No Ordinary Day | Book 2 | No Ordinary Getaway

by Tate, Harley

  Emma nodded. “We were the two main whistleblowers, Gloria—she’s inside sleeping—was the third.”

  “What happened?”

  Emma relayed the facts as she knew them, including Zach’s murder and the men now after her and Gloria. When she finished, she voiced the concern that woke her so early. “In retrospect, we shouldn’t have come here. I see that now.”

  “Why not?”

  Emma held out a hand, “Because we put you at risk. Whoever is after us might come here. You didn’t ask to be roped into this mess.”

  “But Holly is family. She deserves to be with people who love her and will care for her.”

  Emma cut Vince a glance. “Is that you talking, or your wife?”

  He looked over her head to the farmland beyond. “Their relationship has been strained for years. With Zach not allowing contact—”

  “Excuse me?”

  Vince’s eyes snapped back to Emma’s. “I’d been under the impression it was Zach’s decision to not allow Sandy in Holly’s life.”

  “It wasn’t Dad.” Holly spoke up from the doorway to the guesthouse. Emma had no idea how long she’d been standing there, but long enough to hear Vince’s explanation. “I tried for years. Writing letters, sending birthday cards and Christmas cards. Every time I made something in school, I’d beg Dad to send it to Mom.”

  She swallowed hard and focused on the porch steps. “Everything always came back in the mail, return to sender. Eventually I stopped trying.”

  Vince rubbed his hand across his chin. “You’re telling me Sandy cut you out?”

  Holly nodded. “She never got along with my dad. They fought all the time.”

  “That’s no reason to turn your back on your own daughter.” Vince’s jaw worked as if he wanted to say more, but he forced the words back. “I’m glad you came, Holly. Even if your mother isn’t.”

  “So does that mean we can stay?”

  Vince clasped his hands in front of him. “I’ll tell you what, if you agree to help out on the farm, then you all can stay as long as you’d like.”

  Holly brightened. “You mean it?”

  Vince held up a hand. “It’s hard work. We’ve got a sizable operation here. Over four hundred acres. One by one, my farmhands—some guys had been working here for years—left and never came back. I don’t blame them, everyone’s got to watch out for their own now, but it’s left me in a bind.”

  Gloria poked her head outside. “I’m assuming you are to thank for the food?”

  Vince nodded.

  “Well, then it seems only fair you join us for breakfast. I’ve made oatmeal and peaches—we should eat while it’s warm.”

  Holly smiled at Vince, hope coloring her cheeks. “Would you come?”

  He smiled. “I’d love to.” He tied the mare to the porch railing and followed Holly inside.

  Around the large wood table, they fell into comfortable conversation, each adult introducing themselves to Vince and him in return sharing a bit about the farm and the town of Valleyville.

  “We used to be the main pig farm in all of northern Mississippi, but I sold off the last of the operation to a commercial outfit a few years ago. Now we’re solely crop-oriented. It cost a few jobs in town, but I needed to slow down. Not getting any younger, you know.”

  Raymond sipped on a glass of water. “I see the horse out there. How set are you on feed for your animals?”

  Vince thought it over. “We’ve been fortunate this year. I should have enough to see us through the spring, then the alfalfa comes in and if we don’t sell this year, it should take us through the winter. It’s a lot of work, mind you, the harvest and all. But with all of you as added hands, it should be doable.”

  Holly practically beamed. Emma wanted to share in her enthusiasm but the prospect of staying in one place that long intimidated her. Surely Dane’s men would find them here, wouldn’t they?

  “What about food?” John glanced at Raymond before continuing. “We brought all we could fit in the vehicles, but it’s not more than two weeks’ worth, at most.”

  Vince leaned back in his chair. “I’ll admit, shelf-stable food stuffs are my weakness. If it’s a good year, we’ll can and dehydrate and do the best we can to save everything, but Mother Nature is fickle, as we all know.”

