He released one final chuckle, then said lightly, "So tell me what you need."
She thought it through. "I need... you to be alive. And I would like to be alive, too. That is my baseline. If I get more than that, I would prefer to have you close by. After that, anything else is just frosting."
"Call me an optimist, but I think we may just be dealing with nothing more than some semantic issues here."
"You could be right. If we get a few more weeks together, maybe we'll figure out how to speak the same language."
He took her hand. "I've always been a quick study with linguistics."
CHAPTER 22
Alex chose the gas station outside Baton Rouge based on the age of the cashier. He was eighty if he was a day and she had high hopes that his vision and hearing were past their prime.
Once she ascertained that he was paying her absolutely no attention at all, despite the fact that her thick makeup was far from convincing, she did some thorough shopping. More water, lots of nuts and jerky--any kind of nonperishable protein she could find. She grabbed some cans of V8, though she wasn't a fan, as the convenience store didn't have a fresh produce section. She acknowledged to herself that she would have to go to an actual grocery store at some point, but she hoped they could wait it out a bit longer. Every day her bruises faded a little more.
There was no drama at the twenty-four-hour Internet coffee place, either. It was near the university, so it had no shortage of late-night seat fillers. She kept her hood up and her face down, sat in a secluded corner, and asked for a plain black coffee without looking at the barista who came for her order. She wished she had time to do this from somewhere not on the trail to their destination, but the first priority had to be exchanging the Batmobile. It was currently her biggest disadvantage.
She created a brand-new e-mail account registered to a name that was no more than a random combination of letters and numbers. Then she tried to channel Kevin.
You should have left it alone, Deavers. You shouldn't have involved a civilian. I'm not here to do your dirty work, but I took care of the little interrogator for you. Texas was a nice way to say you're welcome. Enough is enough.
Not a specific threat, but plenty implied. She hesitated for a second with her finger over the mouse, the little arrow touching the Send button. Was she giving them anything they didn't have? They would know by now that Daniel wasn't among the dead back at the ranch. She couldn't try to fool Deavers on that point. Was there some way she wasn't seeing for this to come back at them? Could this make things worse?
She hit the button. Things couldn't get that much worse, anyway.
As soon as it was sent, she was on her feet. The Humvee was parked in the alley around the back, behind a couple of dumpsters. She walked quickly with her head down, hood up, and a syringe in hand. The side street was mostly empty, just one small knot of people huddled close together in the darkness of a recessed emergency door. She studied the trio for a second before she climbed into the dark vehicle.
Einstein touched his nose to her shoulder. Daniel took her hand.
"Do you know where the night-vision goggles are?" she murmured.
He dropped her hand. "Is something wrong?" he whispered back. He turned to rummage between the seats.
"Nothing new," she promised. "Maybe something helpful."
He handed her the goggles. She switched them on and took a better look at the little conference.
It was just breaking up. This wasn't a particularly rough area of town, and all three participants were expensively dressed, though their clothes were casual. A dark-haired man was holding hands with a blond girl who had so many showy labels on the different pieces of clothing she wore that she looked like a NASCAR driver sponsored by midlevel luxury brands. These two were walking off now, their path angling away from the Humvee. The blonde bobbled and swayed a little as she walked. The man with her was stuffing something into the pocket of his hoodie.
The third person stayed in the dark door frame, leaning against it casually like he was expecting more guests soon. His clothing was what she would describe as upmarket frat boy.
She thought about what she'd just been feeling inside the cafe before she pushed Send--that things couldn't get much worse. She supposed there were ways this spontaneous idea of hers could go south, but she couldn't think of any that she wouldn't be able to handle quietly. And it would be a big help if the frat boy was what she thought he was.
She pulled the goggles off.
"Where's the cash?" she whispered.
Thirty seconds later, syringe in one hand and roll of fifties in the other, she slid quietly from the Humvee and walked toward the man, who was still relaxed against the wall, like there was no place he'd rather be. She couldn't see very clearly without the goggles, but she thought she caught his minimal reaction when he realized she was approaching him. His body stiffened just slightly, but he didn't move.
"Hello," she said when she was close enough that she could speak quietly and still be sure he could hear.
"Evening," he responded in a lazy southern drawl.
"I was wondering if you could help me. I'm looking for... a specific product." Her inflection went up on the end, like it was a question. She didn't know how to buy drugs off the street. She'd never had to do it before. This was the first time the supply she'd been able to amass during her time in Chicago had run dry. Joey G never minded paying in product.
She expected that the frat boy would accuse her of being a cop, like dealers always did on TV, but he just nodded.
"I might be able to help. What are you looking for?"
It was unlikely he was a cop, unless the sale she'd just watched had been faked to draw a real customer in. If he tried to arrest her, she'd knock him out and escape. A manhunt in Baton Rouge would hardly be her biggest problem, and she knew he couldn't see her face well--he hadn't reacted to the damage.
"Opioids--opium or heroin or morphine."
There was a pause as he peered into the darkness under her hood. She didn't think he was successful in seeing much.
