by Paula Graves
They’d always been bullet catchers, she and Darcy.
“I do know,” she admitted.
“Then trust me. If I know anything at all about Cain Dennison, it’s that he’s a decent man. A good man. And he knows what’s at stake. He will be as careful as you or I would be.”
She couldn’t be as certain as he was. She didn’t know Cain Dennison. She didn’t know how careful he would be or even if he knew what was at stake. And maybe if he was the only person she had to take a chance on trusting, she could do it for Darcy’s sake.
“He’s going to be approaching other people for you, isn’t he?”
Darcy nodded.
“Do you know whom he’ll be talking to?”
“No,” Darcy admitted.
She rubbed her forehead, feeling the start of a headache between her eyes. “Every extra person who gets involved in this situation is another chance for betrayal.”
Darcy released a long, slow breath. “Do you want me to contact Dennison and tell him to call it off?”
“Yes,” she answered without thinking.
But as he reached into his pocket for his phone, she caught his arm, stilling his movement. He gave her a quizzical look.
“Just ask him to stand by. We need time before he contacts anyone else.” She let go of him. “I need time.”
With a nod, he pulled out his phone and made the call.
As he spoke in low tones with Cain Dennison, she pulled Darcy’s notebook computer into her lap. She’d made a list of places to check out tonight, and it was past time for them to get started.
She’d worry about the question of backup later. Right now, they had to find out if there was any hope of their plan working at all.
* * *
BY TWO IN the morning, Darcy was beginning to wish he’d stuck around the motel room that afternoon and grabbed a nap. Between his lack of sleep and the monotonous hum of the Land Rover’s tires on the road top, their circuitous tour of Ridge County’s hinterlands was lulling him dangerously close to falling asleep at the wheel.
In the passenger seat, McKenna seemed to have found her second wind, though he could only infer her state of mind because she’d spoken very little since they climbed into the Land Rover almost three hours earlier.
“So we’re agreed on the two venues?” he asked finally. His voice seemed loud in the silence inside the SUV.
“The Econo-Tel and the Blackberry Café,” she answered briskly, as if she didn’t want her words to linger long enough to permanently break the chilly silence between them.
The Econo-Tel was a small, low-budget motor lodge on Pike Road just south of Poe Creek. Set back from the road in an otherwise rural area, it was just isolated enough to pose a temptation to someone who wanted to catch McKenna out in the middle of nowhere, far enough from civilization to make running for help difficult at best.
The Blackberry Café in the tiny mountain town of Brightwater was a little less secluded, flanked on the left by a hardware store and on the right by a television-repair shop. But if they set up the rendezvous after five in the evening, both of those shops would be closed for the night, only the diner still open.
The bigger question was, would either Boyle or Landry show up if McKenna reached out to them? And what if both of them followed protocol and brought an FBI team with them to the meeting?
As he pulled to a stop at a crossroads, McKenna turned suddenly toward him, her eyes glittering darkly in the faint glow of his dashboard lights. “We need backup,” she said flatly. “You were right.”
He stared at her, not sure he’d understood her. “I’m sorry. Did you just say I was right?”
The corners of her lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. “I’m still really angry at you for contacting your friend without consulting me. You had no right, and it shows a distinct arrogance I don’t like at all. But if we’re going to lure in a mole in the FBI, we need to be better prepared than two people can be all alone. So do it. Call Dennison and tell him it’s a go.”
Darcy pulled out his phone, pausing with his hand over the number pad. “And what if you’re right and I’m wrong?”
She leaned her head against the headrest. “Then God help us all.”
Chapter Sixteen
Smoky Joe’s Tavern in Bitterwood, Tennessee, was doing a brisk business for a Thursday night. McKenna followed Darcy into the bar to a table in the back near the pool table, still feeling a little fuzzy-headed from a day spent trying to catch up with sleep before they put their plan into action that night.
