Plain Sight

by Katherine Rhodes

  “Vaughn,” I said quietly. “You have ten minutes. Take a deep breath and take your time.”

  “Take my time,” he grumbled, but slowed and worked more carefully. “I can’t believe this. Are these people really that desperate to off me they are shooting me and my coworkers?” He glanced at me in the mirror. “Are you really my coworker?”

  “You’re the boss, boss,” I said, turning into a residential area.

  I was pretty sure they—whomever they were—weren’t following me anymore, but just to make sure I aimed myself north out of the metro area. At the next light, Nolan and I lined up in the turn lane, but when he took the turn, I darted forward and jumped the traffic. It wasn’t the best idea, but that turn would take him to the hospital and I could head up to Beaver Falls and hope we were losing them.

  Drescher: Be safe. Contact soon.

  McInnis: Done and done. Thanks for trusting me.

  Drescher: You got it, 007.

  I shut the screen off and pressed the gas a little harder. We were going to have to take back roads because I didn't want to get caught on the EZPass on the Turnpike. I had to ditch the plates on the truck.

  “How you doing back there?”

  I heard a deep, trembling sigh and the occasional sniffle from Dylan. “I didn’t realize how many pictures I had on this phone. There are really some on here I can’t lose.”

  “You have six minutes.”

  “I know,” he growled.

  I didn’t say another word to him. I just let him work. I looked at Dylan, who was still visibly shaking on the bench next to his father. “Hey, bud. Sorry about that back there. But you know bad people are after you and that’s why all this is happening. We have to keep you safe.”

  He wiped his nose on his sleeve. Why were all kids that classy? “I know. Daddy does the best he can to protect me and grandmas and grandpas.”

  “That he does. You know Nolan?”

  “The bodyguard man? Yes. He was hurt just now.”

  “That’s right he was, but he’s going to the hospital, so he’ll be okay later.”

  “Do you think they blowed up my soccer ball?”

  It was funny what kids thought about. “I couldn’t say for sure, bud. But we’ll get you a new one along with some new clothes and some pajamas.”

  “We can go home for those,” Vaughn said.

  “You think you can go home, that’s cute,” I said.

  “Yes, I think I can go home!” His voice was low and angry and unpleasant. “Once we explain all of this to Garabaldi, he’ll straighten everything out, put a cop on the house and we can go back to my home.”

  “No, you can’t.” I really hoped my voice was just as hard as I wanted it to be. “You can't go back into that danger. I’m giving you a huge amount of leeway on the phone. We should have left those in the parking lot.”

  It was quiet again.

  “I’m hungry,” Dylan said.

  “It’s past dinner time,” I said. “And you were running around out there. Hey, Dylan, tell us about the game. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get your dad there in time.”

  The little boy smeared tears off his face and started chatting about his day in school and on the field. He really loved his day and he was more than happy to chat and distract me and his father from what was going on for the moment.

  And while he was chatting, I saw Vaughn having a breakdown over the pictures he was desperately trying to upload. Full on, fat-teared sobs, and it took way longer than ten minutes to sync them in the cloud.

  I didn’t stop him at ten minutes. I was able to keep the car dancing around close to the city while he used the cell towers and left a digital fingerprint. It took at least twenty-five before he finally looked up, smearing tears away. “All right, that’s all of it. Now what?”

  “Turn it off. We’re going to have to smash it, but not right now.” I tossed my own phone to him in the back. “Shut that down for me, will you?” I took a quick peek at Dylan. “Does he have any electronics?”

  “A tablet for school, a cell phone for texting me.”

  “Shut them off. We’ll have to get rid of those as well.”

  He balked at the tablet, and held it up. “Do you know how much this thing cost?”

  “Not nearly as much as your lives are worth.”

  Paling, he shut the tablet off. It was a low blow, but I didn’t know how else to get him to understand this wasn’t a game. There was nothing fun about it. At best we’d go home and have to face a trial. At worst, we were all getting new identities and they were blowing up a house to find our doppelgängers dead.

