by Jenna Kernan
The uncomfortable distance that had yawned between them, the one he had hoped to close, seemed to have torn open again.
“You’re asking me what I think?” She didn’t have to look so astonished.
“Yeah,” he said, unable to keep the terseness from his tone. “I’m asking.”
“I think we shouldn’t have trusted those agents. I think we now have nothing to bargain with.”
“Easy to catch us whichever way we go,” he said. “And it’s anyone’s guess who will show up first.”
“I hope it’s not someone like Percy. That poor man.”
Lulu licked under Erin’s chin, the pink tongue curling up his wife’s jaw.
“Oh, you poor thing.”
“You keeping her, too?” asked Dalton, already knowing the answer.
“I’m not leaving her on a bog.”
“Those pitcher plants might eat her,” he said, referring to the cylindrical plants that held a sweet water designed to lure and drown insects. She’d told him about them once before. Not as flashy as the Venus flytrap, but just as deadly.
She didn’t laugh at his joke. Lulu was tiny but not small enough to succumb to carnivorous plants. And not big enough to keep up on a hike, either.
Erin scratched under Lulu’s chin. “Not a chance. Right, Lulu?”
The soft and sympathetic voice caused a sharp pang of regret. Not that he wanted her to speak to him this way; still he could imagine her, cooing and fussing over a baby. Their baby. But first they had to get out of this mess alive.
“I’m going to check the other one for keys.” He thumbed back at the corpse sprawled in the road. Erin followed him and then turned to look at the sky.
“You think they’re up there watching?” she asked, using her hand as a visor.
“Definitely.”
Erin lifted her hand from her eyes and presented her middle finger to the sky.
Dalton laughed. “Feel better?”
She gave him a half smile as if that were all she could spare. He went back to searching the pockets of the dead man. His diligence was rewarded. The guy kept his keys in his front shirt pocket, which was why he’d missed them before.
He stood and tossed the keys a few inches, catching them again. Then he looked at the pickup truck, engine down and back wheels off the ground. The vehicle was diagonally across from the SUV, which lay on its side at the bottom of the opposite incline. Neither one of them was getting them out of here.
Lulu stood at the road alone. Erin had disappeared. His heart gave a jolt as he glanced to the bog. But Lulu was on the opposite side of the road, panting.
He headed that way at a run. Once he reached the chubby pug, he found his wife. Her head popped up out of the door of the cap that covered the truck bed. Because of the odd angle, the truck sat nearly vertical and the rear door opened out like a mailbox.
“Erin?”
She had something in her hand. “Did you find the keys?”
“Got them.” He lifted the chain.
“Try the fob,” she said, and scrambled out, sitting on the closed tailgate, legs dangling.
He hit the unlock button and the truck chimed.
He glanced down the bank and saw the truck sat nose down on the hill with the front tires resting on the incline and the grille buried in the ground beyond.
Erin tossed something from the truck. She dragged a length of chain from within. It rattled over the closed tailgate, extending to the ground. She looped the hook, at the end, around the ball-mount trailer hitch beneath the bumper.
“How did you even get up there?” he asked, looking to the truck’s tailgate now above his head.
“Lulu boosted me.”
He chuckled and looked at the dog, who sat on one hip, tail between her legs and eyes closed in the bright sunlight.
Meanwhile, Erin scrambled like a monkey over the top of the truck and slid down the cap roof to the cab and then dropped to the ground.
“Keys?” she asked, and he tossed them down.
Erin disappeared into the cab and emerged a moment later.
“They’re in the ignition and the truck is in neutral.”
Dalton lifted the chain and gazed at the truck. Whatever she had in mind, he knew they would not be able to tug this truck up that incline.
She appeared up the hill a moment later.
“Riding beats walking when you are in a hurry,” she said.
“How you planning to get that truck back on the road?”
She grinned. “The SUV has a winch on the front. “I figure we attach the two and see which one makes it up the incline and to the road first.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Let’s go.”
The chain reached across the road and the winch cable easily reached the chain.
“We don’t have the keys for that SUV,” reminded Dalton.
“City boy,” she said. “This winch is electric. You don’t need to turn on the vehicle to run it. Step back now. Where’s Lulu?”
He lifted the dog and moved up the bank. She proceeded to flip a lever and then flicked a toggle switch.
“Holler when the truck is on the road.”
The cable began to move, stretching taut. There was a hesitation as the cable vibrated, and then the SUV dragged on its side, inching to the hill below the road. The whine of the winch was momentarily obscured by the scrape of gravel and rock beneath metal. Once the SUV reached the incline it paused as the cable continued to reel.
Dalton glanced across the road, following the cable to the upended pickup and saw it teeter. The back tires thumped down to the road and then the truck rolled with slow inertia up the hill. Since the SUV was lighter than the truck and not anchored, it was dragged up the incline as the truck crept along. By the time the pickup was on the road, the SUV was nearly up the hill.