Darcy held out her chair for her before taking a seat across from her, his gaze cutting toward a couple circling the felt-topped pool table. The man—tall, broad-shouldered, thirtysomething—bent to speak in the woman’s ear. The woman nodded and crossed to the bar to place an order, while the man set his cue stick against the wall and settled at a table next to Darcy and McKenna.
“You’re late,” the man murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of the bar.
“Didn’t want to appear overeager,” Darcy replied in the same conversational tone. “Rigsby, this is Sutton Calhoun. The woman who was trouncing him at billiards is his wife, Ivy. She’s a detective on the Bitterwood police force.”
McKenna let her gaze drift toward the woman standing at the bar, talking to a burly man with thinning brown hair and a bushy beard. Ivy Calhoun was small and slim, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail under a faded blue baseball cap. She glanced back at the table where her husband sat, letting her gaze slide unhurriedly over Darcy and McKenna before she turned back to accept a couple of longneck beers from the bartender.
With the same nonchalance that had characterized her glance their way, she sat across from her husband, handing him one of the beer bottles.
Sutton took a sip of the beer before speaking. “Ivy, you know Darcy.”
Ivy nodded, not looking at them. “I do. I suppose you’re going to give me some code name for his lady friend, even though we all know exactly who she is, right?” She spoke with a drawl that was pure Appalachia, tinted by a mild exasperation that told McKenna just what she thought of the cloak-and-dagger aspect of the night’s agenda.
“Call me Mac,” McKenna murmured.
“Whatever.” Ivy took a sip of beer. “Y’all ready?”
“We’re going somewhere?” Darcy asked.
“Been a little change of plans,” Sutton murmured, setting the bottle of beer on the table in front of him. He ran his finger over the lip of the bottle. “Dennison thinks we’re too exposed here.”
“I don’t like sudden changes of plan,” McKenna muttered to Darcy. “How do we know this isn’t a setup?”
“Because my husband and I don’t do setups,” Ivy answered.
“Says the woman I’ve never met before in my life.”
Ivy made a low snorting sound and took another sip of beer.
“I know them,” Darcy said quietly. “And I know Dennison. If he thinks this place is too exposed, he has a reason.”
God, she hated this. Hated being at the mercy of anyone, needing their help so much that she was actually sitting here considering the idea of following two complete strangers God knew where to meet more strangers she was supposed to trust, sight unseen, to help her stay out of the hands of people who wanted her dead.
Darcy reached across the table and covered her hand with his, his gaze intent. “Do you trust me?”
She closed her eyes and took a leap of faith. “Yes.”
“You leave first,” Sutton said. “There’s a small clearing just across the bridge on the right. People use it to turn around all the time. Pull into that turnabout and wait for us. We’ll head out of here in five minutes. We’re in a blue Silverado. When we pass, follow.”
As a buxom brunette waitress started to app
roach, Darcy waylaid her with a smile. “My wife has a headache. I think we’re just going to pack it in for now.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a five-dollar bill. “For your trouble.” He reached for McKenna’s hand, his gaze locking with hers once more.
She took his hand and let him lead her back out to the parking lot. “I don’t like this.”
“Can’t say I’m happy about it myself,” he admitted as he unlocked the Land Rover’s passenger door to let her in. “But if Dennison believes we could be compromised by staying here, I’m going to hear him out.”
Darcy pulled off the road in the shallow turnoff Sutton Calhoun had mentioned, putting the car in Park and leaving the engine to idle. He turned to look at her, not speaking.
Waiting, she realized, for her to speak.
“I’m afraid.” It wasn’t what she’d planned to say, but it rang with the sound of truth.
“As am I,” he admitted. “But you’re right that we have to do something to draw your enemies into the open.”
A moment later, a Chevrolet Silverado drove slowly past. Darcy put the Land Rover in gear and followed.