  “They’re all off,” he said. “Where are we heading?”

  “I need to drain an account and shred the cards.” I glanced back at him. “Do not, under any circumstances use your cards for anything.”

  “Can I get some out before I destroy them?”

  “Yes.” I looked at the road signs. “We’re close enough to Pittsburgh they won’t have a clue where we’re going. We’ll hit five or six ATMs close together and then no more.”

  I rolled up to the first machine I saw and withdrew as much as I could, which was the card limit of $500. I had four more bank accounts and then, blessedly, I found the one bank I had my checkbook for and wrote out a check for cash for five thousand.

  Thank God I was rich.

  Vaughn pulled the max out of his two accounts. Then, I pulled out Nolan’s go-bag, and found scissors. I cut up every card I had on me and handed them to Vaughn to do the same. I threw them all in the trashcan at the drive-thru ATM.

  Dylan’s voice drifted up to us. “I’m hungry and shouldn’t I be in a special chair?”

  Vaughn nodded. “You should D, but we’re kind of in a special situation here.”

  I scratched my nose, and stared out the window of the car. “We have three things we need to do. First, we need food. Then I need a burner, and then we need to get the hell out of Dodge.”

  “A burner?”

  “Phone.”

  He stared at me across the car, and I could see he was trying think of something, anything to say. I decided the Burger King I was staring at was going to have to do the job for dinner. I didn’t relish fast food, but it worked.

  While Dylan and Vaughn ate in the back seat, making it a picnic, I ran into the Sheetz across the street and they didn’t have any phones. I bought two refill cards, because I could get the information I needed from the woman there. I was going to need a public computer to activate them, and the best place was the library.

  It killed me to not be able to just Google search the nearest library or plug that into Waze. When I had been an agent, I had a shielded phone. No one could triangulate it. This was just a plain old phone, and anyone who had watched Macgyver and had half a brain—and maybe a hockey ticket—could doctor up the triangulation.

  The nice lady behind the counter gave me directions to the nearest public library, but they were already closed for the night. She then informed me that the big truck stop up the road had some computers.

  They would also have pay-as-you-go phones.

  Perfect.

  I let my two passengers hang out in the back of the SUV and headed up the road to the truck stop. I glanced back at them as I backed into a spot between two slightly more massive vehicles.

  “Vaughn, can you step out for minute. I need some grown-up talk time.”

  He nodded and we ducked behind the vehicle. There was just enough light for us to see Dylan sitting in the seat.

  “I have to go in and get the burner phones and activate them. I’m going to be gone for more than just a few minutes. Have you ever, ever used a gun?”

  He paled. “I was in the army for two years. I got the hell out. I’m not good with them, but I can handle one.”

  Pulling out the Ruger, I handed it to him. “Six shots. That’s it. I don’t think you’re going to have use it. Nolan and I did a pretty good job of screwing up the trail.”

  “Is Nolan going to be o
kay? Shouldn’t he be shuttling us around?”

  I smiled. “If you didn’t notice, he was kind of shot. He had to go to the hospital. He wouldn’t have gotten this far. I need you to concentrate right now, Vaughn. Can you handle this if you need to?”

  “That’s my son in there. So yes. If I have to.”

  “Good. Do you need anything from in there while I’m shopping?”

  He glanced at his son. “A puzzle book for him. And water and snacks. Healthy ones. He’s not a cookie kid.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m assuming we’re not going back home tonight?”

  My raised eyebrow answered his question.

  “Right. So toothpaste? Deodorant? A comb? Soap?”

  “Basics.”

  He nodded.

  “Okay, got it.”

  “Where are we heading?”

  “Beaver’s Falls. We’ll be there tonight and we can find a place to crash for the night. Tomorrow I’ll see about contacting Nolan and Garabaldi. Hop in. I’ll get everything we need.”

  Pulling the door open, Vaughn started to climb in but paused with one leg in. “Ms. McInnis. Thank you.”

