by Sheri Landry
“He was a cop; killed in the line of duty. It happened about eleven years ago now. It was a hit ordered by Matteo Sparr and carried out by some random junkie. They found his body in a ditch outside of Port Thomas.”
My eyes bug out at the name of the town. “That’s where I’m from.” Whispering, I try to recall any news of an officer killed during my time there.
“I know.” His tone is low. “My dad transferred there five years before it happened. He had planned on retiring near the coast with my mom, but he caught wind of some shady business.” He stops abruptly, and I wait, almost unable to breathe for fear I’ll miss something. With the sheets pulled up to my chin, my wide eyes stare at nothing. “My dad was the best cop there was, and he paid for it with his life. Turns out, it was his own partner who set him up that day. Some stupid shit almost half his age who ended up being on Matteo’s payroll.”
I don’t register my tears, which have been freely flowing out of my eyes and back into my hair, until I reach up to brush a strand away from my face and my fingers feel the wetness of my sorrow.
“I’m so sorry, Michael.” My words catch on each other as I choke them out over my sniffles. He doesn’t answer, so I fill the silence. “Is your mom still out there?”
“She moved a couple of towns closer to the water to be near her friends, because she doesn’t drive anymore. I visit her whenever I can. You’d like her. She’s a stubborn woman. You two would probably hit it off.”
I blubber out a laugh as my tears continue to roll into my hair. The room is still dark, and his silence settles in once again.
Michael and I talked a bit last year, but it was nothing like this. We stayed away from anything that carried emotion, and I realize now he steered a lot of our topics away from him, focusing on Jessa and me instead.
Sharing this can’t have been easy. The way he paused as he spoke and the change in his tone as he told me about his dad makes my stomach twist with anxiety. I found out my father was working for the Sparrs to pay off debts of his own. Had my dad not been behind bars for domestic abuse during the time they had Michael’s father killed, he could have been the one tasked with carrying out the execution order. Michael probably already knows all this, but he is still here.
“Your dad was a good man. I wish I had a better father. I haven’t seen mine in over ten years.” I think of him and my mom often. Sometimes I hate them, other times I feel bad for them. They had me before either of them had graduated high school. They were just kids themselves. It wasn’t until I turned the same age they were when they had me that I realized what a burden I must have been to them.
On a good day, I don’t fault my mom for not trying to contact me. She has a second chance at life. My dad has been in and out of prison since I was a teenager.
“Oh, Dana. I thought you knew.” His voice lingers in the shadows.
“Knew what?”
“Your dad died a few months ago.” Slack-jawed, I stare straight up, blinking repeatedly. “He was killed in prison. They would have notified his next of kin.”
Except they didn’t. I was his only next of kin. He and my mother were divorced. She either wasn’t told, or she was informed and decided against reaching out to me.
“Oh.”
Oh. That’s all I have. A human life has ended, and the only person in this world who held a connection to him takes the information in with nothing more than oh.
The pathetic irony that I am about to walk in his footsteps isn’t lost on me. Most of the people in my life know me by a name that isn’t mine.
Jessa kept my past alive. She reminded me of all the good memories we had. When I’m gone, there will be no one to notify. I guess they’ll tell my mom, but I wonder if she would be better off not knowing.
Even in death, I would be a burden.
Everything has finally caught up to me. I was lonely living all the way out here by myself but, until yesterday, I didn’t understand what real isolation was.
Lying quietly in the dark, I consider the severity of my desolation. My stomach knots, and my heart punches into my rib cage as my tears return without mercy.
I swallow hard. “I don’t want to die out here alone.” Blubbering, I whisper my fear into the room, not sure if I want him to hear me or not.
The remaining springs in the couch groan as Michael moves, and before I look over to see what he is doing, he’s crouched down on the floor beside my bed.