  John nodded. “If we’re going to stay here, it seems only fair we try and shore up your supplies.”

  “That’s mighty kind of you, but Valleyville is wiped clean. There might be a few stores closer to Memphis with supplies, but it’s a long shot.”

  Emma caught John’s eye. “I agree. If we’re going to stay, we should contribute as best we can.”

  She didn’t say it out loud, but she thought a hefty dose of goodwill in the form of food and water might alleviate some of Sandra’s misgivings. Even if the woman wasn’t happy to see her own daughter, she couldn’t deny the utility of more food and willing workers.

  If it gave them a place to stay for a while, then the risk would be worth it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emma

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t go with them?” Gloria ran a hand up and down her husband’s arm. “If things get dicey…”

  Raymond shook his head. “I’m not leaving you here alone like last time. What if someone shows up?”

  “Raymond’s right.” Emma stood by John at the door. “Raymond needs to stay here and keep you and Holly safe. John and I can handle the trip.”

  While Emma hoped Gloria believed her, the prospect of driving into the outskirts of Memphis filled Emma with dread. Was there even anything left worth fighting for? John checked the rounds in the rifle’s magazine before slipping it over his shoulder. “We’ll be back before dark. If for some reason we get held up, or we’re not back by the morning, assume the worst.”

  A chill coursed through Emma, but she forced her body to stay rigid. “Ready?” She plastered on a smile.

  John nodded and headed for the door. They hopped into the Jeep and headed north with the help of a paper map from Vince and John’s innate sense of direction. Farmland stretched as far as the eye could see on both sides of the two-lane road, barbed wire fences separating tilled fields from scrub brush and weeds lining the ditch beside the road.

  An old tractor perched, half rusted, on an outcropping for gravel and wildflowers. Emma turned to John. “How long do you think we have before Dane’s men find us?”

  John glanced in the rearview mirror. “Optimistically, I’d like to think we’re too far away to be found.”

  “But realistically?”

  “I’d say we have a few weeks. If they don’t know about Holly’s mother—if she’s not on their radar—then we might have longer. They’ll be tracking us, but the trail will be cold by the time they find the cabin.”

  “So, we might have longer.”

  “I wouldn’t get cozy. Vince’s offer is nice, but—”

  “It’s assuming too much.”

  John nodded. “Even if we never hear from Dane again, which I doubt, do we want to put Holly in that constant state of danger by sticking around?”

  Emma frowned at the map. Everything John said was true, but it still hurt to hear it out loud. She’d grown fond of Holly. She cared about the girl’s well-being, even if she couldn’t be a surrogate mother. “Do you think Vince will take Holly in?” She shifted on the seat. “She should be safe there without us, right? There’s no reason to kill her, if we aren’t there.”

  John tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I don’t know anymore, Emma. With what Nick said about Dane and the contract… I just don’t know.”

  They drove the rest of the way in silence, Emma speaking up only when John needed fresh directions.

  As they reached the farthest suburbs from Memphis, scenery shifted. Gone were the green fields and roadside flowers and in their place were signs of chaos and confusion. The burned-out husk of a gas station clung to the side of the road, heaps of metal and charred plastic piled like the r
emains of a fried chicken dinner.

  Nothing remained of a local plumbing store except for the sign out front advertising blackout specials. Heaps of trash bags piled up outside a painted white concrete building. Emma leaned toward the window to read the sign.

  Edward Benson and Sons.

  Funeral Directors.

  Emma swallowed hard. “I’m not sure heading toward Memphis is such a good idea.”

  John nodded as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “I’m beginning to agree.”

  Past the funeral director, an empty husk of a strip mall gaped and mawed, glass glittering across the pavement in the morning sun. The worst damage centered around a storefront on the end. Empty metal racks lay discarded in the entry, while half of the siding warped and rolled open to reveal a destroyed store. The store’s sign, broken in two in the parking lot: WIC Distribution Center.