"Well--that's an exotic list. Opium? Huh. I have no idea where you could get that around here."
"Heroin will do just as well. I'd prefer the powdered form, if possible. I don't suppose it's likely you'd have anything uncut?" It was all but impossible that he would have pure heroin. Whatever he had would have been modified two or three times before it reached his hands. Not that he would tell her the truth. Purification was a bit of a pain, but she'd make the time.
He laughed once, and she guessed her shopping style was probably not the norm.
"I've got some upscale stuff. It's not cheap, though."
"You get what you pay for," Alex said. "I'm not looking for a deal."
"Two hundred a gram. Pure white powder."
Sure it is, she thought to herself. But corrupted heroin was better than no heroin. "Three grams, please."
He paused. Though it was too dark to really read his expression, she could tell what he wanted from the way he cocked his head to the side. She pulled the cash from her pocket and counted out twelve bills. She wondered for a second if he would try to steal the rest from her. But he seemed to be a businessman. He'd want an apparently affluent customer like her to become a regular client.
He took the money she offered, looked it over quickly, then stowed it in the back pocket of his cargo shorts. She tensed when he crouched down, but he was just pulling a backpack out from behind a pile of garbage bags dumped against the wall. He didn't have to search for what he wanted. He was standing again a second later, holding out three small plastic bags. In the dark she couldn't be positive about the color, but it looked close to white. She held out her hand and he laid the bags on her palm.
"Thank you," she said.
"My pleasure, ma'am." He did a funny little nod, almost a bow.
Alex hurried back to the Humvee, glad that it was hard to make out from this angle. The dealer would see a large, dark-colored vehicle, and
not much more than that.
Einstein whined quietly as she climbed into the passenger seat.
"Let's go," she said.
Daniel started the engine.
"Turn left down that side street so that guy won't get a good look at the Humvee."
"What just happened?" Daniel whispered as he followed her instructions. Even in a whisper, the tension was easy to hear. No wonder the dog was anxious.
"Just picking up some ingredients I needed."
"Ingredients?"
"I was out of opioids."
As they moved out onto a wider road, Alex could feel his tension easing, probably due to her nonchalance.
"Was that a drug deal, then?"
"Yes. Remember what I said about bathtub chemistry? Getting my raw materials is a little more complicated than it used to be. I didn't want to pass up the opportunity."
It was quiet for a moment.
"I hope that was the right move," she muttered.
"You think he'll tell someone about us?"
She blinked for a second. "What? Oh, no. I'm not worried about the dealer. I was just thinking about sending that e-mail."
"The e-mail was Kevin's call," Daniel responded.
She nodded. "And he has a better batting average than I do."
"No, I just meant that if it goes south, it was his call."
She laughed once. It was a heavy sound.
"You don't like it?"
"I don't know. I want to finish this... but I'm tired, Daniel. I also want to run away and hide."
"That doesn't sound so bad," he agreed. "Oh, um, if I was invited?"
She glanced at him, surprised. "Of course."
"Good."
There it was again, that automatic of course. That crazy assumption that he would be present for whatever future she was allowed.
She didn't know if it was the wearying strain or something more, but an annoying feeling of presentiment haunted her for the rest of the night. Maybe it was just the jitters from finally getting her hands on some coffee for the first time in two days.
She was almost shocked when, seven hours later and with the sun already well above the horizon, they reached the secluded cabin without incident.
Daniel had taken them down only two wrong turns--impressive, considering he hadn't been to the cabin since he was ten years old--and all the roads they'd traveled after sunrise were empty. That meant no one could report seeing an armored vehicle in the vicinity.
She parked the Humvee behind the detached garage for the present. Daniel kicked a few rocks around the base of the stairs until he found the plastic one. He removed the concealed key and then walked up the porch steps with Einstein at his heels.
Alex stood in front of the log cabin--it was a red cedar A-frame, charming despite some evidence that it had been built in the seventies--so tired she couldn't move those last few steps. Though the night had been blessedly uneventful, it had still been a long time on the road. She'd traded seats with Daniel outside Baton Rouge and then been too wired by the sense of apprehension that had troubled her since sending the e-mail to relinquish control again. Daniel had napped off and on, and he seemed almost chipper now. He passed her to go retrieve Lola from the back of the Humvee.
"You look like you might need to be carried, too," he commented as he passed her again, this time with the dog. He set Lola beside the door and then came back for Alex.
"Give me a second," she mumbled. "Brain sleeping."
"Just a few more steps," he encouraged. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her gently forward.
Once she started moving, it was easier. Momentum got her up the stairs and through the front door. She only partially took in a high wall of triangular windows looking out over a swampy forest, aged but comfortable-looking couches, an old-fashioned wood-burning stove, and a short open stairway as he steered her past it all and down a compact hallway.
"The master is over here... I think--Kev and I always got the loft. I'll unload and get the dogs settled, then I'll crash, too."
She nodded as he showed her into a dim room with a large iron bedstead. That was all she noticed before her head hit the pillow.
