Chapter Seventeen

Allen

“You’re kidding,” Tucker says as he looks at the torn-up lawn. “Didn’t even slow down?”

“No hesitation at all,” I confirm. “Straight up onto the sidewalk. If I had not knocked her out of the way, he’d have hit and probably killed her.”

“Any idea how fast the van was moving?”

“No,” I answer, my jaw ticking as I replay the scene over again in my head. “But the tires squealing is what got my attention first, so he definitely accelerated at the beginning.”

Tucker makes notes on the little pad he pulls from his pocket as two uniformed officers measure fresh tire marks down the street.

“You’re getting her out of here, right?”

“Just as soon as you and I are done talking,” I assure him. “And you might want to talk to the next-door neighbor, and Mr. Crawford down the street. Seems that van was in the area earlier in the week.”

Tucker’s eyebrows raise as he makes another note.

“I’ll do that, and we’ll put out an APB on the van, as well. I have Marlon’s and Pete’s numbers if I need to touch base.”

“That will work. Good hunting,” I say, and shake his hand before I turn to go find Brielle so we can get on the road.

***

I find her sitting calmly on her couch, a suitcase at her feet.

“I called Rita,” she offers, “and then I put my phone on the charger. It’s in the kitchen.”

“Good. Let me brief Pete, grab my bag, and we’ll get going.”

I walk down the hall to her home office where Pete has reestablished himself at her computer to continue to trace the countdown’s origins.

“Bring Marlon in,” I direct. “I want him looking more closely at that treehouse. Maybe we can pull a print or two. He’s expected – I told them I’d be sending a carpenter friend by to take some detailed measurements.”

At the confused look on his face, I mention the footprints and binoculars, and Pete’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I recognized the brand. They are not ordinary binoculars, Pete, they are infrared. He can see everything, day or night, and there is a direct line of sight from the treehouse to this room,” I conclude, then also mention the tripod marks as I move to the office’s lone east-facing window and subtly close the blinds to at least partially obstruct anyone’s view going forward.

“Closing the blinds won’t help if the guy’s got infrared and a sniper setup. Hell, before this morning I’d have called all that far-fetched, but now that she was almost run over, I think anything is possible at this point,” Pete ruminates. “And if this guy decided to take a shot, her security system couldn’t do a damn thing to prevent it.”

“I know - which is why we’re about to leave and stay gone for a week or so. You guys keep doing your thing and pass on any new intel.”

“You got it.”

I move to the guest room and grab my duffel bag, then return to Brielle still sitting patiently in the living room.

“Ready?”

“No,” she admits on a sigh. “But I know it’s the smart thing to do, so let’s get moving.”

***

After surreptitiously checking my truck for any sign of tampering, I guide Brielle to the front passenger seat and put our bags in the back seat.

We click our seat belts into place, then back out of her driveway.

“Where are we going?” she asks, her voice completely calm, like she wasn’t almost mowed down in cold blood a half-hour ago.

“You’ll see,” I tell her. “Get comfortable. It’s about a four-hour drive.”

But not even a mile from Brielle’s house, the shadow that we have grown becomes evident. A crappy, nondescript grey four-door sedan is keeping pace.

So much for heading straight to our destination.

I press a button on my steering wheel.

“Mark,” I say when my team lead answers, “we have a tail. Need to switch cars. Can you meet?”

Brielle starts to turn her head to look behind us, but I put my hand on her arm to get her attention and shake my head.

She nods slightly to let me know she understands, then looks down at her hands twisting together nervously in her lap.

“Where you wanna meet and which one do you want?” Mark’s voice comes to us through the speaker.

It only takes me a moment to decide.

“Parking garage at Fifth and Sycamore,” I instruct, “and bring me the clunker.”

Mark laughs. “Fifteen minutes?”

“That works. See you then.”

Once I press the button to disconnect the call, I glance over at Brielle to find her staring at me, mouth open.

“You want to try to get away from whoever’s chasing me in a clunker?”

I grin. “Just wait and see. I think you’ll be surprised.”

I play it cool, driving normally for ten more minutes. But once we get into the downtown area, I up the stakes. I push through a yellow light just before it turns red, leaving our would-be tail stuck waiting for another green.

I make two left turns, then a sharp right up into the parking garage, heading swiftly up to the fifth level.

“Here we are,” I say, pulling in next to a white 1997 Dodge Caravan. “Our chariot awaits.”

Brielle takes one look and snorts with laughter.

“You’re joking, right? I can outrun that thing on foot.”

“Don’t let its appearance fool you,” I tell her sternly as I grab our bags and toss them to Mark, who stashes them in the back of the Caravan.

Brielle walks around to the other side and starts to climb into the front passenger seat, but I stop her.

“Not yet. Get in the back until we’re clear.”

She rolls her eyes at me, but opens the back door and clambers in, settling in the middle row of seats.

I swap keys with Mark, who grins at the both of us.

“It’s a gray four-door sedan, Texas plate,” I tell him, then give him the number, and his grin grows wider.

“Well, I hope they’re ready to see the entire city today,” he announces with a chuckle. “See you later, boss.”

I wave as he pulls away in my truck, then climb behind the wheel of the Caravan.

“So now what?”

“Now we wait for just a minute or two. Why? Are you ready to get started?” I ask Brielle, locking eyes with her through the rear-view mirror.

“As I will ever be,” she retorts. “This ought to be interesting.”

Brielle

Allen pauses, and I am about to ask what we are waiting around for when his cell phone chirps.

He swiftly reads the text, then lifts his head again to smile at me in the mirror.

“That was Mark. He has intercepted our shadow and is leading them away from us. It’s safe for us to leave now.”

Ah. That makes sense.

He backs the Caravan out of its parking space, and we begin the descent until we are back at street level, then turn left.

“Is it all right if I use your phone to call Mari?” I ask. “Just to let her know that we’re getting out of town for a while. I don’t want her to worry if she calls me and I don’t answer.”

He passes it back to me, and I dial my best friend’s number. When she does not answer – Mari routinely ignores calls from numbers that she does not recognize – I leave her a message explaining that Allen is taking me somewhere safer for the next several days and not to worry.

“Thanks,” I say as I hand him back his phone. “So how long until I can sit up front with you?”

“Let’s at least get clear of the city limits first. Should be safe by then, all right?”

“All right,” I say, and wince at the childish petulance that creeps into my voice.

Allen hears it too, because when I look ahead at his reflection in the rear-view mirror again his smirk is plain as day.

I roll my eyes, turn my head to look out the heavily tinted side window, and frown.

“Are these legal?” I ask, pointing at the windows. “I thought there was only so much tinting you could do.”

“They skirt right along that cutoff but yes, they’re legal, I assure you,” Allen says with supreme confidence as he smoothly maneuvers the Caravan away from downtown and up onto the interstate.