Apparently, Simon knew where they were headed, or at least knew the direction they had gone in, and had been silent for a long while now. The radio would’ve been welcome, but Simon hated it. He refused to have it on. Claire endured the silence by keeping her mind busy.
The tracking system was back online, and Claire watched the stationary blip for Marcus continue flashing on her screen.
“Simon.” She broke the silence. Simon threw a cold glance in her direction. His exhaled smoke blew in her direction. She did her best not to cough.
“What?” His reply was gruff.
The woman took as deep a breath as she could. The thick smoke clouded around her head.
“I found where Marcus is.”
“About damn time our system came back up,” he muttered. He flicked what was left of his cigarette out the window. “Where is he?”
From the backseat, Davis moaned again. Claire looked over her shoulder at him briefly then glanced back at the computer screen.
“He’s somewhere on the outskirts on the other side of town.” She sighed, and then gave him the exact address.
Simon seemed to think for a moment. He set his jaw and blinked a few times. Their leader had expressed his anger more than once at Davis and Marcus for not following his orders, and this was one of the times when his anger affected all. Claire held her breath, as if she expected a blow.
“Why the fuck would he be there?” Simon snapped and shook his head. “You know what, I don’t fucking care. I don’t have time to turn around to get his ass.”
The cell phone charging between them now came to life as Simon hit his speed-dial option. He threw a glare in Claire’s direction, and then focused once more on the road.
“Eric.” His voice rose, so the man on the other end could hear him better. “We know where Marcus is. Where are you?”
He waited for a response, holding the phone up to his ear. Eric's voice was deep and loud, and she could hear him very clearly from the passenger's seat.
“Getting ready to head to the rendezvous point.”
“Fuck the rendezvous point. There’s been a change in plans. Marcus never met up with Davis, and because our system was down, we couldn’t track him. We are on our way after the suspects now.” He glanced in the rearview mirror a second. “We don’t have time to turn back now. Pick his ass up and get moving.”
Simon dominated the conversation, as Claire had noted he often did, and she turned her head away. She watched the trees and fence posts pass by the window. She sighed, and her breath made a soft mist of fog on the glass.
"Where is he?" Eric asked. Simon made a noise like a growl. Claire turned to look back at him and his expression was all she needed to get to work. She hit a few keys. She found Marcus' location and gave the address. Simon relayed it briefly.
“You know where we're going, out of town,” Simon continued. “Get Marcus and then head out that way. We’ll stop at the first hotel we see on this godforsaken road, so meet us there.” He paused a moment and looked back at Davis. He gave an annoyed growl.
“And have Michael bring the first aid kit. Mr. Miller here had a run-in with our friends last night.”
That was it. He didn’t wait for a confirmation simply because he expected it to be done. He shut the phone off and tossed it back into its compartment. Claire looked over at him, then down at the computer. She pretended to study the flashing dot on screen, but her mind was far away.
Was it too late to pull back now? Could she withdraw her funding and go back to the safety of her home office and return to her old job? Somehow, deep inside, she knew it would probably kill her if she got involved in this mess any further. But really…what choice did she have?
“Claire, see if you can’t access the phone records for Ms. Sullivan.” Simon’s order interrupted her thoughts.
With a wordless nod, Claire accessed a directory and was soon able to find a listing for the female’s cell phone number. A few keystrokes later, and Claire had accessed her call history. She scanned the files.
“What exactly am I supposed to be looking for here, Simon?” she asked. All she was coming up with were the outgoing and incoming calls. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Simon had lit up another cigarette and the car was quickly filling up with the putrid smoke. “Check for any phone numbers that appear more often than the rest.”
“All right,” she answered, and did just that. There were several numbers that appeared more than once, but one number seemed to take up at least half the record.
“I found one that takes up a lot of her call time. Want me to check it out?”
“Yes,” Simon stated, annoyed. “Fuck. When was the last call made?”
“It was made last night.”
That didn’t help them any. They had already wasted nearly an entire day sitting around, waiting for confirmation from Davis and Marcus. Neither of them had contacted Simon. And only God knew how long Davis had been incapacitated on that backwater road.
“All right, Claire, this is what I want you to do. I want you to do a search on that number. I’m sure that has to be her boyfriend. Perhaps there’s a chance he’s made a call within the last twenty-four hours. That would give us a clue maybe, if he called anyone for help.”
Silently, Claire did as she was told and ran the search. It took a moment longer than it had for her phone records to show up, and when they did, Claire’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Simon had been right. The number did belong to the boyfriend, Jason Barnett.
“There was a call sometime this morning,” she said.
Simon nodded and a bitter smirk moved on his face. Claire looked over at him expectantly and the expression faded into a sneer.
“Well…don’t look at me. Do a fucking search and find out who the fuck the number belongs to!”
Claire took a deep breath and started with her task. She had found it best to do what he asked right away. Davis groaned in the backseat and finally sat up. The ice pack tottered unsteadily on top of his head, and he moved one hand to hold it in place.