“Good,” he shouted.
The winch motor cut and the whining ceased. Erin instructed him to start the truck and drive it toward the SUV until the chain dropped so she could release the winch safely. He did and the SUV slipped back down the hill as he rolled forward. But the winched vehicle came to a stop before he left the road. Erin scrambled up the embankment and then released the winch cable, tossing it back into the culvert. She gathered the chain and threw it into the truck bed. A moment later she climbed into the truck. Lulu was ecstatic to see her, wiggling and wagging and then throwing herself to her back.
“Jet is going to eat that dog,” he predicted.
She gathered up the little tan lapdog into her arms. “Where to?”
“That way has no outlet, just a loop to the gun club that will bring you back here,” he reminded her.
“Right. Minerva it is.”
He put the truck in motion. “You still have your pistol?”
She patted her jacket pocket. He flicked on the heater, hoping the air would help dry his clothing and warm them.
“I hate bogs,” he mumbled.
She laughed and settled Lulu on her lap. Then she clicked her seat belt across her middle.
“Think we can make it to your partner in North Creek?”
“I doubt it. But that’s where I’m heading.”
She peered out the open window, gazing at the blue sky.
“They still up there?”
“Probably.”
They did not even slow down in the town of Minerva and he was surprised that no one stopped them.
“How many people do you think are up here with Siming’s Army?” she asked as they cruised past a gas station that advertised firewood and propane.
“Six fewer now,” he said. “But I don’t know. That could be all of them in one sleeper cell.”
“Our attackers weren’t in uniform,” she said. “But the truck is DEC.”
Erin busied herself search
ing the glove box. She found a bag of trail mix, the kind with chocolate mingled in with the nuts and raisins. She offered it open to him and continued her exploration while he munched.
“Nothing but the paperwork and some tools.” She pocketed the universal multi-tool. Just as well, as she clearly knew how to use one better than he would.
He pulled into a KOA and drew up to the office. He handed back the half-empty bag and she lifted it, pouring some of the contents into her mouth and then offering Lulu a peanut.
“I need to make a phone call,” he said.
She nodded and held Lulu, who tried to follow him out of the vehicle. Dalton used the office pay phone to call Henry Larson, who had not left the area, despite not being allowed to see him or, perhaps, because of it. The two made arrangements on how and where to meet, and then Dalton returned to Erin.
“Let me guess,” she said. “You called Henry.”
“I did.”
“NYPD to the rescue,” she said.
“I get it. You don’t like Henry.” He set them back in motion, pulling out of the campground’s lot.
“True.”
“Because when I’m with him, I’m not with you?”
“Because he thinks strip clubs are an acceptable form of entertainment and because he has a different girlfriend every time he comes to a party. Where does he get them all?”
Dalton wisely did not answer, but Erin’s eyebrows rose, making the connection.
“So he’s dating strippers?”
“They weren’t all strippers.”
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better.”
“I don’t want to fight.”
“We aren’t fighting,” she said, as she always did. But they were.
“Do you know why I came up here after you?” he asked.
“To convince me to come home or at least not to ask for a trial separation.”
“True. And because I don’t want to become like Henry. I wanted to try, to keep trying.”
This revelation had an effect that was the opposite of what Dalton had intended. Erin blew through her nostrils and turned her head to stare out the window at the homes that had cut grassy plots out of the surrounding woodland. They were off parkland, he realized.
Dalton tried again. “Henry is a good guy. A solid guy. He loves his kids. He’s a good father, but he has nothing but terrible things to say about his wife. He thinks that she’s the reason for him losing his house and only seeing his kids on weekends. All his problems start and end with his ex.”
She turned to stare out the front window. Listening, her face revealing nothing.
“I know how many cops are divorced. The statistics. I know the stats on drinking and drug abuse. It’s a tough job. Stressful.”
“On families, too,” she said in a voice that seemed faraway.
“But I never thought that would be me. Be us. We were rock solid. I came home every night I wasn’t working. I shared what I could instead of keeping it bottled up inside. Now I think that might have been a mistake. Telling you—I mean, because it frightened you. Some of the guys said I was stupid, letting you know the risks we take. The close calls. That this was the reason they didn’t share work stories at home. Kids don’t need to hear it and wives freak.”
“I never freaked.”
“You did. You left me and came here.”
“Not because I was listening but because you weren’t.”
“I listened. But this is who I am. I’m a protector at heart. I live to get those criminals off the streets. To stop them before they can hurt anyone and see they never get the chance to try again.”
“Which is why people are still shooting at us.”
“Erin, I thought you agreed.”
“That was before they ditched us. We have no backup or none that I have seen. I understand why we are here and I accept that what you do is important. I just can’t live like this anymore.”
“Erin. Please.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
She had good reason. The way this was heading, saving their marriage might be the least of their problems.
“We’ll get through this.”
She shook her head. “If we do, what then?”
