by Kylie Brant
Sinking to the cool wooden planks, Eryn never took her eyes from the canvas. There was a reason it summoned such a visceral reaction from her.
And she wasn’t leaving until she figured out what it was.
Ryder
When his cell rang, Ryder answered without a pause in his stride. The task force had divided into teams over the last couple of days. At first light, he’d joined one walking grids within the perimeter they’d established after the marshals had discovered rental transactions on Sutton’s phony credit cards. It’d rained a little last night, the first precipitation this part of the state had had in weeks. The ground was still damp. They’d found no sign of Aldeen around the cabin near Bryson City. The rental had been empty, and no one had appeared even after darkness had fallen. Today the Highway Patrol helicopters and troopers would again search for the vehicle Sutton and Aldeen had been spotted in yesterday.
He tried to push away the fear that the men had slipped away again. They could be hemmed in within the human shield the team members had erected and afraid to take to the roads.
“Ry, it’s Logan.” The voice of one of his deputies sounded in his ear. “I just got around to tracking the number Bancroft gave us. The one he said belonged to the caller who tipped him off about Eryn Pullman’s release. It’s a pay phone. I traced it to the Handy Mart in Waynesville.”
Of course he had. There were only two of the relics in town, as far as Ryder knew. The other pay phone was outside the bus station. But the convenience store had cameras. Whoever had contacted the pastor hadn’t broken the law, but Ryder wanted to speak to the person anyway.
“Check the cameras there for corresponding dates and times of the calls.”
“Will do. You want me to get my spiritual lift on Sunday by parking outside Bancroft’s church again?” Logan had run all the plates from Wednesday night services and was following up with each of the church members. Many of the drivers had taken off when they’d seen him idling near the parking area. That hadn’t prevented him from recording their plates. Ryder wondered how many of the church members would return.
“Yes.” A branch cracked beneath his foot, reminding him to pay closer attention. In November, there weren’t snakes in the woods to worry about, but the thick cover of leaves on the ground could hide any number of obstacles.
“Talking to all of the owners of the plates and checking out their alibis for the day of the effigy burning is going to be a lot more labor intensive.”
“I’m hoping Bancroft will break when he sees how few people come to service on Sunday. Keep following up.” The ground began a gradual slope beneath his boots as the call ended. Ryder tucked the phone away again. There were large outcrops of boulders dotting the area. They occasionally concealed the task force members who were walking grids parallel to Ryder’s.
A mound of large rocks loomed ahead of him. As he drew closer to the boulders he heard the distant sound of running water. The map they’d consulted when parceling out search territory hadn’t depicted a river in the area, but there were plenty of streams crisscrossing the territory.
Ryder’s hand went to his weapon as he approached. The huge pile of boulders would provide excellent cover for someone hiding behind them.
He paused for a moment when he saw a glint near the boulders ahead. A flash that was there, then gone again. Drawing closer, he could catch a glimpse of metal.
Ryder rounded the heap of stone cautiously, looking for signs of anyone in the vicinity. When he had half circled the pile, he drew his weapon. There was a silver vehicle on the other side matching the description of the car the fugitives had been seen in yesterday. It looked empty. But the men could be lying down. Asleep. He detached the radio from his belt. “Position twelve.” He reversed direction and stood where he had a view of the rear of the car. “The car has been located.” Ryder described his location and waited for other members of the team to arrive. He could see the rutted hiking trail leading near the spot before it veered away to the nearby creek. His gut clenched with disappointment even as he could see other officers hurrying to join him. He wanted to remain positive. But Ryder was very much afraid the vehicle would be empty.
Samuel
Samuel was feeling a great deal more upbeat as they traveled the rural gravel roads heading east. It had been his idea to hide out in the forest until dusk yesterday before approaching the cabin. But they’d seen a sheriff’s car concealed in the brush a half mile away from the drive leading to the rentals. That had been enough to convince him Sutton had fucked up again. Somehow law enforcement had discovered the cabin. And when David had tried to argue that it was impossible, Samuel had been very close to putting a bullet in the man’s head.