Old Purgatory Road wound south through Bitterwood, then changed names to Smoky Crest Road as it curved east into the mountains just outside the national park. “Where are we now?” McKenna asked as the Land Rover slowed into a sharp switchback.
“Smoky Ridge,” Darcy answered, his brow furrowed.
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s neither at the moment,” he said calmly. But the furrows in his brow deepened the higher they climbed up the mountain road.
Ahead, the Silverado turned off the main road onto a side road. It was paved, which was the best thing that could be said for the narrow, rutted avenue that cut a curvy path through deepening woods.
It ended near the top of the rise at a small, rustic-looking cabin set in the middle of a tiny clearing. A concrete patio about eight feet square led to two concrete steps up to a screen door. Lights were on inside the cabin, but the curtains were closed and there was no obvious sign of movement inside.
Anxiety crept up her back. “Where is this?”
“It’s a cabin,” Darcy said unhelpfully.
“Whose?”
“I’m not certain.”
Sutton and his dark-haired wife exited the Silverado, not waiting for Darcy and McKenna to follow them inside.
Darcy looked at McKenna. “Your call.”
“We’re here already,” she said after a brief hesitation. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
On the walk to the cabin door, McKenna saw what the glare of the headlights had hidden—two more trucks parked off the road, hidden by the shadows of the sheltering trees. “Do you recognize the vehicles?” she asked Darcy as his gaze slanted toward the trucks.
“One is Dennison’s. He probably has Sara with him.”
“And the other?”
“I think it’s Mark Fitzpatrick’s truck. He just traded his old one in for a newer model shortly before I went on suspension, but I’m pretty sure that’s the new truck.”
As they reached the patio, the door opened and a tall, lean man stepped into the opening. “I’m Cain Dennison. I hear we’re supposed to call you Mac. Come on in. Everybody’s waiting to hear what you want us to do.”
With a glance at Darcy, McKenna climbed the shallow steps and entered the cabin.
Inside, Cain Dennison went to stand next to a dark-haired woman she assumed must be his cop girlfriend. Nearby, the Calhouns were pouring themselves cups of coffee at the counter. Two other men filled out the group gathered around the small kitchen table—a tall, attractive man with short brown hair and intelligent hazel-green eyes and a second man whose dark, spiky hair and vulpine features reminded her of a feral animal, all nerves and sinew. His mobile mouth curved in a smile as she met his gaze, but she wasn’t sure she entirely trusted its sincerity.
“Mac,” Ivy Calhoun said, with a slight arch of her dark eyebrows indicating she was annoyed at having to pretend she didn’t know McKenna’s real name, “you met Cain at the door. That’s his fiancée, Sara.”
Darcy’s gaze snapped up. “Fiancée?”
Cain’s smile lit up his face. “She said yes.”
“Congratulations.”
“You’re a cop,” McKenna murmured to Sara as the woman reached out to shake hands.
Sara’s smile was tight. “And you’re a rogue FBI agent. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Seth Hammond, and for the sake of full disclosure, I used to be a con man, but I’m no longer involved in that deceptive art.” The sharp-featured man grinned at her like a used-car salesman.
Great. Just great.
“And I’m Mark Fitzpatrick,” the other man said with a mild smile that made him look like a choirboy, especially standing next to the former flimflam man with the friendly grin. “I was never a con man, for the record.”
His dry delivery of the last statement almost made her smile. “I understand you’re waiting for me to outline what we have in mind. But before I do so, I need to know something. If you don’t like my plan, what do you intend to do about it?”
The Gates agents and the two women exchanged looks for a second. It was Cain Dennison who finally spoke, apparently for them all. “We’ll tell you it’s idiotic and suggest something that would actually work.”
His blunt candor went a long way toward calming McKenna’s rattled nerves. “Fair enough.” She waved at the table, pulling up one of the kitchen chairs. “So, let’s get started.”
