A week before Nikki passed away, she’d talked about quitting, suggested they search for a new line of work. She’d started acting jittery whenever a cabinet door closed or the boys cried. She’d called in sick, even though she’d seemed healthy.
He’d worried the time in the NSA had made her too paranoid to work on anything remotely dealing with government. He gritted his teeth together. What if her death wasn’t an accident? Should he even let himself consider it? Hit-and-runs were on the rise. Statistically speaking, he had no reason to question it.
But if Launch Operations was hiding something and tried to use his boys as leverage to keep him quiet or to get him to help, what if they had done something similar before? It couldn’t have been an electromagnetic pulse weapon, of course, but what if she’d discovered something else? Plans for the EMP? Something like this would’ve taken a lot of plotting. That was two years ago, though. What if she had found something else? Foreign spy capabilities attached to a satellite?
Nikki would have confided in him if that were the case, right? His head throbbed with the beginnings of a caffeine-withdrawal headache. He needed coffee. Besides, he knew the answer. If Nikki had come to him, he would’ve insisted on going to someone for help. He would’ve gone to Derrick just like he did now. What if Nikki had known a reason not to go to Derrick?
The whole scenario was ridiculous. He clung to the possibility so he’d no longer feel guilt for what had really happened that day. He’d forgotten to pick up the dry cleaning, which he said he’d do on the way home since she’d called in sick. Instead, Nikki had offered to go get it for him. He blinked at the memory, fighting against the pain gnawing at his chest. It was the same thought that had plagued him for the last two years: it should’ve been him.
“What’d you do for the NSA?”
Rachel’s question snapped him out of his reflections. “I’m afraid I can’t say any specifics, and it would probably bore your socks off anyway.”
She looked so frail in the seat, gripping her shoulder. “Try me.”
Fine. He’d humor her. “Data mining, algorithms, queries...”
“Queries? Like the type you do now?”
James tried not to let his surprise show that she understood some of his job at Launch Operations. She really had listened all those times she’d asked about work when they’d car-pooled.
“Uh, James?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s still dark enough that the automatic headlights flipped on, right?”
“Yeah.” They were about to turn out of the subdivision. So far there had been no sign of the police car. “Why? Do you think I should turn them off?”
“No.” She pointed toward the passenger-side mirror. “I’m wondering why the black car a block behind us doesn’t have them on.”
TWELVE
Rachel knew why the car drove without lights, but she didn’t want to admit it aloud.
James groaned. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Do what?”
He shot her an apologetic look. “Hold on.” He shifted the van quickly and took the very next right turn.
Rachel pressed her back into the leather bucket seat, her wide eyes trained on the road ahead. Understanding hit her in the gut. She’d almost forgotten how his wife passed. James hated to drive fast or aggressively. She imagined if she’d had a loved one pass away from a hit-and-run she wouldn’t, either. Her shoulder stung so bad, tears pricked her eyes.
He flicked on a turn signal and merged onto the freeway. They zoomed in and out of the few cars starting an early morning commute. “James, there’s a second black sedan.”
He cringed. “Even if we lose them, we’re in trouble. They’ve seen the van.”
“Silver vans are plentiful.”
“Sure, but if we’re dealing with NSA, any agent worth his salt would get a look at the license plate when it was sitting in the driveway. If they have any NSA resources—which we’re still not sure about—they could track us easily.”
Rachel jerked her head at the upcoming exit. “Take the next exit, James. We’ll have a better chance of losing them off the freeway. Plus, it’s not far to Eric’s Automotive.”
“Why?” He drove so fast they left the commuters in the dust. The streetlights reflected off the asphalt. Darkness and stars remained to the west, but in the mirror, behind the cars, the hints of a future sunrise played on the horizon.
“My vehicle is waiting to be worked on, remember? I had it towed there.” Her insides twisted as she stared at her purse, which still held the gun. “We could switch license plates.”
The black sedans were gaining on them. She kept her mouth closed as she noticed James glance at his mirror. He pursed his lips. “I like your thinking, but I’m worried they’d still recognize the make of the van. Eric’s is still a good idea, though. I can work with that.”
Crack!
A look in the rearview mirror confirmed a man in one of the black sedan’s sticking a gun out of the passenger-side window. “James!”
He swerved and kept swerving across the lanes. “I know!”
He continued driving in a winding path, like a snake weaving through blades of grass. While traffic would’ve really helped them hide, she was so thankful there weren’t other cars to get hurt. It was all she could do not to black out. She planted her feet on either side of the floor mats to try to stay still without letting go of her shoulder.
He merged on the off-ramp without signaling, and all the lights within the van went off. “I turned off the interior and the headlights,” he said. He took the first right, another right and a third right.
“We just went in a circle.”
“I know.” He pulled over to the side and two black sedans barreled down the main road.
“They didn’t see us?”
James didn’t answer but pulled out onto the road again, this time taking a left. They drove in tense silence. “What are you thinking?” she finally asked.