“Fuck, man…” He moaned. Dried blood was on the side of his face. It trickled down from his temple where a large gash was, just slightly above the eyebrow. More dried blood was caked in the hair at the back of his head. He had been lucky to survive.
“I think I have a concussion.” He whined. “I need to go to the hospital.”
Simon let out a snort. “Fuck the hospital. It was your own damn fault. You got what you deserved. Didn’t I tell you and Marcus to lay low?” Simon’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel.
“I’m not your mommy, and I’m not going to kiss your boo-boo all better. Just fucking deal with it.”
Claire looked at Davis and rolled her eyes at him. Davis tried to act macho, to keep things cool wherever he went, but when faced with trouble, he was the first to run. She had never met anyone like him. Claire was still trying to figure out just what his purpose was here.
Her attention returned to the computer screen. The results were up, but she waited for Simon to finish his rant toward Davis before she interrupted.
“Simon, I thought…” Davis started to say, but Simon was quick to jump in.
“Yeah, that’s your fucking problem—you thought.”
“Simon, give me a second to explain! He jumped me. He was following me, and he found out I wasn’t what I said—”
Simon glared at him through the rearview mirror. “That’s a likely story,” he said sarcastically. “If you want to stay alive another day, I suggest you keep your trap shut. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ll deal with you later.”
The threat was real and Davis knew it. Obediently, he shut up and fell back against the seat. He opened the bottle and he swallowed a mouthful of the painkillers. Claire watched him, disgusted.
Simon sighed deeply.
“You’re lucky we picked your sorry ass off the road. I had half a mind to leave you there to rot,” Simon continued. “Just be
sure it never happens again.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Davis muttered, and leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes closed. Soon he was lost in the euphoria of his pain medication. Claire was finally ready to give her results.
“I found the location of the last call on his record.” Claire paused. “The name on the record is Glen Cole.”
If the name made any sense to Simon, his face didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded his head for her to go on. Claire gave him the address, and a slight smirk of satisfaction moved across his face.
“I knew it,” he whispered, barely under his breath.
“Knew what?” Claire glanced up from the laptop, confused.
He glanced at her, as if he had just noticed she was there, and he shook his head. “Never mind. Keep trying to dig up some dirt on them…every little bit helps.”
But his smirk did not go away.
With a slightly indifferent shrug, Claire continued to press away at the keys on the laptop. She searched for whatever she could. She decided to do more thorough searches on the other numbers on the list. Perhaps something else would present itself.
The darkness outside continued to grow as it became later in the evening. Claire’s eyes were blurred from having stared at the screen for so long, and she took a break from them to stare outside.
She did so just in time to see the sign of a local hotel loom before them. Simon slowed the car and pulled into the vast and nearly empty parking lot of the place. There were a few cars here and there, and a blue crotch rocket motorcycle. No people were visible.
A long stretch of her legs would do some good. She shut off the laptop as Simon turned off the car, grabbed the cell phone and opened the door. He stepped out, taking a deep breath of the fresh air, air that was soon polluted by the billowing smoke of his cigarette.
“Get him out of there, and I’ll get us a room.” Without waiting, like always, he took off in the direction of the office. Claire rolled her eyes and opened the back door. She reached in for Davis’ arm. She gave a tug, and the man was set off balance. He fell across the seat.
“Come on, you ass,” Claire muttered and tugged his arm again. Davis grumbled, groaned and sat up.
“When I find that little fuck, I am going to kill him,” he said as he exhaled. He gingerly kept the nearly melted ice pack on his wound.
“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Claire shook her head as she looked him over. “You look like shit.”
“Yeah well…” The injured man tried to force himself to grin, but could only manage a grimace, “You’re not looking so hot yourself.”
Claire rolled her eyes, but despite it, she still smiled.
“Come on. Let’s get this shit unpacked before Simon starts bitching.”
As Davis climbed out of the backseat, Claire turned to watch several speeding cars zoom down the highway.
Davis continued his complaining a little more loudly than he probably should have. “That…asshole…”
Claire used her own set of keys to unlock the trunk of the car. Several suitcases and bags filled the space there and she reached for one of them while she answered Davis.
“Which one, Simon or the guy who attacked you?”
“Both,” Davis answered. He balanced himself against the back of the car. He didn’t help lift anything from the trunk. Claire was used to it, but she still glared at him.
“Between that asshole almost trying to kill me and that other asshole threatening to kill me…” Davis said.
“I’m betting you wished you had stayed at home.”
“No shit.”
Simon, just then, stepped out of the office. He stared at the others for a moment and then held up one hand. In it was the key to the room. Claire nodded while Davis narrowed his eyes at Simon.
Simon did not look happy, as usual. His eyes continued to dart around, as if searching for something. Claire tried to ignore him.
They exchanged no more words as Davis took the initiative to grab something from the trunk and follow Simon. Claire followed shortly after she slammed the trunk of the car. She entered. She lugged a huge and heavy suitcase and set it down with a thud.
Davis tossed his luggage onto one bed and threw himself onto the other. He was totally out of it. Simon unzipped the case on the bed. He was silent.