Only the fake ID Sutton was holding for Samuel had saved him. Samuel’s mood hadn’t improved when he’d had to spend yet another night in the fucking woods with no food.
But as usual, the gods had been looking out for him. It’d been just before dawn when a late-model double-cab navy pickup truck had lumbered up the same path they’d taken. An older man had gotten out and hauled fishing poles, a backpack, and a tackle box out of the bed before starting toward the creek. All the while he’d sent suspicious looks toward their vehicle over his shoulder. It’d taken very little discussion to reach agreement: they needed the truck, so the stranger would have to die.
Samuel was now lying in the truck’s back seat, finishing off part of the fisherman’s lunch. He blew air into an empty baggie and popped it, laughing out loud when David jumped and cursed loudly.
“Son of a bitch! Everything’s a fucking joke to you.” He worked his shoulders. “My back is killing me. That bastard weighed a ton, and you insisted on carrying him for a mile.”
“Quit being a drama queen.” Samuel dug through the rest of the stranger’s backpack, but there was no more food hidden away. They’d dumped him between two fallen logs and then dragged over more to pile on top of him. “The longer it takes the cops to find his body, the longer it’ll take to ID him, and his missing vehicle.”
“You’re the only one who thinks the cops are dragging the area near the cabin for us,” David muttered.
“Then apparently, I’m the only one with brains.” It was growing tedious having to explain himself to David, who’d never win any awards for his intellect. “But by all means, if you’re so certain your fake credit cards are good, I’ll take the truck and drop you off in Cherokee. You can walk to the motel room you rented for yourself.” A thought occurred, and Samuel straightened in the seat. “Tell me you didn’t hide our new IDs in that motel room.”
“Of course not. I’ve got a friend holding a package for me. When we’re ready, I’ll grab it from him and we’ll both head out.”
“Let’s do it now.” Samuel didn’t know how much time they had before the dead guy was found and ID’d. He’d feel better if he had the new credentials on him, in case something went wrong later. “I’m not going anywhere or riding in anything you used one of your fake cards to rent.” He returned to the point he’d made earlier. “Not the room. Not the rented car. Not the fucking Bryson City cabin.”
He saw David’s fingers clench on the wheel. Didn’t particularly care that he’d infuriated the man. His friend couldn’t understand how stressful it was to constantly watch for an enemy more fearsome than the cops. Samuel had looked over the stranger in the woods carefully and only approached him when he’d realized he wasn’t a Taker. But they were around. Always looking for the right moment to steal more organs and tissue from Samuel. He needed to . . .
His attention fixed on a sheriff’s car passing them in the opposite lane. Oh my. He twisted in his seat to look out the back window. The vehicle wasn’t slowing. It wasn’t turning around.
Not yet.
“That was too close. After we’re finished we’ll settle up. Like I’ve said before.” Samuel stretched out on the seat again. “It’s time to finish it. I’m not spending another night in the forest. Get us in the vicinity of where this is
going down. We’ll hide out there until after.”
“What are we supposed to do when they ID this vehicle?”
Samuel thought for a few minutes. Then he said, “Do you know anyone in a surrounding state? Virginia? Tennessee? Kentucky? Preferably someone who owes you a favor?”
It took a while for David to answer. “Maybe. Got a guy who ripped me off for about ten thousand when I was dealing. Bad debt. I tracked him to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. I was going to settle up with him later.”
“Call him. Tell him to get three friends in three different towns near there to call the tip line and report they saw us in this vehicle. Give him a good description. None of the friends can be related. We don’t want any connections when the police follow up.”
David’s reply was grudging. “That might work. I’m not wiping out all his debt, though.”
“Negotiate.” Did he have to script everything? “It will take the pressure off us while we finish our business.”
David didn’t argue. He turned onto a poorly maintained gravel road while Samuel folded his hands under his arms. Everything came to a close tonight. He closed his eyes and thought about David’s promise.