“You come home. We work this out.”
She stared vacantly at her scabby knees and offered no reassurance.
He extended his hand but, instead of squeezing it back, she just stared at it. He rested it on her leg, feeling the warm skin and firm muscle beneath. After a millennium, she moved her hand from the dog and covered his.
It was a start. Or he hoped it was.
“Are we going to get out of this?” she asked.
He set his jaw and nodded. “Yes, ma’am, we surely are.”
“That just wishful thinking? Telling me what you think I need to hear.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe there are this many of them. Erin, the woods are crawling with these terrorists. And I don’t understand why we haven’t already been picked up and brought back in.”
“Because we didn’t get a member of Siming’s Army, not a living one anyway.”
He shook his head again. Something was wrong. The Feds had not held up their end of the bargain, and that meant the deal was off. All men for themselves. He needed to look after his own and get Erin to safety.
Lulu shifted position, groaned and lay down on Erin’s lap.
“Do you think she knows what happened to Percy?”
“No.”
“Dogs grieve the loss of their owners, you know.”
“I suppose.” But Lulu’s bulging eyes made her look more hungry than grief stricken.
“Are you regretting coming out here?” he asked.
She stared straight ahead, and he had the feeling something was really wrong. Mostly because she wasn’t angry and she had a right to be. He’d trusted the system and they’d been dumped in a bog as reward. Finally, she spoke, and her voice was flat calm as the eye of a hurricane.
“I would have preferred that they put out an APB that we’d been picked up and processed and released, so everyone would know we don’t have that darn black case.”
She cut a sidelong glance at him and then rested a trembling hand on Lulu’s back. She stroked the resting dog, seeming to draw comfort from the tiny creature.
That other woman, the Homeland Security agent, would not have known to take them out on the bog, and he very much doubted that Hockings knew how to use a winch. Maybe she could have shot and killed that second man. But he’d never know. He was happy to stay with the one who had brought him to the dance. But was she happy about it?
They reached an actual intersection and a stop sign. The dirt road ended against NY 28 and he turned south, away from Minerva and toward North Creek. The southern route flanked the Hudson on the opposite side from where they had walked yesterday over the trestle and all the way to North River. They covered the four miles in less than five minutes and crossed the river. Groups of rafters drifted by on the calm section before the upcoming set of rapids. Next, they journeyed through North River, with its white-water rafting outfits perched directly across the road from the launching sites.
Dalton didn’t slow but continued toward North Creek. Henry was waiting.
“Did you speak to the CIA guys?” she asked.
“Yeah. They took the drive and samples.”
“Tillman was okay. Seemed nice enough but that other one. What was his name, Danielson?” she asked.
“No, that’s not it. First name was Cliff, I think. Or Clint.”
“I don’t think it was Clint. I can’t even remember what he looked like.” She rubbed her chin, thinking.
“There were a lot of federal agents. Two from the FBI. Agent Shaffer, also CIA and the Homeland Security agents.”
Why had he
mentioned them? Now she’d be thinking of Hockings again.
“Were you questioned by the guy? Forester?” she asked.
“Foster, Lawrence,” he said. He thought of the agent he had met in the men’s room realizing then that the guy had said he’d join him in interrogation but never showed “I met him, but we didn’t have a formal interview. You?”
“Yes. He gave me the creeps.”
“Worse than Clint or Cliff?”
“Different. He was the only one who showed up alone. After the other agents left. I felt, not threatened, but cornered, I guess. He was with me until just before you arrived. He didn’t ask the same things as the CIA men. He wanted to know about the pilot. Where he was and how he died. What happened to the woman who owned the dog and where we had been last night. He was the only one who asked about the contents of what we carried.”
“They have the contents. Why ask you?”
“Maybe that’s what bothered me. He also was the first to ask where we had been heading and which of your colleagues you had contacted.”
Dalton’s radar popped on and he scowled. “Where we were heading? Did you tell him about Henry?”
“Of course.”
Dalton stepped on the gas.
Erin sat forward, grabbing the overhead hand grip. “What? What’s wrong?”
Lulu startled awake as she nearly fell off Erin’s lap to the floor mats.
“You see his ID?”
“I... I don’t remember. I didn’t see Hockings’s ID. I know that.”
“What if Foster is not DHS?” he asked.
“Then he wouldn’t have been in the troopers’ headquarters.”
That wasn’t necessarily true. All they had to do was to get someone to buzz them in and mingle with people in the building. It was alphabet soup in there.
“If he was legit, then he’d know that the CIA recovered the flash drive and vials.”
“So?” she asked.
“He’d also know we aren’t carrying anything. No reason to attack us back there.”
That was true, unless their attackers had not gotten word from him or it was a different cell.
“But he asked about Henry?”
“Yes. All he knew was that Henry was NYPD SWAT. Not his name, even.” She shook her head. “But Henry doesn’t have anything they want.”