“Dana, you’re not alone,” he whispers. His fingers brush through my hair in the darkness, stopping temporarily at the wet spot beside my temple before I hear him sigh. “Close your eyes and take slow, steady breaths.” I do as he says, but my breathing is ragged. “Most of the guys have lost something or someone because of the Sparrs or the people near them. It’s what connects us as a family of our own. You made a sacrifice you shouldn’t have had to make, and because of that you are one of us. You’re not going to die out here alone, Dana. No one here will let that happen.”
And, on a dime, my breathing steadies as I absorb his words.
Michael doesn’t realize it, but he just gave me everything I need to fight my panic back down and lock it away. He gave me the one piece I didn’t realize I’d been missing since I lost Jessa.
He gave me a sliver of hope for a new family. A reason to fight.
With my eyes still closed, I release the tension in my muscles and wait for a few minutes. I’m almost falling asleep when his weight shifts beside me. I watch through slitted lids as his shadow moves back to the couch and disappears under the blanket. His outline stills as the orange glow of the fire fades even more.
I’m not the only one here who mourns a life that could have been, and it is all because of Maxwell and Matteo. These guys are all out here, risking their lives for me even though they think the files are gone. Jack lost Jessa, and he’s still fighting.
I won’t stop fighting for Jessa even though she’s gone. She never wanted Zane to fall into anyone’s hands, and I’ll destroy it in her name if it’s the last thing I do.
My newfound fire catches in my throat, remembering how determined Jessa was on the last morning I saw her. I understand her resolve now; I share it.
This is the only option that protects everyone, everyone except me. I’m a gamble. Once I destroy the external drive, it will all be over. Without Jessa to use it or code a new one, everything will finally end.
If Maxwell doesn’t have the program, then there is only the hit left, and everyone in this town should be safe if I disappear. If the payout on the hit is low, like Michael says it is, it wouldn’t be worth it to leave a trail of bodies behind. I’ll make my way to Spokane, flip my identity, and then I’m as good as gone.
A slice of guilt cuts through me. Knowing the guys Michael came with are focused on taking me out of here has reminded me: there are more innocent lives to be lost. Stan is dead. Michael was hit with a bullet meant for me. After they pull me out of here, then what?
There is no answer to that, and this is when I wish I had Jessa here. She always knew what to do. But having her was also a hindrance. I always ask myself what Jessa would do, but Jessa’s plans eventually got her killed. Now it’s time to make my own way.
I’m left with my only option. I’ll run, cut my ties, and leave everyone safe. I can’t go back to where Jessa died, and I won’t give up the freedom she sacrificed everything to give me.
For now, I close my eyes. I need to get as much sleep as I can. I have almost everything I need to skip town in my backpack—everything except the drive and some papers, and both of those things are in the coffee shop.
I can’t leave tonight anyway. They have traps set up outside, and Jack is locked in one monster of a vehicle that would overcome my rusted beater in less than thirty seconds. Running escape scenarios through my head is like counting sheep, and I drift off in record time.
13
Michael
The flimsy front door creaks open, and the light of the morning sun illuminates my cl
osed eyelids to a bright pink. Sleep eluded me for most of the night. Only now do I begin to feel its relaxing pull.
Dana woke up half an hour ago. As soon as she got out of bed, I abandoned the boulder she calls a couch and took over her mattress. Closing my eyes, I listened to her start a fire, tidy the area, pour some water in the sink for last night’s cups, and unlock the padlock.
Propping open one eye, I watch as Jack joins her beside the coffeepot. They exchange good mornings.
“He okay?” Jack’s voice is hushed but clear as he turns to face me, and I close my eye, hoping they’ll give me a few more minutes.
“He needed something softer to sleep on,” she mutters, and I almost chuckle at her response.
This thing she calls a bed, with a popped spring digging into my ribs, is no better than the couch.
“How about you? Are you okay?” His voice is muffled by his back as he turns to face her at the counter, and I hold a breath, waiting for her to answer.
“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”
I wonder what her answer would have been had I been awake and standing there with them, challenging her to admit the fear she shared with me last night.