Sisters, he’d said.
Cady
Cady only slept a couple of hours before she was awake again, that piece of fabric still on her mind. She eased out of bed and went to the kitchen. The dog got up and followed her, its nails clicking on the bare floors. Last night she’d had the idea to soak the scrap of material, and she checked the sink now. The water she’d filled it with was pink. The stains had been blood.
She picked up the piece of fabric and wrung it out, narrowing her eyes as she rubbed it between her fingers. Black denim. Nothing in particular to identify it. But before Cady headed back to the stakeout at Sutton’s motel, she was going to do a different sort of investigative work on her own.
She showered, dressed, and gulped some coffee before donning her coat. Hero bounded out the door Cady held open for him. She followed at a more sedate pace after securing the door behind her. The stop she was going to make wouldn’t take long. And she was already certain of her welcome there.
Gracious Estates was a grandiose name for the rows of shabby trailers filling a square dirt lot that hadn’t been graveled in a generation. The mobile home Cady parked in front of was no better or worse than its neighbors. Meaning it ranked slightly above shithole status. She climbed the stoop and began pounding on a screen door, which threatened to fly off under the assault. She didn’t stop hammering until a voice sounded inside.
“All right, all right! I’m coming. But I’m telling you right now, fucker, you better . . .” The expression on her cousin LeRoy Griggs’s face when he pulled open a splintered wooden door and saw Cady outside it would have been amusing. But her sense of humor had gone dangerously absent last night.
“Put some pants on, LeRoy.” Without waiting for an invitation, she pushed by him. “No one wants to see your junk.”
“Who asked ya?” But he grabbed a coat off the hook by the door and pulled it on. As if its length were going to cover his tighty-whities.
“I see you have a guest.” Cady stopped next to the sagging couch. Smiled as Bo struggled to sit up. “Looks like you boys tied one on last night.” The group of beer bottles could have just as easily been collecting for days. Neither of them had inherited their mother’s tidy habits. But given the bleary-eyed look on both of their faces, she didn’t think her earlier guess was too far off the mark.
“I’m not going to lie, Bo. You look like shit.” Unlike his too-bare brother, Bo had a quilt covering him. He clutched it to his neck like a virgin in a gothic movie.
“Me? Looks like you got your ass kicked good.” He smirked. “Just sorry I wasn’t the one to do it. That can change, though, if you don’t get the hell out of here.”
“Your lack of hospitality wounds me deeply.” There were scratches on his bare arm. Deep furrows already scabbing over. And the black Carhartt jeans crumpled on the floor next to the couch looked as though they’d seen better days. “I just stopped to pass along some information you might find interesting. Seems like there’s been a rash of burglaries in town. Even my landlady’s place was broken into.”
“Who gives a shit?” Bo belched loudly.
“Probably whoever matches the prints the cops lifted in each of the places.” Bo flicked a glance in his brother’s direction. She shifted a bit to keep both of them in sight. She’d learned long ago not to let a Griggs boy behind her. “Since my house got broken into, too, the sheriff is sending someone out to dust for prints there. I’m not going to lie; the state crime lab is backed up. But in a few weeks, if the burglar is in the system, we’ll have a match.”
Bo’s eyes had gone flat. “Well, thanks for the crime bulletin. Now get the fuck out.”
“There’s one more thing.” She lifted her booted foot and brought it firmly down on his covered legs. His howl of pain verified the suspicion that had bloomed last night. “Shoot, Bo, are you all right?” Cady reached down to grab the end of the quilt by his feet and yanked it upward. Bloody bandages were affixed to one of his calves. More scratches and puncture wounds marred the other leg.
She smiled beatifically. “I see you’ve met my dog.”
Her cousin’s suggestion was anatomically impossible.
“Bo got his leg caught in a trap when we was hunting last night.” Always the loyal brother, LeRoy rose to Bo’s defense.