  Emma curled inward, wrapping her arms around herself. “There’s not going to be anything left. We’re too late.”

  “Let’s drive a little further. There might be a place that’s still untouched.” John pressed on the gas, bypassing an abandoned vehicle here, a shuttered car wash there. As they neared a wider intersection, John slowed. On the driver’s side, graffiti covered the boarded-up windows of a store proclaiming “Discount Beer & Tobacco.”

  “We might be able to break in there. See if there’s anything.”

  John motioned to the other side. “I’m thinking here.”

  Emma swiveled. “A pharmacy?”

  “Judging by the looks of it, the place hasn’t been touched.” He pulled the Jeep into the lot, parking next to a bright blue PT Cruiser. “We should go together, but I need you to keep an eye on the parking lot. If anyone makes a move toward the vehicle, let me know.”

  Emma nodded, nerves turning her palms clammy as she reached for the door handle. They stepped out into the sunshine and shut the doors. John hit the lock button and strode forward, rifle slung across his back. Beneath the green awning stretching across the low-slung building, a man leaned against the wall. A ball cap hid his eyes in shadow and he nodded at John. “You don’t look like a local.”

  “We were hoping you all might still have some food available to purchase.”

  “Don’t sound like a local, neither.” He bent and picked up a shotgun leaning against the wall.

  Emma flashed a tight smile. “We’re from Atlanta, just passing through.”

  The man whistled. “Ooh, them big-city types already filtering on down into us here little towns, trying to take what they think they deserve.” He spat a glob of brown liquid onto the ground. “Bout time you moved on, I think. Nothin’ for any city types in here.”

  John palmed the rifle.

  “Wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The man motioned behind them.

  Emma turned to see a kid of no more than ten holding a knife to the front tire of the Jeep. “One word from me and that sweet ride of yours is nothing but a pretty little shed.”

  “We should go.”

  The man turned to Emma. “Aw, shucks, ma’am. I guess you do have some smarts.” His stare turned cold and she shivered. “I’d use them.”

  She reached for John’s arm. “It’s not worth it.” He resisted as she pulled him toward the vehicle. “Come on. We can find somewhere else where they aren’t so unwelcoming.”

  “Good luck with that, sweetie.” The man laughed and Emma turned around.

  Anger boiled up within her, but she shoved it down. Nothing good would come of a fight with the guard. Besides, the local townspeople needed the medicine inside. She couldn’t fault them for hiring protection. The boy standing beside the Jeep ran at their approach.

  John hit the unlock button on the key and tore the driver’s side door open. Emma hurried around to the passenger side as he revved the engine. Before she buckled her seat belt, John was off, driving back the way they came, away from Memphis and toward Holly and the others.

  Emma leaned against the passenger-side door as she stared out at the town already so ravaged by crime and despair. “It’s never going to get better, is it?”

  “Excuse me?’

  “If it really will take years to rebuild, what chance do we have as a nation?” She turned to John. “People are already hungry. They’re already burning gas stations and looting stores meant for those most in need. What’s it going to be like a month from now? A year from now?”

  John flexed his fingers. “Worse.”

  Emma threw up her hands. “Then what’s the point? We should just stay in one place and let Dane come. Let him take us all out and be done with it.”

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “Why not?”

  John slowed the Jeep. “Because that’s not who you are.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You risked your entire career to tell the truth. To blow the whistle on a seed development gone horribly wrong. You wouldn’t have done that if you were weak or soft or a quitter. It takes courage to do what you did. Same as now.”

  She flopped back on the seat. “I don’t feel courageous.”

  John cut her a glance. “Neither do I, but I’m not giving up. You aren’t either.”

  “Why do you care so much?”

  The Jeep bounced over the side of the road, coasting to a stop half in the ditch. John released his seat belt. Emma’s heart thudded in her chest. He reached forward, arm grazing her bare skin. A breath caught in her throat.