"Poor darling," she heard Daniel chuckle as she sank into the dark.
*
SHE CAME BACK to consciousness slowly, drifting up through layers of dreamy nonreality. She was comfortable and calm; nothing had startled her awake, and even before she was fully lucid she was aware of Daniel's body warm beside her. A low, close thrumming caught her attention, but before the sound could frighten her, she felt the breeze of the oscillating fan move gently down the length of her body. She opened her eyes.
It was still dim, but the light was a different color than it had been when she'd collapsed. It leaked in around the lined floral curtains that covered the big window on the opposite wall. Early evening, not as hot as before. She must have been sweating earlier, but it was dried now, a film that felt stiff against the skin of her face.
The room was made of long red logs, just like the outside. More light came from behind her. She rolled over and saw the skylight above the open vanity. Her backpack, her gas mask, and the first-aid kit were by the sink.
Daniel might not be a natural fugitive, but he was more thoughtful than anyone else she'd ever known.
She tiptoed out to the hall and did some quick surveillance. The rest of the cabin was small, just a kitchen with an attached nook for a dining room, the living room with all the windows, the open loft above it, and a small second bedroom with a hall bath. She used that bath to take a quick, much-needed shower. There were shampoo and conditioner in the little blue shower-tub combo, but no soap, so she used the shampoo as body wash. She was glad the soap was missing, just like she was glad the refrigerator was empty and that there was a fine layer of dust on all the counters. No one had been in these rooms for a while.
After she quickly applied new bandages to her face and examined her hands, which looked much better than she'd thought they would, she peeked through the long windows beside the front door to check on the dogs. They were snoozing contentedly on the porch. She was getting used to the comfort of having an early alarm system.
She was a little hungry but felt too lazy to do anything about it right away. She remembered how it felt yesterday to wake up alone, and she didn't want Daniel to experience the same panic. She wasn't really sleepy anymore, but she was tired, and the bed still looked pretty good. It was probably avoidance. As long as she kept her eyes closed and her head on the pillow, she didn't have to start planning what needed to happen next.
She returned to her earlier position, curled up against Daniel's chest, and let herself relax. There wasn't anything that she had to do immediately. Twenty minutes of unthinking rest wasn't so much to ask. Or even an hour. She'd gotten them here alive; she'd earned it.
Unfortunately, not thinking was easier said than done. She found herself dwelling on the promise she'd made to Daniel--that she wouldn't leave him behind. On the one hand, she knew she would never be satisfied with any long-distance arrangement for his safety. Even if she could stockpile a year's worth of food, even if she could be positive that the owners wouldn't come back, even if she could arm this place to vaporize any intruder, and even if she could lock Daniel inside like a prisoner so he couldn't wander off and find trouble, she would not be satisfied. Because what if? The hunters had found him before, and she'd left a trail, albeit a faint one, to this place. She could take him north to her rental, but the department had contacted her while she was living there. She didn't think they knew her address, but what if? As long as Daniel stayed near her, she could do what was necessary to protect him, things he wouldn't think of himself. She could see the traps he wouldn't see.
On the other hand, was that just her own wants talking? She wanted to be with Daniel. Was her mind coming up with proofs for that necessity? Was her logic flawed--twisting to accommodate her personal wishes? How could she be sure? When she'd told him before that it wasn't a go
od idea to have her liability close beside her while she went on the attack, she knew that was sound logic. Of course, if they got to him while she was far away, that distance wouldn't remove the hold they'd have on her.
She sighed. How could she see clearly? Her emotions had tangled this whole situation into a knot of Gordian complexity.
Still unconscious, Daniel shifted to wrap his arm around her. She knew what he would say about her dilemma, and she also knew that his perspective would not help her to see more clearly.
He sighed, starting to stir. His fingers traced down the length of her spine, then slowly back up. They played with the wet fringes of hair on the back of her neck.
He stretched with a groan, and then his hands were back in her hair.
"You've been up," he murmured.
His eyes opened slowly, blinking as they worked to focus. In the dusky room, they were dark gray.
"It didn't stick," she answered.
He laughed as his eyes slid shut again. He tucked her more tightly into his chest. "Good. What time is it?"
"Around four, I think."
"Anything to worry about?"
"No. Not for right now, at least."
"That's nice."
"Yeah, it really is."
"This is nice," he said.
His hand traced back up her spine again, then trailed over her right shoulder, traced lightly across her collarbone, and finally curved around the good side of her face. He tilted it up until their noses touched.
"Yes, this, too," Alex agreed.
"More than nice," he murmured, and she would have agreed, but he was kissing her. His hand on her face was soft, his lips soft, but the arm around her waist strained her tight against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held herself closer still.
It wasn't like the car, where the pulse of the hunt had been loud in their ears, when they were still shocked and panicking. There was no horror. Just the rhythm of her heart and his, speeding without fear.
She supposed it was inevitable, the way they'd been carrying on, that given a quiet place far away, for the moment, from any danger, with just the two of them together and no interruptions, there would be nothing to keep them apart any longer.
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