Dana is a fighter. She has to be to have survived this long. But she fights herself just as fiercely. I get the feeling the cracks she showed last night have all but been sealed back up with her fears pushed down. The thought makes me angry. She’s become used to closing herself off, making it harder to get through to her. The sooner we secure her, the sooner we reunite her with Jessa, and the sooner she’ll stop fighting against us.
Her stubbornness irritates me. I’m not going to get any sleep now.
“Is that coffee I smell?” Stretching, I catch their attention.
“It is, but it’s instant. I have better coffee in the shop.” Dana’s statement sounds more like a question. She knows she can’t go back there now, and Jack places his mug on the counter, turning to hold her attention.
“You know we can’t go back there. We have some good coffee at our place. We need to check in, but I’m pretty sure we’ll be moving out of here today.” Dana’s face grows into a forced smile. Her slim fingers tighten around her mug.
“Of course.” Her grin is unsettling. Turning away from both of us, she fills the mug. I’m joining her in the kitchen to push the subject when an alarm beeps in our bag.
On instinct, Jack and I grab the guns off the table and move to the little windows facing the front. Our second vehicle comes into view, and I holster my gun while Jack walks back to the table to reset the alarm.
The morning air is crisp. I wave to the guys, letting them know it’s safe to join us. Then I turn to grab my coffee off the counter before someone else claims it as their own, and I catch Dana, hunched over the sink, taking a couple of deep breaths.
Her nerves are close to gone. I decide against pushing her to open up right now. Having Dana’s emotions in check will make our job here easier.
“Morning, guys.” I raise my cup. Charlie and Grey enter but stay near the door, looking at Jack. I follow their line of sight, but Jack is oblivious. His attention instead is on packing up and moving out.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Grey’s attention jumps to me, while Charlie’s stays locked on Jack.
“Oh, um, nothing.” Grey is the worst liar. I mean, it’s handy when the guy buys into poker during downtime on base, but right now, it’s unnerving.
“Hey, Jack.” Charlie’s tone is smooth, steady, and Jack looks up from his task. “So everything is ready to go, but we have an issue at home.”
“At the cabin?” Jack is all business. His head is still down, and I’m not sure he realizes Dana is standing behind him, but Charlie sees her. His eyes keep jumping over to her before he answers.
“No. On base.” The confident look on his face drops a fraction. “Logan sent us to tell you that Link lost his favorite penny.” Jack’s hands stop what they’re doing, and the two exchange stares before Jack jumps out of his seat and Grey cuts into the conversation.
“Hey, Dana. Can I get a cup of coffee?” He emphasizes her name to remind Jack we are not alone.
“Outside. Now.” Abandoning the bag, Jack heads straight for the door. Charlie and I follow behind while Grey steps into the cabin to distract Dana.
Link lost his favorite penny. That can only mean one thing.
Jack looks like he’s going to unravel. His eyes narrow on Charlie when we get far enough outside. “Where is she?”
“They don’t know. She never showed at breakfast. Link did a head count, and she was gone.” Charlie pushes his hands in a downward motion, trying to settle Jack.
Jack pinches his lips tight, forming his hands into fists as he paces from side to side in two-step increments, no doubt holding in his anger so Dana doesn’t hear him lose his shit.
“How long between the last check?” Jack asks through gritted teeth.
“Link said the last time she was verified was ten hours before that.”
This is bad. This is very bad for everyone.
Charlie continues sharing what they know. “Logan is at the cabin, packing up and staying in touch with Link. We still need to check out the vehicle you found with the kid last night, the rental. Then we are meeting back here and making a move to get out. We have what we need. Staying only invites trouble. Are you still coming with me to check out the abandoned car?”
Charlie and I wait for Jack’s answer as the cool air settles into my bones, but I’m not sure if it is the weather sending a chill up my spine.
“No. I’m not going with you. Take Grey.” He’s done talking, but neither of us respond. I want to tell him I’m sorry Jessa is missing, but the words won’t come out. Our silence isn’t lost on Jack. “There is only one thing Penny would leave the base for, and it is standing in that dilapidated shed. She must have found her like we did and she’s on her way out here. She would never risk everything on anything less than a foregone conclusion. So I’m not leaving Dana’s side until I have her back. Charlie, find the rental car with Grey, then check in with Logan. We’ll meet you there.”