Claire slumped into a chair and watched Simon in silence. Her eyes were tired, and she wanted nothing more than to close them and sleep. She was going to take a well deserved break and rest her eyes from the strain of using the laptop, if anything.
Simon removed another laptop computer from its case and set it up on the bed. It switched on with an electrical hum and started to boot up.
Claire rubbed her eyes. It was going to be a very, very long night.
For a long while, the only sounds in the room were the clacking of the keys on Simon’s computer as he accessed something. It was interrupted by Davis as he groaned in pain.
After a moment, the injured man spoke up. “Do you have to fucking do that?” he asked Simon.
“Yes, I do, actually,” Simon answered, sounding annoyed. Simon raised his gaze briefly to Davis. Before he could ask, Simon spoke again.
“I’m posting a few messages to some connections I have. Other hunters I know about, in other parts of the country. I’m posting something so others may be able to point us in the right direction.”
“And how is that supposed to help?” Davis sneered. Simon ignored him. Claire started when a loud buzzing sounded from Simon.
His cell phone was ringing.
Chapter Eight
The back wood roads twisted and winded along a dozen different curves and Eric followed every one with dangerous speeds. The tracking radar indicated Marcus was in this area somewhere. But why out here?
It was a question neither Eric nor Michael could answer. Marcus was a city boy, and it was well known that he never strayed too far away from the walls and roads of concrete. It had to be something extraordinary to drag his ass all the way out here.
Marcus had higher aspirations, and he was foolhardy enough to pursue them no matter what. Eric knew without a single doubt this particular occasion had to be one of the more foolish ones.
“Where the hell are we?” the man in the passenger seat asked. Michael looked out the window. His pale eyes followed the never-ending line of trees. “Marcus wouldn’t be out here. He’s too much of a fucking pussy.”
Eric shook his head. Michael was right. Marcus was too much of a chicken to actually do something. He and Davis were alike. They were made for each other. The tracking program beeped a few times.
“He’s within a five mile radius,” Michael said as he turned to look at the screen. He brought his pale eyebrows together as he studied it.
“Good,” Eric answered. “Let’s get him and get out of here. I hate this place.”
Michael agreed with a nod of his shaggy blonde head. “Yeah, man…”
They drove on in silence for a while longer. Eric’s thoughts drifted back to a few nights ago. Marcus had gotten into an argument with Simon and had left their leader totally livid. A plan had been devised by the mastermind, Marcus, and Simon apparently disapproved.
That still, however, didn’t keep Marcus from overstepping lines left and right. Davis was always close behind. It made Eric sick to think of the two of them working together. If there wasn’t a mess to begin with, they would create one.
He could just imagine the look on Simon’s face if that were to happen. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have to imagine. Simon was already pissed.
Eric gave a slight shake of his head once again. He lowered his speed. At any moment now they could come across Marcus’ BMW and he didn’t want to miss it. He kept an ever vigilant watch for any sign of it.
Michael interrupted his musings. His eyes followed the blip almost constantly. “He’s close, about half a mile from our present location.”
They had slowed to a stop at a four way intersection. Eric looked at Micha
el and the young man pointed straight ahead. Eric kept his steady pace as they drew closer to the beeping icon of Marcus. Michael watched the computer screen. Now and again, he lifted his gaze from the screen. Soon, his eyes focused more and more on the outside world.
They had seen only a few houses out this way. Signs of life were few and far between. A light shining from a spotlight up ahead indicated at least one more forlorn country house.
“This has got to be it,” Michael said. “Let’s pull into the drive.”
Eric gave a brief nod. He said nothing and pulled the van into the long driveway. Gravel crunched beneath the heavy tires, and the brakes squealed as they came to a complete stop. The engine cut off, and silence filled vehicle.
With the headlights still on, both men looked over the scene before them. Michael blinked a few times and stared at the black BMW parked in the driveway just in front of them. The headlights gleamed off the slick paint of the car and glared from the chrome bumper.
There was no sign of Marcus. Eric flipped the van’s headlights off, and the place was submerged in semi-darkness. An outdoor light cast its yellow beam, but the surrounding darkness was ominous despite it. Both of the men stepped out of the car, and flashlights went on. The harsh illuminating beam followed Eric’s steady hand as he walked forward.
Even with the security spotlight shining light directly onto the house, it was difficult to see much more than shadows and he shifted his beam of light to focus to his right. There was another car parked just in front of Marcus’ and both men studied it. It was a white Ford Escort, in good condition. It was empty as well.
Michael’s flashlight followed along the grass and the front of the house. The beam of light caught droplets of dew and made them sparkle like so many tiny diamonds. The front of the house was clear. He returned to where Eric stood.
“Doesn’t look like anything’s here,” the blond man reported. Eric just nodded and turned his gaze to the house. They would have to go in.
They both knew it would be foolish calling for Marcus. He probably wouldn’t answer, willingly or unwillingly, and it would draw unwanted attention toward them. Some discretion and stealth were heavily needed. Eric shined his light on the other car once more.
Sweet Moon Dreams Page 7
