, and a thick vehicle manual.
But Quinn had clearly told him there was a stash of cash in the glove compartment. Was this some sort of trap? A test?
He sat back a moment, thinking hard. Assuming Quinn had been playing things straight, why would he have said there was cash in the glove box if there wasn’t?
Narrowing his eyes, he leaned over and looked into the glove compartment again. There could be no cash hiding in the registration paper or the insurance card. But what about the manual?
“What are you doing?” Tara asked, leaning forward until her head was right next to Owen’s in front of the open compartment.
Owen turned to look at her, his breath catching at her closeness. Her green eyes seemed large and luminous as her eyebrows rose in two delicate arches.
He forced his gaze back to the glove compartment and pulled out the manual. Easing back to his own side of the SUV, he opened the manual.
There was a fifty-dollar bill slipped between the first two pages.
He flipped through the book, a smile curving his mouth. Nearly every page sandwiched money. Dozens of tens, about that many twenties, several fifties and even a handful of hundreds. Nearly five thousand dollars in cash, Owen realized after adding up the sums in his head.
“Does he usually carry that much money in his vehicle?” Tara asked when Owen told her the sum.
“I have no idea.” He handed her the manual full of money. “Leave it in there for now. I’m going to see what else I can find in this SUV.”
“I’ll check up here in the cab,” Tara said as he opened the driver’s door. “You see if there are any underfloor compartments.”
Fifteen minutes later, they had uncovered a set of Tennessee license plates, another fifty dollars in change hidden in various places around the SUV, a Louisville Slugger baseball bat, a small smartphone with a prepaid phone card taped to its back, a duffel bag full of clothing and survival supplies and a dozen MREs—military-issued meals that could be prepared without cooking utensils or even a fire.
“He likes to cover all his bases,” Tara said, looking at their bounty.
“I’ll switch out the license plate and put the Kentucky one in the compartment where I found the Tennessee plates,” Owen said. “Then I’m going to see if there are any minutes left on that phone.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“It’s a burner phone. Quinn said to get in touch when we could. I think this is how we’re supposed to do it.”
Tara shook her head. “Not this soon. The police might be keeping an eye on him. Let’s wait a day or two before we call him.”
Owen gave her a considering look. “Okay. You’re right.”
“Don’t sound so shocked.” She shot him a quick grin. “Go change the tags and I’ll see if I can find any more treasures.”
Owen took a screwdriver from the small toolbox inside Quinn’s survival kit and switched out the Kentucky plates for the Tennessee ones.
“What now?” Tara asked.
“I’m a little tempted to see where this road leads,” Owen admitted, peering through the trees to the twisting dirt road ahead.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I doubt anyone would think to look for us here.”
“Where exactly is here?” She leaned forward, as if doing so might somehow reveal more of the road than was currently visible.
“I have no idea.”
She shook her head. “I liked your idea of sleeping in the car at a rest area better. At least rest areas have bathrooms and vending machines.”
“We have MREs, plus some protein bars and several bottles of water in the survival kit.”
“Unless there’s a relatively clean bathroom stashed in that kit, my opinion stands.”
He sighed. “You used to be more adventurous.”
“And you used to be less reckless. When did you change?”
When I realized playing things carefully was getting me nowhere, he thought. When you met Robert and threw yourself headfirst into a romance with him because he ticked off all the items on your wish list.
“If you want to go to Virginia and find a rest stop, that’s what we’ll do. But let’s wait here until dark. It’ll be easier to escape attention in the dark.”
She sighed. “You have a point.”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” he said with a grin.
His echo of her earlier words was enough to earn him a small laugh. “I know I shouldn’t be happy you got sucked into my mess, but I’m really glad you’re with me. I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t been there in that van when I regained consciousness.”
He reached across the space between them and brushed a stray twig of hair away from her cheek. “You’d have done what you always do. You’d have come out on top.”
Her smile faltered. “I don’t feel as if I’ve come out on top.”
“We’re not through fighting yet, are we?” He should drop h
is hand away from her face instead of letting his fingertips linger against her cheek. But with Tara showing no signs of unease, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He liked the way her skin felt, soft and warm, almost humming with vibrant life.
“I suppose this is a bad time to mention I could use a bathroom break.” Tara gave him an apologetic look.
He checked his watch. “Don’t suppose you could wait another four hours or so?”
She shook her head.
So much for waiting until after dark to hit the road. “Well, can you wait another hour? I was planning to drive to Abingdon anyway so we could pick up some supplies. We should be there in an hour or so.”
“Yeah, I can wait that long.”
“If we can find a thrift store, we could stock up on some clothing without making a big dent in our resources,” he suggested.
“Good idea. It would be nice to have something that actually fits again.” She tugged uncomfortably at her too-tight T-shirt.
He forced his gaze away from her breasts. “I might be able to pick up a laptop computer at a reasonable price, too.”
She glanced at him. “Is that a necessity? Five thousand dollars isn’t going to last long if we make big purchases.”
“I need to be able to stay up on what’s happening in the outside world while we’re hunkered down.”
“Won’t you need an internet connection to do that?”
“Yes, but there are ways to do that without being entirely on the grid.” He got the SUV turned around on the narrow road and headed for the main road again, hoping the stop hadn’t allowed their pursuers to catch up with them. At least they were no longer wearing the Kentucky tags the police would be looking for.
“Do you think we should come up with disguises?” he asked aloud.
“Such as?”
“You could cut your hair. Dye it another color. I could keep growing this beard and buy some gamer glasses—”
“Gamer glasses?”
“Tinted-lens glasses gamers wear to cut down on screen glare. Good for computer users, too. I can probably find some if I can track down a computer store or gamer’s store in Abingdon.”