“Sure thing.”
“I should have put a fucking tracker on that woman,” Jack mutters to himself as he stomps back to the cabin; Charlie and I exchange glances with each other as we follow.
“Okay, Grey, you’re with me. Dana.” Charlie nods once into the room, and Dana waves as Grey sets a cup in the sink and leaves behind him.
“You’ve got an hour to get ready and pack up. Take what you need. We won’t be back.” His tone is more rushed with Dana, and she sets her mug in the sink before she gathers a photograph off the shelf and places it into her backpack.
“Can I see that?” Jack reaches out for the photo, and I catch a glimpse of her younger self smiling alongside Jessa. It must have been taken when they were still in school. “Is there any coffee left?” Jack hands her his mug, and she turns to pour the last little bit in as he places her photo in her backpack and zips up the bag.
She doesn’t move to take anything else. Everything of value must be in her bag.
“You’re bleeding.” Her words startle me, and I look down my front, confused. “No, your arm.” She points to her own arm, mirroring where the bullet grazed me yesterday, then turns, opens a drawer, and hands me a small red bag.
“Shit.” I unzip the bag to find a stash of bandages and medical supplies. I head to the bathroom as Jack continues to make himself busy around the room.
Her bathroom is the size of a closet, and I grunt a few times before I get comfortable in front of the only mirror I’ve seen in this place. I plug the drain, then unzip the first aid kit, dumping its contents into the sink and taking stock of what I’ve got to work with.
Removing my shirt, I peel the soaked bandage away to examine my wound before tearing open an antiseptic wipe. The cool liquid stings, and I wince at myself in the mirror.
I continue dotting and dabbing until the blood no longer breaks through, then I use the tube of
sealant and blow on the wound to speed up the drying time as I run through possible scenarios in my head.
Jack knows Jessa better than anyone—well, maybe with the exception of Dana. If he’s confident she’s on her way out here, then what happens if we pack Dana up and head home? And why would she take off after Dana without enlisting our help or, at the very least, telling Jack? After all this time, did she think we wouldn’t let her find her friend?
The questions keep coming, but suddenly I’m hit with one that takes priority: why is it so quiet out there all of a sudden? These walls are thin; I don’t even hear footsteps.
After packing everything back into the little bag, I wash my hands. As I reach for the door, a sudden sound stops me cold. The alarm to our perimeter has started beeping again. Grey and Charlie have no reason to come back here, and I tear open the door, almost taking it off its little hinges, and barrel into an empty room.
The front door is wide open, giving me a direct line of sight to our SUV, but no one is in it. Muffled expletives come from outside. They grow in intensity as heavy footsteps approach the cabin, and I rip my gun out of its holster with my bad arm, instantly feeling the wound open again.
“She’s running.” Jack barrels into the room, wasting no time digging into the duffel bag. I grab my jacket off the back of the chair. “No. We’re not leaving here until you get that under control.” He points at my arm.
“But she’ll get away.” Jack is shaking his head as I speak, and he lifts a GPS unit from the bottom of the bag.
“No, she won’t. I slipped a tracker in her bag.”
“How did you know to do that?”
“She was too agreeable. It didn’t sit right with me. Penny gave me the idea. I may not be able to track her, but I can at least track one of them, since they’ll most likely end up in the same place at some point. I slipped it in with her photograph when she was pouring my second cup of coffee.” Checking around me, his eyes land on the table. “She took our car key. She thinks she’s got a head start.” Then, pointing at my arm, he continues, “Close that up; there’s a new shirt in the bag. I’ll patch your jacket. We’re leaving in five. I’ll call the others once we get in range.” Opening a side pocket on the duffel bag, Jack pulls out our spare set of keys, and I waste no time with Dana’s first aid kit.