  He popped the glove box and fished out the handgun. “We should check it out. There might be something inside.”

  She blinked in confusion, glancing up to see a tipped over tractor trailer sprawled out across the weeds. “The truck?”

  John nodded. “You coming?”

  What an idiot. Emma swallowed down a wave of embarrassment as she reached for the door handle. “Sure thing.”

  She followed as John strode through the weeds before hoisting himself up and over the bumper of the trailer.

  “See anything?” Emma squinted as he blended into the dark interior.

  “A fair number of boxes. We’ll have to cut into them to see what they are.”

  Emma glanced behind her. “Are you sure we have time for that?”

  “Any better ideas?”

  Emma shook her head.

  “Then get up here and help me.”

  She hauled herself into the trailer and together they dragged boxes toward the open doors and the light. John pulled a knife out of his pocket and flicked it open. He cut the first box and pulled the cardboard flaps wide.

  Emma dug through the Styrofoam and plastic, revealing a bright pink ceramic pot. She pulled it out and held it up to John. “Looks like a pallet full of garden planters.”

  He cursed. “There’s got to be something else in here.”

  He stomped back to the other boxes, cutting them open and rifling through the contents. Each subsequent box received rougher treatment than the last, until John kicked one clear across the trailer in frustration.

  “This is a waste of time, come on.” He strode across the metal truck bed, irritation bunching the muscles in his back. “Let’s get back and break the news.”

  “Vince will understand.” Emma waited as John hopped down to the ground. As she reached out to take his hands for balance, John grabbed her wrist. He tugged her hard and she fell out of the truck, crashing into him and knocking them both to the ground.

  Anger rose hot and fast as she pawed his chest to get away.

  He put a finger to his lips. “Quiet. Someone else is here.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  John

  John held his hand to his lips until Emma slackened in his grip. “You stay here. I’ll check it out.” He eased her to the ground as pain radiated from his wounded torso. He pulled the handgun from his waistband, wishing he’d brought the rifle instead. At least he had a weapon for a change.

  The edge of the trailer loomed ahead as John rose into a crouch.

  A fami
liar voice carried through the metal. “I have to say, when I heard you’d gone rogue, I didn’t believe it. John, fail a mission? No way.” Willy rounded the front of the trailer, rifle in his grip. “You’re, what, thirty for thirty confirmed kills? Best guy on the team?”

  “Something like that.” John stood to his full height, ignoring the discomfort of the days-old bullet wound. He aimed the handgun at the ground, visible but nonthreatening.

  Willy looked the same as ever. Head-to-toe tactical gear, sunglasses, blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Poster boy for some B-rated, last-action-hero flick. He smirked like he owned the road. “So, is it true? You’ve gone soft? Fallen for some research chick with mush for brains?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” John stepped away from the trailer, padding the distance between himself and Emma. If Willy didn’t know she was there, maybe escape was a possibility. “I’m still on mission.”

  Willy tipped his head until his right eye peeked out above his sunglasses. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  “Then you heard wrong. My targets are accounted for. Everything is under control.”

  “But they aren’t dead.”

  “You know that, or you wouldn’t be here.” John took another step. He had no idea how Willy found them. He’d smashed the sat phone and the tracking device as soon as Raymond agreed to let him stay at the cabin. He’d swept the Jeep for bugs. He needed information. “I have my reasons.”

  Willy’s smirk widened into a grin. “Don’t tell me they’re both into hitmen. A little redhead and a sexy Latina. Mmm-mmm. I can see it now. Just like Lawrence in Office Space.” He made a lewd gesture and John shrugged as if it were true.

  “Like I said, I have my reasons. I figure with everything going to shit, I should get a reward. Don’t you?”

  “I knew it!” Willy laughed. “When Uncle Dane told me you went soft, I said no way. There’s got to be an angle. I can’t wait to tell him I was right.”

  John ran his tongue across his lip. “I bet they’d be into you, too, if you’re interested.”