“How much I hate not having a phone. The first chance we get, I’m buying both of us phones and entering my family’s phone numbers in them both.”
“In mine?”
His expression looked grim. “I can’t keep running with the boys like this, Rachel. Not with guns at play. If this doesn’t work... If they find us again...” He took a deep breath. “If that happens, I’m going to pull over and step out with my hands up. You’ll drive away with the boys and keep driving.”
She shook her head, panicking. She couldn’t be in charge of the boys. The responsibility was too great. She wasn’t equipped. “I can barely drive like this.”
“You’d just have to get to my parents’. Mom would take the boys and then you’d be free to go back to your life. These men want me. And, at this point, if push came to shove, I’d do what they wanted, if they just left you alone.”
“James, who’s to say they would let you leave after you do what they want? You’d be a liability.” She didn’t say what she was actually thinking: they’ll kill you.
Judging by the set of his jaw, he was determined.
“You’re not thinking straight.” She tried again. “Besides, this is a moot point. We’ll change the license plate and get somewhere safe. Together.”
“We’re not changing the plates. We’re switching cars.”
Though hard to see in the lightening darkness, a black sedan rounded the bend a couple blocks behind. “James, you have to speed up. They’ve spotted us.” The last thing she needed was for him to give up now. She wanted to ask how he intended to change cars, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mirror.
“I see Eric’s shop.”
“They just drove through a light. It’s definitely them. We need enough distance they won’t see you pull in to the shop.”
“I’m
aware,” he said. His voice held a twinge of desperation and anger.
The van lurched forward as he shifted into high gear. “Hold on, boys!” Rachel dared a look over their shoulder at their wide-eyed faces. Caleb flung off the headphones and Ethan mimicked him. “It’s going to be okay,” she said.
James zigzagged through a corner and darted behind Eric’s Automotive where a couple of dozen cars sat, some with Used sticker prices on them and others presumably waiting to be worked on. Her maroon hybrid SUV sat in the line. She pointed. “Park next to it.”
“I’m afraid they spotted where I turned.” James shook his head.
“You are not giving up yet,” Rachel insisted. “We have a few seconds. Park. I have an idea.”
He flashed a look of unease.
“If it doesn’t work, I’ll follow your plan,” Rachel added.
That did it. He swung into the spot.
“Grab the kids. I still have a spare key to my car. You’ll hide underneath my cargo shelf. It’s made for groceries, but the space underneath is plenty for the boys. You’ll have to squish your legs, but they’ll stay safe. In this lighting, it’ll look like they’re seeing the bottom of the trunk. All you’ll see is gray.”
He rolled his eyes, slammed the van into Park and jumped out of the van. They grabbed the boys. She clicked the fob and turned off the interior lights while he opened the trunk. “Hurry, hurry.”
He slipped in flat and held his arms open for the boys to roll into each of his arms. Their heads grazed the top of the cargo privacy cover. “Shh, we’re playing hide-and-seek,” he whispered. His eyes met hers. “Where are you hiding?”
“Don’t worry about me. Arms in.” She slammed the trunk and darted around the side of a car. A hot sensation slid down her arm. Dark red splotches made a trail from the van to where she stood.
She gaped. The moment she’d let up pressure on her wound her blood had spilled onto the pavement. If the men looked closely, she’d have led them right to the boys’ hiding spot.
Wheels crunched over the chip-sealed parking lot. Her breath quickened. Once they rounded the corner of the building, they’d see her. She hunched down and ran down the row of cars.
As she darted around the trunk of the last car, she found the trail had followed her. Good. She dropped to one knee and pulled off her blood-soaked hoodie, wiped off as much blood as she could, balled it up and threw it as far as she could with her good arm. It landed ten feet away in the field.
She sank down into a low squat so her head wouldn’t be visible through the car windows. The wheels rolled over the asphalt steadily, slowly. Her right hand clamped down tightly on her wound. She made her way back toward her car on the headlight side of the cars, careful not to straighten lest they spot her.
The smell of oil and rubber tires triggered a headache. The crackling of tires against pavement slowed. A beam of light reflected off the side of one vehicle. She sank down to her knees and pulled out the gun from her purse. If they moved to open her trunk, she would step out and engage...if her shoulder didn’t give way. Her heart raced at the thought of pointing a gun at a few men. If push came to shove, could she really pull the trigger?
A car door opened. “This is it,” a gruff man’s voice said. “Their stuff is still in it. Looks like they took off, though.” Another car door opened and shut. Their feet sounded so close. Where were they? If they rounded the vehicle and saw her first, she’d lose the advantage of surprise.
“Think they left on foot?”
Something shifted. Was it from the car or from the men? Please help those boys stay quiet, Lord.
“Look. Blood.”
“That’d be my handiwork,” the man replied. Rachel could almost picture his smug face. Her finger slipped to the trigger of the gun.
A beam of light searched the field behind her. Rachel molded herself against the wheel.
“The trail takes off into the field. Looks like her jacket caught on something. Let’s check those office buildings just past it. They couldn’t have gotten far.”