“He got caught in a trap all right,” Cady said meaningfully. “What were you hunting?”
“Wild pigs.”
“Funny. Me too.”
“You don’t got no call to come in here and try to cause trouble. But then,” Bo’s smile was nasty, “you always was a troublemaker. It’s why you got sent away.”
Her hand clenched. “Hell of a thing, wasn’t it? Me getting banished to live with our grandfather because you tried to rape me?”
Bo flipped the blanket back over his legs. “Shee-it. You couldn’t take a joke back then any better than you can now. Calling a little wrestling match rape is what they call gross exaggeration.”
Her fist clenched. Exaggeration. A mental snippet flashed across her mind of the last time her grandfather had locked her in the cellar. She’d been prepared. She’d hidden a screwdriver there. A flashlight. A thermos of water. She could still recall the priceless look on the old man’s face when he’d awakened from his nap in his recliner to see her standing in front of him after taking the cellar door off its hinges.
I’m no one’s victim. If you try that again, you’ll be the one locked down there. For good.
It’d taken a moment for the man to give her something resembling a smile. Well, you got more grit than your mama. At least that’s something.
It took a second to swallow the bile rising in her throat. Looking at the scar on Bo’s forehead she’d inflicted made her feel a modicum better.
“Course even then you landed in clover. Got to live a cushy life in Mount Airy. The old man never had nothing to do with us. Bet you got treated like a fourteen-carat princess.”
“Sounds almost like you were there.” She and her grandfather had reached an uneasy truce of sorts, but she’d spent the remainder of her childhood with an embittered, taciturn old man who’d never uttered a kind word she could recall. Cady realized now Hannah had protected her the best way she could. But lack of money hadn’t been the only thing keeping her mother from visiting very often. Elmer Griggs had probably been even worse when he’d been raising his daughters.
“Maybe that’s why you’re here now.” Bo’s gaze narrowed. “Maybe you want another ‘wrestling match.’ Me and LeRoy would be happy to oblige.” He sat straighter against the pillow.
“I’m just here to warn you. The next time you come for me, I won’t be using a rock to defend myself,” Cady said grimly. “Better get your leg looked at. Hero’s had his shots, but dog bites can be dangerous.” She walked out of the room. “I’d hate for you to die of inf
ection before those latents return from the lab.”
“You’re quiet today,” Miguel observed.
“You’re chatty enough for the both of us.” They were back in the lot across from Sutton’s motel after catching up with the latest info dissemination from the command center.
“So what’s your guess?” Miguel had the passenger seat moved back as far as it would go to accommodate his outstretched legs. “Does the news of the abandoned vehicle and the dead fisherman make it more or less likely Sutton will return here?”
She took a moment to consider. “It depends.” Whoever was stationed on the sidewalk bench across the street already looked chilled. The parked car from yesterday sat in the same place. But the people occupying it were different. She couldn’t make out any of the other team members’ positions. “Philip Nieman’s phone is being monitored. If Sutton had reason to call it, he might get scared off if it isn’t answered by Philip.”
“Sutton and Aldeen will need another car.” Miguel raised the binoculars in his hand to his eyes as a car rolled by them. Then he lowered them and continued. “The minute Talbot’s crew ID’s the dead body, we’ll know the make and model of the vehicle they stole, as well as its license plate number.”
“The odds are against Sutton realizing we have his credit cards. And that we’re stationed outside his motel. Remember the stash we found inside there? There’s no way he’s leaving until he recovers it. I think you’re right. He’ll be back.” But it wasn’t the credit cards and phones the man had left behind bothering Cady most. It was the message on the paper he’d stashed between pages of the Bible.
REVENGE IS COMPLETE WHEN THE ENEMY HAS LOST EVERYTHING.
“What if payback is what’s keeping them in the area?” she asked. An old woman with a trio of yipping dogs walked slowly on the sidewalk in front of them, pausing to allow the canines to relieve themselves on the tire of a used car.