  “Jesus, Vaughn. My name is Bridget.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “You’re welcome. Get in. Lock the door. And if anything looks suspicious, drive the hell out of here.”

  He nodded and pulled the door closed, the snap of the locks engaging popped through the night air a moment later.

  Heading for the store, I was slightly distressed to be carrying as much money as I was, but then at the same time, I was also carrying my beloved Beretta again. That felt good.

  Nothing else about this felt good, but the gun was a bizarre comfort. I made quick work of the purchases. Phones first, and alone. I was also able to buy fifteen minutes of internet in the café there to activate the phones, and do a fast incognito search of what was going on in the news.

  There was nothing. That was good.

  I stuck the two phones back in my purse, and before I moved, I took out the money I would need to buy the rest of the stuff. I didn’t want anyone to see how much cash I was carrying.

  This time I made quick work of the store. Pajamas, toiletries, and snacks all around, plus a case of water, and three sodas. I almost never drank it, but I needed the sugar right at that moment.

  Vaughn saw me coming and smartly waited until I was at the back hatch to unlock the vehicle. He looked like he was about climb out.

  “Stay there,” I said. “Keep an eye peeled. Hey, Dylan, bud, want a soda? I also got you a few puzzle books.”

  “Yeah!” he shouted, and I held it over the seat for him. I’d bought him a mini one, so it wasn’t a lot, but he was happy. I set up everything in the back and closed the hatch.

  Vaughn lifted over the console, and moved into the passenger seat as I climbed in and slammed the door. I pulled the phones out, and handed one to him.

  “You have thirty hours of talk time, two gigs of data, and 500 texts. I splurged. We can use Wi-Fi as often as possible, and that will save the texts. I’ll download a texting app later that any and all messages will disappear.” I swiped the phone open. “We have to clear the cache every night before bed, and whatever the hell you do, do not add people to the contacts.”

  “Aren’t we going home tomorrow?”

  I laughed. “No. We are not. You can’t go back until we figure out who these people are and why they are giving you hell for finding out their scheme.”

  He shook his head. “It was a laundering scheme.”

  I glanced back at Dylan, and bit my tongue. “We’ll talk at the hotel.”

  Dropping the vehicle into drive, and the phone in the drink holder, I pulled out of the parking lot. I need to regroup. I needed time to figure out what was going to happen now.

  I simply hadn’t been prepared to end up disappearing with my very hot boss and his son. With absolutely no back up and no idea what was really going on.

  BMI: We’re safe. Fall out?

  ND: LtG kept it downlow. No major fallout

  BMI: G’parents?

  ND: Safe. Patrol set by PPD.

  ND: Was relieved of duty at the firm.

  BMI: Shit.

  ND: Asked to stay as consult by VW. Have agreed, to be contact point for fugitives.

  BMI: Honored. Off the field?

  ND: GSW was thru-thru, confined to deskwork. Not crushed by restriction. Will provide instruction and support.

  ND: Had to tell Vic.

  BMI: No way around that.

  ND: And brother.

  BMI: Fuck.

  ND: Woman. He is SO pissed.

  ND: Also offered to wire money.

  BMI: Cash is good for now.

  BMI: I will call K in the next few days. Have some matters to discuss with Big Target.

  ND: Not jealous. KIT, 007.

  007: Will do, Q.

  Q: [middle finger emoji]

  Vaughn

  It wasn’t exactly a seedy motel.

  The pool was filled in with dirt to the brim, which broke my poor son’s heart.

  The carpet looked clean, but I’d watched the ID Channel more than once. Shockingly, though, I could almost believe the place was cared for. There was no cigarette smell, and the sheets were white and not questionably eggshell. The bathroom had a Bathfitter over it, the floor was large, easy to clean tiles and the sink was a single laminated piece.

  Letting out a long, tired breath, I motioned Dylan into the bathroom with the bag of his things.

  “Let’s get ready for bed, D. There are some pajamas and we’ll do a wipe down instead of a whole bath. Good?”

  He nodded, but held up a package. “This isn’t my Hawkeye toothbrush, daddy.”

