want to camp?” He had two tarps in the duffel.
“No. Our accommodations are just a short hike in.”
He looked past her but couldn’t make out anything but tall grass. Tipping his head toward Andy, he asked, “How short?”
“Five minutes,” she answered. “You can time us,” she said to Andy.
At just over four minutes per Andy’s watch, Drew stared into what looked more like an abandoned survivalists’ meeting place instead of a secluded spot to hide.
“This way,” Addi said, adjusting her grip on the cooler. She turned into the trees and led them across a narrow strip of firmer ground into a clearing. With her flashlight, she spotlighted the modest, solitary square shack with cypress trees as footers.
“That’s a tree house,” Andy said.
“Another of Nico’s engineering marvels.” She climbed the stairs and nudged open the door.
She turned on the light and illuminated a one-room cabin with a half-size refrigerator, a two-burner stove and a pot for coffee on the miserly counter. At the other end of the room, two bare twin-size mattresses were balanced on plywood and cinder blocks. He couldn’t decide immediately which shack he preferred.
“It’s the best option,” she explained. “No one’s used the camp for years.”
“If you’re sure.” Drew didn’t like being so far from the boats. As soon as they were settled he would go back and hide them. “I’ll build that fire for s’mores.” Uneasy, he renewed his commitment to convince her to cooperate with Casey.
Andy dropped his backpack on one of the beds and spun around, clearly the recipient of a second wind. “Can I help?”
“Sure. C’mon.”
Once they’d settled in for the night and Andy was asleep, Drew knew she’d ask him what he’d found that prompted the move. He also knew she wouldn’t like the answer. Although the hard evidence was circumstantial, his gut instinct said Craig Everett or his associates were steady on her trail.
Chapter Eight
Washington, DC, 8:10 p.m.
Director Casey’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He hesitated to interrupt dinner with his wife, but with so much on the line he had to check.
“I know what I got myself into,” Jo said. With her warm and wry smile she waved him off to take the call. “Go on and do your thing.”
Standing, Thomas rounded the table, bent down and brushed his lips across her soft cheek. “These days are numbered, I promise,” he whispered against her ear.
She only grinned at him as he made his way out of the dining room.
The display on his phone showed a missed call from Deputy Holt but no message. That likely meant they had problems on an operation.
Thomas returned the call, cautiously hopeful the news wouldn’t be awful.
“I know you’re at dinner,” Emmett began, “but this couldn’t wait.”
“Fill me in,” Thomas ordered, braced for the worst after hearing the gravity in his deputy’s voice.
“Craig Everett was spotted near the University of Mississippi, but we couldn’t drop a net over him in time.”
“He’s not even trying to hide his identity?”
“Not a bit.”
In a case like this, a fugitive behaving as though he were untouchable increased the odds of serious complications. “We expected him to search for Addison. He must be hoping she reached out to someone there. We thought the same thing at first.”
“Yes.”
There was a “but” coming and Emmett’s reluctance meant Thomas wouldn’t like it.
“Our tech team recently discovered alterations in Addison’s personal history,” Emmett said.
Damn it. “Financial?”
“To start.”
“Crap. He’s working to discredit her if she ever testifies against him.”
“She must know more than she’s already shared.”
That would be good for the case, but it meant Everett would do anything to silence her. Thomas couldn’t help thinking about the latest school picture of Addison’s son in the file. Drew had to get to her first.
“He’s afraid,” Thomas said, thinking
“No. Our accommodations are just a short hike in.”
He looked past her but couldn’t make out anything but tall grass. Tipping his head toward Andy, he asked, “How short?”
“Five minutes,” she answered. “You can time us,” she said to Andy.
At just over four minutes per Andy’s watch, Drew stared into what looked more like an abandoned survivalists’ meeting place instead of a secluded spot to hide.
“This way,” Addi said, adjusting her grip on the cooler. She turned into the trees and led them across a narrow strip of firmer ground into a clearing. With her flashlight, she spotlighted the modest, solitary square shack with cypress trees as footers.
“That’s a tree house,” Andy said.
“Another of Nico’s engineering marvels.” She climbed the stairs and nudged open the door.
She turned on the light and illuminated a one-room cabin with a half-size refrigerator, a two-burner stove and a pot for coffee on the miserly counter. At the other end of the room, two bare twin-size mattresses were balanced on plywood and cinder blocks. He couldn’t decide immediately which shack he preferred.
“It’s the best option,” she explained. “No one’s used the camp for years.”
“If you’re sure.” Drew didn’t like being so far from the boats. As soon as they were settled he would go back and hide them. “I’ll build that fire for s’mores.” Uneasy, he renewed his commitment to convince her to cooperate with Casey.
Andy dropped his backpack on one of the beds and spun around, clearly the recipient of a second wind. “Can I help?”
“Sure. C’mon.”
Once they’d settled in for the night and Andy was asleep, Drew knew she’d ask him what he’d found that prompted the move. He also knew she wouldn’t like the answer. Although the hard evidence was circumstantial, his gut instinct said Craig Everett or his associates were steady on her trail.
Chapter Eight
Washington, DC, 8:10 p.m.
Director Casey’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He hesitated to interrupt dinner with his wife, but with so much on the line he had to check.
“I know what I got myself into,” Jo said. With her warm and wry smile she waved him off to take the call. “Go on and do your thing.”
Standing, Thomas rounded the table, bent down and brushed his lips across her soft cheek. “These days are numbered, I promise,” he whispered against her ear.
She only grinned at him as he made his way out of the dining room.
The display on his phone showed a missed call from Deputy Holt but no message. That likely meant they had problems on an operation.
Thomas returned the call, cautiously hopeful the news wouldn’t be awful.
“I know you’re at dinner,” Emmett began, “but this couldn’t wait.”
“Fill me in,” Thomas ordered, braced for the worst after hearing the gravity in his deputy’s voice.
“Craig Everett was spotted near the University of Mississippi, but we couldn’t drop a net over him in time.”
“He’s not even trying to hide his identity?”
“Not a bit.”
In a case like this, a fugitive behaving as though he were untouchable increased the odds of serious complications. “We expected him to search for Addison. He must be hoping she reached out to someone there. We thought the same thing at first.”
“Yes.”
There was a “but” coming and Emmett’s reluctance meant Thomas wouldn’t like it.
“Our tech team recently discovered alterations in Addison’s personal history,” Emmett said.
Damn it. “Financial?”
“To start.”
“Crap. He’s working to discredit her if she ever testifies against him.”
“She must know more than she’s already shared.”
That would be good for the case, but it meant Everett would do anything to silence her. Thomas couldn’t help thinking about the latest school picture of Addison’s son in the file. Drew had to get to her first.
“He’s afraid,” Thomas said, thinking
Similar Books