The car doors closed. Wait, they were going to drive right past her. She’d be spotted even if she stayed in a squat position.
Rachel dove to the pavement and rolled underneath the car, praying the darkness would cover her shadow. The rocks bit into her shoulder. She sucked in a breath. Without the hooded sweatshirt to cushion the movement she almost cried out. Hot tears rolled down her face. Her lips quivered as she held her breath.
Tires sped off. She finally exhaled, a strangled cry escaping from the agony pulsating within her shoulder. She remained frozen for a few minutes, breathing the horrible oil fumes underneath her vehicle. The creaking and groaning coming from the car likely meant the boys had tired of staying still.
She tucked the gun back into her purse before she sniffed and wiped the tears away with her right hand. Shimmying her way out from under the vehicle was even more difficult as little bits of asphalt pressed into her skull, hands and hips.
She sat up into a crouch position and brushed off the stinging bits embedded in her skin. In the distance she heard the cars, but they still had their lights off. She waited until she couldn’t see them before she clicked the fob to unlock her vehicle.
Her right arm struggled with her weight as she tried to push herself up to standing.
James had popped open the trunk from the inside. He sat up, the boys wiggling free from his arms. “Worst game of hide-and-seek ever,” he muttered.
“Let’s hope we never have to play it again.”
Ethan’s eyes bulged as he pointed at her. “She bleeding.”
James pulled off his sweatshirt and handed it to her. “It needs pressure.”
She pressed it against the wound. “Every time I move it starts back up again.”
“Then we need to get you somewhere you can stay put.”
If only.
* * *
He jumped out of the vehicle and pointed to a crummy white van near the office doors. “I helped Eric out a time or two. He leaves the loaner available for anyone who needs to drop off their car after hours.” He jogged back to the minivan and pulled out the two booster seats. “Let’s go.”
“But what about the keys?”
He shrugged. “I’m hoping the hiding place is the same as last time. You have a pen in your purse?”
“I think so.” She moved to rummage.
“Please let me.” James reached for the strap on her left shoulder. His fingers brushed against the curve of her neck and she released a small gasp. “Did I hurt you?”
She blushed. “No.” Her right hand helped him remove the purse off her torso. He found the pen in record time. He ripped off one of the sales papers attached to the side of a car and jotted a quick note to Eric.
Emergency. Had to take your loaner. Out of touch for a bit. Will pay whatever you ask for inconvenience.
Sorry,
James McGuire.
He slipped the note through the mail slot in the glass door and found the key right where he’d found it last, underneath the back right tire well. A minute later, he kept the lights off while they drove back onto the freeway.
Rachel found a baseball cap with the repair shop’s logo on it in the back. She hunkered down below the window on the chance they were spotted.
He merged onto the freeway and exhaled. “I think you can sit up.”
She straightened, rolling her shoulders back and dropping her chin to her chest. “Thanks,” she groaned, continuing to get the kinks out. “Next stop, coffee?”
He laughed. “I wish. Let’s get out of town, and let me look at your wound. I’m still not convinced we shouldn’t take you to a hospital.”
“Can we walk through some hypotheticals?”
Oh, how that word was music to his ears. Hypotheticals.
“Of course.”
“Say we get these burner phones. If we are dealing with some NSA guys, can’t they still track them?”
“Theoretically, yes, but in a practical sense, no. Landline and cell phones registered on a certain network can be immediately traced, but prepaid phones take a while longer. They can’t easily be pinpointed to an exact location.”
She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Why is that?”
“Phone companies have an interface that is configured to deliver activity to law enforcement on request. They would need to call the company and set up a trace on all incoming calls from certain numbers—assuming they could figure out certain parameters and key words to filter which ones would be coming from us—then they would ping the phone numbers to find the closest call station.”
She smiled. “So it’s unlikely they’ll track us if you use the burner. Finally some good news.”
He nodded. “Unless they are tracing the person I’m calling. Then it’ll be a piece of cake.”
Her face dropped. “Oh.”
“That would take a while. It’s why I think calling my parents might be riskier than calling my brother. If it’s NSA, it’s likely they’ve been monitoring who I usually call.”
“Your mom,” she answered. “You call her every week.”
He nodded. “Which is a bummer because Mom used to be a detective. She would have the best chance of leading me to someone else we could trust. But, I hardly ever call my brother, and I’m going to take care not to use any trigger words. I won’t be explaining any of our situation.”
The boys grew quiet. In the rearview mirror he found they’d fallen asleep. Long car rides could always be counted for that. He took the exit for the next small town and pulled into a store parking lot. “Do you mind waiting in the car?”
She looked down at his blood-soaked sweatshirt. “Under the circumstances, that’s probably a good idea.” She nodded toward her purse. “Could you hand me the gun?”
He did so, and she slipped it underneath her leg for quick access. James checked his cash. It was less than he thought. Eighty-dollars should get him a couple of burner phones, but would it cover the first-aid supplies and food he’d need to purchase, as well?
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