* * *
THE PLAN SEEMED to pass muster with the other agents, Darcy saw with some relief. He knew it wasn’t a foolproof plan, but what plans ever were? McKenna’s explanation of how she planned to tap into local video feeds to give them the equivalent of an early-warning system raised the eyebrows of both Sara Lindsey and Ivy Calhoun, the two cops in the room. But neither woman commented.
“We’re trying to figure out which man brings backup and which one tries to meet me alone.”
“Don’t you think they’ll suspect a setup?” Sara Lindsey asked.
“They may,” McKenna conceded. “But if either of them is connected to the Blue Ridge Infantry, he’ll try to lure me out of hiding rather than bring in the FBI. Because they don’t know how much I know about what the BRI is up to. That’s why I was targeted for death in the first place.”
Her answer was met with tense silence at first. Then Sutton Calhoun stood to face them. “Make the calls.”
McKenna turned to look at Darcy. “We’ve selected two rendezvous points,” she told the others. “One is the Econo-Tel Motor Lodge just south of Poe Creek. Do you know it?”
Sara Lindsey nodded. “I worked a case near there recently.”
“Then you can cover us there. Darcy’s going to be with you,” McKenna said.
Darcy stared at her. “You want us to split up?”
She caught his arm and took him aside, ignoring the curious looks from the others as they left the kitchen and entered the nearby hallway. “Look, I’m operating on a very thin layer of trust, as it is. We have two bases to cover, and I need someone I trust covering one of them while I take the other. I don’t trust any of them. But I trust you.”
He didn’t know whether to kiss her or shake her. “But you trust them to cover your back?”
“I can cover my own back if need be. What I can’t do is cover both feeds. I need you to make sure nobody screws this up. We have to know which man is the turncoat in the FBI. I need your eyes on the feed at the Econo-Tel.”
He wanted to argue, but he knew she was right. For the plan to work, they had to have an advance look at both men and who, if anyone, they brought with them for backup.
“Okay. But I don’t want you taking any chances. Understood?”
&
nbsp; She nodded, and they returned to the kitchen.
“Everything settled?” Mark Fitzpatrick asked.
“Yes,” McKenna answered. “As I was saying, Darcy will join Deputy Lindsey and Dennison at the Econo-Tel. One more of you will need to go with them.”
“I’ll go,” Mark Fitzpatrick offered.
Darcy frowned.
“Or not,” Fitz muttered.
“I think our friend Darcy is uncertain if I can truly be trusted,” Hammond drawled, shooting Darcy an unoffended smile. At least, Darcy thought he looked unoffended. Seth Hammond had been a confidence man for years; even now, it was hard to know exactly what the man was thinking. “I’ll go with him. The Boy Scout here can go with the lady.”
Fitz rolled his eyes at Seth but gave a nod. “Calhoun, Ivy and I’ll go with Mac.”
“Our second rendezvous point is the Blackberry Café in Brightwater.”
“I know where that is,” Sutton Calhoun said with a nod.
“I don’t want to confront either man,” Darcy said, pressing his palm against the small of McKenna’s back. “Understood? This is purely a reconnaissance mission. We’re trying to figure out who has put Mac in danger. Then we can see about going to the authorities with what we know.”
He felt McKenna’s muscles tighten beneath his fingertips, but she didn’t argue.
Dennison reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I thought you might need another burner phone.” He held it out to McKenna.
After a brief hesitation, she took it from him. “Thank you.”
“There’s a pay phone outside the Econo-Tel,” Darcy said. “Mac’s going to make the phone call to Cade Landry from there, then ride with Fitz to the café in Brightwater. Seth, you can ride shotgun with me.”
As they split up to head for their cars, Darcy caught Sutton’s arm on the way out, keeping an eye on McKenna as she followed Mark Fitzpatrick to his truck. “Whose cabin is this?”
“Belongs to Seth’s mother. She’s over in Nashville for the week visiting her cousin. Seth figured nobody from the FBI would think to connect this place to you.”