  “I know, kiddo. We’re going to have to work through this. Hawkeye’s at home and we can’t go back there right now.”

  He looked up at me and his eyes were baleful. “Did someone else get hurt real bad?”

  A sharp intake of breath escaped me. “Oh, no! No, Dylan. Everyone there is fine. We have to get away from the bad guys, and that means we can’t go home right now. Everyone is fine. I promise you I will put you on the phone with the grandmas as soon as it’s safe. Deal?”

  “Okay.” He sighed.

  “Clothes off, and let’s get you washed, big man. Then we brush teeth and into the bed.” I leaned in close. “We can even leave the television on.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup!”

  I had him soaped and rinsed as fast as I could and dropped the pajamas on him. They were, to his delight, Iron Man, and he modeled them thoroughly for me. I finally had to refocus him on the job at hand and practically brush his teeth for him. He was having a grand adventure.

  The curtains in the room were closed tight, and there was some kind of bar on the door. I could see the same thing on the window.

  As Dylan and I walked out of the bathroom, I saw Bridget move the bag over something. Probably the massive gun I had seen her with earlier. She had removed the jacket and shoulder holster I had seen earlier.

  “Ready for bed, kiddo?” She smiled.

  “Yes, ma’am!” he answered, jumping on the bed. I pulled the sheets down as he went up and he landed on the clean sheets.

  “Hold up,” Bridget said, digging around in the bag. “Here.”

  She handed me something that looked like a sheet, and I stared at her, confused.

  Her laughter went right through me, hitting every right nerve ending and every spot that made my libido shimmy and quake. Jesus.

  “It’s a sleep sack,” she offered. “A lot of times, the hotels available are just really, really bad. Disgusting, and no one sleeps on the sheets, even if they look as cared for as they do here. That’s a full size bed sheet, sewn into a sack. Slip him into it and tuck the pillow in on the underside of it.”

  I flipped it open and it was goddamn genius. With this, no part of the body would ever touch the sheets. I d
id exactly what she said with it, and tucked Dylan in to the bed. She chucked a thermal blanket at me for him, and I folded the sheets all the way down, tucking it around him.

  “Okay, D. The television is on, and you can watch, but I want you to try and go to sleep.”

  “And everyone at home is okay?” His words were chased with a yawn.

  “Yes, Dylan. They’re all fine,” Bridget answered.

  “Okay, then,” he said, and settled in.

  I walked over to the other chair in front of the small table in the room. I looked at Bridget who was next to the window. She handed me a bottle of water and took one for herself.

  We waited in the silence for Dylan to fall asleep. He had a few more questions for me, but that was it. The sound from the television filled the room, and I stared at the woman across from me.

  I had done everything in my power in the past six weeks to ignore the fact that my personal assistant, or whatever the hell she actually was, was downright fucking gorgeous. Red hair, but dark, deep red shot through with hints of brown and blonde. Her blue eyes were the color of rich sapphires, deep pools of blue and light. She had the pale skin that went with her thoroughly Irish name, and just the slightest dusting of freckles across her face. She was disarmingly innocent.

  Except she wasn’t innocent. I had the feeling she was the very furthest thing from innocent. And that did things to me, too. Like make my pants a size too small.

  Scrubbing a hand down my face, I tempered the guilt that welled up from finding another woman beautiful who wasn’t Helen. My therapist had assured me it was fine, finding a woman beautiful was normal and natural and at some point I would feel desire again.

  I just didn’t think it would be with a personal assistant on the run from the people who put a bullet in my wife’s brain.

  My son’s breathing shifted to its sleepy rhythm and I turned in my chair to look at this woman. “Who. The fuck. Are you?”

  Her lip quirked up. “I’m your personal assistant, Mr. Willard.”

  “And that includes carrying a gun and setting bars in the front door from what I’m assuming is an assassin’s go-bag?”

  “He’s not an assassin. He’s private security and most people who work in that field have a go-bag. I had one in my 4runner, too.”